“Yes, I can do that.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Bernard complained, “but I suppose we’ll have to just work with what little time we have.”
After lunch, we all returned to Bernard’s. All the men, but especially Salinger and Bernard, tried their best to school me on a tournament-style match. I was so overwhelmed with trying to remember procedure, I lost my first game after lunch to Bernard. Then I lost my second. And my third. And my fourth.
“Excuse me,” I told the room and walked out onto Bernard’s little front stoop.
I poured myself down the few steps there and began pacing in front of his home. I felt rather than saw Salinger appear on Bernard’s stoop, so I stopped, my back to him.
“I’ll never get my sisters home, Salinger. I can’t do this. The first win was a fluke. He’s too good.”
I wrapped my hands around my arms and turned around. He had closed the door and had leaned on it, both hands in his pockets.
“You’re letting Bernard and the procedures get into your head,” he said.
“No. It’s him. He’s too good.”
“He’s a brilliant player, Lily, but so are you.”
“I’ll lose the tournament if that Aurek guy is any good.”
“He’s a phenom as well, Lily, but so are you.” He shifted his weight. “Bernard is a lot to take in, and you’re letting him overpower you.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You can help it. You’re powerful.” He eyed me, starting at my feet and worked his way up. “You have no idea how powerful.”
I swallowed, tamped down the sliver of heat his gaze gave me, and shivered. A small smile found the corner of his mouth but fell.
“Stop letting him and the rules cloud your head. He’s autistic, Lily. He’s smart as hell but has slight issues with boundaries. When you go back in there, you set those for him. Once you have that down, disregard the rules. Just let yourself play the way you’d always play. We’ll explain the rules as we go so you’re not so overwhelmed. Just play the game because you love to play. We’ll figure the rest out.”
I took a deep breath through my nose and exhaled through my mouth.
“Come on,” Salinger said and stood from his leaning position.
He opened the door and yelled inside. “I’m taking Lily on a walk. Clear her head.”
“I’m starting to wonder if she won on accident!” Bernard answered, but I heard him, and the truth of it made my chest constrict.
“She didn’t and you know it!” Salinger called back. “Stop messing with her head. It’s cruel, Bernard!”
Bernard grumbled, “Aurek will be no different. I thought you wanted me to prepare her.”
Salinger didn’t answer him. Instead, he closed the front door and jumped off the stoop onto the sidewalk, grabbing me by the upper arm, and leading me away from the house.
“Let’s clear your head and let’s be honest, I need to cool off.”
When we reached the end of Bernard’s block, he let go of my arm.
“Let’s walk around the French Quarter.”
“Okay,” I said.
The buildings were gorgeous. I’d never seen anything like them. You could tell they were built in a time when art was appreciated and each building was just that, a work of art. They took pride in the architecture and obviously built them to last. They were fascinating to look at with their ornate wrought iron railings, their painted shutters, their patina bricks, and inviting doors.
“My sisters would love it here,” I told him.
“That’s sweet, Lily.” He paused for a moment. “I always wanted a sister. I was a pretty lonely kid. Since I was an army brat, we didn’t have any real roots. I thought having a sister or even a little brother would have helped fill that insecurity for me.”
“Did your mom and dad not give that to you?” I asked him.
He smiled at nothing. “Not really. Dad was always working, and my mom was always drinking because of that. I barely know either of my parents. They ignored me for much of my childhood. Dad tried a little harder than Mom, though.”
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
He shrugged. “I don’t drink because of her.”
The memory of him refusing a drink at Ashleigh’s made sense to me then.
“I get that.” I looked at him. “You and I are opposites.”
He looked offended and I tried not to laugh. “Why do you think that?” he asked.
“No, I just meant that your parents’ struggles guided you in a way my parents’ struggles never guided me. There’s only one common denominator in those equations, and that’s us. You’re obviously smarter than I am. You learned from it. I didn’t.”
“Not true,” he said. “My dad never laid a hand on me. Neither did my mom. I can’t imagine being in that same situation and not being desperate to find an escape from that.”
I swallowed. “I don’t think you would have done what I’ve done. Besides, abuse comes in many forms, Salinger. My stepdad hit me—” I shook my head. “It’s so weird to say that out loud now he’s gone. A bit freeing to say it out loud, actually, like I’m starting to let the hurt go with the words.” I shook my head again. “Anyway, abuse comes in many forms.”
“That may be true, but I would never presume I endured anything close to the hell you lived. I can’t know what I would have done.”
“We all have our personal hells,” I told him. “What does it matter if one is hotter than the other? I’m not in denial. I knew there were better choices. I just didn’t care. I didn’t have a purpose. I chose what I knew, what was easy.”
“You care now?” he asked me.
“Maybe.”
He didn’t respond. He smiled, though he tempered it by biting his bottom lip.
“Thank you,” I told him.
“For what?”
“For many things. All of it.”
“No need. I don’t help people because it yields me something, Little. I helped you for the good of helping. It’s its own reward.”
“Thank you anyway.”
He smiled to himself and my stomach flipped on itself. “It’s not entirely selfless, actually,” he added, staring ahead.
“It’s not?” I asked him, my heart beating hard in my chest.
“No,” he admitted, looking at me briefly then back ahead of him. “I want to be your friend.”
My heart skipped a beat then immediately flatlined. I’m ashamed to admit I felt disappointed by his answer. I felt dumb for feeling it, too, but I won’t lie and say it didn’t disenchant me. I scolded myself for feeling as much because he was being honest in every way you could possibly be honest and he was a good friend to me, a very good friend. So I decided not to be selfish. I decided I could hope all day long, but I couldn’t get mad when he wanted to be my friend and only my friend. I couldn’t get mad because he deserved someone better than me. I couldn’t get mad because I didn’t deserve to get mad. I had amends to make and I didn’t have the time or the right to think of anything else, even if that anything, or rather that anyone, was Salinger.
Salinger with his perfect heart. Salinger with his perfect face. A face the sun seemed to find whenever it woke enough to search. It found him and bathed him in its warmth because he gave it meaning.
I wanna be just like him.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Not really. I am thirsty, though.”
We came upon a small cafe and Salinger led us inside. We ordered a couple of smoothies and headed back onto the street. We caught a street musician’s performance before heading back toward Bernard’s.
“I have to ask you something,” I said, feeling a little nervous.
“What’s that?”
“What did you and Lyric talk about after I left that night?”
Salinger cocked his head back slightly, exposing his strong jaw and long neck, and stared down toward me, a small smile on his face.
“What does it matter, Lily?”
I felt my face heat up. I was embarrassed because I felt like asking made my crush obvious. I tried to deflect. “She hates me; I can tell.”
His head dropped forward, his smile fell. “She’s jealous of you.”
I swallowed. “Impossible. Does she even know my family situation?”
“She’s jealous of what you’re capable of.”