Once An Eve Novel

Eve,” he repeated. “This isn’t something I can just walk away from. Not this time. I won’t.”
    I stared at him, our noses nearly touching. I brought my hands to his face, wishing the City was deserted, that there were no soldiers patrolling the City center, no footsteps above us on the bridge, that we could drift into the open canal, his arms wrapped around me. “I know,” I whispered, kissing him softly as we glided toward the end of the tunnel. “Nothing matters more than this.”
    I settled back down in my seat. He took his position on the stern, the five feet between us seeming so much further now. I pulled my cap back on as the light hit me. Slowly, the gondola drifted out of the dark, the oar dipping below the still surface of the canal.
    “Can we go to the tunnels?” I asked, when we were far enough away from the bridge that no one could hear us. “I want to see where you’ve been spending your time, who all these people are.”
    Two soldiers strode by, their guns slung across their backs. Caleb pulled his cap down over his eyes. He grabbed the oar, pushing us farther out into the water. We were both quiet until they passed. “We can go there tonight,” he said softly. “Meet me in the gardens after we dock. But first I have to tell you something.” He rested his knee on the narrow bench in front of him, studying me. He smiled, his eyes so bright they looked like they were lit from within.
    The boat pulled up beside the stone stairs. Caleb glanced at the cluster of people still lingering by the edge of the bridge, enjoying the last thirty minutes before curfew.
    “I’ve fallen in love with you,” he whispered, kneeling to kiss the top of my hand. He stayed there for a moment, smiling up at me, before helping me from the boat.
    I started up the stone steps, every inch of me humming with a new energy. I wanted to scream it then— I love you I love you I love you —to grab his hand and run away from the Palace, these people, that bridge.
    “Good night, Miss,” he said loudly, as though I were any other stranger. “I hope you enjoyed your evening.”
    The woman who had greeted me was still standing beneath the overhang. I walked toward her, but not before turning back, my eyes wet. “I love you, too,” I mouthed. It didn’t seem stupid, or foolish, or wrong. I’d said something I’d always known, the admission sending me into the happiest, irreversible free fall.
    His face broke into a smile. He studied me, not taking his eyes off mine, as he pushed off the dock and glided away.

twenty-three
     
    IT TOOK NEARLY A HALF HOUR TO REACH THE AIRPLANE hangar. Caleb cut across the Outlands, through old neighborhoods waiting to be restored, the houses sitting with windows broken, sand piled up in their doorways. I trailed thirty feet behind him, keeping my head down, disappearing in the clusters of people rushing home to make curfew.
    As I walked I replayed that moment: his eyes looking up at me, the whispered words only I could hear. I carried it inside me now, nestled somewhere inside my heart, a small, silent thing that we alone shared.
    Finally the land opened up before us. Rusted, abandoned planes sat on the pavement. Metal carts were strewn everywhere, some empty and bent, others piled with suitcases and crumpled, sun-scorched clothing. A metal sign above the building read McCARRAN AIRPORT .
    Caleb hooked a right. I followed him across the sandy parking lot, turning back every now and then to check for soldiers. The airport was empty. A few faded playing cards blew past, somersaulting in the wind. He disappeared into a long stone building and I followed behind, waiting a few minutes before going in.
    Inside, the shadowy planes towered above me, AMERICAN AIRLINES printed on their sides in red and blue letters. I’d only seen planes in children’s books before, had heard the Teachers reference the flights that went from one coast to the other. “ Pssst ,” Caleb’s voice called out from the darkness. He was hiding behind a short metal staircase on wheels. I went to him. Keeping close to the wall, we started toward the back of the hangar, his arm around my shoulder.
    “So this is where you come every day …,” I said, looking up at the massive planes, over a hundred and fifty feet long. Their metal wings were lined with rust, the white paint bubbling up in places.
    “Some days. The construction is on hold now, but a week ago there were nearly fifty people here each morning.”