Page 97 of Shadowing You

Ethan was watching her, but when she met his eyes, he looked away, biting into his own bar. “Not bad.”

“Not good, either. I would prefer…” She considered the question as if he’d asked. “One of those chicken salad sandwiches from that deli⁠—”

“On campus near my dorm?”

“Yes, with the homemade potato chips.”

“The steak sandwich with horseradish sauce was the best.”

It was an old argument from back when they dated. She’d take the train down to Seattle to visit him, or he’d drive up to Vancouver. Even when they were both laden with homework, they’d made time for each other, sitting at a coffee shop or in the student union, eating and studying together.

Maybe they would get back to being those people someday. But right now, six years seemed stacked between them like bricks—many of which were the parts of her experience she hadn’t told him.

More were his experiences, which he hadn’t told her. As much as she wished they’d finished what they’d started the night before, they needed to clear away some of those bricks first and make sure they still loved the person they found on the other side.

On the outskirts of town, they passed a string of cinderblock houses and apartment buildings strung along the road with weedy strips between them.

The moped had run out of gas a half a mile back. Mei Lin had waited while Ethan wheeled it through a gap in a hedge and hid it between an overgrown flowerbed and the side of a five-story building, where the air smelled of cooking oil and laundry detergent. Now they were on foot, hands in their pockets, heads down. It was cold, but not as cold as it’d been on the moped. If she’d let Ethan drive, his body would’ve blocked the wind. But she’d enjoyed the wind in her hair and the machine under her control.

After only a week out of prison, more or less, riding a moped felt far from ordinary, as did walking along a sidewalk.

Some of the ground-floor spaces had been turned into small shops, their doors propped wide despite the cold air. Crates of tangerines were in front of one. Sacks of rice slumped against the walls inside near a row of canned goods. The briny stench of pickled vegetables overpowered the motor-oil smell of the street.

The buildings gave way to an empty-lot-turned-market, where vendors stood behind tables stacked high with produce. Mothers regarded the options through narrowed eyes while children played nearby. A little girl running and laughing, chasing after a boy about the same age.

The scene brought her back to her childhood, her mother bickering over the price of greens while Mei Lin hid from Renshu, ducking under tables and around bins of peppers.

Ethan watched the children race across the dirt, a small smile on his face. He caught her looking, and his smile widened. “I bet you were ornery when you were that age.”

“Me?” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Never.”

He chuckled as if he wasn’t buying it.

“Honestly,” she said, “I was obedient in the market.”

“Just in the market?”

“I’m not saying that. I always tried to be obedient, but sometimes I got distracted. Like, once I was at the market with my grandmother, and there was a kitten. I just wanted to pet it, but it disappeared down a row. I tried to find it, but of course it was gone.

“When I turned around, I couldn’t see my grandmother anymore. I’d wandered too far away. I was scared, but I didn’t want anybody to know I’d gotten lost, so I started skipping around the market, pretending I was fine, like I was right where I was supposed to be.” She could still remember how she’d felt that day—both terrified and embarrassed that she’d been so stupid.

Ethan was smiling again. “You were skipping? I bet you were adorable.”

“Ha. When my grandmother found me, she was very angry. She told me I was a liability, a headache not worthy of her time.”

Ethan froze, looking down at her. “More trouble than you were worth?”

“That’s the sense of it, yes.”

“Your grandmother said that to you?”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

“Who would say that to a child?”

“I don’t think she meant⁠—”

“How old were you?”