My memories of the moon were intricately woven with my memories of Abraham. As a kid, a teen, he ran about with abandon, happy-go-lucky and friendly, rarely still, rarely contemplative, except in the rare nighttime moments. He could be doing anything—out on a walk, camping in the summers with our families, at a party with kids from school, playing a game at night—and he’d always find a moment to raise his face to the moon’s light. He soaked it in the way most people I knew took in music or drink or temple—with an utter fascination that bordered on reverence.
I looked up, too. The moon glowed, more alive than any celestial body had a right to be. I always forgot how much I liked the moon until Abe reminded me, but there was very little as beautiful as the stone in the sky.
Though perhaps the man beside me came close.
I lowered my gaze to him, ready to soak in the sight of him as I had so many times before—and was surprised to find him gazing back at me. I swallowed.
His voice lowered. “How do you see things so clear?”
“I spend a lot of time looking.”
He nodded. “Why did you go into sports reporting?”
I smiled. “Why? You think I did it because of you?”
He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Well, did you?”
I propped my head on my knees. “You’re full of it.”
“That a yes or a no?”
I leaned closer, irritated. “I could’ve been anything I wanted to be. I chose this because I’m good at it. I’m actually good at it, and I like it. I got two majors and a minor in philosophy. I taught and I cooked. I’m not a sports reporter because of any one thing, Abraham Krasner, but because it’s what I chose.”
He stared down at his spread hands. “I never finished college.”
“What?”
“I don’t have my degree. I don’t—I don’t think I could be anything.”
I’d never realized Abe felt the lack of his degree, that he wanted anything more out of life than to be the best linebacker possible. How odd, that I could know him for so long and never realize he wanted more.
“Abraham Krasner. The whole world is yours if you want it. The world and the moon.”
He looked up at me. We were so close I could feel his breath and see his individual lashes. He stroked my cheek. “Tammy...”
I held my breath. I suddenly felt very warm and heady, and drawn forward by an invisible string that hadn’t been cut, after all.
One of the girls let out a shriek. “Guys! Guys, my landlord called. We have to go.”
Abe’s hand dropped from my face. Everyone started scrambling to their feet, including people not from Alli’s apartment. They shouted over at her. “Is your landlord our landlord?” They badgered us to find out if we were all in trouble, and then a mass exodus began as the three different apartments all herded their guests to the fire escape.
I balked when my turn came.
“Don’t worry,” Abe said in my ear. “You climbed up. You can get back down.”
I frowned at him. He correctly interpreted it as, but the staircase might break and then where will we be? “Do you want me to go first? I can catch you if you fall.”
I scoffed. “You’d be falling to your death, too.”
His hand wrapped around mine. “I would catch you,” he vowed. “I will always catch you.”
My stomach flipped over. It wasn’t fair for him to say that, for him to work his magic on me. That combination of voice and smell and touch rendered me useless, rendered me his, just as it always had. I wanted that kiss that had never happened. It hovered in the air between us.
But I was done chasing silly dreams, so I stepped back. “Okay, then. You go first.”
And I didn’t fall, so I didn’t find out if he would catch me or not.
Downstairs, Sabeen found us quick enough. “Hey, I think I’m going to head out with Evan. That cool? You’re okay to get home?”