Finding Me Read Online Free Page A

closer, his smile faltering, and his hand loosening around his spoon, making it dip. I never mention my mother. It sort of just slipped out, and for some reason I continue, “She’s from Texas and was raised to always look perfect.”
    “Do you look like her?”
    I shake my head and turn my attention to the small alcove that often serves as an impromptu stage.
    Fitz doesn’t continue with his line of questioning, knowing with this small gesture I’m done sharing.
     

     
    The following Wednesday I’m back at Kitty’s, telling her about the different classes I’ve taken through my brief college career.
    “What made you decide on medicine?”
    “I want to help people,” I reply with practiced grace.
    “You can help people by doing all sorts of things. Becoming a translator, a teacher, road construction … Every job helps and assists in some fashion. Why medicine specifically?”
    My eyes focus on her green ones that have been perfectly swept with mascara and eyeliner. I shrug.
    “You don’t know why?”
    I look at the clock on the wall that tells me I still have twenty-five minutes left and then without looking back, I leave.
     
    The next morning at work Fitz beats me to the lab, something that’s only ever happened once.
    “New hypothesis?” I ask, unbundling from my winter gear. The snow has yet to come, but it feels like it gets colder each day.
    “What are you doing next week?”
    “Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to answer a question with a question? Especially when you aren’t responding to said question?”
    “Thanksgiving is next Thursday.”
    I’m acutely aware of this. I’m also aware that next Saturday is Max’s birthday. I’ve been struggling with a constant debate in my head about whether to send a card or a text—something to signify that I remember. But what would that say? What exactly am I remembering? Simply that it’s his birthday? Or that I am remembering how we spent his last one?
    “You’re not spending Thanksgiving like you did your twenty-first birthday—alone in that craptastic apartment of yours.” Fitz’s voice has a slight edge to it that I’ve rarely been on the receiving end of. If this was about anything else, I would be rapidly working to mould into what he’s looking for, but I can’t. He’s not just discussing the possibility of me having to face my first Thanksgiving without my dad; his proposition is leading me to seeing him … on his birthday. Last year that day was a wonderful and tragic day that led to me realizing how much I truly cared about Max.
    I shake my head with the resolution there’s no way in hell I’m going to send something to Max for his birthday. I’m not showing my weakness, especially when he hasn’t.
    “I’m not flying to California.” My voice is defiant, and at some point my shoulders have squared.
    “Then you’re coming home with me.”
    My chin tilts and my muscles slowly begin to relax. “Fitz, Thanksgiving is a family holiday.”
    His chin lowers as his eyes grow increasingly mocking. I wave my hand a few times, indicating for him to stop as I get my iPad ready for notes, trying to queue him to the fact that I’m done discussing this.
    “We’re leaving Wednesday morning at ten.”
    “Leaving? For where?”
    “My mom’s.”
    “Fitz…”
    “H, you’re coming home with me. I’m not avoiding this.” I can tell by the rigidness of his body, and the intense look behind his brown eyes, that he’s serious. I’m so relieved that California hadn’t been his intention my entire body seems to be sighing as I slouch in my seat.
    “Where does your mom live?” I ask with a resigned breath.
    “New York.”
    “As in where the Thanksgiving Day parade is?”
    “That place is a zoo,” Fitz says, shaking his head rapidly. “People camp out on the sidewalks for days. And if you think it’s cold going from here to your car, you’ll die—” His eyes flash to mine, and his face is tight with a wince