Outside, I could hear someone still shrieking, other battles going on. But in the bright light of the kitchen, it was just us. The way it had been those other nights, yet suddenly something felt different. Not like we’d changed so much as that we could. And might.
I was looking right at Eli, thinking this, and he was staring right back at me, and it was suddenly so easy to imagine myself reaching my hand forward to brush his hair from his face. It was all there: how his skin would feel against my fingertips, the strands against my palm, his hands rising up to my waist. Like it was already happening, and then, suddenly, I heard the door bang behind me.
‘Hey,’ Adam called out, and I turned to see him holding up the camera again, the lens pointing right at us. ‘Smile!’
As the shutter snapped, I knew it was likely I’d never see this picture. But even if I did, it wouldn’t come close to capturing everything I was feeling right then. If I ever did get a copy, I already had the perfect place for it: a blue frame, a few words etched beneath. The best of times.
Chapter TEN
‘Boot cut or boyfriend fit?’
There was a pause. Then, ‘Which do you think looks better?’
‘You know, it’s not an either/or kind of thing. It’s more about how you want your butt to look.’
I sighed, then put the deposit book into the safe and pushed the door shut with my foot. Another day, another opportunity to hear Maggie go on about the gospel of denim. I liked her and all – surprising as that was – but I still had trouble stomaching the seriously girly stuff. Like this.
‘See?’ I heard her say a moment later as the customer emerged again from the fitting room. ‘The boot gives you that nice flow from thigh to ankle. The upturn at the cuff draws your eye right to it, rather than other areas.’
‘Other areas,’ the woman grumbled, ‘are my problem.’
‘Mine, too.’ Maggie sighed. ‘But the boyfriend fit has its strengths also. So you should try them and we’ll compare.’
The woman said something, although I couldn’t hear her over the front door chiming. A moment later, Esther came into the office. She had on army pants and a black tank top, and her expression was grave as she flopped into the chair behind me without comment.
‘Hey,’ I said to her. ‘Are you –’
Maggie suddenly appeared in the open door, eyes wide, her phone in one hand. She glanced at it, then at Esther. ‘I just got your text! Is this for real? Hildy is… dead?’
Esther nodded, still silent.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Maggie shook her head. ‘But she was, like, one of us. I mean, after all this time…’
I opened my mouth to say something, offer some kind of condolence. But before I could, Esther finally spoke. ‘I know,’ she said, her voice tight. ‘She was a great car.’
Outside, the fitting-room door swung open again. ‘Car?’ I asked.
They both looked at me. ‘The best Jetta ever,’ Maggie said. ‘Hildy was our sole source of transportation in high school. She was one of the girls.’
‘Such a trooper,’ Esther agreed. ‘I bought her for three thousand bucks with eighty thousand miles on her, and she never let us down.’
‘Well,’ Maggie said, ‘I wouldn’t say that. What about that time on the interstate, on the way to the World of Waffles?’
Esther shot her a look. ‘Are you really going to bring that up? Now? At this moment?’
‘Sorry,’ Maggie said. Outside, the fitting room door swung open again. ‘Oh, crap. Hold on.’
She disappeared back down the hallway. A moment later, I heard the customer say, ‘I just don’t know about these. Now I feel like my ankles are huge.’
‘That’s just because you’re used to the flare,’ Maggie assured her. ‘But look at how good your thighs look!’
Esther tipped her head back, looking at the ceiling. I said, ‘So what now? You’re walking?’
‘Not an option,’ she said. ‘I leave for school soon, and I have to take a car with me. I’ve got some money saved, but not nearly enough.’
‘You could take out a loan.’
‘And be in more debt?’ She sighed. ‘I’m already going to be paying college off until I’m dead.’
‘I don’t know,’ I heard the customer say outside. ‘Neither have really looked right so far.’
‘That’s because finding the perfect jeans is a process,’ Maggie replied. ‘I told you, you have to find the ones that speak to you.’
I rolled my eyes again, picking up my pen and going back to my balance sheet. A moment later, I heard the customer go back into the fitting room, and Maggie reappeared in the office.
‘Okay, so let’s talk options,’ she said to Esther, who was still staring at the ceiling. ‘What about a loan?’
‘I’m already going to be paying off college until I’m dead,’ she repeated, her voice flat. ‘I guess I’ll just have to cash the savings bonds my grandparents gave me.’
‘Oh, Esther! I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’
I knew this really didn’t concern me, but I felt bad for Esther. So I figured someone should jump in to clarify. ‘She doesn’t want to be in more debt,’ I explained to Maggie, wishing there was a way to draw a parallel between this and jeans, somehow. ‘If she takes out a loan, she’ll owe more.’
Outside, the fitting room door banged open again. ‘I don’t know about these…’ I heard the customer say. ‘Are my legs supposed to look like sausages?’