You Could Have Asked Me

Her Saturday shift at the bakery started at seven, and at seven thirty a friend of Alex's from the fire department walked in. Nora knew him the way you know your boyfriend's friends: from the cookouts after fire department drills, from Alex's stories, as the laugh in the background when Alex was on the phone. He ordered six rolls and a pretzel, counted out exact change, and said, “Can't wait for tomorrow. Alex says you're taking the front of the canoe. At least I won't have to steer.”

Nora held on to the bag a second too long. “Tomorrow?” “The trip. Ten at the dock, we paddle down to the old mill and grill there.” He saw her face and gave an uncertain laugh. “He said you guys were in. Thursday, after drill. He was really into it.” “Yeah,” Nora said. “Sounds like him.” She handed him the bag and his change and smiled the way you smile at a counter when four more people are waiting behind him.

On Monday she had a math test. Her first big calculus test of junior year, and Nora didn't just want to pass it, she wanted to nail it. She had kept Sunday clear for two weeks. She'd told Alex, at least twice, once on the steps outside his house and once in the car when he drove her to school in the rain. He had nodded. He always nodded when he was listening. Now Nora wondered whether he had actually been listening.

Between customers, she didn't text him. Anything she sent right now would have been in all caps. Instead she did the math in her head: how many practice problems she could get through tonight if she got off at two, and how many she'd lose on Sunday if she was sitting in a canoe from ten on. She didn't like the answer. She liked even less that part of her was already working out how to make it work anyway. Get up early. Study late. Say yes and be tired afterward. She knew that part of herself very well.

Alex showed up at two, like most Saturdays after his shift at the bike shop, and leaned on the counter once the last customer was gone. Grease under one fingernail, his grandfather's watch on his right wrist. “Your friend from the fire department came in this morning,” Nora said. “He's excited about tomorrow.” “Me too,” Alex said. “Weather's supposed to hold.” “Alex. I have a math test on Monday.” He looked at her, and she watched the sentence reach him, slowly, the way everything reached him. “You can study tonight. And we'll be back by four.”

“You say that now.” It came out sharper than she meant it to. “You didn't say, ‘I'll ask Nora.’ You said, ‘We're in.’ Like my Sunday is just a piece of yours.” She wiped down the counter, which was already clean. “First Mr. Weber, now this. You make decisions for me and then you're surprised I'm mad.”

At first Alex said nothing. He rubbed his thumb over the glass of his watch, the thing he did when he was thinking and didn't know what to do with his hands. “I didn't think about it,” he finally said. “I just figured, of course you'd come. We do everything together.” “That's the thing, we don't,” Nora said. “We do a lot together. That's different. Being your girlfriend doesn't mean you get to book me like the second seat in a canoe.”

She heard how harsh that sounded and didn't take it back. He hadn't meant anything bad by it, she knew that. He'd been happy and had just pulled her into it with him, as naturally as he held a door for her. But she could open a door herself. And she wanted to decide about her own Sunday, even if the answer might have been yes in the end. Especially then.

“Okay,” Alex said. “Now what?” That was her line, and for a second she almost laughed. “Now I say no,” she said. “To the canoe. Not to you.” It felt like a drill where you still have to watch your own feet. Saying no is an answer too, she thought. She was still practicing.

Alex nodded, took out his phone, and typed without turning away, so she could read along: “Nora can't make it tomorrow, she has a math test Monday. My fault, should've asked her first. I'll come by myself.” He sent it to the group before she could say anything. “You didn't have to say it was your fault,” she said. “Yes, I did,” he said. “Otherwise they'll think you bailed.”

On Sunday Nora studied from nine to six, with two breaks and a loop around the farm when the derivatives started swimming in front of her eyes. At six thirty Alex was at the front door, his curls still wet. “River was cold,” he said, and held out a bag. Inside were two brats from the grill at the mill, wrapped in foil and barely warm. Nora laughed, loud, and at herself first, because she'd spent the whole day thinking he might be sulking.

He stayed in the doorway instead of coming in. “They're doing the trip again in three weeks,” he said. “Want to come?” Nora looked at him. Her mouth had already started to shape the yes, the quick, warm one she gave everybody. She held on to it. “Ask me Wednesday,” she said. “After the test.” Alex nodded as if she'd just explained something important. Maybe she had.