So I go on, rain pattering, heart pounding. I relive the moment. I allow the memory to be. “She threw her arm around my back, and I’ll never forget her words that night. ‘You’re getting older, Sam. I know that. It won’t be long until you’re off at school, and I won’t be there to keep you in line. You’re going to drink and party and break the rules from time to time. I did. Your dad did. I just hope you know which rules are breakable and which aren’t. I hope we taught you that. And I’m sorry about tonight. I know the party was a big deal. I just needed to feel like I was still your mom. Like I still had some say.’”
I give Nina’s hand a squeeze. “That was the first time she spoke to me as an adult, an equal. And I got it, you know? What she was going through. It’s one of those moments that sticks with you.” I inhale the coconut scent from her hair, exhaling slowly. “Thanks. It’s nice to talk about her like this. The good times.”
Everything about Nina is beautiful. The gray wool hat she wore today pulled low on her forehead, her usual ponytail over her shoulder. But like this, on a cold, rainy night in New Zealand, her beauty is in her ability to ease my heavy heart. I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles, because I have to. Because she needs to know how important that question was. “Now it’s my turn. I have two things I’d like to ask.”
Her breathing stills as I brush my lips over her fingers. “Two?” she finally says. “That hardly seems fair. I only asked one.”
“Sucks to be you, Canada. Question one: You’ve mentioned your folks live in a swanky area of Toronto. I’m struggling to put together how two eccentric hippies have afforded that lifestyle. I don’t mean to be blunt. Just seems odd is all.” The rain is heavier, a rumble so constant you could tune it out. Actually, when I’m around Nina, I can tune everything out.
She rolls back, shifting to see my face. “Technically, that wasn’t a question. It was an observation. But I know what you’re getting at. My dad is a hoarder, pot-smoking, hippie freak, but he’s also a computer-slash-math whiz. He was part of the HTML-five team that created some robot language us human folks can read. If you get him talking about his work, he throws around words like interoperable implementations, syntactic features, and scalable vector graphics, so I don’t ask about it. He made a pile of cash and still freelances. Actually, if you think about it, he’s part of the reason my high school life sucked. His algorithms helped build YouTube, the vehicle that houses my humiliation.”
“You could look at it like that, or you could thank him for your exceptional physique. You wouldn’t have made it up that first hike if it weren’t for the tai chi he forced on you.”
She tries to push my arms away, but I don’t let her. She settles on slamming her elbow into my side. “You suck.”
“I know.” I draw her closer, spooning her against my chest again. “Question two: Your siblings all have cool car names. Don’t get me wrong, I love Nina. It suits you. But I don’t get why you missed out on the chance to rock a kick-ass name.”
“Again, Sam, that was a statement, not a question. You sure you’ve done two years of college?”
I squeeze her thigh in that sensitive spot that makes her jump. She squeals and pushes to the other side of the sleeping bag, breathless. Instead of biting back with one of her funny comments, she stiffens and quiets. This is the Nina who gets embarrassed. This is the Nina who shuts people out. This is the Nina I thought we banished.
I lift onto my elbow and place my hand on her shoulder. “Did I hit a nerve?” I run my thumb down her neck, my hand settling near her collarbone. Near the dip I kissed. The place I want to graze my teeth on right now. But I can’t break her rule. Or maybe it’s my rule. A familiar heat stirs in my flannels.
She stiffens under my touch, but something tells me it has more to do with my question than my closeness. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess I lost the lottery on the name thing. My