My Only (11 page)

“Cool,” I said with a breath of relief. “So, around eleven? Maybe we can grab lunch?” She walked to the door. “I think I’l eat at home, okay?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

“It’s just easier since there’s not a plethora of vegan eateries here, you know?” I nodded. “Sure. So maybe we’l go at noon?”

“Noon, it is. Is it in walking distance?”

While I was happy she brought it up before I did, I was stil embarrassed that I didn’t know how to drive. It seemed weak and unmanly. I shook my head, my face heating up with a blush.

“Good,” she said, voice light. “It’l give me a chance to show you how easy it is to drive. I’l text you if I can’t go.” We got al the way down to the foyer. Aaron was leaning against the hal way wal , watching us. Olivia turned around as she slipped on her shoes.

“I don’t have your cel number.”

It thril ed me that she asked for my number in front of my brother. She held out her pen and notebook. “Write it there.” She pointed to the cover. I felt stupid the way my heart soared. She wanted my number on a very visible place on her notebook. Maybe it was ridiculous to feel special because of it, but I did.

After writing it down, I said good night and watched her as she left. I didn’t close the door until she was safely inside the house across the street.

When I turned around, Aaron was stil in the hal way, arms folded over his chest.

I couldn’t tel if he was pissed. His face seemed neutral, but his eyes were dark. We stood there, facing off for almost a minute, until final y Aaron turned and retreated into the kitchen. As I contemplated the expression on his face, it dawned on me.

For the first time in our lives,
Aaron
was jealous of
me
.

I awoke to a nearly freezing room. The sun was already up, but when I got
out of bed, strode to the window, and pul ed up the blinds, I couldn’t see it.

The day was gray. It seemed that an early chil had settled on northern Il inois. The change hadn’t been noticeable. Just a gentle shift from the heat of the summer to the moderately cool days of early fal .

It was nearly October, but somehow I wasn’t ready for winter. I placed my palm against the glass. It was official y jacket weather. As I looked from the sky to the tree across the street, to Olivia’s bedroom window, I realized that I wasn’t the only one who thought it was chil y.

Olivia stood in front of her window, pul ing a black hoodie jacket tightly around her. When she saw me, she waved.

I waved back. She moved, and then my phone buzzed on my nightstand. I quickly retrieved the phone. It was a text message from an unknown number.
Cold enough for you? What happened to summer?

We were too far away to shout at each other, but through our phones we could talk. I texted back,
Actually it could be colder & it will be in a
month or so. What are you doing?

I watched her as she read the text. A moment later, I received her message.
Looking at you. What are you doing?

I laughed and typed.
Looking at you.
I wished I could’ve thought of something witty to say, but the only thing I could think of sending was confirmation of our plans today.
Still going?

Her answer came a few seconds later.
Of course. Noon. Put your driving shoes on. You teach me history, I teach you to drive.

It felt strange to be excited this early in the morning. Actual y, it felt strange to feel excitement at al . I tried to think of another time when I’d felt like this, but came up empty. Needing to start the day, I waved to Olivia and received one in return.

A bubbling sense of hope stayed with me as I went about my morning. I was ready and waiting by eleven o’clock. Ignoring Aaron as he asked incessant questions about where we were going, I kept peeking out of the front window, hoping to catch her coming out of her door. I didn’t want her to come over here. If she did, it’d give Aaron another chance to mesmerize her.

When I grew impatient, I left the house and sat down on the porch. Final y, Olivia emerged, cal ing out, “I’l be fine!” I stood, hopped off the steps and crossed the street. I didn’t want to seem too eager, but I wasn’t sure how to play it cool. “Hey,” I said. “I like your jacket.”

She glanced down at the black Harry Potter hoodie and shrugged. “Hope you don’t mind a bit of HP geekiness.”

“Harry Potter’s cool,” I said as we walked to her car.

She unlocked the passenger side door for me, but before she rounded the front of the car, she said, “And he’s hot.” What? She thought Harry Potter was hot? But he wasn’t big and buff. He wasn’t the best looking kid around. He seemed . . . average. Not bad looking, but definitely not Zac Efron.

The door popped open. I bent down and found Olivia leaning over the seat. “You going to get in or what?” I got in and put on my seat belt. “Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah, but I’ve never been in it. Is it cool?”

“I think so,” I answered.

About halfway to the bookstore, there was a dead deer on the side of the road. Olivia sighed. I turned to her and saw her press two fingers to her lips and hold them toward the window, as if offering a kiss to the animal.

It was one of the strangest things I’d ever seen. “Why did you do that?”

Returning her focus to the road, she said, “To let it know that someone remembers its life.”

“But it’s dead.” I hadn’t meant for it to come out rudely. “I mean, it can’t hear you or see the gesture.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

If it had been Casey or Aaron asking that, I would’ve said, “Duh,” but because it was Olivia—beautiful Olivia—I said, “Because it’s dead.”

“But the spirit of that animal goes on and the energy I just sent out into the universe wil find its way to it.” Oh, God. She was one of those new-aged hippies. I knew she was vegan, but I thought maybe it was just because it was trendy. Now that she was talking about energies and spirits, it al came into focus for me. I understood that the world took al kinds and different strokes for different folks and al that, but I didn’t understand her statement.

“What energy?”

As we slowed at a red light, she turned to face me. “Energy, thought, prayer, vibes, whatever you want to cal it. You think it’s bul shit, don’t you?” I wasn’t going to offend her by saying that I thought what she obviously believed in was crap. “I don’t know.”

“Haven’t you studied quantum physics?”

No, I didn’t study quantum physics. “I’ve heard of it, yes, but we haven’t gotten that far in class.”

“But you know some of Einstein’s theories.”

Sure, I knew the nuts and bolts of them, but I didn’t understand what she obviously wanted me to. “Yeah, but what do they have to do with a dead deer?”

Olivia sighed, but didn’t explain. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “You don’t think a life should be memorialized in some way once it’s gone?”

“Sure, I do, but it’s a
deer
, Livie. Not a person.”

The light turned green and she looked back to the road as she took off slowly. “So we can respect the life of a human, but not an animal?”

“That’s not what I said,” I didn’t real y want to get into a conversation like this with her, but at the same time, it would yield valuable information. “Is that why you don’t eat meat? Because you respect the life of the animals?”

“Yeah.” She said it in a way that let me know she was annoyed. I couldn’t help how I felt. “And don’t say stuff about how domesticated animals are meant to be food because I’l flip out.”

I certainly didn’t want that. Maybe I should’ve just left this conversation alone and asked about something else.

“I don’t eat meat because it’s bad for you, bad for the environment, and it exploits the lives of those who can’t speak for themselves. People think animals don’t feel, but they
do
. They shouldn’t have to die because—”

“Everyone dies, even animals. How is eating meat—something humans have been doing since the dawn of time—bad for you?”

“Do you want me to e-mail you the links to the medical studies that prove it? As far as the ‘dawn of time’ crap, should I break it al down for you on an evolutionary scale? Look at your teeth and your intestines and tel me they’re made for meat eating. Eating animal flesh leads to heart disease, stroke, cancer, and—”

“Everyone dies,” I said again.

She let out an exasperated sound, but then took a deep breath. As we pul ed into the parking lot of M.T. Shelves, she turned to me, eyes boring into mine. “Yeah, everyone dies.” Her voice was serious and it made my stomach flutter. “But it’s how you live that’s important, and I’m not going to take another soul down with me. I don’t enjoy pain, and I don’t enjoy the pain of others, even animals. I won’t be the cause of someone else’s suffering.”

After a moment, she unbuckled her seat belt and ran her hands through her hair. “And if you’re so okay with contracting a fatal condition or disease, why don’t you drive? Didn’t you say it was because you could die?”

I looked down at my lap. She was right.

“Look,” she said, touching my forearm. I raised my gaze to her. “I don’t care if you eat meat, okay? Who I am and what I do has no bearing on who you are and what you do. When I talk about how I feel about animal welfare, it’s not a judgment on you because you eat meat. I don’t usual y talk about this stuff with people because they get weird and defensive, as if me being vegan is some kind of social statement about them. And it’s not.”

“Okay.” It real y was al I could say.

“We cool?” she asked.

I popped my seat belt. “We’re cool.” Nodding to the brick building in front of us, I asked, “Want to go in?” I’d never been in a situation where I’d spoken so intensely about what was obviously a personal subject before. I didn’t quite understand why it had gotten so tense, but as we got out of the car and walked into the bookstore, everything seemed fine again.

Part of why I loved M.T. Shelves so much was because of the smel . It hit me as soon as I opened the glass door. I let Olivia go in first, but as I stepped over the threshold, I could almost
feel
the books. Barnes & Noble wasn’t like this. It didn’t smel or feel like anything, real y, except maybe lattes and mochas. This bookstore, however, had that dusty, old aroma. I knew if I took too deep of a breath through my nose, I’d probably start sneezing.

Straight in front of us were stacks and stacks of books. American History books were a few feet away. To the left was military history and to the right was the counter where the register sat. Instead of a person, an orange furbal stared us down. That was the bookstore’s cat. Every time I’d been in here, the cat would fol ow me around, as if making sure I behaved in his home. But when I’d try to pet him he’d hiss and bare his claws. I didn’t know what his real name was, but I referred to him as ‘Beast’.

“Oh my God,” Olivia whispered. I didn’t know what it was about this place, but everyone always whispered. The books were reminiscent of a library, but there were no signs tel ing anyone ‘quiet please’. Perhaps the people who come into bookstores like this al have an innate respect for the written word. Either way, I enjoyed the sound of her quiet voice as she said, “How appropriate is it that we walk into the history section?” So far, everything was going wel .

Pointing at the cat, she said, “He’s watching you like he knows you.” I glanced from the cat back to Olivia. She licked her bottom lip and stared right back at the furry demon. “Did you pul his tail the last time you were in here or something?”

“No,” I said with a chuckle. “He’s just mean.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.” Again, she looked around. She took her time studying the stacks of books, some neatly upright, others piled on their sides. There were books on the floor, neatly lining the sections, and there were books in glass cases, indicating that they were more special. Above the wooden shelves, trinkets and little pieces of local history lined the tops. Campaign buttons, beer mugs from local bars, old glass bottles, carved wooden vases and vessels, a few old stuffed animals, framed pictures of black and white photos, and ancient looking rocks and pinecones littered the area close to the ceiling. “This place is awesome.”

A wave of delight ran through me. I’d hoped she would like it. I’d hoped it would be a place we could share. “You haven’t even seen the second floor. Or the basement.”

Olivia’s eyes widened, like she couldn’t believe there was more. The basement was my favorite place. It was a maze, truly something to get lost in. The genres housed down there were varied, but al of the science fiction and fantasy were kept along the wal . There were times when I’d spend hours pul ing out titles, reading the back covers, flipping through the pages, and returning them to their homes, repeating the action over and over again.

To my surprise, Olivia grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and tugged me farther into the bookstore. With this connection, we wound our way through the stacks. She didn’t let go until we were at the steps. Some led up, some led down. Olivia looked at me, imploring me to make the choice.