The Day Before Forever (15 page)

I tucked the remainder of my hot dog into the backpack. It wouldn't taste as good later, but it was a waste to throw it out when we were strapped for cash.

Henley was stubborn. I knew that well. But he was wanting something he didn't fully understand—and how could anyone fully understand a concept so vague and weighty as immortality without going through it first? He had
some
understanding, but even that was limited. I was only protecting him. He had to see that.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Rebecca—”

“No, stop.”

And just like that, our first date was over. We started to walk back to the hostel in silence.

Henley started the walk beside me, but little by little, he fell into step behind me. I didn't know if it was because I was walking faster, or if he had slowed down, but I did know that
all I wanted was to be alone. I knew going back to the room wouldn't give me that, but my feet were traveling fast, trying to get me there.

We turned our last corner, and I could see the hostel ahead. The door was swinging shut, as if someone had just walked in or out.

I jogged the last few steps between me and the building, and hopped up the one step to the door. Let Henley follow if he wanted to.

I went through the door to find the small lobby now packed with people.

“Rebecca!”

I looked up to see Aaron, but it wasn't him who had called my name.

“I'm so glad we ran into you!” It was Alanna, and she rushed up to give me a hug.

I wasn't prepared and my arms were awkwardly trapped by my sides as she pinned me to her.

“We thought you two might have left. We haven't seen you in a while.” Peter was there too. Today his shoulder-length dreadlocks were held back by an orange headband. Luckily he made no move to ensnare me in a hug.

“Speaking of which, where's that Henley of yours?”

That “Henley of mine” was being a bit of a stubborn jerk.

I smiled. “He's probably right behind me.”

“That's perfect,” Alanna said. “Peter and I were about to go out for some late afternoon ice cream. You both should come with us!”

“Uh, I don't know about that . . . ,” I began to say.

Alanna looked panic stricken. “Why? Are you lactose-intolerant? Because we could—”

“Oh no. Not that. It's just that—”

Henley walked in through the door behind Alanna and Peter.

“Hey, there.” Peter took Henley's hand and initiated what I could only call a one-armed hug.

“We were just talking about you!” Alanna said.

“Oh, were you?” Henley raised an eyebrow at me.

No, I didn't tell them about us
, I wanted to tell him, but Alanna spoke before I could open my mouth.

“We were just saying that it would be a great idea if we all went out for ice cream.”

“You were, were you?” Henley said, looking directly at me.

Not me
, I wanted to say.

“It's the perfect treat for a nice hot day like today, and Peter and I were already going out to get some.” Alanna was talking fast.

When Henley and I didn't say anything, she prompted us with a “Now doesn't that sound great?”

Henley's eyes never left mine. We were both hung up on our conversation from before—a conversation that Alanna certainly didn't know we'd had.

Unfortunately, Alanna took our silence for agreement. “Then it's settled!” she said and pulled me by my hand out the door.

She took off down the street with me in tow. I guess Henley and Peter were following, but Alanna didn't give me a moment to turn and check.

“Aaron gave us this gelato specialty store recommendation,” Alanna said. “He said it has the best gelato around. Just like Italy.”

I wondered if she realized I was only half listening, because she abruptly changed the subject.

“So what have you and Henley been up to?”

The first thing I thought of was our meeting with the auction house. “We've been taking care of a few things . . . after Henley's grandmother passed.”

I bit my lip, remembering Alanna's original reaction to Henley's lie about his grandmother passing. I shouldn't have mentioned it again. It was such a raw topic for her. I held my breath, waiting for her response.

“Anything Peter or I could help with?” she said.

I breathed out. “No, thank you, though. It's just a few minor details here and there.”

“I can imagine Henley wants to move on,” she said.

And though it had nothing to do with the current conversation at hand, Alanna's comment made me think of Henley wanting to be immortal. He thought it was easy to simply “move on” and reinvent an identity and a new life every time a new period required it. It wasn't. More than the difficult logistics, it was emotionally hard. Becoming an immortal meant losing a lot more than the promise of death. He didn't understand.

“It can be very difficult to understand the passing of a loved one,” Alanna said.

I froze, realizing I had just said at least part of my thoughts aloud.

“We still have a little way to go,” Alanna said, ushering me
along.

I thought I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to take a peek. It couldn't have been Henley or Peter, as they were much farther away. Henley wasn't looking my way for once. His gaze was on the ground in front of him as he talked and laughed with Peter. I wondered what they were discussing . . . It certainly wasn't what was on my mind.

Remembering the footsteps I had heard, I quickened my steps.

“What else did you two do these past couple of days?”

“Um . . . we went to a street fair today,” I volunteered.

“There was a street fair?”

“A carnival of sorts, back that way.” I pointed in a general direction behind us.

“And we missed it?” Alanna looked heartbroken.

I chuckled. “I'm sure there'll be other times.”

“Peter wants to continue into Scotland soon, so we'll see.”

“How long have you been traveling?”

“A few years. Maybe three?”

My eyes widened. I was thinking she would say a few months at the most.

Alanna saw the look of astonishment I wore and laughed. “That tends to be the response we get from people. I'm used to it by now.”

“But . . . why?”

“Why do we travel, you mean?”

“If you don't mind me asking.”

It was a blunt question, but there was no other way of putting it.

Luckily, Alanna smiled. “Life at home doesn't really suit me,” she said. “And Peter's nice enough to let me drag him around the world.”

I had so many questions, like how they were able to afford all the traveling without holding down a job, but I made sure to take it slow.

“You're probably going to ask, ‘But what about your families?'” she said.

That thought hadn't crossed my mind, but I nodded.

“Peter makes sure to visit his every once in a while. He'll take off to go to Ohio for about a week.”

I was taken aback. “That's where he's from?” Peter looked too
alternative
to be from somewhere as “normal” as Ohio.

“It's the dreadlocks, isn't it?” Alanna laughed, mindlessly patting her own platinum blond hair into place. “He's worn those dreadlocks from before I met him. Hard to imagine that long ago Peter was a middle-America boy eating things like processed foods.” She wrinkled her little nose at the word “processed.”

“I guess people change,” I said. I took a peek over my shoulder back at Peter.

He was wearing a tie-dyed shirt with cut armholes today. Definitely not what I thought of when I thought about Ohio.

“What about you?” I asked. “Are you from Ohio?”

“Me? God, no. The one thing my parents did right was not birthing me in Ohio.”

Was that a joke? I didn't know whether I was supposed to laugh or not, but since Alanna remained serious, so did I.

“I'm from L.A.,” she said. “But I like to tell people ‘I'm
from
the world.' Only born in L.A.”

“What was it like down there?” I thought back to all the depictions of L.A. I remembered from the movies and television shows I had watched with Miss Hatfield. “Sunny?”

“Yup.” Alanna popped the “p.” “Full of people who think they know it all—who they are, how they're supposed to live their lives—but actually don't know a thing. People like my mother, basically.”

“And your father?” I said carefully. I probably shouldn't have asked anything. I didn't want to cross any lines I couldn't see, but Alanna seemed to take everything in stride.

“He's the quintessential Los Angeles plastic surgeon. Went to med school to help children born with cleft lips. Came out and was quickly indoctrinated by society singing ‘Get rich. It's the only way you'll look like a person of value.'” Alanna tugged at the hem of her shirt. “But at least he started out well. His biggest mistake was marrying my mother.”

For someone who hated her mother so much, Alanna kept bringing her up. I was afraid to ask, but fortunately I didn't have to.

“My mother's a shark. She survives on pushing people.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” I said.

“She riles people up just so she can push people to their maximum everything. Their max operating potential. Their max abilities. Their max everything.”

I frowned. “Isn't that good?”

“It breaks people,” Alanna said. “She's the type of person who knows
exactly
what your weakness is—the worst thought you've ever had about yourself, the biggest insecurity you hide
from people. If she doesn't know it, she makes it her job to find it out. And all so that she can use you to her advantage.”

Alanna looked different as she spoke about this side of her mother. Sure, she was speaking mostly in generalities, but there was something changed in her face. Were her eyes a little narrower? Was there a little crease on her forehead not there before? Were her eyes a little glossier? I couldn't put my finger on it, but I could see from her face that she spoke from experience.

“She's ultimately the reason I travel.”

So that was it. I finally understood her. “People travel for two reasons: to seek something out that they need to find, or to run from something in their past.”

“Don't judge me, but I'm definitely the latter,” she said.

I was the last person who could judge her. “Don't worry, I'm not.” Because I was the latter too. I was running from the past itself.

“This looks like it!” Alanna pointed out a small shop with a pink door and a sign with an illustration of three scoops of gelato on a cone. “Look at how cute it is.”

An old-fashioned bell rang as we opened the door. My first thought was that Henley would like it. It looked physically different from the ice cream parlor he'd taken me to in 1904, but it somehow
felt
the same.

The room was much smaller than the parlor in 1904. This room could only fit two tables by the window up front. The walls were painted the same cheery pink as the door. It wasn't a sickly bubblegum pink. It managed to look sleek paired with the white chairs and the stainless steel counter.

I heard the bell ring for a second time when Henley and
Peter came in. Henley didn't say anything, but he walked up to stand next to me.

“Welcome!” A man with a rounded stomach waved us in. “What can I do for you?”

“We'd like some gelato in a second, but for now, we're still browsing,” Peter said.

“Let me know if I can get you samples.”

I peeked through the glass into the display. I saw the traditional, standard flavors were on the left: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry. And the right side had the newer, unconventional flavors: Nutella and strawberries, caramel macchiato, roasted banana.

I already knew what Henley was going to get. Though he liked blueberry muffins, when it came to ice cream he always got strawberry. It was his favorite.

I squinted at Alanna and watched her as she made her decision. She would probably go for one of the unconventional flavors. She would be the type of person to wonder if the caramel macchiato used actual coffee beans, and if so, if the coffee beans were fair trade and sustainably produced. So she'd end up picking the Nutella and strawberries or the roasted banana.

Next, I eyed Peter. Underneath his rebellious outside, he was still an Ohio boy. Not only that, but he still cared about it enough to visit. I had a feeling he'd go back to the safer, traditional flavors. Maybe even something as safe and classic as vanilla.

“I think I'm ready to order.” Alanna stepped up to the counter first. “Could I get a cone of the roasted banana?”

I smiled. I had been right.

The man came over with a small tasting spoon. “Do you want to try it first? It's a bit of an unusual smoky banana flavor. It's a tad hit or miss with people. Some people think it tastes a bit burnt.”

“Oh no. No need for that. Being surprised with something new is part of the fun, whether you love it or not.”

“Okay . . .” The man put the spoon away. “Cones come with two scoops. Would you like another flavor, or just two scoops of the roasted banana?”

“The roasted banana's fine.”

The man heaped two scoops of the pale-yellow roasted banana flavor onto a cone. Alanna gleefully took it from him and tasted it straightaway.

“Mmm . . . So. Good,” she said between licks.

“Guess I'm next.” Peter stepped up after glancing at both Henley and me. “Vanilla for me.”

Two out of two. I was feeling smug.

“On a cone?” the man asked.

“Sure.”

“Two scoops of that?”

“Yeah.”

Before long, Peter had his vanilla gelato. He grabbed a napkin, presumably waiting for Henley and me to order before he started on it.