Second Chance (32 page)

Dylan looks dow
n at her pictures.
“
It’s just a hobby
.
Anyone can do this,”
she
says
.

I shake my head
.
“Some people go to school for years to
try to
learn to be half as creative as you
naturally are
.
I’m just saying, i
f you’re good at something, figure out a way to
make money
doing it.”

“That sounds mean.”

I smile at her
.
“It’s not mean to ta
ke money from people, Dylan
.
It’s called a job
.”

“You can’t make a living a
t everything,
”
she says, but it sounds more like a challenge.

“Sure you can.”

She
taps her chin with one finger
.
“Okay,
let’s say
I love riding bikes
.
How do I get paid to ride bikes?”

I
start counting off reasons on my fingers
. “You work at
a
bike shop,
and
you eventually open up your own store
.
You ride
professionally
. Y
ou
lead sight-seeing
bike tours
.
Ther
e are
lots of ways.”

Dylan
sets her hand
on my arm
.
“
Let’s say I love walking and eating ice cream
at the same time
—”

I
grab her hand
in mine. “
No, I’m
not
going on one of your
random thought crusades
.
I
just
wanted to point out your
pictures are really
amazing
.
I’d love to see the world from your eyes for a day.
”

I let go of her fingers
,
but
I can’t
shift my eyes away
from her
s
even though I
want to
, e
ven though I can hear a siren going off
in my mind
.
T
his is exactly why I avoid
ed
being alone with her
.
Right next to her
.
The energy is too
strong
.

“I mostly picture
everybody naked,” she says.

“
Really
?
I’m jealous,” I say. S
he smiles and
I smile and
my heart is jamming away in my chest
.

“I’m jealous of
your world sometimes
,” she
admits
.
“Of
all the
se
people that get to be in your life
everyday
.
Make you laugh
.
Date you
.
I
t
makes me
realize
how much of you I’m missing out on.”

“My life is rooted down,” I remi
nd her
.
“You’d hate that.
” 

She leans forward to
collect her pictures in a pile
.
I ask the question that’s been gnawing at me since Dylan showed up
,
passed out at my front d
oor
.
The question that made me pull the car over and walk into temptation
.
Because I need to know
.

“Dylan, of all the places to go after
Europe
, why did you come
to
Albuquerque
?”

She
rests
her head against the
futon
and stares at the wall in front of us
.
I
drink in her profile
.
Her arm’s touching mine
.
I feel like I’m sitting too close to a fire
.
Like it
might scorch my skin
.

“
Y
ou’re here,
”
she says
.
“You’re my hang glider.”

“
I’m,
what?”

S
he takes a long breath
and exhales slowly
.
Dylan hardly ever talks about herself
.
But she knows I deserve an explanation
.
“I was trying to figure out what felt like home to me
.
It should have been
Wisconsin
or my family
.
At least my dogs
.
But
all I could think about was you.”

She turns to look at me and there’s a con
fused look on her face, like
even she doesn’t understand it.

“
You wanted to see me more than your
own family?”

“I love my
parents
,
but
they
give me
such a hard
time
.
”

“
They’re your family
,” I say
.
“They’re supposed to give you
a hard time
.
”

“I guess,” Dylan says
.
She picks at a piece of loose thread on the rug
.
She tells me it’s more than that
.
It’s like they’re trying to change her
.
“
Every time I go home, m
y
m
om
tells me I need to
fig
ure
out my life, which to her
just
means
settling down and domesticating.”
 

“
Domesticating?
” I ask.

“Yeah, you know
.
Married, part-time cook, part-time
housekeeper, mother of 2.3 kids.”

“Got it,” I say
.

“
My sister
thinks I’m
fashion-
challenged
.
She
wants me to cut my hair and buy new clothes and
wear
jeans that are tight which just give me wedg
i
es
.
I like loose
fitting
jeans because
they’re easy
to bend down and take pictures in.”

“In case you feel like being a squirrel for a day,” I point out
.
Her e
yes light up.

“Exactly
.
But they don’t get it
.
They don’t
see
me
.
They just
see
this silly daydreamer with no ambition,
like
I’m lost
in
the
world
trying to find myself
.
They don’t get
that
this is
who I am
.
Just because
I’m
not anchored
down
doesn’t mean
I’m
lost
.
I really wish people could understand that.
”

I look down at her photos and think about this
.
“They’re probably worried when
you’re
gone
all the time,” I say
.
“They care about you.”

“
I just get tired of having t
o explain myself every time
I turn around
.
Especially to my own family
.
I feel like they should support
me
.”  Her face falls into an adorable pout
.
“
And
a
ll my
dad wants to talk about is
college and
savings accounts
and whether
or not I have health insurance.
”