Page 97 of The Disasters of Dating
“That’s the stuff where the mosquitoes were found in Jurassic Park, right? That they got the dinosaur DNA from?”
She smiles for the first time since we discovered her mom with Adam. “Yeah. But it’s more than that. It provides warmth and nurturing and well-being—all the things I need tonight.”
I nod. I’m not sure that I believe the crystals/stones are giving her those things. I think it’s probably a matter of her mind doing it and her attributing it to the stones. But who am I to tell her she’s wrong? “How did you get into stones and horoscopes?” I’m hoping that information might tell me more than her education on the stones has.
She sighs and frowns. “I started using them when my dad died.”
I look straight ahead. Her voice has gone quiet, and I don’t want to interrupt or give her the wrong facial expression and have her shut down. On the few occasions that her dad’s death has been mentioned, she seems to shut the conversation down pretty quickly.
“I was pretty young when he died, and it was hard to make sense of everything. Horoscopes were something that guided me.” She glances over at me. “I know they’re made up and not real. Trust me, I’ve been informed of that on several occasions and by nearly everybody I know.” There’s a bite to her voice. Do people disregard her or at least her belief in horoscopes and even crystals? I remember when we were at theairport that first day and she got defensive when I suggested she might be a vegan. There was an edge then, too. “But it didn’t matter to me that they were made up. It was still something that helped me make sense of what was happening in my life. It gave things order and reason. They were a type of roadmap for me to follow when everything else in my life was in chaos.”
I nod. “I can understand that. Especially at such a young age. Didn’t you say you were nine when your dad died?”
She nods. “Yeah. And the crystals? They were something tangible that I could hold on to. They became my anchors when my whole life felt adrift. I’d collected rocks with my dad when we’d go places—especially camping. Then, just after he died, I was watching an infomercial on TV late one night—” She glances from the necklace over to me. “I was supposed to be in bed, but I kept having nightmares, and that made falling asleep hard.”
My chest tightens as I think about what she must have gone through. Losing my mom was the hardest thing I’ve ever endured. And I was an adult. I can’t even imagine losing a parent at nine. Everything she’s saying makes perfect sense.
“The commercial was for a rock tumbler—apparently, rock tumbling enthusiasts watch a lot of late-night television. But anyway, they showed this beautiful pink stone and said it was called rose quartz. I looked it up on the internet, and the world of crystals opened up to me. I learned amethyst helps with nightmares. And obsidianite helps with healing grief. Even though they weren’t the rocks we had collected together, they were something tangible that helped me feel connected to my dad. And helped me manage feelings I didn’t know how to manage otherwise.”
She rubs at the stone. “I won’t say that these crystals do everything that the ‘experts’ say they do.” She puts the word expert in air quotes, and I realize she doesn’t believe the world is entirely ruled by the stars and crystals, but that she has made them be what she needed them to be in a confusing world.
She continues. “But they put me in the right frame of mind. And when I touch them, it reminds me of the mental state I’m trying to achieve...trying to maintain.”
“It makes a lot of sense.” I smile over at her.
Her brow creases. “Really?”
I nod. “Totally.”
We pull up to the ice cream shop, and there is aline waiting out the door and down the sidewalk. I glance over at her. “Do you want to wait in the line? Maybe we should come back another time.”
“It’s always like this.” She lifts a shoulder. “I think it’s worth it. But it’s up to you.”
I nod. “Alright. I suppose there’s no harm in waiting.” I hop out of the car and walk around to her side, pulling open her door. I take Poppy’s hand to help her out but keep hold of it as we walk to the restaurant. My stomach does a little flip-flop. You’d think it was the first time I’ve held her hand, not like the eighth or ninth.
I smile over at her. “I can’t tell you the last time a girl let me open her door for her.”
Her cheeks pink slightly. “Sorry. That’s from my dad. He always told us that any man worth his salt opens the door for a lady. He drilled it into my brother, Brody’s, head. And he made sure that my sister, Sadie, and I wouldn’t settle for a guy treating us with anything but respect.” A hint of a smile plays on her lips as we take our place in line. “Once a guy I was with got all the way into the movie theater before he realized I wasn’t behind him. He was irritated when he found me still sitting in the car.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“About which part?” she asks.
“All of it, I guess. I think there was more than one red flag with that guy.” I can’t believe anyone could be so obtuse as to not realize Poppy wasn’t with them.
She lifts a shoulder. “It made it easy to decide not to waste my time on him.”
“I should hope so.” I nod. “I think I would have liked your dad.”
She smiles up at me. “I think he would have liked you, too. You’re a good guy.”
The text string on my other phone flashes through my mind. Would her dad like me if he knew what I’d done—which maybe he does know? I can’t imagine he would. If I were her dad, I’d steer her far away from me and Lincoln. Maybe it’s time to come clean on that.
Just then, a server passes with a tray laden with the biggest dishes of ice cream I’ve ever seen. Like some of them were almost as big as my head. “What is that?”
Poppy laughs. “That’s the ice cream. It’s all made in store, as are all the sauces.”
I blink several times. “Man, I don’t think I banked enough calories for one of those.”
