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“More than that, trust me.”
She settled in next to me, and we leaned against the window taking in the rustling of the wind in the trees, some nosy crow cawing next to us. I opened the bag of chips and placed it on my lap, laced my fingers through hers, and sighed with contentment. It felt like ten tons of sand had been lifted from my shoulders this weekend. I was afraid I might actually float up into the sky like a balloon.
Indy reached into the bag on my lap. “Is this a trick you learned back in the day? Keep the bag on your lap so I might accidentally touch your dick?”
“That’s right. This is Teenage Dating 101: How to Make the Girl Almost Touch Your Junk.”
She pulled a chip out and popped it into her mouth. “So romantic.”
“Teenage boys are not romantic, Indy. They’re animals. I’m pretty sure that’s where the theory of evolution originated. Darwin observed a group of rowdy, oversexed teenage boys and thought ‘Damn, sure looks like a bonobo to me.’”
We fell back into a comfortable silence broken every now and then by an especially crunchy chip.
“Why Francine?” Indy asked.
“Huh?” I opened one eye at her.
“Why is your car named Francine?”
“It was my dad’s car, you know?” She nodded. “He’d dreamed of owning a red Chevrolet and he’d also had a thing for a girl at his high school named Francine. She went out with the captain of the football team. So years later when he got his car, he decided to name it after her because that was the only way he’d ever get to ride Francine.”
Indy snorted, nearly inhaling a chip. “Oh my god, that was not the romantic story I was expecting.”
“I never knew my dad, but apparently he had a dark sense of humor.”
“Sounds like a joke you’d make actually.”
“Yeah, our neighbor Urszula—she used to look after me when I was a kid—always told me I was a lot like him. When I found out—you know—how he died, I used to worry that I might have the same tendencies.” Indy and I had never spoken about my dad or his depression, his decision to end his own life, but I knew she knew about it. I took a swig of beer. “But I’ve been through some real tough shit and I’m still here, so there’s that.”
She squeezed my hand. “I think you’ve probably inherited all his good qualities.”
I shrugged. “He was really into space, according to my mom. Always stargazing.”
“How’d they meet?”
“Dance competition. They were on competing teams. Somehow my dad ended up convincing my mom that she should leave Detroit and open up a school in our small town.”
“Did she ever want to go back home?”
“No, she had nothing to go back to. No real family. Dance is what brought her to the US.”
The roar of a jet overhead thankfully changed the subject. The last thing I wanted to do was bring us down with tales of my poor family. We were meant to be celebrating after all. Indy put a hand over her eyes, searching the sky. “There it is! Is there more than one?”
“There’s always more than one, Indy.” We lay back down against the car and held hands as the first jet flew over us. A second followed close behind. I’d forgotten to take my binoculars out of the glove compartment, but I was pretty sure it was Barbarella and Skeeter.
“That’s Barb. Remind me to introduce you to her. You’d get along.”
A couple minutes later two more jets flew in, followed by unfamiliar planes. “That’s right. We’re doing rescue training with the Bulgarians this week.”
“Fun. Are you going to be involved in that?” Indy was fishing for more details.
I sighed. “Maybe. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow. For someone who should be celebrating a huge win, you sure do ask a lot of questions about my job.”
“You’re right. No more yucky work talk.” She took the bag of chips off my lap and slid off the hood. “There’s something else that I always wanted to do.”
She held out her hand to help me down, led me around to the side of the car, and positioned me in front of the back seat door. She put her hands on her hips as she studied me, mouth twisting in thought. “Can you untuck a little? Take off your jacket.”
“Yes ma’am.” I tossed my bomber on the roof of the car. “Should I lose the cap?”
