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“No way. I bet I can find more trusted film critics who agree that Die Hard is a Christmas movie than those who wrongly assert that it is not.”
“I don’t doubt that, but since the film’s writers, director, and Bruce Willis himself all maintain that Die Hard is not a Christmas movie, it’s not. Fortunately, things like being wrong about film classifications and whether pineapple belongs on pizza—”
“It does not,” Eric interrupts.
“Poor, sweet, fool of a man.” I cradle his chin and hold his cheeks so he can’t move his head. “We’ll get you sorted out. In the meantime—” I kiss him “—the next decision awaits.”
Eric pulls me tight to him and we walk to the next post with his arm around my shoulder.
“This card is blank.”
“If we’re going to be walking this path together, you have to make some of the decision tree questions, too.” I pull a pen from my pocket and hand it to him.
Eric rubs his beard, taps his lip,hmmsandhawsand ponders for more than a minute.
“Turn around, please. I need something to write against.”
Eric uses my back as an easel. His fingers wrap around my left ribs, so I stroke his hand while he writes with the other. I’m not sure which brings me more pleasure, touching him or being touched by him.
“Alrighty. As fun as this maze is, I do have a very serious question and your answer will tell me if we’re on the same page moving forward.”
The blood drains from my brain and I feel light-headed. I knew that this might not go the way I wanted, and that I’d majorly screwed up when I disappeared, but I had enough confidence that I could fix it that I’d started to believe Eric and I would be OK.
Before he hands me the card he says, “Gut response. No thinking. No second-guessing. I need to know your visceral reaction. Can you please, please, give me your most honest answer?”
I nod.
Eric hands me the card.
I flip it over and read.
CHAPTER19
Eric
Catherine looks at the card. She looks at me. Looks back at the card. Her immediate reaction appears to be one of confusion.
She reads, “‘Catheric equals the left path. Ericath equals the right path. Choosing neither equals stand here until you come to your senses.’ So, I guess we stand here until I figure out—”
“It’s our celebrity couple nickname,” I say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Her eyes open wide, then she scrunches her face and throws her head back with a joyful laugh.
“They’re terrible!”
“No worse than Brangelina or Bennifer. I think our name is way better.”
“Catheric? How is that even pronounced?” Her words bubble and I relax.
“Not Ca-ther-ic, you goof, as is we were some Scandinavian viking.” I deepen my voice and say, “Cath-Eric, power couple to the artistically and arithmetically challenged.”
Catherine’s smile drops. She closes her eyes and shakes her head.
Shit. Too soon. I inhale a long breath, expecting to hear, “let’s slow things down.”
“No. I don’t want a power couple name. But I kind of love Catheric. And, the whole time you were working with me on Nestrogen, I thought about how much I’d love to do other installations with you. And while I was on my walk-about—crashing with Sammy—I obsessed over ways to bring you into my art. Because … I really enjoy having you in my space and being in your space and I think what I’d love more than anything is building a space that’s not yours, not mine, but ours. And maybe that space is called The Catheric. Or maybe we can work on projects together as Catheric. Or, I don’t know.”
I take her hand and lead her down the left path of the maze. When we reach the next decision point, Catherine says, “All the paths lead to the same place from here.”
