Eleanor & Park

Their grandmother looked nothing but Irish.

Or maybe Park only thought that because everyone in his dad’s family made such a big deal about being Irish. Park got a ‘Kiss Me, I’m Irish’

T-shirt every year for Christmas.

He set his grandparents’ table without being asked, because it had always been his job. When his mom got there, he hung out in the kitchen with her and his grandma, and listened to them gossip about the neighbors.

‘I heard from Jamie that Park’s going steady with one of those kids who live over with Richie Trout,’ his grandma said.

It shouldn’t surprise Park that his dad had already told his grandma. His dad could never keep a secret.

‘Everybody talking about Park’s girlfriend,’

his mom said, ‘except for Park.’

‘I heard she’s a redhead,’ his grandma said.

Park pretended to read the newspaper. ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Grandma.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t have to,’ his grandma said,

‘if you’d just introduce us to her.’

He rolled his eyes. Which made him think of Eleanor. Which almost made him feel like telling them about her, just so he’d have a reason to say her name.

‘Well, my heart goes out to any child living in that house,’ his grandma said. ‘That Trout boy has never been any good. He smashed out our mailbox while your dad was in the service. I know it was him because he was the only one in the neighborhood with an Ell Camino. He grew up in that little house, you know, until his parents moved someplace even more redneck than here.

Wyoming, I think it was. They probably moved to get away from him.’

‘Tishhhh,’ his mom said. Grandma was a little sharp for his mom’s taste sometimes.

‘We thought he’d moved out west, too,’ she said, ‘but now he’s back with an older wife who looks like a movie star and a whole house full of red-headed stepchildren. Gill told your grandpa that they’ve got a big old dog living there, too. I never …’

Park felt like he should defend Eleanor. But he wasn’t sure how.

‘It doesn’t surprise me that you have a thing for redheads,’ his grandma said. ‘Your grandfath-er was in love with a redhead. Lucky for me, she wouldn’t have anything to do with him.’

What would Park’s grandmother say if he did introduce her to Eleanor? What would she say to the neighbors?

And what would his mother say?

He watched his mom mash potatoes with a masher as big as her arm. She was wearing stonewashed jeans and a pink V-neck sweater, with fringed leather boots. There was a gold angel charm hanging around her neck and gold crosses hanging from her ears. She’d be the most popular girl on the bus. He couldn’t imagine her living anywhere but here. Eleanor

She’d never lied to her mother. Not about anything important, anyway. But on Sunday night, while Richie was at the bar, Eleanor told her mom that she might go over to a friend’s house after school the next day.

‘Who’s that?’ her mom asked.

‘Tina,’ Eleanor said. It was the first name she thought of. ‘She lives in the neighborhood.’

Her mom was distracted. Richie was late, and his steak was drying out in the oven. If she took it out, he’d be pissed that it was cold. But if she left it in, he’d be pissed that it was tough.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re finally making friends.’

CHAPTER 21 Eleanor

Would he look different?

Now that she knew that he loved her? (Or that he had loved her, at least for a minute or two on Friday night. At least enough to say so.) Would he look different?

Would he look away?

He did look different. More beautiful than ever. When she got on the bus, Park was sitting tall in the seat, so she could see him. (Or maybe so that he could see her.) And when he let her in-to the seat, he sat back down again against her.

They both slouched down low.

‘That was the longest weekend of my life,’ he said.

She laughed and leaned into him.

‘Are you over me?’ he asked. She wished she could say things like that. That she could ask him questions like that, even in a joking way.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Over and over and over.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, no.’

She reached into his jacket and slipped the Beatles tape into his T-shirt pocket. He caught her hand and held it to his heart.

‘What’s this?’ He pulled the tape out with his other hand.

‘The greatest songs ever written. You’re welcome.’

He rubbed her hand against his chest. Just barely. Just enough to make her blush.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

She waited until they were at her locker to tell him the other thing. She didn’t want anyone to hear. He was standing next to her and purposely bumping his backpack into her shoulder.

‘I told my mom that I might go over to a friend’s house after school.’

‘You did?’

‘Yeah, it doesn’t have to be today though. I don’t think she’ll change her mind.’

‘No, today. Come over today.’

‘Don’t you have to ask your mom?’

He shook his head. ‘She doesn’t care. I can even have girls in my room, if I keep the door open.’

‘Girl-zzz? You’ve had enough girls in your room to require a ruling?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘You know me.’

I don’t, she thought to herself, not really. Park

For the first time in weeks, Park didn’t have that anxious feeling in his stomach on the way home from school, like he had to soak up enough of Eleanor to keep him until the next day.

He had a different anxious feeling. Now that he was actually introducing Eleanor to his mom, he couldn’t help but see her the way his mom was going to.

His mom was a beautician who sold Avon.

She never left the house without touching up her mascara. When Patti Smith was on Saturday Night Live, his mom had gotten upset – ‘Why she want to look like man? It’s so sad.’

Eleanor, today, was wearing her sharkskin suit jacket and an old plaid cowboy shirt. She had more in common with his grandpa than his mom.

And it wasn’t just the clothes. It was her.

Eleanor wasn’t … nice.

She was good. She was honorable. She was honest. She would definitely help an old lady across the street. But nobody – not even the old lady – would ever say, ‘Have you met that Eleanor Douglas? What a nice girl.’

Park’s mom liked nice. She loved nice. She liked smiling and small talk and eye contact …

All things Eleanor sucked at.

Also, his mom didn’t get sarcasm. And he was pretty sure it wasn’t a language thing. She just didn’t get it. She called David Letterman ‘the ugly, mean one on after Joh

Park realized that his hands were sweating and let go of Eleanor’s. He put his hand on her knee instead, and that felt so good, so new, he stopped thinking about his mom for a few minutes.

When they got to his stop, he stood in the aisle and waited for her. But she shook her head.

‘I’ll meet you there,’ she said.

He felt relieved. And then guilty. As soon as the bus pulled away, he ran to his house. His brother wouldn’t be home yet, that was good.

‘Mom!’

‘In here!’ she called from the kitchen. She was painting her nails a pearly pink.

‘Mom,’ he said. ‘Hey. Um, Eleanor’s coming over in few minutes. My, um, my Eleanor. Now.

Is that okay?’

‘Right now?’ She shook the bottle. Click, click, click.

‘Yeah, don’t make a big deal, okay? Just …

be cool.’

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m cool.’

He nodded, then looked around the kitchen and the living room to make sure there was nothing weird sitting out. He checked his room, too.

His mom had made his bed.

He opened the door before Eleanor knocked.

‘Hi,’ she said. She looked nervous. Well, she looked angry, but he was pretty sure that was because she was nervous.

‘Hey,’ he said. This morning, all he’d been able to think about was how to get more servings of Eleanor into his day, but now that she was here … he wished he had thought this through.