You Look Different in Real Life

City, and normal people do that kind of thing every day.
    Nate pulls the car away from the fire hydrant and the police car watches us go. When it feels safe, I turn to get a shot of it in the rear window.
    “Where are we going?” Felix asks two blocks later, when it becomes painfully obvious that Nate doesn’t know.
    Nate hands me the Post-it and his phone; I pass them back to Rory. She studies both, then tells Nate to get back to Tenth Avenue. “We have to drive through Central Park to the Upper East Side,” she says. “I’ll let you know where to turn.”
    Nate tries to turn at the next big street, but it’s going the wrong way. “Arrrrghhh,” he mutters. We’re all quiet for a few tense minutes, because he’s stressed and it’s the kind of stress that needs respect.
    Once we’re turned around again and back on Tenth Avenue, Nate visibly relaxes. I study his face, then turn on the camera again.
    “Does Keira know her way around the city?” I ask Nate.
    He raises his eyebrows. “With all the theater and ballet and museums her father drags her to? Yeah, I think she’s getting where she needs to go.”
    “I knew you guys were friends, but I didn’t realize you knew so much about her.”
    I want Nate to tell me that they’re a couple, that they’re doing it on a regular basis, some kind of concrete information that would explain the mysterious signals I’m picking up.
    Then Rory says from the backseat, “You love her,” in this way that’s so simple, it’s too complex for anyone but her to say.
    Nate frowns. “I guess I do.”
    “You love her love her,” adds Rory.
    “If you mean we’re in love , then no. We’re not in love. I mean, at one time, I had a crush on her. Who hasn’t? But we . . . shared something once.”
    “Bodily fluids?” asks Rory, and I snort involuntarily. Felix laughs too. Rory grins because she made an attemptat a joke, and it was successful.
    Nate looks at both of us and smiles. “Not bodily fluids. Just an experience. Sorry to disappoint you.”
    Out of nowhere, a taxi cuts us off and Nate slams on the brakes, hard enough that I have to brace my hand against the glove compartment to keep from lurching forward. My other hand instinctively smothers the camera.
    “You okay?” I hear Felix ask, and I turn to see he’s talking to Rory, who has curled into the fetal position with her arms wrapped around her head.
    “Like I said,” squeaks Rory, “too much of the sudden stuff.”
    Felix reaches out tentatively and touches the tip of her elbow, like this is the one secret spot that might steady her. “What helps?”
    “Fresh air. Holding something familiar.”
    Felix leans across Rory and rolls down her window halfway. Then he looks around the backseat, finds Misty on the floor. He hands the horse to Rory and Rory takes it, surprised, as if she forgot it was here. She clutches it to her neck and says, “Thanks.” It doesn’t sound very sincere. To Felix it probably sounds mechanical. But I know that for Rory to even say it, to remember that she’s supposed to say it and then actually do the thing she remembers she’s supposed to do, is pretty huge.
    What would I have done if I’d been sitting back there with her? Would I have thought to ask, like Felix did? What helps? It makes so much sense, I probably would have overlooked it.
    At the next red light, Rory says softly, “You’re going to turn right here. That should take us through the park.”
    Nate nods and when the car is stopped, fiddles with his iPod. “We don’t need road-tripping music anymore,” he says. “We need techno.” He turns around to Felix. “Felix, that’s your thing. What do you suggest?”
    Felix meets Nate’s eye for a few seconds. Then says, “Hand it over,” in a way that almost sounds affectionate. I unplug the iPod and pass it to him. Felix scrolls through it, making some judgey faces, then hands it back to me after he’s selected something. I plug it back in and as we turn, a series of electronic chords fills the car, eardrum-splitting but beautiful. Haunting. Suddenly, it seems like everything around us is moving to the beat of this music. People on the sidewalk, a bus in the next lane, as if the world is now set to our tempo.
    “Nice,” says Nate. Felix turns to the window, but he looks content.
    We’re quiet for a little while, listening, as we drive to the east side through Central Park and then hit Fifth Avenue. Traffic is slow, but Nate seems more