the sweet steam before she asks her question. “How did you handle it? Going to school with all of that happening with your dad, and everything?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Chris is unsentimental. “I just kind of muscled through it.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t have to, though. I mean, whatever, I don’t know, it’s just…It’s really hard. I don’t think I understood how hard it was going to be.”
“Zoe said I was allowed to feel however the fuck I wanted,” Lorelei says. “When she was over, before.”
“Yeah.” Chris nods thoughtfully. “You can,” he says. “You should.”
He reaches for her again, but this time his touch is reassuring, just solid and warm. Lorelei leans into him and thinks,
So this is what having a boyfriend is like.
Here is someone who looked at her and saw what she needed. He’ll help her put her life together again.
Chris presses his face into her hair. “It’s so hard. But I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs. “If, I mean. If you want me to.”
T HERE’S ANOTHER T HE T ROUBLE show. “You should come,” Chris says. They’re spending the last minutes of their lunch period together, lying in the grass. It’s been three weeks, and it never stops seeming magical to Lorelei that she can hang out with him whenever she wants. He smiles when he sees her. He makes room and time for her in his day. “It might be a little weird because of my mom and whatever, but I’d like it if you came.”
He laid out the rules for her over tea that Sunday night. He isn’t allowed to date, so he can’t make too much time for her, and can’t bring her home, and doesn’t want to meet her parents, either. Lorelei almost doesn’t care—she can’t imagine ever wanting anyone to meet her mother—but she minds it in moments like this, when the specter of Mrs. Paulson hovers over the little bits of time they’re supposed to have for themselves.
The truth is that she’d be dying to go even if Chris wasn’t playing. She’s made her way through the first stack of Oma’s letters and gotten midway through the second without finding another word about music; apparently Oma’s reply was blistering enough to put Hannah off the subject. Lorelei’s questions are still mostly unanswered, but she wants to get back into a room filled up by sound now that she knows what to expect from it. Maybe she’ll find a way to sing something of her own—humming, even. A tiny test. An experiment. To see.
Hannah said you didn’t have to treat it like a curse.
So Lorelei weighs her options and asks Nik for a ride to the show while they’re supposed to be setting the table for dinner that night. He surprises her by not putting up a fight.
“I’ve never actually heard them play,” he says. “I’ll come as long as Jens doesn’t need the car.”
Lorelei didn’t mean to ask him to accompany her, exactly, but she can’t tell him that now. “What would Jens need the car for?”
“It’s his car too,” Nik says, instead of answering. “Or he might want to come with.”
Great. Lorelei feels, not for the first time, that two is an excessive number of brothers.
Jens and Henry walk into the dining room, carrying plates of food.
Jens says, “Come where?”
“To see The Trouble on Saturday.”
“I have an enormous history test Monday,” Jens says. “I’m not going anywhere this weekend.”
“Does that mean you have a test on Monday too?” Henry asks Nik.
“I’m not in AP,” Nik says. “Mine’s next week.”
Lorelei does have a test on Monday, but she and Henry haven’t spoken directly to each other since the thing with the letter, so he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t ask her if she ought to be studying. A tiny piece of her is disappointed. Lorelei is still learning the contours of an Oma-less life. The freedom is a little bit dizzying. She doesn’t want her brothers to watch over her, exactly, but she misses knowing someone else was keeping track.
The show falls
“I didn’t have a choice.” Chris is unsentimental. “I just kind of muscled through it.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t have to, though. I mean, whatever, I don’t know, it’s just…It’s really hard. I don’t think I understood how hard it was going to be.”
“Zoe said I was allowed to feel however the fuck I wanted,” Lorelei says. “When she was over, before.”
“Yeah.” Chris nods thoughtfully. “You can,” he says. “You should.”
He reaches for her again, but this time his touch is reassuring, just solid and warm. Lorelei leans into him and thinks,
So this is what having a boyfriend is like.
Here is someone who looked at her and saw what she needed. He’ll help her put her life together again.
Chris presses his face into her hair. “It’s so hard. But I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs. “If, I mean. If you want me to.”
T HERE’S ANOTHER T HE T ROUBLE show. “You should come,” Chris says. They’re spending the last minutes of their lunch period together, lying in the grass. It’s been three weeks, and it never stops seeming magical to Lorelei that she can hang out with him whenever she wants. He smiles when he sees her. He makes room and time for her in his day. “It might be a little weird because of my mom and whatever, but I’d like it if you came.”
He laid out the rules for her over tea that Sunday night. He isn’t allowed to date, so he can’t make too much time for her, and can’t bring her home, and doesn’t want to meet her parents, either. Lorelei almost doesn’t care—she can’t imagine ever wanting anyone to meet her mother—but she minds it in moments like this, when the specter of Mrs. Paulson hovers over the little bits of time they’re supposed to have for themselves.
The truth is that she’d be dying to go even if Chris wasn’t playing. She’s made her way through the first stack of Oma’s letters and gotten midway through the second without finding another word about music; apparently Oma’s reply was blistering enough to put Hannah off the subject. Lorelei’s questions are still mostly unanswered, but she wants to get back into a room filled up by sound now that she knows what to expect from it. Maybe she’ll find a way to sing something of her own—humming, even. A tiny test. An experiment. To see.
Hannah said you didn’t have to treat it like a curse.
So Lorelei weighs her options and asks Nik for a ride to the show while they’re supposed to be setting the table for dinner that night. He surprises her by not putting up a fight.
“I’ve never actually heard them play,” he says. “I’ll come as long as Jens doesn’t need the car.”
Lorelei didn’t mean to ask him to accompany her, exactly, but she can’t tell him that now. “What would Jens need the car for?”
“It’s his car too,” Nik says, instead of answering. “Or he might want to come with.”
Great. Lorelei feels, not for the first time, that two is an excessive number of brothers.
Jens and Henry walk into the dining room, carrying plates of food.
Jens says, “Come where?”
“To see The Trouble on Saturday.”
“I have an enormous history test Monday,” Jens says. “I’m not going anywhere this weekend.”
“Does that mean you have a test on Monday too?” Henry asks Nik.
“I’m not in AP,” Nik says. “Mine’s next week.”
Lorelei does have a test on Monday, but she and Henry haven’t spoken directly to each other since the thing with the letter, so he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t ask her if she ought to be studying. A tiny piece of her is disappointed. Lorelei is still learning the contours of an Oma-less life. The freedom is a little bit dizzying. She doesn’t want her brothers to watch over her, exactly, but she misses knowing someone else was keeping track.
The show falls
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