Page 122 of Her Goal
“Trust me, my own would be far worse. Anyway, it’s Abuela who strikes fear in my heart.”
She tips her head from side to side and laughter dances in her eyes. “That tracks.”
Looking around at piles of stuff half-organized in rolling shelves, bins, tubs, and crates, I say, “You have a lot of stuff.”
“Most of it is in my parents’ basement under the bunk beds. Hudson, I have a lot of stuff and tend to accumulate, acquire clutter, and have the best intentions to get organized, but I know that you’re the opposite and?—”
“And that’s why you asked me to help you clean your room. It’s also worth pointing out that you don’t need to change unless you want to. What if you’re great the way you are?”
She shrugs.
“Maybe lean into your strengths instead of looking at what you perceive as deficiencies.”
“That’s wise.”
“Blame Badaszek.”
“Or thank him,” she says as we start packing.
When we’ve brought the last load downstairs, I ask, “Why’d you hang up on me when I called earlier?”
“Because I hadn’t even brushed my teeth or hair. Morning Leah isn’t a pretty sight.”
“I beg to differ.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and drop a kiss on her forehead.
With a little shiver of delight, she smiles.
36
LEAH
The movefrom my apartment was a whirlwind. Unannounced and entirely unexpected, Hudson arrived at my place early. He was freshly showered with his hair stylish as if he’d just stepped off a photo shoot, and bright-eyed, standing in stark contrast to my bleary, bedhead, stained T-shirt, and quitting time sweat pants morning mess.
It looked like I’d been engaging in late-night revelry with the neighbors when in reality, I’d been dancing with Hudson at the HoCo. I sway a little on my feet and it’s not only because I’m tired. Wow, does he have dance moves. The man is surprisingly equipped for a boxy hockey goalie, moving fluidly in a blend of strength and elegance that captivated me and kept me dancing alongside him. My family, especially Abuela, will be thrilled. Until her supposed dream about Hudson, she had three requirements for suitors entering the family: no criminal record, tolerance for spicy food, and the ability to dance.
One of my uncles, who shall remain nameless, somehow slipped under the radar on all three, but we still love him.
It’s not long before we have all of my belongings gathered, including my various projects. The good thing is the one I’ve been working hardest on lately is remote and has mostly beendone through emails, texts, and finally an overseas phone call. Whether it works out remains to be seen, but I have my fingers crossed that October thirtieth is going to be an extra special day.
Before we leave Graves Street, Hudson asks, “Did you want to say goodbye to anyone?”
Vigorously shaking my head, I get in the car and follow him to Golden Bantam Lane as the reality of what’s coming hits me again like a rogue wave from the sea. This time it doesn’t knock me down or freeze me in place.
After we bring in all my belongings, it’s obvious how distinctly different Hudson and I are in how we live in a space. I separate and stack the tubs he packed neatly because they’re all closed and clearly labeled next to the ones that I packed which are haphazard with things hanging out the sides and the tatty box top flaps half open.
“Whatcha doing?” Hudson asks, passing me a can of Dr. Pepper.
“A demonstration.”
“Like a protest?”
I playfully whack him, point at my stack, and say, “You realize you’ve just invited all of that into your life.”
“Do you mean that you tend to be messy?”
“More like scattered.” I take a long sip of soda because my thoughts get vocal about all of his possible responses.
Instead of uttering a word, I get a shrug.
