Eleanor & Park

by Rainbow Rowell

  Fuck. Just … fuck.

  She should go back for Maisie.

  She should go back for all of them – she should find a way to fit them in her pockets – but she should definitely go back for Maisie. Maisie would run away with Eleanor. She wouldn’t think twice …

  And then Uncle Geoff would send them both right home.

  Her mom would definitely call the police if she woke up and Maisie was gone. Bringing Maisie would ruin everything even worse than it was already ruined.

  If Eleanor were the hero of some book, like The Boxcar Children or something, she’d try. If she were Dicey Tillerman, she’d find a way.

  She’d be brave and noble, and she’d find a way.

  But she wasn’t. Eleanor wasn’t any of those things. She was just trying to get through the night.

  Park

  Park walked quietly into his house through the back door. Nobody in his family ever locked anything.

  The TV was still on in his parents’ bedroom. He went straight to the bathroom and into the shower. He was pretty sure he smelled like every single thing that could get him in trouble.

  ‘Park?’ his mom called when he walked out of the bathroom.

  ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Just going to bed.’

  He buried his dirty clothes at the bottom of the hamper and dug all his leftover birthday and Christmas money out of his sock drawer. Sixty dollars. That should be enough for gas … probably, he didn’t really know.

  If they could just get to St Paul, Eleanor’s uncle would help them figure it out. She wasn’t sure her uncle would let her stay, but she said he was a decent guy, ‘and his wife was in the Peace Corps.’

  Park had already written his parents a note:

  Mom and Dad,

  I had to help Eleanor. I’ll call you tomorrow, and I’ll be back in a day or two. I know I’m in huge trouble, but this was an emergency, and I had to help.

  Park

  His mom always kept her keys in the same place – on a little key-shaped plaque in the entryway that said ‘keys.’

  Park was going to take her keys, then sneak back out the kitchen door, the door farthest from his parents’ room.

  His dad got home around 1:30. Park listened to him move around the kitchen, then the bathroom. He heard the door to his parents’ room open, he heard the TV.

  Park lay on his bed and closed his eyes. (There was no chance he’d fall asleep.) The picture of Eleanor was still glowing on the inside of his eyelids.

  So beautiful. So peaceful … No, that wasn’t quite right, not peaceful, more like … at peace. Like she was more comfortable out of her shirt than in it. Like she was happy inside out.

  When he opened his eyes, he saw her the way he’d left her in the RV – tense and resigned, so far gone that light wouldn’t even catch in her eyes.

  So far gone, she wasn’t even thinking about him anymore.

  Park waited until it was quiet. Then he waited another twenty minutes. Then he grabbed his backpack and went through the motions he’d planned in his head.

  He stopped at the kitchen door. His dad had left his new hunting rifle out on the table … He was probably going to clean it tomorrow morning. For a minute, Park thought about taking the gun – but he couldn’t think of when he’d use it. It’s not like they were going to run into Richie on the way out of town. Hopefully.

  Park opened the door and was about to step out when his dad’s voice stopped him.

  ‘Park?’

  He could have run for it, but his dad probably would’ve caught him. His dad was always bragging about being in the best shape of his life.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ his dad whispered.

  ‘I … I have to help Eleanor.’

  ‘What does Eleanor need help with at two in the morning?’

  ‘She’s running away.’

  ‘And you’re going with her?’

  ‘No. I was just going to give her a ride to her uncle’s house.’

  ‘Where does her uncle live?’

  ‘Minnesota.’

  ‘Jesus F. Christ, Park,’ his dad said in his normal voice, ‘are you serious?’

  ‘Dad.’ Park stepped toward him, pleading. ‘She has to go. It’s her stepdad. He’s …’

  ‘Did he touch her? Because if he touched her, we’re calling the police.’

  ‘He writes her these notes.’

  ‘What kind of notes?’

  Park rubbed his forehead. He didn’t like to think about the notes. ‘Sick ones.’

  ‘Did she talk to her mom?’

  ‘Her mom’s … not in very good shape. I think he hurts her.’

  ‘That little fucker …’ His dad looked down at the gun, then looked back at Park, rubbing his chin. ‘So you’re going to drive Eleanor to her uncle’s house. Will he take her in?’

  ‘She thinks so.’

  ‘I gotta tell you, Park, this doesn’t sound like much of a plan.’

  ‘I know.’

  His dad sighed and scratched the back of his neck. ‘But I can’t think of a better one.’

  Park’s head jerked up.

  ‘Call me when you get there,’ his dad said quietly. ‘It’s a straight shot up from Des Moines – do you have a map?’

  ‘I thought I’d get one at a gas station.’

  ‘If you get tired, pull into a rest stop. And don’t talk to anybody unless you have to. Do you have any money?’

  ‘Sixty dollars.’

  ‘Here …’ His dad walked over to the cookie jar and pulled out a bunch of twenties. ‘If this doesn’t work, with her uncle, don’t take Eleanor home. Bring her back here, and we’ll figure out what to do next.’

  ‘Okay … Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got one condition.’

  No more eyeliner, Park thought.

  ‘You’re taking the truck,’ his dad said.

  His dad stood on the front steps with his arms folded. Of course he had to watch. Like he was umpiring a goddamn taekwando bout.

  Park closed his eyes. Eleanor was still there. Eleanor.

  He started the engine and shifted smoothly into reverse, rolled out of the driveway, shifted into first, then pulled forward without a sputter.

  Because he knew how to drive a stick. Jesus.

  CHAPTER 52

  Park

  ‘Okay?’

  She nodded and climbed in.

  ‘Stay down,’ he said.

  The first couple hours were a blur.

  Park wasn’t used to driving the truck, and it died a few times at red lights. Then he got on the Interstate heading west instead of east, and it took twenty minutes to turn around again.

  Eleanor didn’t say anything. Just stared ahead and held onto her seat belt with both hands. He put his hand on her leg, and it was like she didn’t notice it was there.

  They got off the Interstate again somewhere in Iowa to get gas and a map. Park went in. He bought Eleanor a Coke and a sandwich, and when he got back to the truck she was slumped against the passenger door, asleep.

  Good, he tried to tell himself. She’s exhausted.

  He climbed up behind the wheel and took a few rough breaths, then he slammed the sandwich onto the dash. How could she be asleep?

  If everything went right tonight, Park would be driving home tomorrow morning by himself. He’d probably be allowed to drive now whenever he wanted, but there was nowhere he wanted to go without Eleanor.

  How could she sleep through their last hours together?

  How could she sleep sitting up like that …

  Her hair was down and wild, wine-red even in this light, and her mouth was slightly open. Strawberry girl. He tried again to remember what he’d thought the first time he saw her. He tried to remember how this happened – how she went from someone he’d never met to the only one who mattered.

  And he wondered … What would happen if he didn’t take her to her uncle’s house? What would happen if he kept driving?

  Why c
ouldn’t this have waited?

  If Eleanor’s life had caved in next year, or the year after, she could have run to him. Not from, not away.

  Jesus. Why couldn’t she just wake up?

  Park stayed awake for another hour or so, fueled by Coke and hurt feelings. Then the wreck of the night caught up with him. There wasn’t a rest stop around, so he pulled off on a county road, onto the gravel that passed as a shoulder.

  He unbuckled his seat belt, unbuckled Eleanor’s, then pulled her into him, laying his head on hers. She still smelled like last night. Like sweat and sweetness and the Impala. He cried into her hair until he fell asleep.

  Eleanor

  She woke up in Park’s arms. It caught her by surprise.

  She would’ve thought it was a dream, but her dreams were always terrifying. (With Nazis and babies crying and teeth rotting out of her mouth.) Eleanor had never dreamed anything as nice as this, as nice as Park, sleepy-soft and warm … Warm through. Someday, she thought, somebody’s going to wake up to this every morning.

  Park’s face, asleep, was a brand new kind of beautiful. Sunshine-trapped-in-amber skin. Full, flat mouth. Strong, arched cheekbones. (Eleanor didn’t even have cheekbones.)

  He caught her by surprise, and before she could help herself, her heart was breaking for him. Like it didn’t have anything better to break over …

  Maybe it didn’t.

  The sun was just below the horizon, and the inside of the truck was bluey pink. Eleanor kissed Park’s new face – just under his eye, not quite on his nose. He stirred, and she felt every part of him shift against her. She ran the end of her nose along his brow and kissed his lashes.

  His eyelids fluttered. (Only eyelids do that. And butterflies.) And his arms came to life around her. ‘Eleanor …’ he sighed.

  She held his beautiful face and kissed him like it was the end of the world.

  Park

  She wouldn’t be on the bus with him.

  She wouldn’t roll her eyes at him in English.

  She wouldn’t pick a fight with him just because she was bored.

  She wouldn’t cry in his bedroom about the things he couldn’t fix for her.

  The whole sky was the color of her skin.

  Eleanor

  There’s only one of him, she thought, and he’s right here.

  He knows I’ll like a song before I’ve heard it. He laughs before I even get to the punchline. There’s a place on his chest, just below his throat, that makes me want to let him open doors for me.

  There’s only one of him.

  Park

  His parents never talked about how they met, but when Park was younger, he used to try to imagine it.

  He loved how much they loved each other. It was the thing he thought about when he woke up scared in the middle of the night. Not that they loved him – they were his parents, they had to love him. That they loved each other. They didn’t have to do that.

  None of his friend’s parents were still together, and in every case that seemed like the number one thing that had gone wrong with his friends’ lives.

  But Park’s parents loved each other. They kissed each other on the mouth, no matter who was watching.

  What are the chances you’d ever meet someone like that? he wondered. Someone you could love forever, someone who would forever love you back? And what did you do when that person was born half a world away?

  The math seemed impossible. How did his parents get so lucky?

  They couldn’t have felt lucky at the time. His dad’s brother had just died in Vietnam; that’s why they sent his dad to Korea. And when his parents got married, his mom had to leave everything and everyone she loved behind.

  Park wondered if his dad saw his mom in the street or from the road or working in a restaurant. He wondered how they both knew …

  This kiss had to last Park forever.

  It had to get him home.

  He needed to remember it when he woke up scared in the middle of the night.

  Eleanor

  The first time he’d held her hand, it felt so good that it crowded out all the bad things. It felt better than anything had ever hurt.

  Park

  Eleanor’s hair caught fire at dawn. Her eyes were dark and shining, and his arms were sure of her.

  The first time he’d touched her hand, he’d known.

  Eleanor

  There’s no shame with Park. Nothing is dirty. Because Park is the sun, and that’s best way she could think to explain it.

  Park

  ‘Eleanor, no, we have to stop.’

  ‘No …’

  ‘We can’t do this …’

  ‘No. Don’t stop, Park.’

  ‘I don’t even know how to … I don’t have anything.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘But I don’t want you to get …’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘I care. Eleanor …’

  ‘It’s our last chance.’

  ‘No. No, I can’t … I, no, I need to believe that it isn’t our last chance … Eleanor? Can you hear me? I need you to believe it, too.’

  CHAPTER 53

  Park

  Eleanor got out of the truck, and Park wandered into the cornfield to pee. (Which was embarrassing, but less embarrassing than pissing his pants.)

  When he came back, she was sitting on the hood of the truck. She looked beautiful, fierce, leaning forward like a figurehead.

  He climbed up and sat next to her.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hey.’

  He pushed his shoulder up against hers and nearly wept with relief when she laid her head against him. Weeping again today seemed wholly inevitable.

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That … we’ll have other chances? That we have any chance at all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No matter what happens,’ she said forcefully, ‘I’m not coming home.’

  ‘I know.’

  She was quiet.

  ‘No matter what happens,’ Park said, ‘I love you.’

  She put her arms around his waist, and he hugged her shoulders.

  ‘I just can’t believe that life would give us to each other,’ he said, ‘and then take it back.’

  ‘I can,’ she said. ‘Life’s a bastard.’

  He held her tighter, and pushed his face into her neck.

  ‘But it’s up to us …’ he said softly. ‘It’s up to us not to lose this.’

  Eleanor

  She sat right next to him for the rest of the trip – even though there wasn’t a seat belt, and she had to sit with the stick shift between her legs. She figured it was still lots safer than riding in the back of Richie’s Isuzu.

  They stopped at another truck stop and Park bought her Cherry Coke and beef jerky. He called his parents collect – she still couldn’t believe they were okay with this.

  ‘My dad’s okay,’ he said. ‘I think my mom’s freaking out.’

  ‘Have they heard from my mom or … anybody?’

  ‘No. Or, at least, they didn’t mention it.’

  Park asked her if she wanted to call her uncle. She didn’t.

  ‘I smell like Steve’s garage,’ she said. ‘My uncle’s going to think I’m a drug dealer.’

  Park laughed. ‘I think you spilled beer on your shirt. Maybe he’ll just think you’re an alcoholic.’

  She looked down at her shirt. There was a smear of blood from when she’d cut her hand on her bed – and something crusty on the shoulder, probably snot from all that crying.

  ‘Here,’ Park said. He was taking off his sweatshirt. Then his T-shirt. He handed the T-shirt to her. It was green and said ‘Prefab Sprout.’

  ‘I can’t take this,’ she said, watching him pull his sweatshirt back on over his bare chest. ‘It’s new.’ Plus it probably wouldn’t fit.

  ‘You can give it back later.’

  ‘Close your eyes,’
she said.

  ‘Of course,’ Park said softly. He looked away.

  There was no one else in the parking lot. Eleanor slouched down and put Park’s T-shirt on underneath her own, then pulled the dirty shirt off. That’s how she changed in gym class. His shirt was about as tight as her gymsuit … but it smelled clean, like Park.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  He looked back at her, and his smile changed. ‘Keep it.’

  When they got to Minneapolis, Park stopped at another gas station to ask for directions.

  ‘Is it easy?’ she asked him when he got back in the truck.

  ‘Like Sunday morning,’ he said. ‘We’re really close.’

  CHAPTER 54

  Park

  He was more nervous about his driving once they got into the city. Driving in St Paul was nothing like driving in Omaha.

  Eleanor was reading the map for him, but she’d never read a map outside of class before – and between the two of them they kept making wrong turns.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Eleanor kept saying.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Park said, glad she was sitting right next to him. ‘I’m not in any hurry.’

  She pressed her hand into the top of his leg.

  ‘I’ve been thinking …’ she said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I don’t want you to come inside when we get there.’

  ‘You mean you want to talk to them by yourself?’

  ‘No … Well, yeah. But I mean … I don’t want you to wait for me.’

  He tried to look down at her, but he was afraid he’d miss his turn again.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘No. What if they don’t want you to stay?’

  ‘Then they can figure out how to get me home – I’ll be their problem. Maybe that’ll give me more time to talk to them about everything.’

  ‘But …’ I’m not ready for you to stop being my problem.

  ‘It makes more sense, Park. If you leave soon, you can still get home by dark.’

  ‘But if I leave soon …’ His voice dropped. ‘I leave soon.’

  ‘We have to say goodbye anyway,’ she said. ‘Does it matter if it’s now or a few hours from now or tomorrow morning?’