Page 82 of Between Love and War
“Right,” she says. “I—uh—I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get some air.” She’s wearing matching pink pajamas printed with teddy bears, and a giant cardigan that she puts over herself.
“Plenty of air for everyone,” I say.
She walks slowly and stands beside me, overlooking the darkness too. I glance at her, at the moonlight reflecting on her face, at the way her silhouette makes her look more serious than she seems.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” she says after a moment, looking up at me.
“To the trip?”
She nods. “I thought you were just being nice. Saying yes to say yes. You know… to be polite. But… thank you. I didn’t know how much I needed company until you showed up.”
I put my hands in the pocket of my hoodie. “You have a lot of company,” I say. “A full van’s worth. You were barely with me today.”
“Yeah, but I’m alwaysthecompany. The helper. The one who fetches the ice, chops the fruit, answers the questions, holds the baby. I love them. But sometimes I feel like I’m just floating through the day ticking off tasks.” She pauses.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” I remind her.
She stays still for a while, until she mumbles and sighs. “I know.”
“So tell me,” I say, facing her. “What would you have done today if you weren’t ticking off tasks?”
She thinks for a moment, then says, “I don’t know. I never really thought about it…”
“Well, think about it,” I say.
She chuckles. “Um,” she starts. “The realistic thing to do would be to curl up somewhere and read my book. I’m almost at the juicy part.”
“Yes, your romantic smut, I know,” I say as she laughs. “But I’m not asking for realistic, remember? I’m asking for what you want.”
She shifts and crosses her arms. “That’s harder. I don’t usually ask myself that.”
“Okay, but pretend you’re the main character in your book for a second. What would she do?”
She laughs. “She’d probably storm off to a beach somewhere, dramatic and barefoot, with the wind in her hair and some beautiful stranger falling in love with her from across the shoreline.”
She pauses for a while and looks up at me. “Sorry, hopeless romantic, remember?”
I smile. “That’s perfect. Let’s go.”
“Where? Beaches are, like, two cities away,” she says.
“Then we find the next best thing,” I say.
She stares at me, unsure. “We’re just gonna… go?”
“Yep.”
She hesitates. I can see it in the way her fingers tighten around the edge of her sweater, the way her mouth opens and closes like she’s about to make an excuse but can’t find one.
Then, without a word, she suddenly turns and jogs back into the house. For a few moments, I wonder if she just ran away and left me, but then I hear the quick shuffle of feet, then she reappears a minute later, holding a set of keys.
“Haley wouldn’t mind,” she says, trying to sound casual.
“You mean Haley wouldn’t know?”
“Yes,” she says. “She would definitely mind.”
We both laugh as she tosses me the keys. “Great,” I say, “Let’s go find your barefoot beach moment, Katie.”
