coffee shops, free rides on the BART, and even free clothes. But what would happen after this? Would she and Hutch become a couple? Would Hutch be the guy she married years from now and they could say they were high-school sweethearts? What did it really mean to be someone’s “sweetheart?” Don’t jump too far ahead—you’re still locked in a kitchen, her over-analytical brain reminded her.
“I didn’t mean anything before, about the two moms stuff. It’s totally not my business. And no biggie if you went to therapy. My parents made me go a lot. They were obsessed with finding the right medication for me when I was younger and ‘out of control.’ Turns out I was just a ten-year-old boy, and that’s kind of what happens.” Hutch leaned back on his elbows and kicked his shoes off.
“Well, you know what they say about an unexamined life not being worth living. I kinda always liked the idea of that.” Devon finished the last bite of pancake and dropped her fork next to Hutch’s on the plate.
“Mine’s a tie,” Hutch said.
“A tie?” Devon leaned back onto her elbows beside him.
“My philosophy. It’s a Robert Frost tie. Between ‘The Road Not Taken’ and ‘Snowy Evening.’ ”
“Oh, is that about choosing the road less traveled? I think I remember that one.”
Hutch looked up at the ceiling and recited, “ ‘Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.’ ”
He finished and looked to Devon with that crooked smile of his. She now understood that this is the face Hutch made when he was proud of himself.
“That makes sense. The not-supposed to part of you, it’s the road less traveled.”
“I just like the idea of looking back at my life and feeling like I made different choices than everyone else, you know? Most people are inherently boring if you really dig deep. They don’t want much, they don’t veer from their chosen path, and they’re generally scared of change. I don’t know, at least that’s how my grandfather tells it. I don’t want to be like fifty and realize that I was one of those people who didn’t bother to think outside the box. That’s why the other poem is tied.”
“What’s the other one about?” Devon asked, rapt.
“I won’t do the whole thing, although, I could, it’s one of my hidden talents, reciting poetry. But the part I love the most is, ‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.’ ” Hutch closed his eyes. A small, contented smile was fixed on his lips. Devon wanted to kiss those lips again, but it seemed better to let the poem have some space. She let the last line hang in the air a moment longer.
“I really like that one,” she said. “I’m not sure I totally get it, but it’s cool.”
Hutch rolled to his side and looked at Devon, his head resting in his hand. “There’s always something else to do. Like it’d be easy to stop or be lulled into something, but there’s miles to go before I can stop doing any of it. I don’t know, that probably sounds really lame.”
“No, I get it. I think we all need that thing, whatever it is, God, family, pancakes, that keep us going even on those days when you just don’t want to get out of bed. You’ve got miles to go, and I’ve got Nutter Butters.” Devon leaned down now, level with Hutch.
Hutch’s face grew serious. His fingers intertwined with hers. “You should always have Nutter Butters,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “Always.” Devon waited. The way Hutch bit his lip, she knew there was more to come. “This kid at my school last year. I didn’t know him. I mean, I’d seen him around, but … he committed suicide. They did this all-school memorial and the principal read some lame poem that no one listened to and then the band played that Sarah McLachlan song, ‘I Will Remember You.’ I remember thinking that this kid, wherever he was, must be laughing his ass off or hating this stupid ceremony, or both. The whole thing was royally wrong. Like you’re here one day and the next they’re playing Sarah McLachlan in your honor, and no one knew the kid well enough to play a song