Текст книги "Eleanor & Park"

Автор книги: Rainbow Rowell

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CHAPTER 25 Park

Eleanor seemed off that morning. She didn’t say anything while they waited for the bus. When they got on, she dropped onto their seat and leaned against the wall.

Park pulled on her sleeve, and she not-even-half smiled.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

She glanced up at him. ‘Now,’ she said.

He didn’t believe her. He pulled on her sleeve again.

She fell against him and hid her face in his shoulder.

Park laid his face in her hair and closed his eyes.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘Almost,’ she said.

She pulled away when the bus stopped. She never let him hold her hand once they were off the bus. She wouldn’t touch him in the hallways.

‘People will look at us,’ she always said.

He couldn’t believe that still mattered to her.

Girls who don’t want to be looked at don’t tie curtain tassels in their hair. They don’t wear men’s golf shoes with the spikes still attached.

So today he stood by her locker and only thought about touching her. He wanted to tell her his news – but she seemed so far away, he wasn’t sure she’d hear him. Eleanor

Where would she go this time?

Back to the Hickmans’?

‘Hey, remember that time when my mom asked if I could stay with you guys for a few days, and then she didn’t come back for a year? I really appreciate the fact that you didn’t turn me into Child Protective Services. That was very Christian of you. Do you still have that foldout couch?’

Fuck.

Before Richie moved in, Eleanor only knew that word from books and bathroom walls. Fucking woman. Fucking kids. Fuck you, you little bitch – who the fuck touched my stereo?

Eleanor hadn’t seen it coming the last time.

When Richie kicked her out.

She couldn’t have seen it coming because she never thought it could happen. She never thought he’d try – and she never, ever thought her mom would go along with it. (Richie must have recognized before Eleanor did that her mother’s allegiances had shifted.)

It was embarrassing to think about the day that it happened – embarrassing, on top of everything else – because it really was Eleanor’s fault. She really was asking for it.

She was in her room, typing song lyrics on an old manual typewriter that her mom had brought home from the Goodwill. It needed new ribbon (Eleanor had a box full of cartridges that didn’t fit), but it still worked. She loved everything about that typewriter, the way the keys felt, the sticky, crunchy noise they made. She even liked the way it smelled, like metal and shoe polish.

She was bored that day, the day it happened.

It was too hot to do anything but lie around or read or watch TV. Richie was in the living room.

He hadn’t gotten out of bed until 2:00 or 3:00, and everybody could tell he was in a bad mood.

Her mom was walking around the house in nervous circles, offering Richie lemonade and sandwiches and aspirin. Eleanor hated it when her mom acted like that. Relentlessly submissive.

It was humiliating to be in the same room.

So Eleanor was upstairs typing song lyrics.

‘Scarborough Fair.’

She heard Richie complaining.

‘What the fuck is that noise?’ And, ‘Fuck, Sabrina, can’t you shut her up?’

Her mom tiptoed up the stairs and ducked her head into Eleanor’s room. ‘Richie isn’t feeling well,’ she said. ‘Can you put that away?’ She looked pale and nervous. Eleanor hated that look.

She waited for her mother to get back downstairs. Then, without really thinking about why, Eleanor deliberately pressed a key.

A

Crunch-lap.

Her fingertips trembled over the keyboard.

RE

Crch-crch-lap-tap.

Nothing happened. No one stirred. The house was hot and stiff and as quiet as a library in hell.

Eleanor closed her eyes and jerked her chin into the air.

YOU GOING TO SCRABOROUGH FAIR

PARSLEY

SAAGE

ROSEMAYRY

AND

THYME

Richie came up the stairs so fast, in Eleanor’s head he was flying. In Eleanor’s head, he burst open the door by hurling a ball of fire at it.

He was on her before she could brace herself, tearing the typewriter from her hands and throwing it into the wall so hard it broke through the plaster and hung for a moment in the lath.

Eleanor was too shocked to make out what he was shouting at her. FAT and FUCK and BITCH.

He’d never come this close to her before. Her fear of him crushed her back. She didn’t want him to see it in her eyes, so she pressed her face into her hands in her pillow.

FAT and FUCK and BITCH. And I WARNED YOU, SABRINA.

‘I hate you,’ Eleanor whispered into the pillow. She could hear things slamming. She could hear her mother in the doorway, talking softly, like she was trying to put a baby back to sleep.

FAT and FUCK and BITCH and BEGGING

FOR IT, JUST FUCKING BEGGING FOR IT.

‘I hate you,’ Eleanor said louder. ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.’

FUCK THIS.

‘I hate you.’

FUCK ALL OF YOU.

‘Fuck you.’

STUPID BITCHES.

‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.’

WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY?

In Eleanor’s head, the house shook.

Her mother was pulling on her then, trying to pull her out of bed. Eleanor tried to come with her, but she was too scared to stand up. She wanted to flatten herself to the floor and crawl away. She wanted to pretend that the room was full of smoke.

Richie was roaring. Her mother pulled Eleanor to the top of the stairs, then pushed her down.

He was right behind them.

Eleanor fell against the banister and practically ran to the front door on all fours. She got outside and kept running to the end of the sidewalk. Ben was sitting on the porch, playing with his Hot Wheels. He stopped and watched Eleanor run by.

Eleanor wondered if she should keep running, but where would she go? Even when she was a little girl, she never fantasized about running away. She could never imagine herself past the edge of the yard. Where would she go? Who would take her?

When the front door opened again, Eleanor took a few steps into the street.

It was just her mom. She took Eleanor’s arm and started walking quickly toward the neighbor’s house.

If Eleanor would have known then what was about to happen, she would have run back to tell Ben goodbye. She would have looked for Maisie and Mouse and kissed them each hard on the cheek. Maybe she would have asked to go back inside to see the baby.

And if Richie had been inside waiting for her, maybe she would have dropped to her knees and begged him to let her stay. Maybe she would have said anything he wanted her to.

If he wanted that now – if he wanted her to beg for forgiveness, for mercy, if that was the price she had to pay to stay – she’d do it.

She hoped he couldn’t see that.

She hoped none of them could see what was left of her. Park

She ignored Mr Stessman in English class.

In history, she stared out the window.

On the way home, she wasn’t irritable; she wasn’t anything at all.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

She nodded her head against him.

When she got off the bus at her stop, Park still hadn’t told her. So he jumped up and followed her, even though he knew she wouldn’t want him to.

‘Park …’ she said, looking nervously down the street to her house.

‘I know,’ he said, ‘but I wanted to tell you …

I’m not grounded anymore.’

‘You’re not?’

‘Uh-uh.’ He shook his head.

‘That’s great,’ she said.

‘Yeah …’

She looked back at her house.

‘It means you can come over again,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘I mean, if you want to.’ This wasn’t going like he thought it would. Even when Eleanor was looking at him, she wasn’t looking at him.

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘Eleanor? Is everything okay?’

She nodded.

‘Do you still …’ He hung onto the backpack straps across his chest. ‘I mean, do you still want to? Do you still miss me?’

She nodded. She looked like she was going to cry. Park hoped she wouldn’t cry at his house again … If she ever came back. It felt like she was slipping away.

‘I’m just really tired,’ she said.

CHAPTER 26 Eleanor

Did she miss him?

She wanted to lose herself in him. To tie his arms around her like a tourniquet.

If she showed him how much she needed him, he’d run away.

CHAPTER 27 Eleanor

Eleanor felt better the next morning. Mornings usually got the best of her.

This morning, she woke up with that stupid cat curled up against her like it couldn’t tell that she’d never liked him or cats in general.

And then her mom gave her a fried egg sandwich that Richie hadn’t wanted, and pinned an old, chipped glass flower to Eleanor’s jacket.

‘I found it at the thrift shop,’ her mom said.

‘Maisie wanted it, but I saved it for you.’ She smudged vanilla behind Eleanor’s ears.

‘I might go to Tina’s house after school,’

Eleanor said.

‘Okay, have fun.’

Eleanor hoped that Park would be waiting for her at the bus stop, but she wouldn’t blame him if he wasn’t.

He was. He was standing there in the half-light, wearing a gray trench coat and black high-tops, and watching for her.

She ran past the last few houses to get to him.

‘Good morning,’ she said, shoving him with both hands.

He laughed and stepped back. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m your girlfriend,’ she said. ‘Ask anybody.’

‘No … my girlfriend is sad and quiet and keeps me up all night worrying about her.’

‘Bummer. Sounds like you need a different girlfriend.’

He smiled and shook his head.

It was cold and half dark, and Eleanor could see Park’s breath. She resisted the urge to try to swallow it.

‘I told my mom that I was going to a friend’s house after school …’ she said.

‘Yeah?’

Park was the only person she knew who wore his backpack actually on his shoulders, not slung over one side – and he was always holding onto the straps, like he’d just jumped out of a plane or something. It was extremely cute. Especially when he was being shy and letting his head hang forward.

She pulled the front of his bangs. ‘Yeah.’

‘Cool,’ he said, smiling, all shiny cheeks and full lips.

Don’t bite his face, Eleanor told herself. It’s disturbing and needy and never happens in situation comedies or movies that end with big kisses.

‘I’m sorry about yesterday,’ she said.

He hung onto his straps and shrugged.

‘Yesterday happens.’

God, it was like he wanted her to eat his face clean off. Park

He almost told her all the things his mom had said about her.

It seemed like it was wrong to keep secrets from Eleanor.

But it seemed like it would be more wrong to share that kind of secret. It would just make Eleanor even more nervous. She might even refuse to come over …

And she was so happy today. She was a different person. She kept squeezing his hand. She even bit his shoulder when they were getting off the bus.

Plus, if he told her, at the very least she was going to want to go home and change. She was wearing an orange argyle sweater today, way too big, with her silky green tie and baggy painter’s jeans.

Park didn’t know if Eleanor even had any girl’s clothes – and he didn’t care. He kind of liked that she didn’t. Maybe that was another gay thing about him, but he didn’t think so, because Eleanor wouldn’t look like a guy even if you cut off her hair and gave her a mustache. All the men’s clothes she wore just called attention to how much of a girl she was.

He wasn’t going to tell her about his mom.

And he wasn’t going to tell her to smile. But if she bit him again, he was going to lose something.

‘Who are you?’ he asked, when she was still smiling in English class.

‘Ask anybody,’ she said. Eleanor

In Spanish class today, they were supposed to write a letter in Spanish to a friend. Señora Bouzon put on an episode of Qué Pasa, USA?

while they worked on it.

Eleanor tried to write a letter to Park. She didn’t get very far.

Estimado Señor Sheridan,

Mi gusta comer su cara.

Besos,

Leonor

For the rest of the day, whenever Eleanor felt nervous or scared, she told herself to be happy instead. (It didn’t really make her feel better, but it kept her from feeling worse …) She told herself that Park’s family must be decent people because they’d raised a person like Park. Never mind that this principle didn’t hold true in her own family. It wasn’t like she had to face his family alone. Park would be there. That was the whole point. Was there any place so horrible that she wouldn’t go there to be with Park?

She saw him after seventh hour in a place she’d never seen him before, carrying a micro-scope down the hall on the third floor. It was at least twice as nice as seeing him somewhere she expected him to be.

CHAPTER 28 Park

He called his mom during lunch to tell her that Eleanor was coming over. His counselor let him use her phone. (Mrs Dunne loved the opportunity to be good in a crisis, so all Park had to do was imply that it was an emergency.)

‘I just wanted to tell you that Eleanor is coming over after school,’ he told his mom. ‘Dad said it was all right.’

‘Fine,’ his mother said, not even pretending that she was okay with it. ‘Is she staying for dinner?’

‘I don’t know,’ Park said. ‘Probably not.’

His mother sighed.

‘You have to be nice to her, you know.’

‘I’m nice to everybody,’ his mom said. ‘You know that.’

He could tell Eleanor was nervous on the bus.

She was quiet, and she kept running her bottom lip through her teeth, making it go white, so that you could see that her lips had freckles, too.

Park tried to get her to talk about Watchmen; they’d just read the fourth chapter. ‘What do you think of the pirate story?’ he asked.

‘What pirate story?’

‘You know, there’s that character who’s always reading a comic book about pirates, the story within the story, the pirate story.’

‘I always skip that part,’ she said.

‘You skip it?’

‘It’s boring. Blah, blah, blah – pirates! – blah, blah, blah.’

‘Nothing Alan Moore writes can be blah-blah-blahed,’ Park said solemnly.

Eleanor shrugged and bit her lip.

‘I’m beginning to think you shouldn’t have started reading comics with a book that completely deconstructs the last fifty years of the genre,’ he said.

‘All I’m hearing is blah, blah, blah, genre.’

The bus stopped near Eleanor’s house. She looked at him.

‘We may as well get off at my stop,’ Park said, ‘right?’

Eleanor shrugged again.

They got off at his stop, along with Steve and Tina and most of the people who sat at the back of the bus. All the back-of-the-bus kids hung out in Steve’s garage when he wasn’t at work, even in winter.

Park and Eleanor trailed behind them.

‘I’m sorry I look so stupid today,’ she said.

‘You look like you always do,’ he said. Her bag was hanging at the end of her arm. He tried to take it, but she pulled away.

‘I always look stupid?’

‘That’s not what I meant …’

‘It’s what you said,’ she muttered.

He wanted to ask her not to be mad right now. Like, anytime but now. She could be mad at him for no reason all day tomorrow, if she wanted to.

‘You really know how to make a girl feel special,’ Eleanor said.

‘I’ve never pretended to know anything about girls,’ he answered.

‘That’s not what I heard,’ she said. ‘I heard you were allowed to have girl– zzz in your room

…’

‘They were there,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t learn anything.’

They both stopped on his porch. He took her bag from her and tried not to look nervous.

Eleanor was looking down the walk, like she might bolt.

‘I meant that you don’t look any different than you usually look,’ he said softly, just in case his mom was standing on the other side of the door. ‘And you always look nice.’

‘I never look nice,’ she said. Like he was an idiot.

‘I like the way you look,’ he said. It came out more like an argument than a compliment.

‘That doesn’t mean it’s nice.’ She was whispering, too.

‘Fine then, you look like a hobo.’

‘A hobo?’ Her eyes lit.

‘Yeah, a gypsy hobo,’ he said. ‘You look like you just joined the cast of Godspell.’

‘I don’t even know what that is.’

‘It’s terrible.’

She stepped closer to him. ‘I look like a hobo?’

‘Worse,’ he said. ‘Like a sad hobo clown.’

‘And you like it?’

‘I love it.’

As soon as he said it, she broke into a smile.

And when Eleanor smiled, something broke inside of him.

Something always did. Eleanor

It was probably a good thing that Park’s mom opened the door when she did because Eleanor was thinking about kissing him, and no way was that a good idea – Eleanor didn’t know the first thing about kissing.

Of course, she’d watched a million kisses on TV (thank you, Fonzie), but TV never showed you the mechanics of it. If Eleanor tried to kiss Park, it would be like a real-life version of some little girl making her Barbie kiss Ken. Just smashing their faces together.

Besides, if Park’s mom had opened the door right in the middle of a big, awkward kiss, she’d hate Eleanor even more.

Park’s mom did hate her, you could tell. Or maybe she just hated the idea of Eleanor, of a girl seducing her firstborn son right in her own living room.

Eleanor followed Park in and sat down. She tried to look extra polite. When his mom offered them a snack, Eleanor said, ‘That would be great, thank you.’ His mom was looking at Eleanor like she was something somebody had spilled on the baby-blue couch. She brought out cookies, then left them alone.

Park seemed so happy. Eleanor tried to con-centrate on how nice it was to be with him – but it was taking too much of her concentration, just keeping herself together.

It was the little things about Park’s house that really freaked her out. Like all the glass grapes hanging from everything. And the curtains that matched the sofa that matched the little doily-napkins under the lamps.

You’d think that nobody interesting could grow up in a house as nice and boring as this one

– but Park was the smartest, funniest guy she’d ever met, and this was his home planet.

Eleanor wanted to feel superior to Park’s mom and her Avon-lady house. But, instead, she kept thinking about how nice it must be to live in a house like this one. With your own room. And your own parents. And six different kinds of cookies in the cupboard. Park

Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.

Eleanor sitting next to him on the couch made Park feel like someone had opened a window in the middle of the room. Like someone had replaced all the air in the room with brand new, im-proved air (now with twice the freshness).

Eleanor made him feel like something was happening. Even when they were just sitting on the couch.

She wouldn’t let him hold her hand, not in his house, and she wouldn’t stay for dinner. But she agreed to come back tomorrow – if his parents said it was okay, which they did.

His mom was being perfectly nice so far. She wasn’t turning on the charm, like she did for her clients and the neighbors, but she wasn’t being rude either. And if she wanted to hide in the kitchen every time Eleanor came over, Park thought, that was her prerogative.

Eleanor came over again on Thursday afternoon and Friday. And on Saturday, while they were playing Nintendo with Josh, his dad asked her to stay for dinner.

Park couldn’t believe it when she said yes.

His dad put the leaf into the dining room table, and Eleanor sat right next to Park. She was nervous, he could tell. She barely touched her sloppy joe, and after a while her smile started to go all grimacey around the edges.

After dinner, they all watched Back to the Future on HBO, and his mom made popcorn. Eleanor sat with Park on the floor, leaning against the couch, and when he surreptitiously took her hand, she didn’t pull away. He rubbed the inside of her palm because he knew she liked it. It made her eyelids dip like she was going to fall asleep.

When the movie was over, Park’s dad insisted that Park walk Eleanor home.

‘Thanks for having me, Mr Sheridan,’ she said. ‘And thank you for dinner, Mrs Sheridan. It was delicious, I had a great time.’ She didn’t even sound like she was being sarcastic.

When they got to the door, she called back,

‘Good night!’

Park closed the door behind them. You could almost see all the nervous niceness draining out of Eleanor. He wanted to hug her, to help wring it out.

‘You can’t walk me home,’ she said with her usual edge, ‘you know that, right?’

‘I know. But I can walk you partway.’

‘I don’t know …’

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘it’s dark. No one will see us.’

‘Okay,’ she said, but she put her hands in her pockets. They both walked slowly.

‘Your family is really great,’ she said after a minute. ‘Really.’

He took her arm. ‘Hey, I want to show you something.’ He pulled her into the next driveway, between a pine tree and an RV.

‘Park, this is trespassing.’

‘It’s not. My grandparents live here.’

‘What do you want to show me?’

‘Nothing, really, I just want to be alone with you for a minute.’

He pulled her to the back of the driveway, where they were almost completely hidden by a line of trees and the RV and the garage.

‘Seriously?’ she said. ‘That was so lame.’

‘I know,’ he said, turning to her. ‘Next time, I’ll just say, “Eleanor, follow me down this dark alley, I want to kiss you.”’

She didn’t roll her eyes. She took a breath, then closed her mouth. He was learning how to catch her off guard.

She pushed her hands deeper in her pockets, so he put his hands on her elbows instead. ‘Next time,’ he said, ‘I’ll just say, “Eleanor, duck behind these bushes with me, I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t kiss you.”’

She didn’t move, so he thought it was probably okay to touch her face. Her skin was as soft as it looked, white and smooth as freckled porcelain.

‘I’ll just say, “Eleanor, follow me down this rabbit hole …”’

He laid his thumb on her lips to see if she’d pull away. She didn’t. He leaned closer. He wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t trust her not to leave him standing there.

When his lips were almost touching hers, she shook her head. Her nose rubbed against his.

‘I’ve never done this before,’ she said.

‘S’okay,’ he said.

‘It’s not, it’s going to be terrible.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not.’

She shook her head a little more. Just a little.

‘You’re going to regret this,’ she said.

That made him laugh, so he had to wait a second before he kissed her.

It wasn’t terrible. Eleanor’s lips were soft and warm, and he could feel her pulse in her cheek. It was good that she was so nervous – because it forced him not to be. It steadied him to feel her trembling.

He pulled away before he wanted to. He hadn’t done this enough to know how to breathe.

When he pulled away, her eyes were mostly closed. His grandparents had a light on, on their front porch, and Eleanor’s face caught every bit of it. She looked like she should be married to the man in the moon.

Her face dropped after a second, and he let his hand fall to her shoulder.

‘Okay?’ he whispered.

She nodded. He pulled her closer and kissed the top her head. He tried to find her ear under all that hair.

‘Come here,’ he said, ‘I want to show you something.’

She laughed. He lifted her chin.

The second time was even less terrible. Eleanor

They walked together from his grandparents’

driveway to the alley, then Park waited there in the shadows and watched Eleanor walk home alone.

She told herself not to look back.

Richie was home, and everybody except her mom was watching TV. It wasn’t that late; Eleanor tried to act like there was nothing strange about her coming home in the dark.

‘Where have you been?’ Richie said.

‘At a friend’s house.’

‘What friend?’

‘I told you, honey,’ her mom said, stepping into the room, drying a pan. ‘Eleanor has a girlfriend in the neighborhood. Lisa.’

‘Tina,’ Eleanor said.

‘Girlfriend, huh?’ Richie said. ‘Giving up on men already?’ He thought that was pretty funny.

Eleanor went into the bedroom and closed the door. She didn’t turn on the light. She climbed into bed in her street clothes, opened the curtains and wiped the condensation off the window. She couldn’t see the alley or anything moving outside.

The window fogged over again. Eleanor closed her eyes and laid her forehead against the glass.