Page 75 of Pining for You

“You know, you have a way of being, like, super compassionate and also very salty at the same time,” I say. She shrugs her shoulders all the way up to her ears with her hands still wrapped around the tamale tray, and we both laugh. “But for real, I can absolutely see you doing that.”

I gesture for her to give me the tray, so she can have a break, and she hands it to me.

“You think?” she asks after she thanks me, and half smiles, scratching behind her ear with that pinky again now that her hands are free.

“Definitely,” I say, lifting the warm tray to my face and inhaling deeply—I can’t even help myself.

But in my eagerness, I have made a critical error. I try to look back at Eve, but my glasses are completely fogged. “How are these things still so steamy?” I ask, confounded.

But she doesn’t answer, and in the silence, without my vision, my senses go haywire. I smell her—that now familiar cinnamon getting subtly stronger, even with the tray between us. Then I feel her, the warmth of her, getting stronger, more intense. Closer. I can’t see a thing, but I’m certain she’s within kissing distance, so when she finally speaks, and it’s barely above a whisper, my heart skips, and I stop breathing.

“Well, Strudel,” she utters, as she reaches up to remove my glasses. “I blame you for that.”

The moment is a total blur, and not just because I can barely see three inches in front of me without my glasses.

“Can you see now?” she asks, as she delicately, ever-so-gently places them back on my face.

“More clearly than ever,” I say, holding her gaze as she comes into crystalline focus.

Is this it? Is this the moment? I thought I’d know but now I don’t know. Someone tell me, please!

“Well. Thanks for taking over,” she says, stepping back.

And just like that, if it was the moment, I’ve missed it.

“Sure thing. Although fair warning that I might have to take them home to Connecticut with me,” I say quickly.

“No tamales there?” she asks as we resume our path, winding our way through a sidewalk tree seller’s stand, past retailers closed for the storm, and between other brave souls making their way to local bars and delivery guys on bicycles fitted with gloves on the handlebars.

“Ya know, I can’t say I’ve done the research to find out, but if there are, I doubt they’re anything like this.”

“I guess I’ll have to bring them with me when we move, then,” she says. “Luckily they freeze pretty well.”

But it’s my heart that goes cold as her words hit me. Move?

“Wait, what do you mean by move?” I ask, trying not to sound panicked.

“Well, if all goes according to plan, Hugo and I will be Connecticut residents by next Christmas.”

Now my heart really freezes. I try to pick a question, but I have so many, and what comes out is just, “I… That’s… Do you not like it here?”

She stops and runs her hand along a lighted railing in front of a CVS.

“It’s not that. Growing up here was good. My parents gave us the best childhood. And it works for me. But for Hugo. He’s, well… He struggles here. The other kids, the memories…” She trails off. “So, the plan is to graduate, get out of the city, and start fresh. I did all this research on schools for nonverbal kids, and there are a couple of solid options in Connecticut. Performing arts schools that use theater and music and stuff as therapy.”

It’s another grown-up future that makes my movie obsession seem totally ridiculous. I’m about to ask how her plans for becoming a therapist fit in, but then she adds, “That’s why we took the trip yesterday, because Carlos said maybe he could help get me a job at Cooper.”

“Cooper? My Cooper?”

Eve nods. “I’ll be eighteen next fall, so I could get my own place up there, and Hugo can come live with me and go to school while I work. Nothing says adulting like carving scary faces into overgrown squash, right?” she says. “I mean, I assume that’s what you all do there for fun.”

I don’t even react to the joke, because my snack cake heart is now literally in my soggy Chucks.

Next fall. Next fall, I’ll be gone. I’ll be in Brooklyn.

“That’s kind of wild,” I say. “Because I’m planning to be… here, actually.”

“Here?” She looks around at the CVS.