Eleanor & Park (43 page)

…’

‘I don’t care.’

‘
I
care. Eleanor …’

‘It’s our last chance.’

‘No. No, I can’t … I,
no
, I

need to believe that it isn’t our last

chance … Eleanor? Can you hear

me? I need you to believe it, too.’

CHAPTER 53

Park

Eleanor got out of the truck, and

Park wandered into the cornfield

to pee. (Which was embarrassing,

but less embarrassing than pissing

his pants.) When he came back,

she was sitting on the hood of the

truck. She looked beautiful, fierce,

leaning forward like a figurehead.

He climbed up and sat next to

her.

‘Hey,’ he said.

‘Hey.’

He pushed his shoulder up

against hers and nearly wept with

relief when she laid her head

against him. Weeping again today

seemed wholly inevitable.

‘Do you really believe that?’

she asked.

‘What?’

‘That … we’ll have other

chances? That we have any chance

at all?’

‘Yes.’

‘No matter what happens,’ she

said forcefully, ‘I’m not coming

home.’

‘I know.’

She was quiet.

‘No matter what happens,’

Park said, ‘I love you.’

She put her arms around his

waist,

and

he

hugged

her

shoulders.

‘I just can’t believe that life

would give us to each other,’ he

said, ‘and then take it back.’

‘I can,’ she said. ‘Life’s a

bastard.’

He held her tighter, and

pushed his face into her neck.

‘But it’s up to us …’ he said

softly. ‘It’s up to us not to lose

this.’

Eleanor

She sat right next to him for the

rest of the trip – even though there

wasn’t a seat belt, and she had to

sit with the stick shift between her

legs. She figured it was still lots

safer than riding in the back of

Richie’s Isuzu.

They stopped at another truck

stop and Park bought her Cherry

Coke and beef jerky. He called his

parents collect – she still couldn’t

believe they were okay with this.

‘My dad’s okay,’ he said. ‘I

think my mom’s freaking out.’

‘Have they heard from my

mom or … anybody?’

‘No. Or, at least, they didn’t

mention it.’

Park asked her if she wanted

to call her uncle. She didn’t.

‘I smell like Steve’s garage,’

she said. ‘My uncle’s going to

think I’m a drug dealer.’

Park laughed. ‘I think you

spilled beer on your shirt. Maybe

he’ll

just

think

you’re

an

alcoholic.’

She looked down at her shirt.

There was a smear of blood from

when she’d cut her hand on her

bed – and something crusty on the

shoulder, probably snot from all

that crying.

‘Here,’ Park said. He was

taking off his sweatshirt. Then his

T-shirt. He handed the T-shirt to

her. It was green and said ‘Prefab

Sprout.’

‘I can’t take this,’ she said,

watching him pull his sweatshirt

back on over his bare chest. ‘It’s

new.’ Plus it probably wouldn’t

fit.

‘You can give it back later.’

‘Close your eyes,’ she said.

‘Of course,’ Park said softly.

He looked away.

There was no one else in the

parking lot. Eleanor slouched

down and put Park’s T-shirt on

underneath her own, then pulled

the dirty shirt off. That’s how she

changed in gym class. His shirt

was about as tight as her gymsuit

… but it smelled clean, like Park.

‘Okay,’ she said.

He looked back at her, and his

smile changed. ‘Keep it.’

When they got to Minneapolis,

Park stopped at another gas station

to ask for directions.

‘Is it easy?’ she asked him

when he got back in the truck.

‘Like Sunday morning,’ he

said. ‘We’re really close.’

CHAPTER 54

Park

He was more nervous about his

driving once they got into the city.

Driving in St Paul was nothing

like driving in Omaha.

Eleanor was reading the map

for him, but she’d never read a

map outside of class before – and

between the two of them they kept

making wrong turns.

‘I’m sorry,’ Eleanor kept

saying.

‘It’s okay,’ Park said, glad she

was sitting right next to him. ‘I’m

not in any hurry.’

She pressed her hand into the

top of his leg.

‘I’ve been thinking …’ she

said.

‘Yeah?’

‘I don’t want you to come

inside when we get there.’

‘You mean you want to talk to

them by yourself?’

‘No … Well, yeah. But I mean

… I don’t want you to wait for

me.’

He tried to look down at her,

but he was afraid he’d miss his

turn again.

‘What?’ he said. ‘No. What if

they don’t want you to stay?’

‘Then they can figure out how

to get me home – I’ll be their

problem. Maybe that’ll give me

more time to talk to them about

everything.’

‘But …’
I’m not ready for you

to stop being my problem
.

‘It makes more sense, Park. If

you leave soon, you can still get

home by dark.’

‘But if I leave soon …’ His

voice dropped. ‘I leave soon.’

‘We have to say goodbye

anyway,’ she said. ‘Does it matter

if it’s now or a few hours from

now or tomorrow morning?’

‘Are you kidding?’ He looked

down at her, hoping he’d miss his

turn. ‘Yes.’

Eleanor

‘It just makes more sense,’ she

said. And then she bit her lip. The

only way she was going to get

through any of this was by force

of will.

The houses were starting to

look familiar – big gray and white

clapboard houses set far back on

their lawns. Eleanor’s whole

family had come up here for

Easter the year after her dad left.

Her uncle and his wife were

atheists, but it was still a really fun

trip.

They didn’t have kids of their

own – probably by choice,

Eleanor thought. Probably because

they knew cute kids grow up into

ugly, problematic teenagers.

But Uncle Geoff had
invited

her here.

He wanted her to come, at least

for a few months. Maybe she

didn’t have to tell him everything

right away, maybe he’d just think

she was early.

‘Is that it?’ Park asked.

He stopped in front of a gray-

blue house with a willow tree in

the front yard.

‘Yeah,’

she

said.

She

recognized

the

house.

She

recognized her uncle’s Volvo in

the driveway.

Park stepped on the gas.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Just … around the block,’ he

said.

Park

He drove around the block. For all

the good it did him. Then he

parked a few houses down from

her uncle’s, so they could see the

house from the car. Eleanor

couldn’t look away from it.

Eleanor

She had to say goodbye to him.

Now. And she didn’t know how.

Park

‘You

remember

my

phone

number right?’

‘867-5309.’

‘Seriously, Eleanor.’

‘Seriously, Park. I’m never

going to forget your phone

number.’

‘Call me as soon as you can,

okay? Tonight. Collect. And give

me your uncle’s number. Or, if he

doesn’t want you to call, send the

number to me in a letter – in one

of the many, many letters you’re

going to write me.’

‘He might send me home.’

‘No.’ Park let go of the

gearshift and took her hand.

‘You’re not going back there. If

your uncle sends you home, come

to my house. My parents will help

us figure it out. My dad already

said that they would.’

Eleanor’s head fell forward.

‘He’s not going to send you

home,’ Park said. ‘He’s going to

help …’ She nodded deliberately

at the floor. ‘And he’s going to let

you accept frequent, private, long-

distance phone calls …’

She was still.

‘Hey,’ Park said, trying to lift

up her chin. ‘Eleanor.’

Eleanor

Stupid Asian kid.

Stupid, beautiful Asian kid.

Thank God she couldn’t make

her mouth work right now,

because if she could there’d be no

end to the melodramatic garbage

she’d say to him.

She was pretty sure she’d

thank him for saving her life. Not

just yesterday, but, like, practically

every day since they’d met. Which

made her feel like the dumbest,

weakest
girl
. If you can’t save

your own life, is it even worth

saving?

There’s no such thing as

handsome

princes
,

she

told

herself.

There’s no such thing as

happily ever after
.

She looked up at Park. Into his

golden green eyes.

You saved my life, she tried to

tell him. Not forever, not for

good. Probably just temporarily.

But you saved my life, and now

I’m yours.
The me that’s me right

now is yours
. Always.

Park

‘I don’t know how to say goodbye

to you,’ she said.

He smoothed her hair off her

face. He’d never seen her so fair.

‘Then don’t.’

‘But I have to go …’

‘So go,’ he said, with his

hands on her cheeks. ‘But don’t

say goodbye. It’s not goodbye.’

She rolled her eyes and shook

her head. ‘That’s so lame.’

‘Seriously? You can’t cut me

five minutes of slack?’

‘That’s what people say – “It’s

not goodbye” – when they’re too

afraid to face what they’re really

feeling. I’m not going to see you

tomorrow, Park – I don’t know

when
I’ll see you again. That

deserves more than “It’s not

goodbye.”’

‘I’m not afraid to face what

I’m feeling,’ he said.

‘Not you,’ she said, her voice

breaking. ‘Me.’

‘You,’ he said, putting his

arms around her and promising

himself that it wouldn’t be the last

time, ‘are the bravest person I

know.’

She shook her head again, like

she was trying to shake off the

tears.

‘Just kiss me goodbye,’ she

whispered.

Only for today, he thought.

Not ever.

Eleanor

You think that holding someone

hard will bring them closer. You

think that you can hold them so

hard that you’ll still feel them,

embossed on you, when you pull

away.

Every time Eleanor pulled

away from Park, she felt the

gasping loss of him.

When she finally got out of the

truck, it was because she didn’t

think she could stand touching

and untouching him again. The

next time she ripped herself away,

she’d lose some skin.

Park started to get out with

her, but she stopped him.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Stay.’ She

looked up anxiously at her uncle’s

house.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ Park

said.

She nodded. ‘Right.’

‘Because I love you.’

She laughed. ‘Is that why?’

‘It is, actually.’

‘Goodbye,’

she

said.

‘Goodbye, Park.’

‘Goodbye,

Eleanor.

You

know, until tonight. When you’re

going to call me.’

‘What if they’re not home?

God, that would be anti-climactic.’

‘That would be great.’

‘Dork,’ she whispered with a

leftover smile on her face. She

stepped back and closed the door.

‘I love you,’ he mouthed.

Maybe he was saying it out loud.

She couldn’t hear him anymore.

CHAPTER 55

Park

He didn’t ride the bus anymore.

He didn’t have to. His mom gave

him the Impala when his dad

bought her a new Taurus …