Page 55 of ClickBack

She wraps the earrings while the two of them discuss the difficulty of losing only one from a favorite pair. I hold Giselle’s bag and learn there is an entire collection of widowed earrings in her house that she is apparently not ready to give up on.

“At some point,” I say as we leave, “you could wear two different ones.”

“And walk around explaining it all day? No, thank you.”

“You could say you like them.”

She considers that, looking down at the little packet. “I could.”

At the water ice cart, I tell her I don’t want anything. She buys mango and offers me a taste. A few steps later, she catches me reaching for the spoon again.

“I thought you didn’t want any.”

“That was before I tried it.”

“An entirely avoidable shortage.”

I go back and buy my own. She watches, eating hers with obvious pleasure.

We stop at a table of old CDs. Giselle pulls one from the crate and opens the case to check that the disc matches. The vendor takes offense until she shows him the empty case directly behind it.

“My nephew packed these,” he says.

“Then your nephew has excellent taste.”

He laughs and takes the empty case from her. She finds the missing disc three places farther back. I hold her water ice while she sorts two more, and soon she and the vendor are debating which album deserved a better second single. I recognize the artist. I do not know enough to enter this argument.

She turns to me anyway. “Tell him.”

“You’re on your own with this one. I haven’t heard the album.”

“You’re missing out,” the vendor tells me.

“Unhelpful man.” She pays for the CD and slips it into her bag. “That’s going in the car.”

“You have a CD player in there?”

“And all-wheel drive. It’s paid for, it’s reliable, and I like it.”

I look at her. I’ve changed cars for less reason than she has for keeping hers, and she hasn’t paused to see whether I approve.

“Now I want a ride,” I tell her.

“You’ll have to move the seat back.”

“I do that in everything.”

A boy in a Philly cap recognizes me as we leave. He approaches with a marker and stops a little too far away to hand it over. I meet him in the middle and sign the brim. His mother thanks me, then reminds him they came out to get dinner, a fact he seems to have forgotten entirely.

Giselle waits beside me. When they go, she gives me back my cup and asks whether I finished my argument with the vendor by surrendering.

“I wasn’t in the argument.”

“You were standing next to me. There are responsibilities.”

The DJ changes songs before I can learn what they are. Giselle recognizes the opening and stops walking. She looks toward the speakers, then at me.

“You know this?”