Page 31 of The Other Side of Together

Marcus: Yet

Mei walks down the alley toward me, staying close to her building. When she spots me, I put my hand over my heart and shoot a smile over lines of cars riding their brakes down the hill and clumps of tourists blocking my view. When they pass, I catch her eye again and dial her number.

She answers on the first ring. “Hey.”

“Whatcha doing today?”

Her smile spreads and takes mine with it. “Knitting. Lots of knitting.”

“Oh. I’d love to see your work. You should bring your yarn and meet me at the dragon gate.”

“There’s a lot of yarn. Think I’ll leave it home. But I’ll be there.” She ends the call and grips her bag strap, smiles, and walks down the street. I shove my phone into my pocket and do the same but can’t keep my eyes off her as she dodges fruit stands and people, and I barely miss slamming into a fire hydrant.

At the crosswalk, I stay outside the crowd. I catch Mei’s eye across the intersection, put my hand over my heart and pat my chest like a heartbeat. She bites her lower lip and looks down, touches her tattoo. Really wish I could touch it, too.

We continue walking on opposite sides of the street until we pass under Dragon’s Gate and out of Dad’s jurisdiction, and hopefully out of Face Eater’s sight.

She crosses the street toward me, smooth, like she’s gliding around people, hips swiveling as she steps over cracks, onto the curb. My eyes are overwhelmed, and it takes me way too long to haul words up my throat to say, “Hey.”

She smiles up at me, her knuckles white on her bag strap, cheeks a shade of pink. And it’s no sunburn. “Hi.”

I hold out my hand and she takes it, watching our fingersweave together while I watch her. Too soon? I squeeze her hand and she squeezes back. Nope.

Her hand’s half the size of mine, but our fingers fit together like finger soul mates. I pull her into my side, and she wraps her other hand around my bicep which flexes under her touch, but she smiles at the sidewalk and keeps it there. I could probably fly right now.

We follow side streets and back roads until the Palace of Fine Arts rises at the end.

“This is the best spot to knit.” She laughs and I drop my backpack and yank out my favorite blanket, spread it on the ground, then flop onto it. Lying on my side, I prop myself up with my elbow and pat the blanket beside me. She pulls her bag over her head and slips off her Vans before lying on her side, facing me.

“I’ve never been here.” She picks at a thread on the blanket. “Especially on a blanket with orange dinosaurs all over it.” She smiles, smoothing her hand over two T-Rexes sharing a bowl of ice cream.

“That’s because Meemaw made this one-of-a-kind masterpiece for me when I was eight, and it’s been somewhere on my bed ever since. I wash it with this certain kind of fabric softener so it always smells like her house, and it’ll be with me until I die. Even though I’m sure it’s probably happy for the change of scenery and doing something different with its life today. But can we go back to you never being here before?” I frown. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ten years. I don’t leave Chinatown very often.”

Her eyes are all shimmery, like melted chocolate, and her lip gloss outlines her mouth in light pink. I think about outlining it with my finger.

“We’re changing that today.” And I have a feeling a lot of other things are gonna change today, too. This close to her, my priorities dissolve. I don’t feel so bad about lying to Dad when I’m with her. All I gotta do is keep my hands to myselfand everything’s cool. Or hold her hand and only her hand. “Where’d you move from?” A leaf falls on the blanket and I pick it up, keeping my eyes on hers.

“Taiwan. I was eight.”

“Whoa.” My eyebrows shoot up. “So, when I was getting a dino blankie for my eighth birthday, you were moving to a foreign country. You still remember Taiwan?”

She nods. “Kind of. The smells mostly. And my Nai Nai’s house. She liked yellow.”

“Grandma, I assume?”

She nods. “She was the best. She gave me Buddha before we moved here. She sculpted him herself and said to keep him with me for good luck.”

I watch the leaf twirl between my fingers. “Is she still alive?”

Mei shakes her head. “She died three years ago.”

“I vow to take extra special care of Buddha, then, ‘cause your grandma was right about the good luck thing—I’ve been feeling pretty lucky about a lot of things since I met him.” I jiggle my foot when the urge to lean toward her plows through me. “But hold up.” I widen my eyes. “What if your grandma reincarnated into the Buddha and she’s spying on me?”

She tilts her head. “If I believed in reincarnation, I’d hope she’d be a little more alive.”

I laugh to the blanket and cross and uncross my toes. “Sorry. Just assumed Buddhist…”

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