Following Me (5 page)

“Everything,” Devon said with a
shrug.

“I don’t think we can see
everything by three o’clock.”

“The bean thing then,” Devon told
him.

“The bean thing?”  He looked at
her skeptically.

“Yeah, isn’t that what it’s
called?  I don’t know.  I’ve never been there before,” she stated defensively.

“Come on.  You’ll figure it out,”
he said, walking toward the river.

She started after him, walking
past the House of Blues and onto the State Street Bridge that crossed the
Chicago River.

“What did I do wrong?” she asked,
staring out across the water.

“Well, it’s not
the bean thing
,”
he said, shaking his head.  “It’s the
Cloud Gate
, and we call it
The
Bean
, just
The Bean
.”

Devon rolled her eyes.  She
hadn’t thought she was that far off.

“It’s in Millennium Park, not too
far from here.”

He strode purposefully across the
bridge.  Devon stopped for a second to take a picture.  She knew she couldn’t
post it anywhere online or send it to her mom like she normally would.  No one
really knew where she was, so it would totally blow her cover if she started
posting pictures of Chicago.  But she wanted memories of where she had been
even if they were just for her.

“While we’re playing tourist, I
should let you know that directly ahead of us is the famous Chicago Theatre,”
Garrett said, pointing out the giant red Chicago sign.

Devon snapped a photo because…
hey,
why not?

They continued through the busy
streets, and despite having to avoid other tourists admiring the pretty
buildings, walking seemed to help her stomach.  She still wasn’t prepared for
food, but the fresh air was breezy, and Devon found that moving was helpful.

Garrett directed her down a side
street and pointed out the glass exterior to the Joffrey Ballet.  Looking
several stories up, she watched the dancers jumping about as they passed by the
building.  They exited the cross street onto Michigan Avenue, and Millennium
Park stood across from them.  Garrett showed her the way to
The Bean
,
and she saw clusters of people were already surrounding the massive mirror
sculpture.

From the perfect location, Devon
could see the entire Chicago skyline in the reflection of the structure.  She
crossed her arms and stared up at it, wondering what she would see if she saw
her own reflection. 
Would she see herself rounded and distorted like the
city line was in some places or would she appear whole and perfect?

A part of her hoped to see
herself rounded and distorted like she felt, but as she approached, she saw her
reflection was like any other mirror—a lie.

“Want me to take your picture?”
Garrett offered.

Breaking her out of her silent
reverie, she shook her head.  “No, thanks.”

She didn’t want any pictures of
her by
The Bean
.  It reflected the skyline, and that itself was the
masterpiece.  Her image would only obscure the view.

“Are you sure?” he asked,
extending his hand for her iPhone.

Devon pulled it out of his
reach.  “No, really, I don’t want to be in any pictures.”

“Come on, everyone wants their
picture taken with
The Bean
.  I even have
Bean
pictures.  Don’t
you want to show your friends or post it on Facebook?” Garrett asked with a
smile though it was clear he wasn’t really joking.

“I appreciate it, but no pictures
for me.  I’m not on Facebook anymore, so I don’t have anywhere to upload them,”
she told him, tucking her phone into her pocket.

“How do you survive?  Hadley
lives on there.  Half the time, I can’t even reach her through her Facebook
daze.”

Devon shrugged.  She’d had to
shut it down, at least temporarily.  If she were to check in, it could show her
location, and she didn’t want to accidentally make a mistake.  It wasn’t like
she could rig Facebook into saying she was in both Paris and St. Louis at the
same time.  She was no genius with computers, and even if she were, she was
pretty sure it was illegal.

“I’m living in the present,” she
told Garrett, which was true.  She didn’t even want to think about the past.

“It’s the best place to live.” 
Garrett just stared at her with the same curious expression on his face.

The whole conversation had
triggered something within her.  She felt like if she didn’t get her feelings
out right then and there, she would lose it.  Digging into her purse, Devon
pulled out her notebook.  She grabbed her favorite pen, stalked over to a park
bench, and immediately started writing down bits and pieces of whatever came to
her mind.

Garrett followed and sat down
next to her, peering over her shoulder.  “What are you writing?”

Moving the notebook out of his
view, she murmured, “Nothing.”

“Looks like something.  I don’t
know many people who carry notebooks around with them.”

“Me neither.”  She continued to
jot down ideas as they flowed through her.

“Is it like a journal?” he asked,
trying to read what she was writing.

She scooted down the bench. 
“Just give me a second.”

She wrote one last line and then
shut the notebook.  Garrett was staring at her intently, and she made a point
of not looking at him.

“So, not to pry or anything,” he
said, obviously prying, “but who just whips out a book in public and starts
writing?”

He laughed at her, and she
couldn’t hold it in as she laughed softly with him.  He had a point.

“I can’t help it sometimes.  The
words are just there.”  She stuffed the notebook back into her bag and stood.

“Are you going to tell me what
you wrote?”

“Nope,” Devon said, turning away
from
The Bean
.

“Is it like a journal or a
diary?  Is that why I can’t read it?”

“No.  I don’t talk about my
writing.  Sorry,” she said.  “Is that a garden?  Can we walk through?”

“Sure,” Garrett said, “but don’t
think you can change the subject so easily.”

“It’s not a big deal.  Just
forget about it.”  She walked briskly in the direction of the garden.

She hated when people asked
questions about her writing.  It was deeply personal.  She kind of hated
herself for the compulsive habit, but she had been doing it since she was a
kid.  She was good at it, but she didn’t share well with others.

“It’s kind of a big deal to you,
isn’t it?” Garrett asked as they walked into the garden.

“Not really,” she said, biting
her lip.

“Then, you can tell me about it,”
he said smoothly.

Devon stopped and shook her
head.  She knew he was just being nice, but he was meddling into things she
didn’t want him near.  She needed to change the course of the conversation. 
Any question he asked about her was going to be one question too many.

Bending down, she took a series
of photos of a purple flower in bloom.  It was better than answering Garrett’s
questions.  He might be trying to get to know her, but she wasn’t ready to open
up to anyone anytime soon.

“Hey, sorry,” he muttered.

She glanced up at him as his hand
brushed through his dark brown hair.  He actually looked sheepish.

“I didn’t mean to get in your
business.  I didn’t know it would be so private.”

Devon slowly stood.  “It’s
alright.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Afraid your writing sucks?  I
know that’s why I don’t show anyone anything I’ve ever written,” he told her.

“No, it’s not that,” she said. 
Writing came very natural to her.  “I just don’t like to show people.”

“I hope you’re not an English
major or anything.  It would be pretty bad if you never showed your professors
your work,” Garrett said with a smile.

“Oh god, no!  I’m a social work
major.”  Devon walked next to him as they left the gardens and headed toward
the lakefront.

“Social work?” he asked,
wrinkling his nose.  “What do you want to do work with inner-city kids in gangs
or handle abuse cases?  Either sounds awful.”

Devon swallowed hard and bit down
on her lip until it hurt.  “No,” she answered sharply.

Everyone always looked down on
social work as if it wasn’t a legitimate degree, but Wash U had the number one
program in the country.  Social work majors dealt with all sorts of issues, and
were very prominent in the lobbying world.  A friend of hers was currently
working on protection of women’s rights in D.C., and she didn’t have any
complaints about her social work background.

“Social work benefits a normal
productive life span.  Just because you were raised with a well-to-do family
does not mean that the rest of society is so fortunate.  People should receive
the same care and help,” Devon answered vehemently.  “Besides, social work can
be used everywhere—government, counseling, nursing homes, community planning. 
I could go on and on.”

“I do believe you could,” Garrett
said with a smile.  “Didn’t mean to come off as condescending.”

“We can’t all be business
majors,” Devon said curtly.

“Sounds like you really want to
be, too.”

“Is that sarcasm?” she asked.

“I would never be sarcastic.”

Devon rolled her eyes as the
traffic light changed.  They walked across the street and down a set of stairs
to the lake.  The water was choppy from the wind and the boats out in the
harbor.  Off in the distance, the Navy Pier looked crowded, and the Ferris
wheel turned slowly, stopping every few feet to let passengers on and off. 
Runners crisscrossed the path, and a couple was rollerblading hand-in-hand.  It
was a rather picturesque day.

“Stay here a minute,” Garrett
said before rushing away.

Devon sighed and pulled out her
notebook again.  Now that he was gone, she reread what she had written by
The
Bean
.  She studied the words and the tone that they had taken.  Everything
seemed to drift back to the moment that had pushed her over the edge.

Thumbing back to the day after it
had happened, she saw the faint bumps in the paper that signified where her
teardrops had fallen onto the page.  They marred half the page, and as she
skimmed the words, she felt a lump form in her throat.  The memories and
emotions were as all too much. 
Why was she actively reliving it?
  She
couldn’t seem to get away, and half the time, she didn’t think she wanted to.

She took a few minutes to compose
herself before Garrett returned.

Carrying two Popsicles, he smiled
brightly at her.  “Hope you like strawberry because I’m taking the
blueberry-lime,” he said, offering her the red Popsicle.

“My favorite,” Devon told him
with a big smile.  
He got us popsicles?  Cute. 
“What’s this for?”

“I thought it would be easy on
your stomach,” he said, shrugging.  “One of my favorite pastimes.  I used to
come here a lot when I was younger with my parents.  We’d eat Popsicles and sit
on the edge of the water.  So…sit.”

Devon smiled even bigger.  She
was glad that Garrett was talking about himself and not her for a change.  She
sat next to him on the ledge and dangled her feet toward the water, enjoying
the beginning of summer.

The beginning of a new life.