Luna wasn’t going to answer that question. There were certain questions she never answered. For instance, if someone called her and said, What are you up to? Luna always said, Nothing, even if she was most definitely up to something. If someone inquired about her academic performance, she would tell them her average was a solid B/B-, even if she scored all A’s that semester. When questioned about her general well-being, she responded like someone living out her final decade. I’m still here.
But the question What are you thinking always got under Luna’s skin. It seemed that whenever she was asked that question, she was thinking something so private and shameful that she couldn’t possibly ever share. Caught unaware, she always responded with cheap lies. I was thinking what a beautiful day it is; I was thinking about how I should shave my legs this week; I was thinking about making a dentist appointment.
Luna was generally against lying, considering her past. Although she didn’t take as hard a stance as Kant. Some questions, Luna thought, invited a lie. Although she didn’t lie to Owen.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Luna said. “It’s my favorite thing about my brain. No one else is in it or has access to it. It’s mine alone.”
Owen was accustomed to girls offering themselves up on a plate to him. He loved how Luna, even after a year of deep friendship, remained a puzzle.
“So, what are you thinking now?” Owen said, like a lowbrow reporter.
“That you’re even more annoying than I thought you were,” Luna said.
Owen laughed. “I love you, Luna,” he said. “You know. Not in a weird way.”
The words surprised Owen. He didn’t realize until they were uttered that they were true.
“I know,” Luna said.
She couldn’t remember the last time anyone said they loved her. At least not anyone she wanted to say it. She felt the same but couldn’t offer those words. Her reticent nature had iced over years before. The thaw would take some time.
“What are you thinking?” she said.
“I was thinking that I wish we were twenty-one so we could kill the afternoon in a dive bar.”
That was partially true, although he had been thinking many things in the few minutes of silence after he spoke. He was thinking about the cruel note he found in Luna’s philosophy reader; he was thinking about the best way to cool things down with Scarlet; he was thinking about what might have transpired between Mason and Luna; and he was thinking about how she didn’t say I love you back.
For the next several hours, Luna and Owen took a walk along the river, ate cider doughnuts, and visited a tourism info booth, hunting for any form of amusement. They were surrounded by people decades older who were thrilled by the sight of a dead leaf.
“Is that what happens when you get older? You get more and more excited by smaller and smaller things?” Owen asked.
“I hope so,” Luna said.
Later, staring at a local map, Owen and Luna realized they were only an hour from Sleepy Hollow. Neither had been before. They took their time making their way down. They stopped at a diner that looked like an Airstream. In Tarrytown, they walked along the river until it was dark. It was after nine p.m. when Owen and Luna found themselves roaming the cemetery, searching for Washington Irving’s grave. Owen tried to recall details from the famous story that he was so sure he’d read. Luna could only remember the cartoon’s pumpkin head. Owen tried to scare Luna a few times, ducking behind a headstone, nothing fancy. Luna spooked easily, Owen noticed. He had never detected that trait before. The rustle of leaves, even the sound of her own shoe crunching gravel, could cause her to start. At one point in the night, Owen disappeared behind a gravestone, and when Luna looked back and saw nothing, she experienced a wave of fear so powerful, she began to see stars and had to steady herself on another gravestone, which was slick and slimy, causing her to scream and recoil from the unexpected tactile sensation. Then she became angry.
Luna fought hard to keep all her emotions, even joy, under the radar. But when an unruly emotion surfaced, it was merely an opening act. Anger was always the headliner.
She yelled Owen’s name as if he was a mile away. “Where the fuck are you?”
Owen hadn’t heard that tone before. He’d seen a flash in her eye but nothing tangible. She always managed to tamp it down.
The anger-management classes Luna had been forced to take in high school had taught her well. Counting to ten, if you’re committed to it, drains the momentum from anything. Luna often counted to ten when any feeling struck her. Even elation.
Owen raised his arms above the gravestone, as if someone had a gun trained on him. “I’m here. I’m sorry.”
Luna silently counted to ten as she caught her breath. Owen approached her cautiously, as if she were a stray dog baring its teeth. Then he pulled her into an embrace. Luna tried to shake him off at first, as punishment, but then she gave in. Owen could feel Luna’s fear as a quiet vibration in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You’re an asshole.”
“I know,” Owen said.
Luna broke away and summoned that steely guard that hovered around her body like the moon’s corona. Owen could’ve sworn he’d seen its physical return. He was about to ask her a question—one he thought important—when a beam of light blinded them.
Before the officer spoke, Luna heard the static on his radio.
“Sir. Ma’am. This cemetery is closed after ten p.m.”
Owen turned to approach the officer, prepared to offer his apologies for their trespass, when Luna whispered, “Run!” and booked it out of the graveyard, down Bellwood to Hunter Avenue, where their car was parked. Owen followed Luna’s lead and chased after her. Luna reached the car ahead of Owen and shouted, “Unlock, unlock!” As soon as Owen clicked his remote, Luna jumped into the driver’s seat. Owen, at a more leisurely pace, climbed into the car and handed Luna the key.
Luna turned the ignition, released the parking brake, gunned the engine, and took off up Riverside Drive before Owen had buckled his seatbelt. Soon, they were safely back on Route 9, heading north. For the next fifteen minutes, Luna continued to check her rearview mirror for flashing red lights.
“I think we’re safe now,” said Owen.
Luna tried to keep her gaze on the road ahead of her.
“That was…” Owen said, searching for the right word to describe what happened.