“Is it really that late?” I lift a brow.
“It’s almost four.” She winces and I join her.
“I don’t think I’ve slept this late since I had the flu sophomore year,” I admit.
She laughs at my response, then hits the button for the garage door.
“This used to be a regular Saturday morning occurrence for me,” she says.
“I’m pretty sure you can’t call it morning,” I add.
She spins on her heels as she moves out of the garage and points at me.
“You are probably right.”
We cross my driveway to the very dead grass in our side yard. Eleanor leaps up to grab the eave but her fingers slip at her first attempt. She crouches to jump again but stops, spinning to face me as she points over her shoulder with her thumb.
“You been sunset watching without me?” she asks.
The ladder is still out. I haven’t touched it since the last time we went up there.
“That would sound a lot better than admitting I’m too lazy to put it away, but sadly, I’m a lazy ass.” I mush my lips together and shrug.
“Well, my muscles are not feeling it today, so let’s just say you were planning ahead.” She marches to the ladder and scales it two rungs at a time. Even at her laziest, she’s got me beat.
She waits at the roof’s edge for me this time, and I’m a little embarrassed because I climb ladders the same way my grandfather does—like one wrong move might break a hip. I crawl onto the shingles as she stands and holds a hand out for me.
“I can’t run and leap over there like you do,” I say, waving my hand just out of reach. It’s like I’m about to shake on a deal and I want to make sure I know the terms.
Eleanor leans her head back and the sound of real laughter pours out with the rasp that I’ve missed.
“It’s fine. I’ll go slow,” she says, taking my hand and helping me to my feet.
I sway a little, only half joking that I’m searching for my balance. I notice that she walks along the rooftop on her toes, almost like a ballerina making her way to center stage. I move with the grace of a Clydesdale.
We settle in the ridge this time and I lower myself carefully, dividing my weight over both sides of the roof. Eleanor seems to collapse into a sitting position, her legs knotted together as she perches at the apex facing me. I breathe out a laugh at how different we are.
“What?” she asks.
“Just, you can tell you do things like gymnastics and stuff. It’s pretty clear I work out math equations.” I shrug.
“You’d think that would make you more confident up here, being able to compute the exact angles and all that junk,” she argues.
“Huh,” I say, taking her reasoning to heart. I glance to my left and then my right, but before I can fully take in the angle of the descent behind me I grip the roof’s surface beneath my thighs.
“Nope. There’s no math logic for this,” I say.
She giggles, an actual giggle. It’s the best sound, like a children’s birthday party with a petting zoo kind of glee. Jake made fun of me endlessly the last time I crawled up here with him. I was too shell-shocked to smack him with one of the water balloons.
A few cars pass along our street, and we both give our full attention to them, watching them come to complete stops on either end. I notice her driveway is half empty, and wonder if she’s had a chance to talk with Morgan today. I hope my advice was taken to heart.
“Family outing?” I ask, gesturing to her empty driveway below. Her parents’ car and Morgan’s SUV are missing.
I expect a heavy sigh or for her to push my question off. But none of that happens.
“My parents are attempting grocery shopping. And Morgan is getting a pedicure.” She blinks as her gaze shifts from her world below to me. “It’s a good step. Important, probably. I mean, Morgan’s feet are disgusting. Really, I don’t know how we’ve all managed to live in the same house with her like that.”
Her teeth grip her bottom lip as she pauses, waiting for me to laugh. I give in, understanding her need to use humor to not be real right now. She laughs with me for a few seconds, until our efforts die down into quiet again. I’m so close to her that I can only focus on one eye at a time, and as hard as it is to not to blush under her stare, I endure it, reminding myself that she’s looking at me, too.
“She said you talked,” she says finally, shifting her body to face the other direction, away from the setting sun.
“I gave her some advice, not that I’m qualified or anything.”
We both glance to our sides, meeting in the middle for a brief exchange.
“You’re more than qualified, Jonah. I think it meant a lot to her. We—Morgan and I—talked a lot when I woke up. You know, about twenty minutes before I came over here?” She laughs through her words again.
“Good,” I say through my smile.
That I helped, even in the smallest way, settles the raging nerves in my chest. So many of my choices when it comes to Eleanor have me on edge. I never know if I’m helping or hurting. I only know that my intentions are always from the heart, and I guess that’s all that matters.
“Speaking of trying things to feel normal . . .” She draws in a deep breath and I steady myself for whatever she has to say. It seems to be difficult.
“I want to cheer. I miss it.” She nods and moves her focus to me.
I push my smile into my cheeks, making sure to show enthusiasm and support.
“You were meant to do it. And if
