Fuck. Fuck.
Finn must see my distress. He pulls over to the side of the road and leaves the engine running. “Eva, look at me.” He squeezes my hand, looking into my eyes. “Eva, it’s okay. Just breathe.”
I shake my head. “It’s not… I can’t…”
“I know.” He strokes my cheek, so reassuring and calm. “You don’t have to say a word. Remember? You know how to do this. Don’t force it.”
I gulp for air, hating my stupid, broken mouth for not keeping up and making me a freak all over again.
“What was that poem you used to tell me?” Finn asks, still waiting patiently. “The one about the trees.”
I take a ragged gasp. “Rosetti,” I manage to say.
“That’s the one.” Finn smiles at me. “Do you remember it?”
I nod, a jerky motion. I press my eyes tightly shut, and in the dark the words are right there, learned by heart. “When I am dead, my dearest, sing no sad songs for me,” I begin, my voice shaking like crazy. Finn squeezes my hand, and I push on. “Plant thou no roses at my head, nor shady cypress tree.”
“That’s it,” Finn’s voice comes softly. “I remember it now.”
He says the next line with me, our voices together in the silence of the car. “Be the green grass above me, with showers and dewdrops wet…”
It was the first thing I learned, that day in middle school, and I clung to it like a safety blanket in the years afterwards to get me through moments like this. And it works. With Finn’s hand holding mine tightly, and his voice steady alongside my own, I finally feel the quicksand ease away. Of course he knows exactly what to do to bring me back. Nobody knows me like him.
I breathe again, and slowly, deliberately, I manage to form a single sentence. “I’m okay.” Relief pounds through me, just hearing the words out loud. “I’m okay,” I say again, stronger this time. I feel the tracks slip back in place, so easy I can’t believe they were ever broken. “It’s nothing.” I flush, turning away. “I’m fine now.”
Finn doesn’t argue. He pauses a long minute, then nods. “Whatever you want.” He turns back to the wheel, puts the car in drive again, and eases back onto the road without another question. But he doesn’t let go of my hand for the rest of the drive. And me, I can’t bring myself to let go either.
Nine.
The restaurant is on a pretty stretch of coastline, set above the cliffs with an amazing view of the ocean. It’s fancy, I realize, the minute a waiter rushes to open the door for us. White linen tablecloths, with heavy silverware on every table beside fresh-cut roses, and chandeliers glittering overhead announce its glamor. This is a far cry from the crab shacks we used to haunt, eating fresh catch from a paper cone with butter dripping down our fingers and napkins stuffed down the neck of our shirts.
Now, Finn murmurs his name to the hostess, and we’re whisked across the room to the best table in the house, set in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out across the bay.
“I should have dressed up,” I whisper, as I slide into my seat.
“What are you talking about?” Finn looks puzzled. “You look beautiful. You always do.”
I blush, but it still doesn’t help the nerves in my stomach to be surrounded by polished women in expensive jewelry. The hostess even brings a stool for my purse, and carefully sets the Target bag down on it beside me like it’s made of designer leather.
“The ma?tre d will be right over.” She smiles, then discreetly slips away.
I unfold the heavy cloth napkin in my lap, and try to think of something to say.
Finn catches my eye across the table, and leans in with a wicked smile. “What do you think?” he whispers, nodding his head to the table beside us. “Girlfriend or daughter?”
I ease my head around and take a look. A balding man is tearing into a steak while the bored-looking girl at the table scrolls through her phone, ignoring her plate of food.
“She has to be his daughter,” I whisper back. “She can’t be a day over eighteen!”
“Want to bet?” Finn grins at me. “Ten bucks says you’re wrong.”
“Ewww!” I laugh. The man looks over at the noise, and I quickly try to cover it with a fake coughing fit.
Finn hands me a glass of water. “You okay there, baby?” he says at normal volume.
“Mmmhmm.” I gulp it down, trying to stop my laughter. The couple turns back to their meal, and the guy reaches over and takes the girl’s hand. He says something, and she gives a fake little laugh, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
And then the mouth.
‘Ten bucks’, Finn mouths to me again, and I kick him under the table. Just like that, the tension is broken. We may be miles from where we started, but some things haven’t changed. The thought is comforting, and makes my heart lift. This doesn’t have to be labored or painful. Maybe I can just choose to have fun tonight, and forget that the embarrassing scene in the car ever happened.