Page 41 of Engineering a Love Story

“What’s going on there?” I ask.

“Packing. I’m leaving for Asia later tonight.” Seth seems to settle and it’s quieter.

“Where are you going exactly?”

“Six days in Tokyo and then four in Singapore.”

“Exciting.”

“It is. I’ve never been to either place.” He exhales. “What’s happening in Boston? Tell me about your day.”

“My day? I didn’t really do anything.”

“Still. Whatever tidbits. Tell me.”

“Well. I got up and read the paper.” I look out the window at the streetlights. “The Globe had a lengthy analysis of the Sox bullpen, which seems unlikely to go the distance. Again.”

“Okay.”

“Armed with that bit of conversational ammunition, I talked to my father.”

“How was that?”

“Painful.”

“Sorry.”

“So, to vent frustration, I rode out to the Minuteman National Park.”

“Rode? Like, on a bicycle? Are you a biker?”

“I go on rides sometimes. Calling me a biker is overstated.” And inaccurate, Ash would say. Bikers are Harley dudes. I’m a cyclist. Though honestly, I’m not either thing, and I don’t correct Seth. “But the park where I rode is cool. There’s a spot I like called the Bloody Angle.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“It is, actually.” I tip on my side, away from the window. “It still looks like I imagine it did back then, full of maple trees and stone walls.”

“What happened at the Bloody Angle? It can’t have been good.”

“No. The Minutemen hid in the trees and snipered the British soldiers as they retreated from Concord. Though, did you know? No one called them British. Like, not Paul Revere on his horse or anyone else. No one ran around saying ‘The British are coming’ because they all considered themselves British.” My voice has sped up. Now that I’m talking, I can’t seem to stop.

“What did they say?”

“‘The regulars are coming out.’ Like, regular soldiers or whatever. I overheard a tour guide explaining this once. It’s like a civil war, isn’t it? When you think of it that way? All of them British.”

Seth grunts. “I have to say, I didn’t expect to be discussing civil war when I asked to hear about your day.”

I laugh. “Sorry. That was a ramble. But that’s what I did. Then I spent the afternoon reading.”

“Still Antonia? Kansas?”

“Nebraska. But no, I finished that back in San Francisco. Antonia came out all right in the end. It’s Tess of the d’Ubervilles now—”

“Oh, I read that in high school. I don’t think Tess—”

“Don’t tell me! I only just started it.” Seth chuckles. I shift to my back. “Your turn.”

“For what?”