“She offered?”
“She sure did,” Shiloh said, her voice turning thick for a moment. “But it’s far too risky. Most new businesses fail within the first three years, according to basically every article I’ve read on the subject. Bibi’s retired, and the house is paid off. I’m not about to wreck that for her.”
“Maybe she doesn’t feel like it’s wrecking anything but helping you build something instead.”
“That’s what she said, too.” Her smile lingered and then she shook her head. “But I need to do this on my own. If I fail, I’m not taking anyone down with me.”
I couldn’t imagine her failing at anything but kept my mouth shut. God knew, life had a way of fucking shit up for good people. Like my mother. Or Maryann. I didn’t want to jinx it for Shiloh.
“What’s Wisconsin like?” she asked as we walked up and down the hilly streets, the night quiet.
“I’m not the right person to ask.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve got nothing good to say about it.”
“Was it hard? All those years in foster care?” She gave her head a shake. “Stupid question. I’m sure it was hard.”
“It was more than hard.”
“Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to.”
I nearly said no and then realized that I wanted to. I felt close to Shiloh and I wanted to keep feeling that way.
“Some of the placements were okay. Some were not.”
“Were you moved around a lot?”
“Thirteen homes in ten years.”
“God.” She squeezed my hand. “I don’t understand how people can do that. Take a kid in and then kick them out again.”
“Some people do it for the money. Those are the worst. The good ones are rare, and only so many are looking to adopt. Thanks to my history, I wasn’t a good candidate.”
“Then your uncle found you?”
I looked straight ahead. “Yeah. But I’d already turned eighteen.”
“Bad timing.”
To say the least.
“But you’re with him now,” she said. “That’s a good thing, I hope.”
That was the time to tell her the truth, that I lived alone. But I liked feeling like a normal person too much to wreck it just yet.
“He’s okay,” I said. “But yeah, it’s good to have family. Even if it’s just one person.”
Shiloh nodded as we waited at a light to cross the street. Only a few cars were out; the town was sleepy.
“I feel the same. I love my aunt and uncle, and my cousin, Letitia, is the best, but I got lucky with Bibi. She’s my person. When my mom decided she didn’t want me anymore, Bibi was there.”
“How old were you?”
“Four. Old enough to remember crying when she dropped me off at Bibi’s house. Old enough to remember feeling like I’d done something wrong.” Her voice grew thick again. “I remember that.”
“Why did she wait until you were four?” I asked after a minute.
“I don’t know. I guess she was trying to be my mom, but she couldn’t do it.”
“I’m sorry, Shiloh.”
She smiled tightly. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine but it’s what happened. And when bad shit happens, we figure out how to cope, right?”
I nodded, thinking of night walks and watching bonfires burn.
“My brilliant solution to deal with her rejection was to keep to myself. I figured if people didn’t get to know me—including my best friend—they wouldn’t have any cause to get rid of me.” She glanced up at me. “These are all new revelations, by the way. And do you know when they began to arrive?”
“No.”
“Roughly the exact instant I met you.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Both,” she said and resumed walking. “Kind of pathetic, isn’t it? But I can’t help it. She’s my mom. She’s supposed to love me. It’s in the contract.”
“It’s not pathetic. It’s survival. Like you said, you do whatever you can to keep your shit together.”
“What do you do to keep your shit together?”
“I walk.”
“Walk?”
“All over town,” I said, shocking myself by telling her the truth. At least the part that didn’t sound crazy. “I can’t sleep. Bad nightmares. So I walk around until I feel tired enough to hopefully crash out.”
“God, you have nightmares that bad every night? Does it work?”
“Not really. But it’s either that or drink myself stupid.” I shrugged. “Seems like a better alternative. For now.”
We arrived at a small restaurant called Thai Heart. It seemed like Shiloh wanted to ask something else, but I held the door for her, ready to leave all my fucked-up shit outside.
The restaurant was simple but nicer than I was used to. Little knickknacks from Thailand—Buddahs, temples, elephants, and brightly colored strings of beads were displayed in glass cases or hung from the walls. The hostess gave us menus and a table by the window with a view of the street, and a waiter hurried over and took our drink order. Shiloh ordered milk tea. I asked for a beer.
The menu made me feel stupid. I’d never heard of any of the dishes.
Shiloh read my face. “You want some recommendations? Do you like spicy food?”
“I’ve had hot sauce on Mexican food. That’s about it.”
I waited for Shiloh to ask me what rock I’d been living under, but she only smiled.
“Well, there’s hot and then there’s Thai hot. Proceed with caution.”
I imagined kissing Shiloh, my mouth hot with Thai spice and her mouth like sweet milk, soothing the burn…
I cleared my throat and surreptitiously adjusted my crotch under the table.
When the waiter returned, Shiloh ordered something called Panang curry. I ordered Pad Kee Mao.
“Drunkard’s noodles,” the waiter said, smiling. “Excellent.”
“There’s booze in it?”
“No, but it’s very spicy.”
I glanced at Shiloh across from me. Good.
When the waiter left, it was just her and me.
“The moment of truth,” Shiloh said, sipping her tea.
“What is?”
“The waiter is gone. We can’t attack each other, sexually speaking. We’re either going to start talking and hit it off, or…not. The moment of truth.”
“Okay.” I toyed with the chopsticks on my napkin. “You want to know all the pointless, boring shit about me?”
She laughed. “Are you saying you don’t want to know all the pointless, boring shit about me?”
I doubted there was any such thing. “I don’t like small talk.”
“You told me. When we first met. And neither do I.” Shiloh stirred the ice in her drink with her straw. “It’s funny, though. We’re kind of doing it all backward. We’ve talked about heavy shit, we do all the kissing things, but we skipped the basics.”
“Basics?”
“The easy stuff. For instance, what kind of music do you like?”