‘I don’t kill people with my guns,’ Taylor grumbles without answering Aura-Blue’s question.
‘I think the one thing we can all agree on is that people who have a mental illness shouldn’t be allowed to have guns, right?’ Rob says. Even Taylor agrees with that. I stay quiet, but I can feel Rob’s eyes on me.
‘Will you teach me to shoot?’ I ask Taylor.
He looks stunned. ‘Yeah. Sure. Rifle or handgun?’
I shrug. ‘Both, I guess.’ He laughs, and I take the golf club out of his hand and step up to the tee. ‘What is it?’ I ask, off his look.
‘You just don’t seem the type.’
I line up my shot. ‘Well, you know.’ I tap my ball directly into the pirate ship, down the ramps, and into the hole. My father spent lots of money on my swing. It’s impressive. ‘Bears.’
We get pizza and beer after. Everyone has fake IDs except for me.
‘You can put your glass down here,’ Mila says, pointing under the table to the space between us on the banquet. Her Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet flashes on her wrist. ‘I’ll watch out for the waiter while you drink.’
‘Thanks, but I can’t have alcohol,’ I say. I grimace mournfully. ‘Unfortunately.’
Mila smiles. ‘Antibiotics?’ she asks. I laugh and look down, letting her think whatever she wants.
They kill a pitcher of beer before the pizza even arrives. Rob is the only one who has barely even tasted his first glass.
‘Do you ever drink?’ he asks me.
‘I used to,’ I admit. ‘But not any more.’
He hands his beer to Taylor. ‘Here, man. I’m done.’
‘You don’t have to . . .’ I begin, but Rob leans forward suddenly and brushes my long hair behind my shoulder.
‘If you don’t drink, neither do I,’ he says. The pizza arrives before I can tell him the gesture, although sweet, is not necessary.
It’s not New York pizza, but nothing is. I wonder if I’ll ever have another real New York slice, standing on a corner, midtown traffic lapping like waves around me, the sky humming with the urgency of the city. I doubt it.
‘How’s your pizza?’ Aura-Blue asks as she bites into her salad.
‘Great,’ I say, shoving the greasy cardboard between my teeth. I chew for a bit.
She watches my expression sceptically.
‘Not so great,’ I admit. ‘I should have gotten one of those.’ I point to her salad, and she smiles.
‘I think there might be another vegan among us,’ she sings teasingly. Everyone else groans.
‘First alcohol, now I’ve got to give up meat, too?’ Rob says.
And we’re all laughing and enjoying this and tucking our performances away so we can rethink them and wonder if we could have been a little more charming in this moment or a little less ostentatious in that one.
At the end of the night, I let Rob kiss me for a while in his car, but that’s it. I stop him and tell him I’m not ready for anything else – we’re just getting to know each other. He understands. He doesn’t push. He walks me to the door and tells me to call him tomorrow. Or at least turn on my phone so he can call me.
I’m waiting to feel something. It’s the meds, I tell myself.
19 JULY
The next two days, I dodge Rob and go there.
I need alone time, I tell him. I’m not lying, either. Towards the end of the second day – and that makes it a full three afternoons I’ve spent waiting by the waterfall – Wildboy still hasn’t shown. So technically I’ve been alone this whole time. Although I wish I wasn’t.