come off the oversize spatula, dumped into giant bins. Each of us buys a dozen bagels.
“Où veux-tu aller?”
I’ll go anywhere, I want to say, but instead I shrug. We only have a couple of hours until we’re due back at the bus station in order to make the last bus, and I hate the idea that this is our last weekend together, that in a week we’ll both be headed back home, far away from Montreal, far away from Huntington.
“Un autre café?”
Definitely. Coffee is my official beverage of choice here.
“Oui.” I smile. We pick up extra-large coffees and settle down on a park bench near what seems to be a very hotly contested soccer game.
“Viens ici,” Zeke whispers, pulling me closer, his arm resting across my shoulders. Leaning my head on his chest, I sip my coffee and watch the soccer players. The men, seemingly in their midthirties, are strong and dark, their olive skin painted with a faint sheen of sweat. They race back and forth across the field, unapologetic in their praise and condemnation of their teammates. The crowds sitting around the field follow their lead, shouting jeers at the goalie, who misses catching the ball by a hair.
“What language are they speaking?” I know that French in Quebec sounds different, but nothing has been quite as difficult to understand as their yells.
“Based on the flags the various fans are waving, I’m guessing Croatian and maybe Tunisian?”
An elderly man hobbles over to the shamed goalie and smacks him on the head.
“Oops.” I laugh. “Someone’s in trouble.”
We watch through the last quarter of the game, cheering for both teams until our voices are almost as hoarse as the spectators’. As the crowds disperse, they hand us their leftover flags, each team believing we were on their side.
The clock strikes four, and I groan. “We should probably start heading in,” I say, pulling my phone out and turning it on to check the time.
Four missed calls from Jed. Two from Si.
“Listen, Abby, before we get back, I want to talk about something.” Zeke’s voice is strained, and it takes me a few moments to realize he’s switched to English. We’ve been speaking French nonstop for so long that it seems odd to even hear English words coming out of his mouth.
“Of course,” I mutter, my fingers swiping across my phone. What if something happened at home? Most likely not. Most likely Jed called once to say hi and then butt-dialed me the rest. And Si . . . maybe—
“Let me just call home quickly,” I say, handing him my bag of bagels, my red rose, flags, and the collection of postcards I purchased.
“Everything okay?” Zeke asks, transferring all the bags to his right arm so he can hold mine in his left.
My phone is ringing and it’s my home number. Odd. I wonder if I should tell them I’m in Montreal, that it’ll cost extra to talk to me here. Or maybe it’ll cost me extra?
“Abby!” Jed shouts as I swipe the answer button before the call goes to voice mail. “Si, it’s Abby! C’mere. Finally! Abby, I can’t—”
“Zeke, just a second,” I mutter, my hand in Zeke’s coming to rest on his chest.
“Holy shit! Ezekiel is there? He’s actually there? I thought this might have been a joke, that you were pulling our leg. But you’re actually standing there with Ezekiel Martin? Really? I told Si that guy at your school looked like Ezekiel Martin but he said there was no chance. Put him on the phone!”
“Wait, what?” How would my brothers even know who I was standing with? I feel like there are giant puzzle pieces floating around and I have no idea how to connect them all. “Are you guys here?”
“What? No! Abby! Put Ezekiel on the phone!”
I turn to Zeke and his face is white, his eyes wide. He’s clearly heard their shouting.
Is this some kind of odd brotherly love thing? Like Don’t hurt my baby sister or I’ll come get you? But they wouldn’t be excited for that, would they?
Zeke holds the phone, his eyes pleading with mine.
“This is Zeke.”
I can hear the vague shouts and the sound of my brothers’ voices, but Zeke has the phone pressed so tightly to his ear that I can’t hear much else.
“Sure, sure,” he says, his jaw tighter and tighter. “I’m definitely considering all my options.”
He listens for a long moment, his eyes closed. “Absolutely. I’ll get your information from Abby and I’d love to meet up when