Eleanor & Park (42 page)

was an emergency, and I had

to help.

Park

His mom always kept her keys in

the same place – on a little key-

shaped plaque in the entryway that

said ‘keys.’

Park was going to take her

keys, then sneak back out the

kitchen door, the door farthest

from his parents’ room.

His dad got home around 1:30.

Park listened to him move around

the kitchen, then the bathroom. He

heard the door to his parents’

room open, he heard the TV.

Park lay on his bed and closed

his eyes. (There was no chance

he’d fall asleep.) The picture of

Eleanor was still glowing on the

inside of his eyelids.

So beautiful. So peaceful …

No, that wasn’t quite right, not

peaceful, more like … at peace.

Like she was more comfortable

out of her shirt than in it. Like she

was happy inside out.

When he opened his eyes, he

saw her the way he’d left her in

the RV – tense and resigned, so

far gone that light wouldn’t even

catch in her eyes.

So far gone, she wasn’t even

thinking about him anymore.

Park waited until it was quiet.

Then he waited another twenty

minutes. Then he grabbed his

backpack and went through the

motions he’d planned in his head.

He stopped at the kitchen

door. His dad had left his new

hunting rifle out on the table …

He was probably going to clean it

tomorrow morning. For a minute,

Park thought about taking the gun

– but he couldn’t think of when

he’d use it. It’s not like they were

going to run into Richie on the

way out of town. Hopefully.

Park opened the door and was

about to step out when his dad’s

voice stopped him.

‘Park?’

He could have run for it, but

his dad probably would’ve caught

him. His dad was always bragging

about being in the best shape of

his life.

‘Where do you think you’re

going?’ his dad whispered.

‘I … I have to help Eleanor.’

‘What does Eleanor need help

with at two in the morning?’

‘She’s running away.’

‘And you’re going with her?’

‘No. I was just going to give

her a ride to her uncle’s house.’

‘Where does her uncle live?’

‘Minnesota.’

‘Jesus F. Christ, Park,’ his dad

said in his normal voice, ‘are you

serious?’

‘Dad.’ Park stepped toward

him, pleading. ‘She has to go. It’s

her stepdad. He’s …’

‘Did he touch her? Because if

he touched her, we’re calling the

police.’

‘He writes her these notes.’

‘What kind of notes?’

Park rubbed his forehead. He

didn’t like to think about the

notes. ‘Sick ones.’

‘Did she talk to her mom?’

‘Her mom’s … not in very

good shape. I think he hurts her.’

‘That little fucker …’ His dad

looked down at the gun, then

looked back at Park, rubbing his

chin. ‘So you’re going to drive

Eleanor to her uncle’s house. Will

he take her in?’

‘She thinks so.’

‘I gotta tell you, Park, this

doesn’t sound like much of a

plan.’

‘I know.’

His dad sighed and scratched

the back of his neck. ‘But I can’t

think of a better one.’

Park’s head jerked up.

‘Call me when you get there,’

his dad said quietly. ‘It’s a straight

shot up from Des Moines – do

you have a map?’

‘I thought I’d get one at a gas

station.’

‘If you get tired, pull into a

rest stop. And don’t talk to

anybody unless you have to. Do

you have any money?’

‘Sixty dollars.’

‘Here …’ His dad walked over

to the cookie jar and pulled out a

bunch of twenties. ‘If this doesn’t

work, with her uncle, don’t take

Eleanor home. Bring her back

here, and we’ll figure out what to

do next.’

‘Okay … Thanks, Dad.’

‘Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got

one condition.’

No

more

eyeliner,

Park

thought.

‘You’re taking the truck,’ his

dad said.

His dad stood on the front steps

with his arms folded. Of course he

had to watch. Like he was

umpiring a goddamn taekwando

bout.

Park closed his eyes. Eleanor

was still there.
Eleanor
.

He started the engine and

shifted smoothly into reverse,

rolled out of the driveway, shifted

into first, then pulled forward

without a sputter.

Because he knew how to drive

a stick.
Jesus
.

CHAPTER 52

Park

‘Okay?’

She nodded and climbed in.

‘Stay down,’ he said.

The first couple hours were a blur.

Park wasn’t used to driving

the truck, and it died a few times

at red lights. Then he got on the

Interstate heading west instead of

east, and it took twenty minutes to

turn around again.

Eleanor didn’t say anything.

Just stared ahead and held onto

her seat belt with both hands. He

put his hand on her leg, and it was

like she didn’t notice it was there.

They got off the Interstate

again somewhere in Iowa to get

gas and a map. Park went in. He

bought Eleanor a Coke and a

sandwich, and when he got back

to the truck she was slumped

against the passenger door, asleep.

Good, he tried to tell himself.

She’s exhausted.

He climbed up behind the

wheel and took a few rough

breaths, then he slammed the

sandwich onto the dash.
How

could she be asleep?

If

everything

went

right

tonight, Park would be driving

home tomorrow morning by

himself. He’d probably be allowed

to drive now whenever he wanted,

but there was nowhere he wanted

to go without Eleanor.

How could she sleep through

their last hours together?

How could she sleep sitting up

like that …

Her hair was down and wild,

wine-red even in this light, and

her mouth was slightly open.

Strawberry girl. He tried again to

remember what he’d thought the

first time he saw her. He tried to

remember how this happened –

how she went from someone he’d

never met to the only one who

mattered.

And he wondered … What

would happen if he
didn’t
take

her to her uncle’s house? What

would happen if he kept driving?

Why

couldn’t

this

have

waited?

If Eleanor’s life had caved in

next year, or the year after, she

could have run
to
him. Not from,

not away.

Jesus. Why couldn’t she just

wake up?

Park stayed awake for another

hour or so, fueled by Coke and

hurt feelings. Then the wreck of

the night caught up with him.

There wasn’t a rest stop around,

so he pulled off on a county road,

onto the gravel that passed as a

shoulder.

He unbuckled his seat belt,

unbuckled Eleanor’s, then pulled

her into him, laying his head on

hers. She still smelled like last

night. Like sweat and sweetness

and the Impala. He cried into her

hair until he fell asleep.

Eleanor

She woke up in Park’s arms. It

caught her by surprise.

She would’ve thought it was a

dream, but her dreams were

always terrifying. (With Nazis and

babies crying and teeth rotting out

of her mouth.) Eleanor had never

dreamed anything as nice as this,

as nice as Park, sleepy-soft and

warm

…

Warm

through.

Someday,

she

thought,

somebody’s going to wake up to

this every morning.

Park’s face, asleep, was a

brand new kind of beautiful.

Sunshine-trapped-in-amber skin.

Full, flat mouth. Strong, arched

cheekbones. (Eleanor didn’t even

have cheekbones.) He caught her

by surprise, and before she could

help herself, her heart was

breaking for him. Like it didn’t

have anything better to break over

…

Maybe it didn’t.

The sun was just below the

horizon, and the inside of the

truck was bluey pink. Eleanor

kissed Park’s new face – just

under his eye, not quite on his

nose. He stirred, and she felt every

part of him shift against her. She

ran the end of her nose along his

brow and kissed his lashes.

His eyelids fluttered. (Only

eyelids do that. And butterflies.)

And his arms came to life around

her. ‘Eleanor …’ he sighed.

She held his beautiful face and

kissed him like it was the end of

the world.

Park

She wouldn’t be on the bus with

him.

She wouldn’t roll her eyes at

him in English.

She wouldn’t pick a fight with

him just because she was bored.

She wouldn’t cry in his

bedroom about the things he

couldn’t fix for her.

The whole sky was the color

of her skin.

Eleanor

There’s only one of him, she

thought, and he’s right here.

He knows I’ll like a song

before I’ve heard it. He laughs

before I even get to the punchline.

There’s a place on his chest, just

below his throat, that makes me

want to let him open doors for

me.

There’s only one of him.

Park

His parents never talked about

how they met, but when Park was

younger, he used to try to imagine

it.

He loved how much they

loved each other. It was the thing

he thought about when he woke

up scared in the middle of the

night. Not that they loved
him
–

they were his parents, they had to

love him.
That they loved each

other
. They didn’t have to do that.

None of his friend’s parents

were still together, and in every

case that seemed like the number

one thing that had gone wrong

with his friends’ lives.

But Park’s parents loved each

other. They kissed each other on

the mouth, no matter who was

watching.

What are the chances you’d

ever meet someone like that? he

wondered. Someone you could

love forever, someone who would

forever love you back? And what

did you do when that person was

born half a world away?

The math seemed impossible.

How did his parents get so lucky?

They couldn’t have felt lucky

at the time. His dad’s brother had

just died in Vietnam; that’s why

they sent his dad to Korea. And

when his parents got married, his

mom had to leave everything and

everyone she loved behind.

Park wondered if his dad saw

his mom in the street or from the

road or working in a restaurant.

He wondered how they both knew

…

This kiss had to last Park forever.

It had to get him home.

He needed to remember it

when he woke up scared in the

middle of the night.

Eleanor

The first time he’d held her hand,

it felt so good that it crowded out

all the bad things. It felt better

than anything had ever hurt.

Park

Eleanor’s hair caught fire at dawn.

Her eyes were dark and shining,

and his arms were sure of her.

The first time he’d touched her

hand, he’d known.

Eleanor

There’s no shame with Park.

Nothing is dirty. Because Park is

the sun, and that’s best way she

could think to explain it.

Park

‘Eleanor, no, we have to stop.’

‘No …’

‘We can’t do this …’

‘No. Don’t stop, Park.’

‘I don’t even know how to …

I don’t have anything.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘But I don’t want you to get