Ready to Fall by Daisy Prescott Page A

but I know you identify yourself as an old birdcage. I think it says more about you than the simple stuff.”
    “I agree, bowling balls.” She reached out and grabbed my hand and swung it between us.
    “We need a new code word.”
    “How about pyramid? I don’t see us managing to bring that into conversation.”
    “We might if we have a heated discussion about Egypt.”
    “Or Mexico.”
    “Or Mexico,” I said at the same time, swinging her hand when we walked over to the truck. “Pyramid it is.”
    “Hopefully we won’t have to use it.”
    I liked her optimism.
     

     
    Winter’s iciness thawed into rain and the sun broke through the gray more often when February turned to March. Diane and I hung out, often playing what she dubbed “Truth or Pyramids”—a nod to our code word. The need for an out faded as we learned about each other.
    “Favorite Star Wars?” she asked.
    “Star Wars.”
    “Favorite city?” I asked.
    “London.”
    “Favorite tree?” she asked
    “Cedar.”
    “Favorite body of water?” I asked.
    “A lake.”
    “Favorite fish?” she asked
    “Salmon.”
    And so it continued for weeks. Neither of us ever said pyramid.
    We talked about other stuff: weather, island gossip, zombie apocalypse preparedness, and the probability of a zombie apocalypse. And if zombies existed, then other supernatural creatures must exist, too, which led to reminiscing about our vampire story. Normal stuff. Sometimes we went to the movies. Once we drove to Oak Harbor when she swore she craved fast food only to figure out she had lost her taste for it after going so long without it.
    Occasionally, I’d have a guys’ night out with Donnely. On some of those nights we headed over to town and flirted with women we hadn’t known our whole lives. But I never missed the last ferry. The appeal wasn’t there. Donnely commented, but didn’t make a big deal of it, which surprised me at the time. He also toned down hitting on Diane. Guess he figured she was sticking around and wasn’t giving in to his charms any time soon. Could have been that or she beat him at pool every time they played. Losing damaged a man’s ego.
    After much reminding from my aunt, we found ourselves in her Jeep driving to have Sunday dinner with my family. I kept warning her they might be overbearing or my uncle would probably say something homophobic, but they were good people. She’d never asked about my family again and I’d been nervous she’d find out all the ugly truth. I could have told her upfront, but the topic hadn’t come up. And I was a chicken shit.
    While we bumped along the unpaved driveway through the woods to the house, I filled her in on the list of cousins who might show up. I felt relief when only two cars sat in the driveway. We’d lucked out and my explanations were for naught. No big family inquisition.
    Helen and Peter were as nice as could be to Diane, offering her wine and inviting her to help herself to the homemade cheese-ball or smoked salmon. She politely tried both, asking if Peter had smoked the salmon.
    “John and I did it together. I’m surprised he hasn’t shared some with you already.”
    “I’ve heard legend of his fish sharing, but he’s never brought me any fish.”
    I wondered where she’d heard that … ah, Maggie. They must have talked. Of course they talked. Maggie was her landlord. Made me wonder what else they spoke about. Specifically, what did they say about me?
    Dinner tasted delicious. After we finished eating, Peter invited Diane to sit with him while I helped my aunt with the cleanup. He insisted, even after she offered. Damn him. I hated doing the dishes.
    Helen waved me away from the sink. “Stand here and keep me company while I clean up. You’ll only get in the way.”
    “I knew there was a reason I loved you,” I said, leaning down and kissing the top of her head.
    “I talked to your dad last week. They’re thinking of bringing the RV up this summer. We figured they