“You?” I twist in my chair. “Did you know one of the most common fears is speaking in public? You do it all the time. You put yourself out there with your art in front of a critical world. I could never do what you do. I don’t have the guts.”
She bursts out laughing and grabs my shoulder. “You don’t? What do you think you’ve been doing for a month? You’re the one who took a chance when I asked you to pretend to be me. Do you think most people would have the courage to do that?”
“I think it was the money.”
“No, you’re braver than you want to believe,” she says. She eyes me. “You like to pretend you’re not bold because it’s an excuse to not stretch yourself.”
I wince. “Harsh.”
“You helped me. This is me helping you. Sam told me about Eppy and how well you did filming with him. You can do whatever you set your mind to, Gracie. I’ve seen this in you but you need to see it in yourself. I believe in you.”
Have I ever had a pep talk like this? Mom loves me but she was more about setting realistic expectations to avoid disappointment and failure. I never had anyone tell me to dream. I’m not even sure I’ve ever had a talk with a friend like this before, at least not sober.
Fangli fetches a blanket from inside. “Cashmere or wool?” she asks as she spreads it over our knees.
“For what?”
She twitches the corner of the blanket. “What material do you prefer?”
“Neither. I like that synthetic stuff they make into stuffed animals. It’s so soft you can barely feel it on your fingertips.”
“I like cashmere,” she says in the comfortable tone of a woman who owns a lot of it. “Yak is good, too.”
“Yak?” I turn to see her face, pale in the moonlight. “Isn’t that, you know…yakky? Coarse?”
“Oh, no. The inner coat is very soft.”
I file that information away and we sit in the dark for a while longer, idly quizzing each other.
Pasta or rice?
Train or plane?
Dramas or comedies?
Despite our disagreement about the best blanket fiber, we are eerily in sync for the rest of our choices. Finally we both yawn in unison.
“Back to bed,” I say, happy to have distracted myself back to exhaustion.
Fangli leans over to give me a hug before she stands up to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I drag myself into the bathroom to shower. The water washes away some of my unease and after towel-drying my hair, I collapse into bed. Todd crosses my mind and I force his nasty face away with a physical gesture.
Tomorrow I can worry about this.
Tonight, I’m going to dream about what I want. Eppy. A job. Freedom. Mom safe and happy.
And maybe a bit about kissing Sam.
Thirty-Two
Sam throws his tablet to the side and stretches on the couch where he’s ostensibly been reviewing scripts. For the last twenty minutes, he’s been shooting little glances in my direction as if hoping to casually catch me looking up from my laptop.
The last time I did, he’d smiled and I’d blown him an over-the-top kiss, which he had pretended to catch out of midair and tuck into his pocket. Then he’d gone back to work as if nothing had happened, ignoring me as I groaned.
He gets up and begins pacing. I wait until he’s made multiple circuits of the room but he doesn’t say a word.
“You’re going to wear a path into that floor,” I observe finally.
“Are you done working?”
“Do you have something more interesting for me to do?” I glance up and see the wicked expression on his face. “Never mind.”
He assumes a look of extreme innocence. “I was going to suggest a sedate game of cards but what did you have in mind?”
I roll my eyes and close my laptop. “You hate cards because you suck at them.”
“True. I was lying about playing cards.” He nods out the window. “What are those?”
“Toronto Islands.”
“Real islands?” Sam looks at them with new interest.
“Sand spits they dumped a bunch of landfill on to make bigger.” I join him. It’s raining so the islands look mysterious under a thin fog. I haven’t been over there in years.
“Where’s the bridge to drive over?”
“You take a ferry.” I point to a little ship chugging across the water. “There’s one.”
“A ferry?” He looks at it longingly.
“You like ferries?”
He turns to me with a face that expresses his disbelief that anyone could not. “Of course. When I was in Hong Kong, I always took the Star Ferry to cross the harbor.” He tugs at his ear. “My mother hated me doing that.”