Page 23 of It’s All in How You Fall
Peregrine is at my back before the hostess can extract herself from a far table and just-arrived guests to seat us. “Pawned you off from where?”
“The country club,” I sputter. I don’t explain why I was there. Instead I just say, “I’ve got to do something with my time.”
Peregrine halts her interrogation at the sudden void created by what I’m not saying.“My time,” now that I’m not with you at the gym.
Sunny, ever the mom, helps me out. “And so you spend it with your brother and his friends?”
Well, no. “Well, yeah.”
Sunny grins and Peregrine’s purple lips purse into a hard line. “Well, we’re glad you texted. Movies are great, but I’m excited to actually talk to you.” She greets the hostess. “Three, please.”
The restaurant is already half full though it’s not even five thirty. The hostess steers us to the back, where there’s a little round bistro table tucked between two windows. She grabs another chair and placemat from an adjacent four-top, shimmying everything around. Sunny jumps in to help before snagging the chair that backs up to the wall.
Less than ten efficient seconds later our waitress arrives, armed with a grin, our menus, and a tray lined in delicate saucers. “Kimchi?” It’s not really a question as much as it’s an introduction from our waitress, a bottle blond about our age. She slides the dishes, full of fermented cabbage, radish, and cucumber, onto the placemat with staccato efficiency. She has two of the radish one and makes a point to set one of them directly in front of Sunny. When she does, my friend’s eyes light up, and the waitress answers with a smile of her own. “That way you don’t have to ask for more.”
“Is asking for seconds that rare?” Sunny asks, cheeks pinking.
The waitress grins. “No.” Then she catches eyes with Peregrine. “Water, no ice?”
“Yes, please. Ice for these jokers.”
The girl nods. “Like your lipstick.”
“Thanks, Bridgette.”
I’m getting the sense that Bridgette is used to seeing Peregrine and Sunny. Which is weird because we haven’t been here since last summer, when we liberally abused the fact that Sunny had a car and our allowances wouldn’t spend themselves on vegetarian bibimbap. I would ask what’s up but I suddenly don’t want to know how many dinners I’ve missed at this place over the last month.
Sunny focuses on her metal chopsticks, squeezing a couple of little radish cubes for liftoff straight into her mouth. “We were surprised to see you, Caro.”
“I texted,” I answer, diving for my chopsticks for something to hide my reaction because a water glass won’t do it. Why am I being weird? I successfully reintroduced Alex to Sunny—so successfully, I might add, thatsheaskedhimto dinner. I’m past the hard part, so why is my heart kissing my tonsils?
Peregrine plucks a chunk of spicy cabbage with her chopsticks and meets my eyes. Her face is grave—even her violet lips seem to darken. “You haven’t been to the gym sinceyou know.”
Oh.
Yes.
I’d been so distracted by Alex and Sunny and evening the score that it didn’t even occur to me that I hadn’t acted like they expected me to when I showed up to Balan’s as a non-gymnast for the first time. I—I just completely missed the heaviness of the moment.
And… that’s okay? I mean, my heart seizes at the weight of it all. I’d been wrapped in bubble wrap and didn’t even know it.
The power of distraction. Or doing a good deed. Or Alex Zavala.
“And then you were there”—Sunny arches a brow—“rolling out the Romanian and wearing your Nadia tank like it was nothing.”
“Chauffeured by Nat’s best friend,like that was normal,” Peregrine adds over a mouthful of cabbage. “I mean, it still would’ve been a surprise because you were randomly texting and thenthere in the flesh, but I didn’t have literally any of this on my Bingo card for the last week of June.”
Sunny sets down her chopsticks atop her personal bowl of fermented radish. “What we mean is—is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
Sunny goes into full incredulous-gym-mom mode. “Yes, really yes?”
“Yes, really.” I swallow a particularly spicy bit of cucumber and cough, waving my hand in front of my face.
Peregrine’s not buying it either. “You’re silent all week until Sundays. And so it’sweirdnot only to hear from you on a Thursday but to see you five minutes later.”
I press my napkin to my lips, tears in my eyes and not from the spice. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just difficult… with things being different.” I swallow again. “I guess I needed to rip the Band-Aid off. I’m glad I asked, I’m glad you answered, I’m glad Alex could drop me off, and I’m glad we’re here.”
