The drive to the park is quick, and I get out to wait for Marley, texting my mom and Sam the good news about the interview.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and breathe out a big sigh of relief, my warm breath turning to fog in the chilly air. When it clears, I see Marley walking toward me on the path, a reddish-pink flower clutched in her hand. The trees around her are nearly naked in the autumn air, their brown and orange leaves crunching noisily under her feet. I hold up the kite in hello and her face breaks out into a smile. She runs the rest of the way to me, pushing her mustard-yellow beanie higher on her head, ignoring the kite completely.
“How was it? How did it go?”
I lean against my car, trying not to appear too excited. “Well, he seemed to like my articles,” I say casually.
“So?” she urges impatiently.
“So… you’re looking at the new sports intern at the Times,” I say, my cool demeanor cracking. “I was hired on the spot.”
Marley squeals and throws her arms around me. “I told you. I knew you would be.”
I laugh. “You were right about the player profiles. That’s what he liked the most.”
“Of course I was,” she says, handing me the flower she’s holding, a pretty round puff with dozens of pale-pink petals, getting smaller and smaller as they near the center. “It’s a peony. It means good luck and fortune, but I guess you kind of don’t need that now.”
“Can never have too much good luck.”
She smiles and leans back to get a better look at me. “You look cute, by the way.”
I smooth out my sports coat, smiling back at her. She’s never said anything like that to me before. “Why, thank you. Maybe not exactly the best thing to wear for flying a kite, though.”
“I haven’t flown a kite in years,” Marley says as she smooths a hand down my lapel.
“I thought it might be fun,” I say, holding it up. “You mentioned you used to love to do it when you were little. And… it’s super windy today.”
As if on cue, the wind tugs at her hair, whipping it this way and that. She lightly touches the thin wood of the kite frame, nodding in agreement.
It takes a lot of work for us to get the kite going. We unwind some of the string and take turns running across the grass, the breeze catching it and then letting it go just as quickly, the kite nose-diving into the ground.
Finally, on my fifth run, it lifts smoothly into the air.
I whoop as the string slides through my fingers. The kite tugs right and left, the wind making it dance across the cloudy autumn sky.
Once it’s steady, I pass the tiny wooden bar to Marley, watching as she stares up at the kite, her face beautifully open.
“You got any plans for Halloween next Saturday?” I ask.
“Not really,” she says as the kite dips. She pulls back on the string, steadying it. “Other people… aren’t really my thing.”
“Well,” I say, unsurprised. “My mom is going out of town, so I could use a little help handing out the candy.”
She looks over at me skeptically.
“It’ll be fun,” I say. “We can wear Halloween costumes and everything,” I add, really trying to hype it up. “I mean, what’s not to love about that? You can be anyone or anything you want.”
I see her mind working, thinking it all over.
“Okay,” she says finally. She presses into me and I kiss her forehead. “But only because you seem really into the dressing-up thing. I’d hate to crush your fantasies.”
Her small, teasing smile is too much. I pick her up in a huge hug, the both of us laughing as the rest of the string unfurls from around the tiny wooden bar, the kite drifting, untethered, into the clouds as I kiss her. Her lips are cold, but the rest of her body is warm, and she wraps her arms around my neck.
“We lost the kite,” she sighs after we come up for air.
I laugh. “I’d rather hold on to you anyway.”
A drop of rain lands smack on my forehead, and we pull apart, laughing as we run along the path back to my car, the rain pouring down all around us. We’re almost there when Marley yanks her hand from mine.
“Wait!”
She bends to pick up something from the ground. I get closer to see a trail of tiny dots on the path. They’re baby snails, and Marley’s picking them up one by one and moving them off the path.
“What are you doing?” I ask, squinting at her through the downpour.
“I don’t want anyone to step on them,” she says as we slowly make our way up to the car, me redirecting runners and walkers around us as Marley moves every single one of the snails out of the way.