We’re quiet for a bit. I don’t know what to say. He finishes his meal and I rest my head against the pane of the window behind me, pointing my face to the sun. It warms my cheeks and settles the discomfort Finn’s words brought.
“The tree looks good,” he finally says, shifting his gaze to the window.
“It doesn’t look like a tree yet, but it will. And it’ll look a whole lot better once I move these chairs.”
“Good luck with that. This is where Danny takes his morning coffee and reads the Jackson Hole Times.”
“Danny likes me, I think I can talk him into it.” I lift my brows, daring him to challenge my words.
But he only laughs. “Yeah, probably more than he likes me at times.”
“That’s not true. Your parents love you, Finn. They worry about you.”
He stretches his legs out and glowers at me.
“I didn’t tell them what happened,” I say with sudden defense.
He spats out a scoff. “Oh, I know. Believe me, I would have heard about it if you’d told them.” He stares forward, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. “I can’t lose fire nights, ya know?” he says, but I don’t think he expects an answer. “It’s the only place I feel like me.”
“Really?”
He shifts his eyes my way.
“You were kind of a jerk last night. That’s who you want to be?”
He thinks for a minute, as if he’s deciding whether being a jerk is his goal in life or not. “I guess, fire night makes me feel normal. Just a bunch of friends laughing and talking—and yeah, sometimes bagging on our parents. Nobody asks what my oxygen level is or if my ankles are swollen.”
“I guess I can understand that. But you should give your parents a break.”
He sits up and looks at me, his eyes grazing over me until I’m feeling exposed in some way. “You’re probably right.”
“I thought you said you’d played before.”
“I said I played once.” Finn’s hooded character goes down again.
“You suck.” I giggle. My thumb hurts from killing Finn so many times.
The door to the bookshop rings with the bell and I jump to my feet. Finn takes a shot with his newly generated man and with my hands off the controller he gets his first hit. “Ha!” he hollers.
“Cheater.” I hurry down the steps from his living room, but its only Marley. “Hey,” I say cheerily, but with the machine gun noise from the game upstairs and my window display far from done guilt floods my insides. “We were just—”
“Esther’s kicking my butt at a violent, non-parent approved video game,” Finn yells from the upper level.
I cringe. “Sorry. I’m coming in tomorrow to work on the display. And you don’t have to pay me for the last hour,” I pause, bite my lip and add, “and a half.”
Marley’s eyes are tired, but she pats my shoulder. “On your day off? Don’t worry about it little Taurus.”
“Are you okay, Marley?”
“Yeah.” She sighs though. “Drunk tourists are the worst.”
I wrinkle my nose. I can imagine.
“Esther, I killed your archer—again,” Finn calls from the upper floor.
I pinch my lips together, heat spreading to my cheeks. I’m still embarrassed by my lack of work—at work. “He cheats.”
Marley smiles at me. “Your tree is coming along.”
I peer over to the window where my half a tree trunk sits. “It is. I think it’s gonna be pretty cool. I’m going to take these home,” I hold up the tattered books Marley gave me to create the leaves. “I’ll get them all cut out.”
“You don’t have to do that. And you don’t have to come in on your day off.”
“I want to.” I nibble on my lip.
“Essie, your family might want to see you. You’ve been here every day this week.”
I lift one shoulder. “Once I get started on a project I have to finish.” It’s an excuse and I think we both know it, but she doesn’t argue with me.
“Esther!” Finn yells, beckoning me back. “I’m not afraid to kill you a third time.”
A laugh falls from Marley’s chest. “Go on.”
11
“No dream again last night?” Cytha asks.
“Nope.” I was sure my dreams would be filled with cancer stricken children and heart racing boys—but nothing. Which surprises me because I can’t keep Finn off my brain. How did he have cancer? Isn’t cancer for old people? Most definitely not for toddlers.
Harmony races by my bedroom door—two years old, is she a toddler? I could forget about Finn being sick when we sat on a couch playing a video game. But when we walked down the street together, I couldn’t help but notice how his breathing became more labored. Would I have noticed anything before? I’m guessing not. But now, I think about when I laid on his chest, when he saved me from The Reading Mother and I could feel his heart working overtime against my back.
“Essie?”
I shake my head, lost in thought and Cytha comes back into view. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you liked him any better?” She hushes her voice, though she’s seven hundred miles away. “Now that you know, what you know.”
“I do. At least, I think I do. And not because I know he’s sick. Maybe because I understand him better.” I stare at her. “And you don’t have to whisper like that. It’s not as if he’s going to overhear you. It’s not a secret, just something he doesn’t really talk about.”
She taps her chin. “Except with you.” She walks from her bathroom to her bedroom and I look away, her motion making me sea sick. “I’m still waiting for a picture.”
“That sounds awkward. How do you propose I get that?”
“You’re friends now. Take a selfie.”
Were we friends? We’d played a game together. He helped me work on my tree. We shared a few personal stories. We didn’t bite each other’s heads off for one afternoon. Did that make us friends? Cytha thought so, and I ran everything by her. So, sure, call Finn my friend.
I end my call promising Cytha I’ll try for a pic.
Ugh. I can’t uphold that promise. She’ll have to be happy with descriptions.
If I want to skip family dinner tonight I can’t go to the shop too early. I’ll have to wait until at least noon. I have a couple of hours to kill. So, I tip-toe down the hall to Harmony’s room.
“Essie!” she squeals when my head pops into her room. She swings her little legs from her twin sized bed and scampers over to me. “Essie, let’s play people.”
I look down at her Little People toys. “Ah, not today. Harmony, do you have any paint?”
“You wanna paint?”
I nod.
Her round face softens and beams. “Me too.”
She takes my hand and leads me from her room. I wanted to hide in the confines of my own space and water color the leaves I cut out last night. But then, painting in one of Rodrick’s bedrooms probably isn’t my best idea.