“This is amazing,” Kendele says and slurps happily at her bowl.
She doesn’t seem to mind the informality of it all. Pho Junkies doesn’t offer much variety—their menu consists mostly of either Vietnamese noodle soup or rolls—but I’ve sampled practically everything and it’s all good.
Kendele chose a steak pho. Being less discriminatory about what I put in my mouth, I opted for the “all the meats” selection. “I’ve never eaten at a food truck before,” she confesses as I sit beside her on a small ledge along the sidewalk, placing a plate of shrimp rolls between us. “And this is really good. How did you learn about this?”
“You drive around an area enough times, you find out all these hidden culinary gems. Remind me to treat you to a lobster roll at the Red Hook next time.”
The instant the words leave my mouth, I feel like kicking myself. It sounds presumptuous to think there would actually be a next time. I make up for the lapse by taking a swift slurp at my own bowl, nearly burning my tongue in the process. At least the pain in my ribs is going away. Fortunately, McNeil was too enraged to think about going for my face or my genitals—and just hit the places where the bruises will be easy enough to hide, easy enough to heal.
Kendele only laughs. “Oh really? So you’re telling me you like prowling the city late at night, on the hunt for the best food bargains in the city? You don’t happen to run a food blog by any chance?”
“Nothing that requires me to actually do work.” I’m starting to relax. She’s obviously trying to avoid talking about the incident, and I don’t want to ruin the ongoing moment between us either.
Some instinct makes me look up from my soup to where several folks are still in line at the truck.
Okiku wanders through the crowd, silently counting the people as she passes. A part of me relaxes upon seeing her; another part freezes up.
I’ve never gone on a real date since Okiku took up lodgings with me—or, admittedly, at any point before that. I’m not sure how she’s going to react to Kendele, but she avoids looking my way, concentrating more on a group of teens clamoring for spring rolls than on us.
“Hello? You still there, Halloway?” It takes me a second to see the hand Kendele is waving in front of my face. “You spaced out there for a second. Am I boring?”
“No!” That comes out higher in pitch than I had intended. “I mean, no. I’m sorry. A lot of things happened today that I wasn’t really prepared for.”
“Tell me about it.” Kendele wriggles closer, nearly dislodging the plate of rolls between us. “But only if you want to.”
I’m not used to Kendele being so tactful, and from the way she’s fidgeting, I assume she isn’t either. I say, “Hypothetically—if you were in a situation where you had to do something kind of illegal, knowing it would help put someone away who deserves it, would you?”
She chews thoughtfully on a bean sprout. “I guess that would depend on what’s involved. You mean like killing him? Hypothetically speaking.”
I definitely don’t want to go into more detail. “Or maybe just illegally detaining him and stuff. It would be a really bad idea to let this person loose.”
“How bad of an idea?”
“Kicking-Hitler-out-of-art-school bad. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“A poorly drawn painting sounds better than a potential holocaust. But what does this have to do with everything that just happened?”
I take a deep breath. “I seriously think McNeil’s been taking advantage of girls in school, Kendele.”
“Including Trish? Was that why you mentioned her before?”
I was hoping she wouldn’t be that perceptive. “Well…yeah. And the thought of him getting away with all of that makes my blood boil.”
“Taking advantage of them? How so?”
“I’m thinking sexual assault. Not with Trish yet, but I think she’s next. I confronted him about it.”
Kendele eyes me through the steam rising from her bowl. “Did he admit to this? Was that why you punched him? Do you have any proof you could show to the authorities?”
I couldn’t exactly introduce Okiku into evidence—but I’m glad Kendele’s not dismissing my claims out of hand. “It didn’t take much to fill in the blanks. But it’s not the kind of confession that would hold up in court. I’ve had enough experience with this sort of thing to know.”
“I feel like there’s a lot more to this than you’re telling me.”
I watch Okiku lift her head and close her eyes and spin slowly in a circle, like she does when she’s deep in thought.
I opt for the closest thing to the truth that I can tell Kendele.
“There’s someone I’m very close to.” I clarify again, and Kendele looks at me, surprised. “She’s the most selfless person I’ve ever met, and she’s stuck her neck out for me on more than one occasion. She’s had a rough life, and assholes like McNeil make her think that she’s not worth saving. So no, I don’t regret punching him. If anything, I wished I’d punched him harder.”
“She must be very important to you.”
Okiku opens her eyes, her attention suddenly focused on a small errant firefly clumsily weaving its way through the air above us, mistaking the glare of a streetlight for a potential mate. She reaches an arm up, but the glowing orb escapes her outstretched fingers. It bobs higher, into the trees overhead, and she smiles at its antics. It’s an odd expression to see on her pale, withered face. I smile too, despite myself.
“Yeah. She’s the most important person in my life right now,” I say. “I almost think I would kill for her if I had to. I mean, hypothetically speaking,” I add, realizing how much I’m giving away.
Kendele doesn’t seem to notice. Her own smile looks a little sad. “Do you love her?”
“Of course. I already said she was important to me.”
“That’s not what I meant. Are you in love with her?”
“What?” That throws me off guard. I take my eyes away from Okiku to gape at Kendele. I’d never really thought of it like that, and I don’t know what to say. Sure, I care for Okiku, and she could be ridiculously pretty when she wants to be. But there’s also the matter of her being a three-hundred-year-old ghost, and that’s not a quality one usually looks for in the ideal girlfriend. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s a lot more complicated than just that.”
Kendele shakes her head. “You either love her or you don’t, Halloway. How hard is it to figure out? And people think women are difficult to understand.” But my answer seems to improve her mood, and she attacks her pho with newfound gusto. My eyes search the crowd again, but Okiku’s disappeared.
Kendele expertly steers the subject to lighter matters, and by the time we finish our meal, it’s nearly midnight.
She slides back into the passenger seat of my car with a small sigh of satisfaction. “That was nice. You know, I’ve wanted to ride in this car since the first time I saw it.”
“Was that why you volunteered to be my lab partner?” I edge the Bimmer out into the street.
“No, I volunteered because I wanted to see if you kissed as good as you look.”