“You’re staring at me because I’m tall?” Alex says.
“Very tall,” I say, as if this clears things up.
It’s easier than saying, I have missed you, beautiful smile. It’s so good to see you, strong arms and legs. Thank you, freakishly taut belly, for feeding this person I love so much.
Alex’s grin ripens to the point of splitting open as he holds my gaze. “It’s good to see you too, Poppy.”
“You just seem like maybe you’re a fan of . . . control,” I point out. “And I’m not sure I have the kind of music you like. There’s no Chopin on this thing.”
The furrow of his brow deepens. His mouth twists into a frown. “Maybe I’m not as uptight as you think I am.”
“Really?” I say. “So you won’t mind if I put on Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’?”
“It’s May,” he says.
“I’ll consider my question answered,” I say.
“That’s unfair,” he says. “What kind of a barbarian listens to Christmas music in May?”
“Birini sevdiğin zaman,” durdu, “ ...onların, dünyayı farklı bir yer olarak görmelerini sağlamaya çalışırsın. Bütün çirkin şeylere anlam yükleyerek, güzel şeyleri vurgulayarak. Senin yaptığın bu. Okuyucuların için. Benim için. Çok güzel şeyler yapıyorsun çünkü dünyayı seviyorsun ve belki dünya her zaman senin kitaplarındaki gibi görünmüyor ama... bence öyleymiş gibi tanımlamak, dünyayı biraz olsun değiştiriyor."