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"I do."
"So why are we arguing about it? A day at the beach. We can sleep there and return Sunday morning."
"I still can’t handle the two of them on my own."
"Bring Eleanor."
"You want me to bring my mom?"
"What did you think, Brooklyn? That the first time I invited you out, it would be just to take you to bed?"
"Yes."
"Is that what you want?"
"I’m not answering that."
"I’ll pick you up at nine. Be ready."
"Brooklyn told me you were worried the kids might get seasick, Athanasios, but they’ve been on Zeus’s yacht and loved it. Our babies have strong stomachs," Eleanor says from the back seat, sitting between the two car seats. "If you don’t mind, I’ll take advantage of the fact that they’re asleep and have a nap myself."
"Feel free," I reply.
I glance at the woman beside me and am slightly shocked by how much she’s changed in this past week since we last saw each other. Her skin has a soft golden tan that contrasts beautifully with her blonde hair. Brooklyn exudes life and health now, a stark contrast to the fragile girl who came under my care months ago.
"You’re very quiet," I tell her.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Life. You. Tell me something so I can get to know you better. I’m not good at asking questions because I’m afraid of intruding on your privacy."
"What do you want to know?"
"Anything."
"Well, I already told you I’m adopted."
"Yes. Do your parents have other children?"
"I’m an only child. There’s not much to say about my family." That’s a half-truth, but in this case, it’s to protect my biological mother. No one can know about her until I uncover the whole truth.
"Will you tell me more one day?" she asks.
"What do you mean?"
"You don’t want to talk about your childhood," she says, surprising me with her sensitivity. Brooklyn sees right through me. "That’s okay. We all have secrets."
"You too?"
"Yes. Also about my childhood. They’re not secrets, really, just sad memories."
"Like what, for example?"
"I don’t want to fill our silence with depressing stories."
"I don’t get depressed easily. Try me."