“Okay,” he said, swallowing, recovered. “You don’t look like a magician.”
She was expecting the conversation to veer back to Hedda, but the comment took her pleasantly by surprise. “What do magicians look like?”
“Old men with top hats.”
“Well, it should please you to know that I actually do have a top hat and have been known to wear it on occasion. With a tuxedo. Arya calls it my sexy penguin look.” It was out before she could stop it—such a well-worn, common joke between herself and her friend. She was rewarded for her gaffe by Quin’s outburst of laughter, and further with the distraction of Crystal, who chose that moment to come by and pour coffee. And water. And to ask how everything was. And if they needed anything else. Dini hoped the air would be clear by the time the waitress left, but no.
“Sexy penguin?”
Dini squeezed her eyes shut. “I should have just showed you my tattoo.” And then, at the invitation of his raised eyebrows, she did. It sat on top of her right shoulder and needed only the slightest push of her wide-necked sweater to reveal the black silk top hat with two bunny ears peeking out. “Now, on to you.”
“I have a feeling I might die as the last un-inked man on earth.”
“I mean, you don’t look like a math teacher.”
“What do math teachers look like?”
She busied herself, isolating three pepper strips and spearing them to a chunk of potato. “I guess I don’t really know.” Looking up, she saw nothing but kindness and logic in his eyes and thought, truthfully, she’d never seen anyone more like a teacher. “I never actually went to school.”
“What?” Were it not for the music, the echoes of a hundred people speaking, the shouts of orders and instructions, the distant “Happy Birthday” song in the corner, his outburst might have been embarrassing. “How? Wait, homeschool?”
She nodded. “But not, like homeschool homeschool. My dad was a magician too. Old-man-top-hat kind. And he traveled all over, Mom with him. And me. So I just had books and stuff in the back of the bus or on the train or whatever we were doing at the time. Backstage dressing rooms, places like that. Mom didn’t follow any kind of actual curriculum. I just, you know, learned stuff.” She turned the focus back to Quin. “Come to think of it, I’ll bet you’re a great teacher. Sleeves rolled up. Tie loose.”
“I don’t wear a tie.”
“Sitting on the edge of your desk. Letting the kids call you by your first name. Playing Led Zeppelin music while they take a quiz.”
“So you’ve never been in a classroom, but clearly you have seen them on TV.”
“I spent a lot of hours alone while my parents were performing. Mom was his glamorous assistant, folding herself up in the box and getting sliced to pieces every night.”
“Fun.” He scraped at his food. “Do you ever perform with your dad?”
“I did, some, when I was little.” And then, as she feared would happen, her throat closed. What was it about him that made her forget to plan her words ahead? Silently she begged, Please don’t ask. Don’t ask….
“How about now? Is he still performing?”
She could simply say no and change the subject. They were still strangers after all, and this was far too deep a wound to invite him to step in. Usually she was much better at keeping up the guardrails, cutting off any talk that would bring her to this point. But he had lulled her, bringing her to some place where bits of herself were floating, disconnected from the moment, and fair game to be rescued and brought up in conversation.
The pause had been overlong. “Hey,” Quin said, “it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”
She took a sip of coffee—a test to see if she could swallow. If she could swallow, she could speak.
“When I was sixteen, we were part of a big traveling talent showcase. Booked little theaters all over Nevada, California, Colorado. Months on the road. We were on a mountain pass in this huge rainstorm, and the road—the ground—just sort of slid out from under the bus. It killed almost everyone on it.” She put her coffee down. “I’m one of the almost.”
“Oh, Dini. I’m so sorry.”
She’d left her hand, warm from the coffee mug, sitting on the table. He reached across, covered it with his own, and she let him. Neither spoke, and he sent the ever-attentive Crystal