Page 27 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
“Best friend?” he asks.
“Tinsley.”
“How’d you afford to open your shop?”
“Loans.”
He makes a right turn on Wilminson Street. “When you’d open?”
“Almost nine years ago. Next month is our anniversary.”
He nods again and his expression remains pensive, serious, like he’s concentrating more than this conversation requires. “Ever go to college?”
“Nope.”
“Been in love?”
I pause and glance over. “Why does that matter?”
The corner of his lip twitches. “Is that one of your ten questions?”
“Yes,” I say. “Why does it matter if I’ve been in love?”
He sucks in a deep breath. “Because the girl I knew was closed off. People hurt you, Rynnlee. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how they used you and cast you aside.”
I twist the black skull ring on my finger. “It’s in the past. Whatever, Mister Whiplash, my turn.”
His fist playfully smacks the steering wheel. “Mister Whiplash? I couldn’t hurt a leaf!”
“Just let me ask a stupid question. Tell me your favorite smells.”
“Cookies, pumpkins, bread baking, and you.” His voice goes soft. I side-eye him, unsure how to respond to that. “Okay, give me another one,” he says, bringing me back to the game.
Should I ask if he’s a night owl? Or why he was living in his store’s closet? Or how long he’s been in town? Has he ever experienced an autumn like ours, where these crisp gold and crimson maples paint the sky? Ahead, I watch another yellow leaf flutter atop his windshield and think of the best question.
“What’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen?”
He pauses, works his jaw. “When Mom and Kurt renewed their vows. They flew us down to Cancun and the four of us stayed on the beach in a resort.”
“I don’t remember Zanther when we were in school.”
“He’s eight years younger. When we met, junior year, he was in third grade.”
A car passes us illegally with a blasting stereo that vibrates down to my bones. I give him the finger while Elias laughs and simply slows down.
“You’ve always been a whirlwind of fire and storm, Rynnlee,” he remarks, still chuckling. “Even when you tried to keep your heat to a simmer. You don’t have to do that around me, you know. Go ahead and burn down my world.”
“Have you been practicing that pickup line?”
“Yeah, in front of the mirror. Naked.” He holds out an open tin. “Mint?”
“Sure,” I say, taking a piece and letting the minty flavor cascade over my tongue.
I clear my throat and stare at the bug guts on the passenger window. “If you won the lottery, what would you do first?”
The turn signal clicks, clicks, clicks. “Well, I’d pay off Zee’s student loans, buy a new house for Mom and Kurt, and take all three of them on vacation to Venezuela.”
I’m drawn back in time, to when a younger Elias told me his biggest secret, in a car like this one. He confessed to wanting to make his father proud; his willingness to do anything to bring Noah back into his life. It had been clear that Elias was haunted by his dad’s abandonment.
