‘No,’ Eleanor said, ‘that’s not what it is. But it doesn’t even matter. He won’t come back, okay? It isn’t even like that anyway.’
Her mom left the room. Richie was still in the house. Eleanor ran out the front door when she heard him turn on the bathroom sink.
It’s not even like that, she thought as she walked to the bus stop. And thinking it made her want to cry, because she knew it was true.
And wanting to cry just made her angry.
Because if she was going to cry about something, it was going to be the fact that her life was complete shit – not because some cool, cute guy didn’t like her like that.
Especially when just being Park’s friend was pretty much the best thing that had ever happened to her.
She must have looked ticked off when she got on the bus because Park didn’t say hi when she sat down.
Eleanor looked into the aisle.
After a few seconds, he reached over and pulled at the old silk scarf she’d tied around her wrist.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘For what?’ She even sounded angry. God, she was a jerk.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I feel like maybe I got you in trouble last night …’
He pulled on the scarf again, so she looked at him. She tried not to look mad – but she’d rather look mad than look like she’d spent all night thinking about how beautiful his lips are.
‘Was that your dad?’ he asked.
She jerked her head back. ‘ No.
No, that was my … mother’s husband.
He’s
not
really my anything. My problem, I guess.’
‘Did you get in trouble?’
‘Sort of.’ She really didn’t want to talk to Park about Richie.
She’d just about scraped all the Richie off the Park place in her head.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Anyway, thanks for bringing Watchmen. I’m glad I got to read it.’
‘It was cool, huh?’
‘O h , yeah. Kind of brutal. I mean that part with the Comedian …’
‘Yeah … sorry.’
‘No, I didn’t mean that. I mean … I think I need to reread it.’
‘I read it again twice last night.
You can take it tonight.’
‘Yeah? Thanks.’
He was still holding the end of her scarf, rubbing the silk idly between his thumb and fingers.
She watched his hand.
If he were to look up at her now, he’d know exactly how stupid she was. She could feel her face go soft and gummy. If Park were to look up at her now, he’d know everything.
He didn’t look up. He wound the scarf around his fingers until her hand was hanging in the space between them.
Then he slid the silk and his fingers into her open palm.
And Eleanor disintegrated.
Park
Holding Eleanor’s hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat.
Like holding something complete, and completely alive.
As soon as he touched her, he wondered how he’d gone this long without doing it. He rubbed his thumb through her palm and up her fingers, and was aware of her every breath.
Park had held hands with girls before. Girls at Skateland. A girl at the ninth-grade dance last year.
(They’d kissed while they waited for her dad to pick them up.) He’d even held Tina’s hand, back when they ‘went’ together in the sixth grade.
And always, before, it had been fine. Not much different from holding Josh’s hand when they were little kids crossing the street. Or holding his grandma’s hand when she took him to church. Maybe a little sweatier, a little more awkward.
When he’d kissed that girl last year, with his mouth dry and his eyes mostly open, Park had wondered if maybe there was something wrong with him.
He’d
even
wondered
–
seriously, while he was kissing her, he’d wondered this – whether he might be gay. Except he didn’t feel like kissing any guys either.
And if he thought about She-Hulk or Storm (instead of this girl, Dawn) the kissing got a lot better.
Maybe I’m not attracted to real girls, he’d thought at the time.
Maybe I’m some sort of perverted cartoon-sexual.
Or maybe, he thought now, he just didn’t recognize all those other girls. The way a computer drive will spit out a disk if it doesn’t recognize the formatting.
When he touched Eleanor’s hand, he recognized her. He knew.
Eleanor Disintegrated.
Like something had gone wrong beaming her onto the Starship Enterprise.
If you’ve ever wondered what that feels like, it’s a lot like melting – but more violent.
Even in a million different pieces, Eleanor could still feel Park holding her hand. Could still feel his thumb exploring her palm.
She sat completely still because she didn’t have any other option.
She tried to remember what kind of animals paralyzed their prey before they ate them …
Maybe Park had paralyzed her with his ninja magic, his Vulcan handhold, and now he was going to eat her.
That would be awesome.
Park