see me, like it’s nice that I showed up. He doesn’t seem bewildered or curious or hateful, like I’m a poisonous snake in a box. He’s not waiting for me to strike.
“I said I’d come.”
“Do you always tell the truth, Denise?”
“Don’t you?”
He brushes a kiss over my cheek, and I feel the faint scratch of his stubble. When was the last time somebody kissed my cheek? It feels familiar. Friendly. Weird.
“You want to head straight for the ice cream?” he asks. “Or do you want to walk around for a bit first?”
“Let’s walk.”
“Sure. Anywhere in particular?”
“No. You choose.” He needs to choose because this is a test. And if he fails, I’m running so fast and so far he’ll never find me again.
“All right,” he says easily. “This way.” He nods to the left, and my heart beats a bit faster as we start down the paved pathway. Despite the sunshine, there are only a handful of other people around, a couple of women pushing strollers, a few joggers, teenagers skipping school to get high.
“I grew up in Montana,” Chris offers. “When I moved here a year ago, I didn’t know what to do with myself. The buildings. The traffic. The people. I used to come here a lot.”
“Why don’t you live closer to the school?”
“There’s nowhere to live, if you don’t actually own a farm, which I don’t. Half an hour past where I met you is a prison, and I’m not about to live out there, even if they do have some cheap housing. There are places between Holden and the college, but they’re small, and when I moved out here it was to broaden my horizons. I wasn’t going to do that in another town with just one traffic light, so here I am.”
“Lucky me.”
“I keep telling you.”
I smile in spite of myself. Yesterday I’d had to drink three cups of tea with honey to soothe my hoarse throat. It wasn’t sore from cries of ecstasy, but an unaccustomed amount of conversation. I drank another cup this morning in preparation.
“Right here,” he says, pausing next to a large patch of grass with a circle of withered rose bushes in the middle. “Did you know this used to be a sun dial?”
“What did?” I ask. “The roses?”
“The space the roses fill. When they designed the park they had a sun dial custom-made, seven-feet in diameter.”
“Where is it?”
“A local pagan cult began using it to conduct ‘unwholesome’ ceremonies on the full moon, and the city removed it.”
I snort out a laugh. “No, they didn’t.”
“They did too. Cross my heart.”
“How do you know this?”
“Research. They tore it out, replaced it with rose bushes, and the sun dial’s in the museum on Aiker Street.”
“Did you go to check it out?”
“Of course I did.”
He pauses at the edge of the pond, a tiny dock with a free paddle boat waiting. It’s too cold to tempt anyone to get out on the water. There aren’t even any birds swimming. He holds out a hand when I hesitate. “What do you say?”
“No thanks?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “We can walk all the way around if you like, but I can hear your teeth chattering.”
“My teeth are fine.”
“They’re beautiful. So are you.”
“Knock it off.” I take his hand and get in the boat.
We bob precariously when he climbs in beside me and I grip the side like that’ll make a difference. The pond’s not terribly deep, and I can see the gray glow of stones through the dark water. It’s still and cool as we begin to pedal, my thighs burning almost instantly, unaccustomed to the exercise.
Chris leans back in his seat like this is the most leisurely and relaxing type of activity, linking his fingers over his stomach and studying our surroundings. The pond has a tiny manmade island in the middle that’s technically a refuge for rare birds, but everyone knows couples sneak over to have sex when they want to feel daring.
I really hope he’s not taking me to the stupid island. I’ve already been.
He’s not. We glide past it, not talking, and eventually my legs stop hurting and just go numb, though it’s obvious when I pedal slower, because the boat begins to veer off course and Chris has to match my pace to keep us pointed...somewhere. The pond has a dozen different docks.
“Do you have a destination in mind?” I ask after a while. I spend ninety percent of the week alone in my apartment; the fresh air and open space