“Okay, Ella. Is it possible for you to be any more vague?""Maybe," I say, smiling at her.”

“Eliot, huh?" she says. The thin fabric of her long T-shirt brushes my arm. "Is everyone in your family named for a famous symbolist poet?"No, I'm named for someone who was supposed to be in the Bible but isn't."No? What happened to him?"I glance over at her, the way the corner of her mouth turns up, half-smirk, half-smile. Her hair moves as she walks.He was called to be a disciple, but he had, you know, stuff to do."Stuff, like...polishing his sandals? Making lunch?"We keep walking, over the bridge across the lake, past the swings and the playground equipment, just walking.Exactly. And what about you, Calliope...is everyone in your family named after a...what is it? A keyboard? An organ?"It's a steam-powered piano. It's also the name of the Greek goddess of poetry. You should read stuff other than chemistry; you'd know these things." Her smirky smile again, her sleeve touching my arm.I feel like my skin has been removed, every nerve exposed. I open my mouth, and this comes out: "I think you are more goddess than piano." Stupid, stupid.But she laughs. "You know, that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me today."You don't see too many calliopes," I tell her.I'm Cal, actually. I mean, that's what I prefer."I meant the steam pianos...you don't see too many." She stops and looks at me, full-on, and right away I put it on the list of the best moments in my life.Until you said that, Eliot, I wasn't fully aware of the demise of the steam piano, so thank you. Really."I smirk at her and we both fight not to smile. "Okay, smart-ass," I say.”

“I pu my finger to her lips. "You have to hush a minute so that I can tell you something.""What?" she says, bites my finger.I look at her. "I love you."She gets quiet, the kind of quiet that sinks into her, softens her. "Well that works out," she finally says, her voice deeper and breathless, her eyes moist, "because I love you too." She turns, leans against my arm, and settles into me.”

“Any more questions?" I ask, poking him gently in the ribs."Do you still love me any?" Eliot asks, putting his hand over mine. "A little." "A little?" he asks, pulling away from me."A lot.""How much?" he asks."More than chocolate chip cookies.""Mmm" he says, kissing my shoulder."More than walking on the beach." Eliot kisses me on the neck."More than . . ." I pause, turning to look at him."More than?" he asks, kissing my lips.I turn toward him. "Anything.”

“Ella, if it's magic, then nothing is supposed to happen.”

“You asked me if I believed in magic, and I said yes, and that's how. You just step out, start pulling your life out of the air. You make friends, you find work you really like doing, you find places. You find diners and Laundromats. You find beaches. You find a junk car and drive it for a month, then lave it beside the road. You find someone to fall in love with you. You make it all up as you go. Or, you know, maybe it makes you up.”

“Cal," I whisper into her sleep, "if you go, you know what? You'll break my liver." I want to pretend that it's a joke, that she will wake up and laugh with me, throwing her head back the way she did last night, bit this time the words are true . . . she will break my liver, break my heart, kill everything inside alive inside me.”