Authors: Rainbow Rowell
was an emergency, and I had
to help.
Park
His mom always kept her keys in
the same place – on a little key-
shaped plaque in the entryway that
said ‘keys.’
Park was going to take her
keys, then sneak back out the
kitchen door, the door farthest
from his parents’ room.
His dad got home around 1:30.
Park listened to him move around
the kitchen, then the bathroom. He
heard the door to his parents’
room open, he heard the TV.
Park lay on his bed and closed
his eyes. (There was no chance
he’d fall asleep.) The picture of
Eleanor was still glowing on the
inside of his eyelids.
So beautiful. So peaceful …
No, that wasn’t quite right, not
peaceful, more like … at peace.
Like she was more comfortable
out of her shirt than in it. Like she
was happy inside out.
When he opened his eyes, he
saw her the way he’d left her in
the RV – tense and resigned, so
far gone that light wouldn’t even
catch in her eyes.
So far gone, she wasn’t even
thinking about him anymore.
Park waited until it was quiet.
Then he waited another twenty
minutes. Then he grabbed his
backpack and went through the
motions he’d planned in his head.
He stopped at the kitchen
door. His dad had left his new
hunting rifle out on the table …
He was probably going to clean it
tomorrow morning. For a minute,
Park thought about taking the gun
– but he couldn’t think of when
he’d use it. It’s not like they were
going to run into Richie on the
way out of town. Hopefully.
Park opened the door and was
about to step out when his dad’s
voice stopped him.
‘Park?’
He could have run for it, but
his dad probably would’ve caught
him. His dad was always bragging
about being in the best shape of
his life.
‘Where do you think you’re
going?’ his dad whispered.
‘I … I have to help Eleanor.’
‘What does Eleanor need help
with at two in the morning?’
‘She’s running away.’
‘And you’re going with her?’
‘No. I was just going to give
her a ride to her uncle’s house.’
‘Where does her uncle live?’
‘Minnesota.’
‘Jesus F. Christ, Park,’ his dad
said in his normal voice, ‘are you
serious?’
‘Dad.’ Park stepped toward
him, pleading. ‘She has to go. It’s
her stepdad. He’s …’
‘Did he touch her? Because if
he touched her, we’re calling the
police.’
‘He writes her these notes.’
‘What kind of notes?’
Park rubbed his forehead. He
didn’t like to think about the
notes. ‘Sick ones.’
‘Did she talk to her mom?’
‘Her mom’s … not in very
good shape. I think he hurts her.’
‘That little fucker …’ His dad
looked down at the gun, then
looked back at Park, rubbing his
chin. ‘So you’re going to drive
Eleanor to her uncle’s house. Will
he take her in?’
‘She thinks so.’
‘I gotta tell you, Park, this
doesn’t sound like much of a
plan.’
‘I know.’
His dad sighed and scratched
the back of his neck. ‘But I can’t
think of a better one.’
Park’s head jerked up.
‘Call me when you get there,’
his dad said quietly. ‘It’s a straight
shot up from Des Moines – do
you have a map?’
‘I thought I’d get one at a gas
station.’
‘If you get tired, pull into a
rest stop. And don’t talk to
anybody unless you have to. Do
you have any money?’
‘Sixty dollars.’
‘Here …’ His dad walked over
to the cookie jar and pulled out a
bunch of twenties. ‘If this doesn’t
work, with her uncle, don’t take
Eleanor home. Bring her back
here, and we’ll figure out what to
do next.’
‘Okay … Thanks, Dad.’
‘Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got
one condition.’
No
more
eyeliner,
Park
thought.
‘You’re taking the truck,’ his
dad said.
His dad stood on the front steps
with his arms folded. Of course he
had to watch. Like he was
umpiring a goddamn taekwando
bout.
Park closed his eyes. Eleanor
was still there.
Eleanor
.
He started the engine and
shifted smoothly into reverse,
rolled out of the driveway, shifted
into first, then pulled forward
without a sputter.
Because he knew how to drive
a stick.
Jesus
.
CHAPTER 52
Park
‘Okay?’
She nodded and climbed in.
‘Stay down,’ he said.
The first couple hours were a blur.
Park wasn’t used to driving
the truck, and it died a few times
at red lights. Then he got on the
Interstate heading west instead of
east, and it took twenty minutes to
turn around again.
Eleanor didn’t say anything.
Just stared ahead and held onto
her seat belt with both hands. He
put his hand on her leg, and it was
like she didn’t notice it was there.
They got off the Interstate
again somewhere in Iowa to get
gas and a map. Park went in. He
bought Eleanor a Coke and a
sandwich, and when he got back
to the truck she was slumped
against the passenger door, asleep.
Good, he tried to tell himself.
She’s exhausted.
He climbed up behind the
wheel and took a few rough
breaths, then he slammed the
sandwich onto the dash.
How
could she be asleep?
If
everything
went
right
tonight, Park would be driving
home tomorrow morning by
himself. He’d probably be allowed
to drive now whenever he wanted,
but there was nowhere he wanted
to go without Eleanor.
How could she sleep through
their last hours together?
How could she sleep sitting up
like that …
Her hair was down and wild,
wine-red even in this light, and
her mouth was slightly open.
Strawberry girl. He tried again to
remember what he’d thought the
first time he saw her. He tried to
remember how this happened –
how she went from someone he’d
never met to the only one who
mattered.
And he wondered … What
would happen if he
didn’t
take
her to her uncle’s house? What
would happen if he kept driving?
Why
couldn’t
this
have
waited?
If Eleanor’s life had caved in
next year, or the year after, she
could have run
to
him. Not from,
not away.
Jesus. Why couldn’t she just
wake up?
Park stayed awake for another
hour or so, fueled by Coke and
hurt feelings. Then the wreck of
the night caught up with him.
There wasn’t a rest stop around,
so he pulled off on a county road,
onto the gravel that passed as a
shoulder.
He unbuckled his seat belt,
unbuckled Eleanor’s, then pulled
her into him, laying his head on
hers. She still smelled like last
night. Like sweat and sweetness
and the Impala. He cried into her
hair until he fell asleep.
Eleanor
She woke up in Park’s arms. It
caught her by surprise.
She would’ve thought it was a
dream, but her dreams were
always terrifying. (With Nazis and
babies crying and teeth rotting out
of her mouth.) Eleanor had never
dreamed anything as nice as this,
as nice as Park, sleepy-soft and
warm
…
Warm
through.
Someday,
she
thought,
somebody’s going to wake up to
this every morning.
Park’s face, asleep, was a
brand new kind of beautiful.
Sunshine-trapped-in-amber skin.
Full, flat mouth. Strong, arched
cheekbones. (Eleanor didn’t even
have cheekbones.) He caught her
by surprise, and before she could
help herself, her heart was
breaking for him. Like it didn’t
have anything better to break over
…
Maybe it didn’t.
The sun was just below the
horizon, and the inside of the
truck was bluey pink. Eleanor
kissed Park’s new face – just
under his eye, not quite on his
nose. He stirred, and she felt every
part of him shift against her. She
ran the end of her nose along his
brow and kissed his lashes.
His eyelids fluttered. (Only
eyelids do that. And butterflies.)
And his arms came to life around
her. ‘Eleanor …’ he sighed.
She held his beautiful face and
kissed him like it was the end of
the world.
Park
She wouldn’t be on the bus with
him.
She wouldn’t roll her eyes at
him in English.
She wouldn’t pick a fight with
him just because she was bored.
She wouldn’t cry in his
bedroom about the things he
couldn’t fix for her.
The whole sky was the color
of her skin.
Eleanor
There’s only one of him, she
thought, and he’s right here.
He knows I’ll like a song
before I’ve heard it. He laughs
before I even get to the punchline.
There’s a place on his chest, just
below his throat, that makes me
want to let him open doors for
me.
There’s only one of him.
Park
His parents never talked about
how they met, but when Park was
younger, he used to try to imagine
it.
He loved how much they
loved each other. It was the thing
he thought about when he woke
up scared in the middle of the
night. Not that they loved
him
–
they were his parents, they had to
love him.
That they loved each
other
. They didn’t have to do that.
None of his friend’s parents
were still together, and in every
case that seemed like the number
one thing that had gone wrong
with his friends’ lives.
But Park’s parents loved each
other. They kissed each other on
the mouth, no matter who was
watching.
What are the chances you’d
ever meet someone like that? he
wondered. Someone you could
love forever, someone who would
forever love you back? And what
did you do when that person was
born half a world away?
The math seemed impossible.
How did his parents get so lucky?
They couldn’t have felt lucky
at the time. His dad’s brother had
just died in Vietnam; that’s why
they sent his dad to Korea. And
when his parents got married, his
mom had to leave everything and
everyone she loved behind.
Park wondered if his dad saw
his mom in the street or from the
road or working in a restaurant.
He wondered how they both knew
…
This kiss had to last Park forever.
It had to get him home.
He needed to remember it
when he woke up scared in the
middle of the night.
Eleanor
The first time he’d held her hand,
it felt so good that it crowded out
all the bad things. It felt better
than anything had ever hurt.
Park
Eleanor’s hair caught fire at dawn.
Her eyes were dark and shining,
and his arms were sure of her.
The first time he’d touched her
hand, he’d known.
Eleanor
There’s no shame with Park.
Nothing is dirty. Because Park is
the sun, and that’s best way she
could think to explain it.
Park
‘Eleanor, no, we have to stop.’
‘No …’
‘We can’t do this …’
‘No. Don’t stop, Park.’
‘I don’t even know how to …
I don’t have anything.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘But I don’t want you to get