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“Yeah. ” My voice is still husky—with desire or fear, I’m not sure which. I decide not to dwell on it. Why bother when doing so won’t give me any more answers than I already have?
“You want to get out of here?”
I think about his question, turn it over in my head. Then reach a very unexpected conclusion. “You know what I really want to do?”
“What?”
I point across the landscaping, deep into the heart of Balboa Park. “Go to the zoo. ”
* * *
Hours later, I turn to Ethan and ask, “So, what do you think?”
He eyes the penguin hat on top of my head, then says, “I think I like the flamingo one better. ”
“The flamingo? Really?” I reach for it, then change out the penguin. “You don’t think it’s too pink?”
“It’s a flamingo. It’s supposed to be pink. ”
“But does it clash with my hair? I don’t think red and pink are supposed to go together. At least not this close. ”
For a second, Ethan doesn’t react at all. Then he throws back his head and laughs and laughs, in a way I’ve never heard from him before. At first I’m a little insulted, but it doesn’t take very long before I’m laughing along with him. Ethan’s amusement is like that—totally infectious.
It’s been a good day at the zoo. We’ve seen the giraffes and the zebras, the hippos and the polar bears. We even got a glimpse of the new baby panda. It was absolutely adorable, so precious and tiny.
Now we’re in the gift shop, where Ethan has insisted on buying me a souvenir of our day together. At first I resisted, but the fact of the matter is I want something to remember today with at least as much as he wants to buy it for me. So I decided what the hell and have spent the last half hour looking for the most absurd memento I can find.
“What about the frog?” I ask, reaching for a giant green top hat that has an equally giant tree frog attached to it.
Ethan contemplates. “I still vote for the flamingo. ”
I sigh gustily. “The flamingo it is, then. ” I hand it to him with a flourish, then watch as he makes a beeline toward the nearest cashier to pay for it.
I wander through the store while I wait for him, and find myself standing in front of one of those old-fashioned coin machines. The kind where you stick in fifty cents and a penny and it stretches out the penny and imprints a design of your choice. I’m not sure what possesses me, but I rummage at the bottom of my purse for some change and put it in the machine. I pick the panda design, because Ethan was as enthralled by the little guy as I was, and then crank the handle until my shiny, stretched penny comes out.
It’s no flamingo hat, but it’ll have to do. At least for now.
I slip it into my pocket just as Ethan comes up behind me, shopping bag in hand. “You ready to go?”
“You bet. ” I reach for the bag. “But I absolutely insist on wearing the hat home. ”
“I’d be upset if you didn’t. And remember, just ignore anyone who says it clashes with your hair. ”
I stick my tongue out at him, try to glare. But he just leans forward and kisses me, sucking my tongue deep into his mouth as he does. It feels so good that I start to melt, to open myself to him, but Ethan pulls away before I can do anything more than press my body against his. Which is a good thing—we are in the middle of a crowded store, more than half of whose occupants are under the age of twelve.
I settle for holding his hand on the way to the car, and I’m so happy—so at peace—after our day together that it’s a miracle I don’t take off under my own power. I know it was just a simple trip to the zoo, but there’s something about seeing Ethan relaxed and having a good time that gets to me. Makes me relax as well. All the crap I have to deal with at work, with my parents, with my own psyche, takes a backseat to this sunny, perfect afternoon.
Not even the paparazzi standing near the zoo exit as we leave can put a dent in my mood. Ethan growls a little at the intrusion, pulls me close, but I can tell he doesn’t really mind, either. Hell, with his life he’s probably used to it. Besides, it’s not like I’m interesting or famous enough to make the pictures worth much. If they even get picked up, I’ll probably be described as Ethan’s new lady friend or some such ridiculous moniker. Which is more than fine with me—I don’t need or want to add fame to my already fucked-up life. My ebullient mood lasts most of the way home, but the closer we get to La Jolla, the more my thoughts turn to all the things I can’t change. I think of the VA hospital and all the men I met there today. Some of them—like Alejandro and Viktor—are in really good spirits, but others are completely destroyed by what has happened to them. It was devastating to see, even more devastating to understand that there is nothing I can do to help them.
“How do you handle it?” I ask Ethan as we turn onto La Jolla Shores Drive.
“Handle what?”
“The pressure. The weight of all those expectations. Everyone knows that Frost Industries works miracles, but there’s always more suffering to cure, more pain to try to stop. How do you handle knowing that no matter how hard you work, no matter how many people you help, there will always be others you can’t do anything for?”
“By not believing that I’ll never be able to help them. By always looking for the next miracle, the next breakthrough t
hat will somehow manage to save someone who couldn’t be saved a year ago. Or ten years ago. Fifteen, twenty. ”
