23…Symmetries…

As the garage door slowly opens behind the townhouse, Leif ducks under the yard-high opening to stand in the alley, glowering. He watches as I inch into the garage. Then James is there with a huge smile on his face for Em as he walks over to the passenger side.

Leif wrenches my door open before I've even turned off the car. "What took you so long?" He looks almost savage. I don't take my eyes off him as I get out of the car and pop the button to open the hatchback.

"Friday evening traffic?" I don't understand this rage.

"That's too far to drive!" he scowls.

"It's only a hundred miles of easy road," I counter. Geez.

"You call the New Jersey Turnpike an easy road? Anything could've happened to two girls traveling alone." He stomps toward the open hatchback and I trail behind him.

I'm now starting to understand his fury. Em hadn't texted James until we were pulling onto the block. We ended up talking about the mean girls again, briefly. I was giving her advice as she was fixing up her face. Then we blasted some of Em's favorite songs to reset her mood. We sang along at the top of our lungs. We just forgot.

"You were worried about us?" I can't keep the smile out of my voice.

James and Em come around to help retrieve the bags. "Any later and Leif would've gone off his trolley. As it is, he paced a hole in the carpet when Em wasn't answering my calls or texts. He was driving me barmy!" James struggles to pick up Em's huge suitcase; yellow, of course. Arm in arm, they head into the house.

Leif throws my small bag over his shoulder and slams the hatchback shut, turning to follow our friends.

"Hey," I say gently. When he doesn't look at me, I grab his arm and move in front of him. "Hey." I touch his cheek. Slowly his fiery eyes find mine and his enraged face softens. "It's sweet that you were worried," which is my creative translation for, I love that you care. Before I can think about it, I put my arms around him to pull him into a hug. "But you don't have to worry anymore." I press my face into his neck. "We're here now." After a moment, his strong arms come around to hug me right back. And I feel him sigh.

We find Em and James in the kitchen, opening up some wine. Em hands me a glass, exclaiming, "This is now the second best kitchen I've ever seen, after The Rambler's." It is all white and clean-lined with some walnut accents and marble countertops. Nothing has changed since I was here four years ago.

Leif disappears out the deck door off the kitchen as James says, "We have enjoyed staying here so much. Believe me when I say that it would've been a very different experience at a hotel. Ellawyn, I'm really going to have to do something nice for your grandfather for this."

"Just come see him again. That will be thanks enough."

"Now you two must be starving. We got some steaks to grill and brought some side dishes from a deli. We'll eat as soon as the steaks are ready. In the meantime, Em, let me show you our room, it's lovely."

I chuckle watching James lug her bag toward the stairs. He'll probably be sore tomorrow. I head toward the deck to see Leif manning the grill. His back is to me so I stay in the doorway silently sipping my wine and drinking him in.

He's got seriously well-fitting jeans on, and a grey t-shirt that practically worships his shoulders and arms. And there are those boots I've come to love. His posture is upright and forceful. I quell the urge to stand behind him and run my fingers up his back and through his hair. But mostly…okay, maybe not mostly, but equally…I want to know him, what's inside him. He's interesting.

"What are you thinking right now?" the silk velvet voice asks without turning around. Yes, of course he knows that I've been watching him.

"That you should have a 'Licensed to Grill' apron on." Wow, where did that come from? I kind of sound jaunty.

"That's not what you were thinking."

"Okay, you're right. You should have a 'Kiss the Cook' apron instead."

"Being flippant does not become you. That's not what you were thinking either." He turns around now. He's holding a grilling utensil that, for a moment, looks like a mini-trident. The fire and smoke from the grill behind him enhance his blazing expression. I don't really have time to get upset about his flippant comment, because he asks, "But if I did, would you?"

Oh Lord! Is he asking if I would kiss him? There is only one answer to that question, but a giggling Em and James are suddenly jostling me. I move from the doorway to let them out on the deck. When I turn back around Leif is facing the grill again.

Dinner that night is a lingering affair. We eat at the bar in the kitchen and James fills us in on their time here. After they finished their exams on Tuesday, they spent the rest of the week meeting up with their professors, TA's and friends.

He says, "We English are not big on that American thing you call closure, but it felt quite nice taking time to say goodbye to everyone. Our now ex-landlady even made us dinner one night to thank us for being such great tenants!"

When James asks Em about her week, I can see her decide what to say. "It was absolutely awful. I promise to tell you about it, but please not tonight, okay? I just want to enjoy this dinner with my friends now." When she smiles at me across the counter, I give her a subtle thumbs up, mouthing "Good girl."

Leif, sitting next to me, asks me about my week. I look at his mesmerizing face deciding how to reply. Again, I settle on the simple truth. "Exactly what she said." I point to Em, who now looks dismayed.

"You didn't tell me your week was awful, too!" I watch the understanding dawn on her face that I really didn't get a chance. "Oh," she smiles ruefully.

"It's okay, we were busy," I shrug. Leif is looking at me with questions in his eyes, but accepts my answer. We move on to other subjects.

It's nearly midnight by the time Leif and I have cleaned up the dishes and the grill. He waved Em and James off when dinner was done and they had escaped upstairs. Now, he picks up my small duffle bag from the kitchen floor.

"You can choose which bedroom you want. I've taken one on the second floor…" He stops when he sees my fleeting smile. "What?"

"I just figured you for a master suite kind of guy," I chuckle.

"I thought it more prudent to give James the master suite since it's on the fifth floor and Emory was going to be coming here."

"Good point," I say through my blush. "I'll take the other second floor bedroom." I remember there are two on that floor. He leads me to a room with two double beds and sets my bag on one of them. I tell him, "I was in your room when I stayed here before."

"Would you rather have that one? I don't mind switching." I would love to say yes, so I can go to sleep with his smell all around me, but I shake my head. For a fleeting second, he almost looks disappointed.

I awaken early the next morning with a realization that my conscious mind must've pulled to wakefulness from my subconscious somehow. It's that, by admitting to Em out loud that I am really attracted to Leif, I was less awkward around him last night. Yes, there's still that force he exerts over me, and yes, I am hyper-aware of his very presence, and yes, I still get fluttery around him, but I'm not quite the stupid dolt I was with him before. I stay in bed ruminating on this, expanding it. Maybe the reason for it is not so much that I admitted it out loud to Em, but that I admitted it out loud to myself, accepted it of myself. Either way, I truly hope that last night's ease with him wasn't just an anomaly because he is suddenly looming so large in my life. Come Monday when I walk into Falk, he's going to loom even larger.

I still don't know, though, if what Em said is right, and that he's attracted to me, too, or if that's just her—and let me just go ahead and admit that it's also my—wishful thinking. Em would love to be able to double date, best friends with best friends. It does have a nice sort of symmetry to it. With that thought comes another realization… There is a certain rightness to the four of us being together. I think back to that horrible first dinner out when for a moment we were all holding hands in a kind of square and got shocked. Maybe shocked is not the best word, but there almost seemed to be some kind of reverberation with the four of us. Or something. Even if Leif doesn't feel for me what I feel for him, there's just…something…there with all of us. I swear I can feel it now, a wisp of it at least, with the four of us in the same house.

I shake off my strange thoughts and jump out of bed. This house has its own kind of weight and does weird things to me. It did last time, too. I swear there are ghosts here.

I tiptoe into the shower, hoping it doesn't wake Leif as we are sharing the adjacent second floor bathroom—there are doors from each of our rooms into it. When I'm done with my shower, I get a weird pleasure looking at his grooming supplies lined up neatly on the counter next to his leather shaving kit. I pick up his cologne. It's not a name brand, but looks as if it's some kind of handcrafted potion. The writing on the label has worn off so I can't tell for sure. I open the top to smell it. Ohmigosh, this is all clean ocean breezes and spice and…there aren't words. It's just Leif. I feel an illicit thrill when I spray some quickly on my hair. And neck. And wrists. And ankles. I put it back and go quietly into my room to get dressed.

I didn't bring much in the way of clothes, but settle on a white sundress I've had for ages with pale embroidered flowers on the hem. It's supposed to be unseasonably warm today, but just in case, I tie a pale pink sweater around my waist because it matches the Chucks I brought. I tiptoe down the stairs elated to find coffee brewing. Leif must already be awake, because I would bet all the cha in China that Em isn't and I doubt James would leave her alone in bed. But Leif isn't in the nearby sitting room, or the dining room. When I give up, passing back through the butler's pantry I remember something. My grandmother had found a picnic basket in one of the cabinets there and we'd used it one long-ago day. I find it in the third cabinet I check, along with that same quilt we took with us before. I take them both with me into the kitchen. I see a note I must've missed.

It says, Gone rowing. Meet for lunch? –Leif.

This is the first time I've seen his handwriting. Like with everything else of his, it's beautiful. While I drink my coffee, I trail my fingers over his name. A glance at my watch shows it's barely seven-thirty. Em could sleep until midday.

I scribble under Leif's handwriting, Going Walkabout. Call or text. –Elle

While I'm walking over the Walnut Street bridge, I see a few racing boats alongside each other on the Schuylkill River below me, each with four men in them. They are a beautiful sight slicing through the water, so I stop to watch. Even though the bridge is pretty high, creating a good distance between the boats and me, I swear I can pick out Leif in the back of one of them. I remember that I have my good camera with me and wrestle it out of my bag. I snap some photos as the boats approach, and then dodge the cars to run to the other side of the bridge to get some photos of the teams from the back when they come out under the other side. Leif, I think, looks up at me briefly; I hope it doesn't break his stride, or whatever you call it in rowing. I lift my hand to wave at him, but I don't think he sees me.

I walk to the cemetery where Grandmother took me when we were here before. I place the flowers I bought on the way at several of the graves of my ancestors, some from the 1800's. As I do this, a memory comes to me of last time we were here. I remember feeling watched. It wasn't creepy, strangely enough, just like there was a sort of… aliveness here, right in the place of the dead. It stayed with me the rest of that day I spent with my grandmother. She'd not been back to Philadelphia for ages and it distressed her being here; and this from a woman who was perfectly at ease in third world countries, who was always solid and stable and balanced. I remember that the presence I felt that day seemed to infuse me with a kind of peace and comfort, maybe even strength, which I then used to soothe my grandmother's disquietude. I barely let go of her hand the entire day.

I don't know what possesses me to do this now—maybe to see if I can recapture that feeling—but I spread that quilt out in between the largest grouping of my ancestor's graves. And I sit.

When I start to fold my legs into a cross-legged position, it occurs to me that I think I was wearing these same pink shoes the last time I was here. I chuckle to myself that Em must be influencing me with her whole recollecting-shoes-from-years-ago thing. But then I remember Grandmother tucking a flower in my hair and I'm pretty sure I was wearing the exact same dress, too. Because she'd said, "This flower matches the pink ones on your dress," right before she fixed it in my hair using the red ribbon the florist had tied the flowers with—the same shop I'd gotten the flowers from today. Strange. Maybe packing this dress was a subconscious thing because I don't know the last time I wore it. Who knows? I take one of the ribbons and one of the two remaining pink flowers from the basket—I didn't put all of them on the graves—and weave it in my hair. For symmetry's sake.

I close my eyes, whispering, "Grandmother? Rosamunde Willa Hamilton Ellis, I miss you so much. I love you so, so much." Grandmother is not buried here, she is not buried anywhere, but was cremated. I've never asked Granddad where her urn is because that's something I don't ever want to see. But still, right now, I swear I smell her perfume. I can feel her. And there is so much love and it reverberates out and it's like I can feel my ancestors—back through time. Something wells up in me and I close my eyes, just accepting this feeling of connection.

I slowly fold up the quilt and pack it away in the basket, also picking up the red ribbons that had fallen when I placed the flowers. And with a last whispered, "I love you," I leave the cemetery.

With a profound sense of peace.

I meander a bit, in the area not far from the college, when I remember Grandmother and I having dinner near Boathouse Row and she explained to me that rowing teams are headquartered there. Maybe I should take a cab up there—it's probably too far to walk, even for me—to see if I can run into Leif. If I do, though, I should probably find a bathroom first to see if my hair air-dried without going completely wild. Almost as soon as I have that thought, I spot an elderly woman sweeping the sidewalk in front of an ancient-looking photo, frame and antique shop. I stop to ask her if I might use her restroom. She eyes me up and down before ushering me in, pointing toward the back.

My hair doesn't look that bad, but the flower and ribbon I fixed it in did fall out of it somewhere along the way here. When I come out, I start to look around the shop. Grandmother would love this place! Alongside what looks like old oil paintings are new watercolors with interesting carved frames. Old silver serving ware and new hand-crafted pottery. I bet I can find graduation gifts for Leif and James here.

"Do you like those?" I look up to see a strawberry blonde girl with cute freckles across her nose, not too much older than me. She must be referring to the belts I'm holding.

"They are exquisite!" I exclaim. "Everything in here is." She blushes at the compliment.

"Well, that's my husband's doing. He took up leather-working and carving and all kinds of handcrafting after we met. My great-uncle taught him. They're not here right now, but their workshop's in the back. Do you want to see more? The stuff they're working on now?" I nod eagerly. She calls out, "Grandmother…watch the store, okay? I'm going to the workshop."

As we're walking toward the back, I notice another beautiful piece of artwork, a drawing, and stop to ask her about it. Her whole body blushes this time.

"I did that. All the new art is mine." Her whole body blushes this time.

I gush about her talent all the back to the back room.

An hour or so later, still in the store, I text Em.

Her reply is, James is taking me to the liberty bell. Want 2 meet us?

Me: I've been. No thanks. Be prepared for a line. Are you walking or driving?

Em: You have 2 ask?

Me: Ok, that was the dumbest question ever—even though it's really close to the townhouse! Heard from Leif?

Em: Done rowing. Will meet us 4 lunch. We had late b'fast. Okay for later lunch?

Me: Fine. I found grad gifts, but I need something for it. Will you ask James the address of his and Leif's apartment while they were here? Don't tell why, ok?

Em: Interesting! Can't wait to hear about it. Hang on a sec.

Em texts me back the address and I get directions from my new friend, Megan—it's close to here. With a hug to this darling girl, I leave the store with her business card in hand. Together, we've worked out what I want and I'll pick up everything tomorrow. I've even got a gift for Em and something for Henry to give both of them, too. Although it wasn't much, spending this money was worth it! Hopefully, I'll get a lot of hours at my new job.

I quickly find their building—it's a beautiful old house with turrets. I snap a few pictures and email them to Megan from my phone, then walk back toward the campus.

It's too late to think about cabbing up to Boathouse Row and Em and James could be hours at the Liberty Bell. It's graduation day for the undergrads and there are a lot of students and their families happily milling around campus. Seeing all these families is bittersweet for me. After stopping at a shop to grab a muffin and bottled water, I decide to find that exact spot where Grandmother and I waited to meet up with Granddad four years ago. He ended up getting delayed, which was not an uncommon thing for him, and called to say he needed to make some last-minute changes to his lecture and couldn't meet us. Normally, Grandmother and I loved going to his lectures whenever we could because that was Granddad at his finest, plus, I always learned something. We didn't go sit in the seats that Granddad had reserved for us, but stood in the back until Grandmother's restlessness got the better of her. I didn't want to leave, because it was really interesting, but I wanted to take care of my Grandmother even more. When there was a break, we told Granddad we were leaving and went to dinner.

I think I'm close to that same grassy area when my eyes are drawn to a little copse of trees nearby. Leif is standing alone in the midst of them, arms folded across his chest. I move a little closer to him, wondering what he's doing there. He just seems to be scanning the green. I raise my hand to catch his attention right when I hear a girl shriek, "Vince!" He turns toward her, away from me, as she throws herself at him, wrapping her arms…and legs…around him. Oh…so that's who he was looking for. My hand falls back to my side. I watch as long as I can stand it—which is all of a millisecond—as the girl… woman…plies him with kisses. I quickly jog past the students and families toward the street. I stop to look back one last time from across the green and it's weird, but he seems to be looking at me, even though we are pretty far away from each other. The woman is standing next to him now, trying to regain his attention, I think. I turn and quickly scurry toward the street.

I find a cab and jump into it.

"Liberty Bell, please."

While we're still at the Liberty Bell, Leif…or Vince rather, texts James to say he is delayed and won't make it to lunch. He'll see us back at the house.

Delayed. Uh huh. De…laid, more like.

It's getting close to dinnertime, so instead of lunch, Em decides to stop in a few boutiques on the way back to where they parked the car. James and I follow dutifully behind her, chatting easily. Employing her new thriftiness, Em does actually peruse the sale racks, even if only perfunctorily. She buys some things and I drive us the few blocks back to the house.

James forages for a snack in the fridge while Em goes to hang up her new purchases. I take the picnic basket into the laundry room off the butler's pantry to put the quilt in the wash. I'm about start the washing machine when I notice those red ribbons from the flowers have fallen into the machine and I don't want them to turn the quilt pink. I pull them out as I hear Leif talking to James. I only feel a little guilty that I postpone pressing the start button to eavesdrop. Because apparently, this is my new thing.

"Liberty Bell," blah, blah, blah. "Dinner plans," blah, blah, blah. "How was your last race?" James

"Dinner's definitely on me tonight." Leif

"Good man. You went out with a bang." Pause. "What's wrong?" James.

Silence. Pacing. Garbled words.

"…day I obsessed about four years ago?" Leif.

"The stalking?"

"Well, I wouldn't quite use that word, but…"

"I'll never forget that because it took me weeks to finagle it out of you and when I did, it was so unlike you as to be almost shocking. You're not usually given to poetic flights of fancy. Especially regarding a girl." James.

That girl I saw him with must be important to him, I think to myself.

"…thought I saw her again…not the older one, just the younger… Schuylkill…"

Dammit! Why do people have to pace around when I'm trying to eavesdrop? It's very frustrating when some of the words drop out! Or at least, why can't James be pacing instead of Leif.

"…again on the green…Could swear…saw her…"

Ugh…if he's going to talk about that girl I saw him with, I can do without that! My stomach can't handle it.

I start to ease out the laundryroom door, intending to sneak to the hallway and up the stairs, when I hear Leif say, "…just chasing ghosts for half the day again."

Oh, so that's what we're calling pretty girls these days wearing tiny shorts who screech "Vince!" and wrap themselves around boys—Ghosts? She looked real to me.

"...going to jump in the shower." I wait when I hear his tread on the stairs.

That reminds me of the washing I'm supposed to be doing. Even though it might not be the best thing for this old quilt, I move the setting to the hottest one and press start.

Gosh, what a shame it would be if there's only cold water left for Leif's shower.

I hang with Em and James at the counter bar munching on grapes and discussing tonight. It's going to be dinner at some place where they know the owners and then we'll see how the night unfolds. Em suggests a club afterwards.

I hear the shower turn off upstairs and I imagine what he…

"Earth to Ellawyn!" There is finger snapping in front of my face. I look at Em. "I asked what you were wearing tonight."

I wave my hands in front of my white dress to indicate, this. I hadn't thought about it. She primly shakes her head.

"It's comfortable," I shrug.

"So are pajamas, but you look like jailbait fresh out of a virginal country convent. Let us not forget you have a fake ID. James, we'll see you in an hour." She kisses his cheek and drags me up the stairs to my room.

"I really should've packed for you," she mutters after rifling through the closet. She emerges, clutching the one pair of heels I brought for tomorrow's graduation. "I'm going to grab some stuff from my room because I think I just bought the perfect thing at one of those boutiques for you today. I'll leave your clothes on the bed. Go! Shower!" She points toward the bathroom door.

I'll get undressed in the bathroom so Em doesn't walk back in midway through. She doesn't always knock. I kick of my shoes, grab my robe, and open the bathroom door. And there he is with a towel tucked around his waist, water dripping off his back, very much like I imagined him when I first saw him on that elevator. I can't move. The mirror is steamed up, or I could see him from the front, too. He is spraying that ocean and spice scent on his neck.

"What are you thinking?" he asks as he slowly turns around.

I clutch the robe I'm holding in front of me, burying my red face in its shawl collar. "Are you seriously fishing for a compliment? Don't you get enough of them?"

"I don't recall ever hearing one from you, so it might be well worth the earning of it."

I peek up from the robe. "I'll tell you later. Can I get in the shower now?"

He saunters out of the bathroom, closing his door behind him.

Arrogante pendejo! Honestly, does he expect me to wrap myself around him and ply him with kisses, I think as I step out of my dress and into the shower. That thought gets lodged in my head, unfortunately.

I use his body wash instead of my soap because it's got that same spicy ocean scent. I don't have time to wash my hair again because the hot water runs out pretty quickly. I shiver as I rinse off his body wash with cold water.