Chapter NINE
‘It’s done!’
I opened my eyes, blinked, then shut them again. Maybe I was dreaming. A moment later, though, I heard it again.
‘Done! Finished!’ A door opened and shut, followed by footsteps, coming closer. ‘Hello? Where is everybody?’
I sat up, then glanced at my watch. It was four fifteen, and I’d been up until six A.M. the morning before. Or that morning, actually. These days, it was kind of hard to draw a distinction.
I slid off my bed, then walked to my bedroom door, easing it open just in time to see my dad approaching Thisbe’s room, one hand already outstretched to the knob. ‘Hey,’ he said to me, ‘Guess what! I –’
Lightning quick, I reached out, intercepting his fingers just as they made contact and pulling them back. ‘Wait,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t.’
‘What?’ he said.
I wrapped my hand around his, pulling him into my room and shutting the door gently behind us. Then I motioned for him to follow me across the short distance to the window, the farthest spot from the wall between the baby’s room and mine.
‘Auden,’ he said, his voice still loud. ‘What are you doing?’
‘The baby was really colicky last night,’ I whispered. ‘And this morning. But she’s finally sleeping, so I bet Heidi is, too.’
He glanced at his watch, then at my closed door. ‘How do you know she’s sleeping?’
‘Who?’
‘The baby. Or Heidi, for that matter,’ he said.
‘Do you hear crying?’ I asked him.
We both listened. All that was audible was the noise machine. ‘Well, this is anticlimactic,’ he said after a moment. ‘I finally finish my book and nobody cares.’
‘You finished your book?’ I asked. ‘That’s great.’
Now, he smiled. ‘Just wrote the last paragraph. Want to hear it?’
‘Are you kidding?’ I replied. ‘Of course I do.’
‘Come on, then.’
He opened the door, and I followed him – quietly – down the hallway, back to his office, where he’d pretty much been living for the last couple of weeks. This was obvious by the collection of mugs, empty water bottles, and broken apple cores in various states of decomposition that I spied as soon as I stepped inside.
‘Okay,’ my dad said, sitting down in front of his laptop and punching a few keys. A document appeared, and he rubbed his hands together, then moved the page down so only a couple of lines were showing. ‘Ready?’
I nodded. ‘Ready.’
He cleared his throat. ‘“The path was more narrow now, the lacy boughs of the trees bending to meet each other as I walked beneath them. Somewhere, ahead, was the sea.”’
When he finished, we just stood there, letting the words settle around us. It was a big moment, although I was somewhat distracted as distantly, I was pretty sure I heard a yelp. ‘Wow,’ I said, hoping I was wrong. ‘That’s great.’
‘It’s been a long haul, that’s for sure,’ he said, leaning back in his chair, which creaked beneath him. ‘Ten years, all leading up to those twenty-seven words. I can’t really believe it’s finally done.’
‘Congratulations,’ I said.
Thisbe was definitely crying now, the sound growing louder from down the hall. My dad sat up straighter, hearing it, then said, ‘Sounds like they’re up! Let’s go share the good news, shall we?’
And with that, he was out of his chair, a bounce in his step as he walked back down to Thisbe’s room, pushing the door open. Instantly, the crying went from low level to full on. ‘Honey, guess what?’ he was saying as I caught up with him. ‘I finished my book!’
All it took was one look at Heidi to know that, frankly, she probably couldn’t have cared less. She was still in her pajamas from the night before, a pair of yoga pants and a rumpled T-shirt with some kind of damp stain on the front. Her hair was flat and stringy, her eyes red as she looked at both of us, as if we looked familiar, but she wasn’t quite sure why.
‘Oh, Robert,’ she managed as Thisbe squirmed in her arms, her own face red and twisted, ‘that’s just wonderful.’
‘I think a celebration is in order, don’t you?’ he asked, then turned to look at me for confirmation. I was still trying to decide whether I should nod or not when he added, ‘I was thinking we’d do a nice dinner. Just the two of us. What do you think?’
It was hard to ignore Thisbe when she was screaming. I knew, because I had been trying since, oh, the day I’d arrived. And yet my dad could somehow do it. Apparently.
‘I don’t know,’ Heidi said slowly, looking down at the baby, who was clearly in a state. ‘I don’t think I can take her out like this…’
‘Of course not,’ my dad said. ‘We’ll find a sitter. Didn’t Isabel say she’d love to come help you out one night?’
Heidi blinked at him. She honestly looked like pictures of prisoners of war I’d seen in history books, that out of it and shell-shocked. ‘She did,’ she said. ‘But…’
‘Let’s call her, then,’ my dad said. ‘Get her earning those godmother stripes. I’ll do it, if you like. What’s her number?’
‘She’s out of town,’ Heidi said.
‘Oh.’ My dad considered this. And then, slowly, he turned to me. ‘Well… Auden? Think you can help us out here?’
Heidi looked at me, then shook her head. ‘Oh, no, that’s not fair. We can’t put you on the spot like that.’
‘I’m sure Auden doesn’t mind,’ my dad said. To me he added, ‘Do you? It would only be for a couple of hours.’
I probably should have been annoyed by this easy assumption, but honestly, looking at Heidi, agreeing felt more like an intervention than a favor. I said, ‘Sure. No problem.’
‘But you’ve got to go to work,’ Heidi said, shifting Thisbe to her other arm, which did not stop or even slow down the crying. ‘The books… payroll is tomorrow.’
‘Well,’ my dad said, glancing at me again. ‘Maybe…’
I was noticing that he did this a lot, the half-sentence-trailing-off thing, leaving you (or me, in this case) to finish his thought for him. ‘I’ll just take her with me,’ I said to Heidi. ‘Then you can pick her up when you’re done.’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, jiggling Thisbe. ‘She’s not exactly in good shape for an outing.’
‘The sea air will do her good!’ my dad said, reaching over to take the baby from her. He smiled down at her screaming face, then sat down in the nearby rocking chair, cradling her in one arm. Heidi followed the baby’s movement with her eyes, her expression unchanging. ‘And you, too, honey. Go jump in the shower, and take your time. We’ve got it from here.’
Heidi glanced at me, and I nodded. A moment later, she started moving toward the door. Out in the hall, she looked back at my dad, who was still rocking Thisbe, seemingly unaffected by her continued fussing, as if she wasn’t quite sure who he was. Truth be told, at that moment, I wasn’t either.
With Heidi gone, I half expected my dad to hand the baby right over to me. But he didn’t. He sat there, rocking her and patting her back with one hand. I wasn’t even sure he was aware I was in the doorway, watching him, even as I lingered there, wondering if he’d done this same thing with Hollis and me. If my mother was to be believed, probably not. I certainly wouldn’t have thought so even ten minutes earlier. But maybe people can change, or at least try to. I was beginning to see evidence of it everywhere, even though I knew enough to not be convinced, just yet.
It had been about a week since my long night out, and since then, my knowledge of Colby nightlife only continued to expand. All those nights by myself, driving to the Wheelhouse, and then through the neighborhoods and streets, stopping now and then at the Gas/Gro: they’d been as boring as treading water. It was only now, with Eli, that I was finding the real night.
It was at the Laundromat, sharing pie and coffee with Clyde as he detailed his latest culinary adventures. Dodging the crazies at Park Mart while on the hunt for dental floss, wind chimes, and whatever else was on the list Eli carried in his head. Going to the boardwalk after last call, when a guy named Mohammed set up a pizza cart outside the most popular clubs to sell the best slice of cheese – at a dollar fifty a pop – I’d ever had in my life. Fishing on the pier and watching the phosphorescence lighting up the water below. I’d leave Clementine’s after closing, spend some time shooting the breeze with the girls, and then make my excuses and head off by myself. Fifteen minutes, half an hour, an hour later, at the Gas/Gro, or Beach Beans, I’d cross paths with Eli, and the adventures would begin.
‘How does anyone get to the age of eighteen,’ he’d said to me the night before, ‘without bowling?’
We were at the Ten Pin, a bowling alley open late a couple of towns over from Colby. The lanes were narrow, the benches sticky, and I didn’t even want to know what the story was with the shoes I’d had to rent. But Eli had insisted we come, once he’d heard that this was one of the many things my childhood had excluded.
‘I told you,’ I said as he sat down at the head of the lane, sliding our score sheet beneath a rusty clip, ‘my parents were not sports oriented.’
‘You bowl indoors, though,’ he said. ‘So you should be, like, a pro at this.’
I made a face at him. ‘You know, when I told you I’d missed out on a lot of things, I didn’t mean that I was necessarily sorry about all of them.’
‘You would be very sorry if you never bowled,’ he told me, holding out the ball he’d picked out for me. ‘Here.’ I took the ball, putting my fingers in the holes the way he showed me. Then he gestured for me to follow him to the top of the lane. ‘Now, when I was a kid,’ he said, ‘we learned by squatting down and just pushing the ball forward with both hands.’
I looked down the lanes on either side of us, which were empty, as it was two A.M. The only people around were sitting up at the bar behind us, which was barely visible due to a fog of cigarette smoke. ‘I’m not squatting down,’ I said firmly.
‘Fine. Then you have to learn the proper release.’ He lifted his hands, holding an imaginary ball, then stepped forward, lowering it to his side, and then ahead of him, opening his fingers. ‘Like that. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
I lifted up the ball. He didn’t move, still standing right beside me. I shot him a look and he shrugged, retreating back to the sticky bench.
Since our first night out together a week earlier, this was pretty much how it had been. A constant back-and-forth, sometimes serious, more often not, stretched out across the hours between when everyone else went home and the sun came up. I knew if I’d spent the same amount of time with Eli during the day, or even early evening, I probably would have gotten to know him, too. But not like this. The night changed things, widening out the scope. What we said to each other, the things we did, they all took on a bigger meaning in the dark. Like time was sped up and slowed down, all at once.
So maybe that was why we always seemed to be talking about time as we wandered the aisles of stores under fluorescent lights, or drank coffee in a dark room while his clothes fluffed, or just drove through the mostly empty streets, en route to somewhere. Time ahead, like college, and behind, like childhood. But mostly, we discussed making up for lost time, if such a thing was possible. Eli seemed to think it was, at least in my case.
‘You know what they say,’ he’d said to me a few nights earlier, as we helped ourselves to Slurpees at the Gas/Gro around three A.M. ‘It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.’
I picked up a straw, poking down the pink slush in my cup. ‘I wouldn’t say my childhood was unhappy, though. It just wasn’t…’
Eli waited, fitting a lid onto his cup with a click.
‘… very childlike,’ I finished. I took a sip of my Slurpee, then added a bit of blue flavor for variety, a trick he’d taught me a few nights before. ‘My brother had kind of worn my parents out on the whole kid thing. They didn’t have the patience to do it again.’
‘But you were a kid,’ he pointed out.
‘I was,’ I agreed. ‘But in their minds, that was something I could overcome, if I just tried hard enough.’
He gave me one of the looks I’d come to recognize, his expression a mix of befuddlement and respect. You kind of had to see it to understand. Then he said, ‘In our house, it was the total opposite. Kid central, all the time.’
‘Really.’
‘Yup. You know how there’s one house in the neighborhood where everyone goes to ride bikes, or watch cartoons, or sleep over, or build a tree house?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. Then I added, ‘I mean, I’ve heard of such things.’
‘That was our place. Because there were four of us, we were always halfway to any game of kickball or dodgeball. Plus my mom was always around, so we had the best snacks. Her pizza wraps were legendary.’
‘Wow,’ I said, following him up to the register. The cashier, the older woman I’d come to recognize, looked up from her magazine, smiling at him as she rung us up. ‘Your mom sounds great.’
‘She is.’ He said this so simply, matter-of-factly, as he pushed a couple of bills across to the cashier. ‘She’s so good it’s hard for her to convince anyone to move out. It took her forever to get rid of my sister and older brother. And Jake’s the baby, and totally spoiled, so she’s probably stuck with him until some girl is stupid enough to marry him.’
Hearing this, I felt my face flush, remembering our fast, fumbled moment in the dunes. I swallowed, focusing on Wanda as I paid for my Slurpee.
It wasn’t until we were headed outside that he said suddenly, ‘Look, no offense. I mean, about what I said. About Jake. I know you two –’
‘I’m not offended,’ I said, cutting him off before he could begin to try and define this. ‘Just humiliated.’
‘We don’t have to talk about it.’
‘Good.’ I took a long draw off my straw. We walked in silence to the car, but then I said, ‘In my defense, though, I don’t have a lot of experience with, um, guys. So that was…’
‘You don’t have to explain,’ he said, opening his door. ‘Really. My brother is a piece of work. Let’s just leave it at that.’
I smiled gratefully, as I slid into the front seat. ‘I have one of those, too. A piece-of-work brother. Except he’s in Europe, where he’s been mooching off my parents for a couple of years now.’
‘You can mooch from overseas?’
‘Hollis can,’ I told him. ‘He’s got it down to an art form, practically.’
Eli considered this as we stepped out into the hot, windy night. ‘Seems kind of selfish,’ he observed. ‘Considering he got the only childhood.’
I hadn’t ever thought of it that way. ‘Well, like you said. Maybe it’s not too late. For my happy childhood, and all.’
‘It’s not,’ Eli said.
‘You sound awfully sure of that,’ I told him. ‘So sure I have to wonder if you’ve done this kind of making-up thing before.’
He shook his head, taking a sip off his straw. ‘Nope. I have the opposite problem, actually.’
‘Which is?’
‘Too much of a childhood.’ We walked over to the truck, and he pulled his door open. ‘All I’ve ever done was goof around. I even managed to make playing a living.’
‘With the bike thing.’
He nodded. ‘And then you wake up one day, and you’ve got nothing of value to show for all those years. Just a bunch of stupid stories, which seem even stupider the more time passes.’
I looked at him over the top of the car. ‘If you really feel that way,’ I said, ‘then why do you keep encouraging me to do all this stuff?’
‘Because,’ he said, ‘you can always break curfew or have a slumber party. It’s never too late. So you should, because…’
He trailed off. By now, I knew not to fill in the gap.
‘… that’s not the case with everything,’ he said. ‘Or so I’m learning.’
Now, ahead of me, the lights were blinking over the pins, on and off. The lane stretched out ahead, the wood polished and worn, and I tried to imagine how, as a kid, it would look even longer, almost endless.
‘You’re overthinking,’ Eli called from behind me. ‘Just throw it down there.’
I stepped back, trying to remember his form, and swung the ball out in front of me. It took flight – which I was pretty sure was not supposed to happen – then landed with a loud thud. In the next lane. Before rolling, oh-so-slowly, into the gutter.
‘Hey!’ a voice bellowed from the smoking section. ‘Careful there!’
I felt my face flush, totally embarrassed, as the ball rolled to the end of the lane, disappearing behind the pins. A moment later, there was a thunk, and Eli appeared back beside me, holding it out to me.
‘I think I’d better not,’ I said. ‘Clearly, this is not my strong suit.’
‘It was your first shot,’ he replied. ‘What, you thought you’d get a strike or something?’
I swallowed. In fact, this was exactly what I’d thought. Or at least hoped for. ‘I just…’ I said. ‘I’m not good at this kind of thing.’
‘Because you’ve never done it.’ He reached over, taking my hands, and put the ball in it. ‘Try again. And this time, let go earlier.’
He went back to the bench, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. It’s just a game, I told myself. Not so important. Then, with this still in mind, I stepped forward and released the ball. It wasn’t pretty – wobbling crookedly, and very slowly – but I took out two pins on the right. Which was…
‘Not bad,’ Eli called out as the machine reset itself. ‘Not bad at all.’
We’d played two full games, during which he bowled constant strikes and spares, and I focused on staying out of the gutter. Still, I managed a couple of good frames, which I surprised myself by actually being kind of happy about. So much so that as we left, I plucked the score sheet from the trash can where he’d tossed it, folding it down to little square. When I looked up, I realized Eli was watching me.
‘Documentation,’ I explained. ‘It’s important.’
‘Right,’ he said, keeping his eyes on me as I slipped it into my pocket. ‘Of course.’
Outside, we walked across the rain-slicked parking lot to my car, leaving the blinking BOWL neon sign behind us. ‘So now you’ve done bowling, breaking curfew, almost getting your ass kicked at a party,’ he said. ‘What else is on the list?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘What else did you do for your first eighteen years?’
‘Like I said,’ he said as I unlocked the car, ‘I’m not so sure that you should go by my example.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I have regrets,’ he said. ‘Also, I’m a guy. And guys do different stuff.’
‘Like ride bikes?’ I said.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘Like have food fights. And break stuff. And set off firecrackers on people’s front porches. And…’
‘Girls can’t set off firecrackers on people’s front porches?’
‘They can,’ he said as I cranked the engine. ‘But they’re smart enough not to. That’s the difference.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I think food fights and breaking stuff are equal-opportunity activities.’
‘Fine. But if you’re going to do the firecracker thing, you’re on your own. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘What,’ I said, ‘you afraid or something?’
‘Nope.’ He sat back. ‘Just been there, done that. Done the getting hauled down to the police station thing because of it, too. I appreciate your quest and everything, but I have to draw the line somewhere.’
‘Wait,’ I said, holding up my hand. ‘My quest?’
He turned to look at me. We were at a red light, no other cars anywhere in sight. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You know, like in Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars. You’re searching for something you lost or need. It’s a quest.’
I just looked at him.
‘Maybe it’s a guy thing,’ he said. ‘Fine, don’t call it a quest. Call it chicken salad, I don’t care. My point is, I’m in, but within reason. That’s all I’m saying.’
Here I’d thought we were just hanging out. Killing time. But gender specific or not, I kind of liked the idea of searching for something you’d lost or needed. Or both.
The light finally changed, dropping down to green, but I didn’t hit the gas. Instead I said, ‘Chicken salad?’
‘What? You never said that as a kid?’
‘“Call it chicken salad”?’ I asked. He nodded. ‘Um, no?’
‘Wow.’ He shook his head. ‘What have you been doing all your life?’
As soon as he said this, a million answers popped into my head, each of them true and legitimate. There were endless ways to spend your days, I knew that, none of them right or wrong. But given the chance for a real do-over, another way around, who would say no? Not me. Not then. Call it crazy, or just chicken salad. But within reason, or even without it, I was in, too.
‘Well,’ Maggie said, ‘that’s an interesting outfit.’
We all looked down at Thisbe, who was strapped in her stroller, still in the trance she’d fallen into as soon as I wheeled her down the driveway, eyes wide open, fully silent. ‘Interesting,’ I repeated. ‘What’s your point?’
‘Did Heidi put this on her?’ Leah said, crouching down so she was at Thisbe’s eye level.
‘No. I did.’ Leah looked at Maggie, who raised her eyebrows. ‘What? I think she looks cute.’
‘She’s wearing black,’ Maggie said.
‘So?’
‘So how often do you see infants in black?’
I looked down at the baby again. When my dad went to go get ready for dinner, I’d realized she, too, probably needed a change, so I went to her bureau to find a fresh Onesie. Since everything was pink, or had pink incorporated somewhere, I’d decided to be contrary, digging in the very bottom drawer until I found a plain black Onesie and some bright green pants. I thought she looked kind of rock and roll, personally, but judging by the looks I was getting now – not to mention the odd expression Heidi had given me as we said good-bye – maybe I was wrong.
‘You know,’ I said, ‘just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you have to wear pink.’
‘No,’ Leah agreed, ‘but you don’t have to dress like a truck driver, either.’
‘She doesn’t look like a truck driver,’ I said. ‘God.’
Leah cocked her head to the side. ‘You’re right. She looks like a farmer. Or maybe a construction worker.’
‘Because she’s not in pink?’
‘She’s a baby,’ Maggie told me. ‘Babies wear pastels.’
‘Says who?’ I asked. Esther opened her mouth to answer, but before she could I said, ‘Society. The same society, I might add, that dictates that little girls should always be sugar and spice and everything nice, which encourages them to not be assertive. And that, in turn, then leads to low self-esteem, which can lead to eating disorders and increased tolerance and acceptance of domestic, sexual, and substance abuse.’
They all looked at me. ‘You get all that,’ Leah said after a moment, ‘from a pink Onesie?’
Just then, Thisbe began to whimper, turning her head from side to side. ‘Uh-oh,’ I said, pushing the stroller forward, then back. ‘This does not bode well.’
‘Is she hungry or something?’ Esther asked.
‘Maybe it’s her low self-esteem,’ Leah said.
I ignored this as I bent down to unbuckle the baby, scooping her up into my arms. Her skin was warm, her cries just starting to get loud as I turned her around, locking my hands around her waist, and bent my knees. Up, down. Up, down. By the third round, she was quiet.
‘Wow,’ Maggie said. ‘You’ve got the touch, huh?’
‘It’s called the elevator,’ I told her. ‘Works every time.’
They all watched me for a moment. Then Esther said, ‘You know, I think Auden’s right. The black isn’t so weird. It’s kind of radical, actually.’
‘Of course you’d say that,’ Leah said. ‘Look what you’re wearing.’
Esther glanced down at her dark T-shirt. ‘This isn’t black. It’s navy.’
The other two girls snorted. Then Leah turned to me, saying, ‘That’s what she said all during her goth period, when she wouldn’t wear anything but black. Black clothes, black shoes…’
‘Black eyeliner, black lipstick,’ Maggie added.
‘Are you guys ever going to let that go?’ Esther asked. She sighed. ‘It was a phase, all right? Like you two never did anything you regretted in high school.’
‘Two words,’ Maggie replied. ‘Jake Stock.’
‘No kidding,’ Leah agreed.
‘And you,’ Esther said, pointing at her, ‘dyed your hair blonde for Joe Parker. Which –’
‘No real redhead should ever do,’ Leah finished. ‘I’m still ashamed.’
Through all of this, I was still doing the elevator with Thisbe in my arms. She’d gone back into her trance, quiet, and for a moment we all just watched her moving up and down. Finally Maggie said, ‘Isn’t it weird to think we were all that little, once?’
‘Totally.’ Leah reached out, taking Thisbe’s hand and squeezing it. ‘She’s like a clean slate. No mistakes yet.’
‘Lucky girl,’ Esther said. Then, leaning closer, she added, ‘A word of advice: don’t do the goth thing. Nobody ever lets you forget it.’
‘And don’t change for a guy, ever,’ Leah added. ‘If they’re worthy, they’ll like you just the way you are.’
‘Always wear your helmet on the dirt jumps,’ Maggie said.
‘Don’t eat beef jerky before you get on a roller coaster,’ Leah said.
‘A nose piercing,’ Esther chimed in, ‘does not look good on everyone. Trust me.’
Thisbe took all this in with her same, solemn expression. I shifted her in my arms, leaning down to breathe in her smell, a mix of milk and baby shampoo. ‘Come on, Auden,’ Leah said. ‘You must have some wisdom to share.’
I thought for a moment. ‘Don’t flirt with a girl’s boyfriend in her own kitchen,’ I said. ‘Or answer the question “What kind of a name is that?”’
‘And you know someone will ask her that,’ Leah said. ‘With a name like Thisbe, it’s guaranteed.’
‘What about this,’ Maggie said. ‘Stay clear of cute boys on bikes. They’ll only break your heart.’ I glanced over at her, and she smiled. ‘Of course, that’s easier said than done. Right?’
I just looked at her, wondering what she meant. I hadn’t told anyone about me and Eli, mostly because I knew they would just assume we were hooking up. What else would you be doing all night, every night, with someone else? The very fact that there were so many answers to that question made me want to leave this one, that Maggie was asking and yet not asking, unanswered.
‘God, Maggie,’ Leah said, ‘I thought you’d let that Jake thing go, already.’
‘I have,’ Maggie told her.
‘Then why are you bugging Auden about it now?’ Leah shook her head.
‘That’s not what I was –’
This thought was interrupted, suddenly, by a crash from the front entrance. We all looked over just in time to see Adam bending back from the glass, rubbing his arm.
‘Pull open,’ Maggie called out. As Leah rolled her eyes, she said, ‘He never remembers. It’s so weird.’
‘Can’t say I don’t make an entrance,’ Adam said, hardly bothered by what some would consider a public humiliation of sorts as he walked toward us, carrying a plastic grocery bag in one hand. ‘So, ladies. An announcement.’
Leah shot a wary look at the bag. ‘Are you selling candy bars to raise money for math club again?’
Adam just looked at her. ‘That was eighth grade,’ he said. ‘And school’s over, remember?’
‘Ignore her,’ Maggie told him as Leah shrugged, going back behind the counter. ‘What’s the announcement?’
He grinned, reaching into the bag. ‘Hot-dog party,’ he said, pulling out a value pack of wieners. ‘The first of the summer. After work, at me and Wallace’s. Bring your own condiments.’
‘Count me out,’ Esther said, hopping up on the counter. ‘I’m a vegetarian.’
Adam reached back into the bag, pulling out another pack of dogs. ‘Bam!’ he said, shaking it at her. ‘Tofu Pups! Just for you!’
‘Is the bathroom going to be clean?’ Leah asked.
‘Isn’t it always?’
‘No,’ Leah, Maggie, and Esther said in unison.
‘Well, it will be tonight. I’ll bust out my Clorox Clean-Up and everything.’
Maggie smiled as he dropped the dogs back into the bag, twisting it shut. ‘It’s been a long time since the last hotdog party,’ she said. ‘What’s the occasion?’
‘The housewarming party we forgot to have two months ago when we moved in,’ he said. ‘Plus, it’s been a while, you know? It just seemed like maybe it was time.’
‘Is Eli coming?’ Esther asked.
‘He’s invited,’ Adam said. ‘So we’ll see.’
Maggie turned to me, saying, ‘The hot-dog party was one of Abe’s big traditions. He used to have them every Saturday at Eli’s and his place. Hot dogs, baked beans…’
‘… potato chips for the vegetable,’ Leah said.
‘And Popsicles for dessert. He called it the perfect summer meal.’ Maggie reached up, twisting one of her curls around her finger. ‘He and Eli always bought all the stuff in bulk at Park Mart, so they could have one at a moment’s notice.’
‘IHDP,’ Esther said. When I raised my eyebrows, she added, ‘Impromptu Hot-Dog Party.’
‘Right,’ I said. My knees were starting to hurt, so I stopped the elevator, shifting Thisbe across my right arm. Adam came closer, making a googly face at her.
‘You might be too young for an HDP,’ he said, poking her tummy before turning toward the door. ‘As for the rest of you, I expect to see you with condiments, at Wallace’s, after closing. No excuses.’
‘You know,’ Leah said, ‘I liked you better when you were selling candy bars.’
‘See you later!’ he replied. This time, he got the door right, disappearing out onto the boardwalk as the chime sounded overhead.
Leah looked at Maggie. ‘Great,’ she muttered. ‘He’s got the hots for you, and now we all have to eat wieners because of it.’
‘He does not have the hots for me,’ Maggie said, walking over to the earring display and adjusting a couple of pairs.
‘Well, I’m not going,’ Leah said, pushing a button on the register. The drawer slid open, and she picked up some bills, straightening them. ‘The summer is almost half over, and the only guys I’ve hung out with are the ones I’ve known since grade school. This is getting ridiculous.’
‘There might be new boys at the hot-dog party,’ Esther suggested.
‘Oh, please,’ Leah said.
‘Hey, they have tofu dogs. Anything is possible.’
But it wasn’t new boys I was interested in as I sat in the office for the next hour, my foot locked around the back wheels of Thisbe’s stroller, pushing her back and forth as I paged through the day’s receipts. It was just one boy, that same boy I always started to think about more and more as the hours passed.
Despite my best efforts, it was hard, as the hour got later, not to look ahead, wondering what the night might hold for me and Eli. This was something I’d missed out on thus far, the sense of expectation when it came to someone else. So while a hot-dog party sounded fun and all – and might even have qualified for part of my quest, actually – if Eli wasn’t going to be there, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to be, either. Even if there were tofu dogs.
At around eight thirty, my dad and Heidi showed up to pick up the baby. Their arrival was heralded by a burst of squealing from the sales floor.
‘Oh, my God, you look so good!’ Maggie said. ‘You’re super skinny already!’
‘Please,’ Heidi said. ‘I could not wear a single thing in this store right now. Not even the ponchos.’
‘Stop it,’ Esther told her. ‘You’re gorgeous.’
‘And so is Thisbe,’ Leah added. ‘We love her name, by the way.’
‘See?’ I heard my dad say. ‘I told you. It’s a powerful name! It has presence.’
‘Although,’ Maggie said, ‘the story of Thisbe is kind of tragic, really. Dying for her lover, and her soul blooming in the mulberry tree.’
Even with the door shut between us, and no visual on this interaction, I could literally feel how impressed my dad was as he said, ‘You know the story of Thisbe?’
‘We read it in my classics class, when we were studying myth and women,’ Maggie replied.
‘I thought it was from Shakespeare,’ Heidi said.
‘It was reprised in Shakespeare, in a farcical way,’ my dad told her. ‘But this young lady is right. The true story is actually quite sad.’
‘That’s our Maggie,’ Leah said. ‘Expert on all things tragic.’
‘Is Auden in back?’ I heard Heidi say. A moment later, she tapped on the door, sticking her head in. When she saw Thisbe, dozing in the stroller, she smiled. ‘Look at that. And here I was worried she was screaming her head off the entire time.’
‘Not the entire time,’ I said. ‘How was dinner?’
‘Lovely,’ she said. Then she yawned, putting her hand over her mouth. ‘It was good that we went and celebrated. This is a great accomplishment for your father. He’s worked so hard these last few weeks.’
I looked down at Thisbe. ‘So have you,’ I said.
‘Oh, well.’ She waved this off, then stepped forward, easing the stroller out the door. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Auden, really. I can’t remember the last time we got out alone, together.’
‘It was no problem,’ I said.
‘Still. I appreciate it.’ She glanced out at the sales floor. ‘I’d better get your father out of here while he’s still cheerful. He claims this place gives him a headache. Too much pink. Can you even imagine?’
I could. But I didn’t say anything, instead just nodding as she wheeled Thisbe down the hallway, waving to me over her shoulder.
For the next two hours, I focused on my work, taking only passing notice of the customers that came and went (there was a run on flip-flops), the nine o’clock dance (Elvis this time, from his rockabilly days), and the ongoing debate about attending the hot-dog party (Maggie was in, Leah out, Esther on the fence). At ten on the dot, I locked the safe, shut the door, and went out to join them as they headed out onto the boardwalk, still in discussion. All of this was part of my routine now, as was what came next: making my excuses, and going to find Eli.
‘We could just go for a little while,’ Maggie was saying. ‘To make an appearance.’
Leah turned to me. ‘What about you, Auden? Are you in or out?’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Actually, I think I’m going to just…’
I was going to use one of my standards, like ‘go home’, or ‘go run some errands’, but just then, I looked over Maggie’s shoulder to the bike shop, and there was Eli, sitting on the bench, the shop locked up and dark behind him. No searching for once, so simple. Or it would have been, except that he wasn’t alone.
Belissa Norwood was standing in front of him, her hair blowing around her face, hands in her pockets. She wasn’t dressed up like she’d been at the party, now wearing just jeans and a simple blue sleeveless shirt, a sweater tied around her waist, and I was struck, immediately, by how much prettier she looked. Less is more, indeed.
She was saying something to Eli, who wasn’t looking at her, instead just leaning forward on the bench, his head propped in his hands. Then she said something else, and he looked up at her and nodded. I just stood there, staring, as she slid down to sit beside him, her knee resting against his. After a moment, she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.
‘Auden?’ Leah said. Seeing my face, she turned, looking behind her, just as a group of big-shouldered guys in tracksuits came out of the adjacent Jumbo Smoothie shop, blocking everything behind them. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m in.’
Wallace’s apartment was the lower level of a green house two streets back from the beach. The yard was mostly dirt with a few clumps of grass; there was a washing machine on the side porch, and a sign hanging over the garage read, inexplicably, SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY.
‘Interesting name choice,’ I said as I followed Maggie and Esther up the driveway, the bag of condiments we’d bought at the Gas/Gro – ketchup, mustard, mayo, and chocolate sauce – in my hand. Leah was lagging behind, her phone to her ear, still networking in hopes of finding a better destination.
‘It wasn’t up to the guys,’ Maggie explained over her shoulder. ‘The landlords picked it. It’s a beach thing, you know, naming houses. The last place Wallace lived was called GULL’S CRY.’
‘Which was a terrible name,’ Esther said. ‘Hey, Mags, remember when Eli and Abe were living over in that dump on Fourth Street? What was that –’
‘SUMMER LOVIN’,’ Maggie finished for her as we climbed the front steps. ‘And there was nothing to love about it, let me tell you. Such a dump.’
Just as she said this, Adam appeared in the open door, an oven mitt on one hand. ‘Hey,’ he said, holding it over his heart, offended. ‘You haven’t even come inside yet!’
‘I wasn’t talking about this place,’ Maggie told him as he stepped aside, letting us in. ‘This is… very nice.’
Which was kind of an overstatement. The living room was small, crowded with worn, mismatched furniture: plaid couch, striped recliner, very beat-up coffee table, stained with rings upon rings upon rings. Clearly, though, someone had taken steps to spruce it up, as was evident by the bowl of nuts on the table and what looked like a brand-new scented candle burning on the bar that led to the kitchen.
‘Decor,’ Adam said, having caught me noticing this. ‘It really makes a difference, don’t you think?’
‘Still stinks like beer,’ Leah informed him as she came in, dropping her phone in her purse.
‘Does that mean you don’t want one?’ Wallace yelled from the kitchen.
‘No,’ Leah said.
‘Didn’t think so,’ he replied, emerging with a twelve-pack of cans. He moved down the line, handing them off. I was going to pass but ended up taking one anyway, if only to be polite.
‘There are coasters to your left,’ Adam said to Leah as she popped her can.
‘Coasters?’ she said. ‘On this coffee table? It’s already covered with rings.’
He glanced at it, then at her. ‘Just because something’s damaged doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be treated with respect.’
‘Ad,’ Wallace said, ‘it’s a coffee table, not an orphan.’
Esther snickered. But Maggie, true to form, reached over and set a coaster on the table before putting her beer down. As she did, Adam reached behind him to the island, grabbing a camera sitting there. ‘Our first hot-dog party,’ he said, raising it to his eye. ‘I have to get a shot of this.’
The reaction in the room was swift, and unanimous: every single person except me raised their hands at once to cover their faces. The accompanying utterances, though, were varied. I heard everything from ‘Please no’ (Maggie), to ‘Jesus Christ’ (Wallace), to ‘Stop it or die’ (I’m assuming it’s obvious).
Adam sighed, lowering the camera. ‘Why,’ he said, ‘can you guys not allow one shot, once in a while?’
‘Because that was the deal,’ Wallace replied, his face muffled by his fingers, which were still over his mouth.
‘The deal?’ I asked.
Maggie separated her thumb and forefinger, then said through them, ‘Adam was yearbook editor for the last two years. He was relentless with the camera.’
‘I only had one person on staff!’ Adam protested. ‘I had no choice. Somebody had to take pictures.’
‘So we told him,’ Wallace continued, around his palm, ‘that we would tolerate it until the yearbook was done. But after that…’
‘No more pictures,’ Maggie said.
‘Ever,’ Leah added.
Adam put the camera back on the island, a glum expression on his face. ‘Fine,’ he said, and everyone dropped their hands. ‘But years from now, when you’re feeling nostalgic about this summer and yet can’t really reminisce because of a lack of documentation, don’t blame me.’
‘We’ve been fully documented,’ Maggie told him. ‘The yearbook candids were of nothing but us.’
‘Which is great, because you’ll never forget anything,’ he told her. ‘But that’s already history. This is now.’
‘The now in which we are spared being photographed.’ Leah picked up her beer – no coaster – and took a sip, then said, ‘So who else is coming to this shindig?’
‘You know, the usual suspects,’ Wallace replied, sitting down in the armchair, which sagged noticeably beneath him. ‘The guys from the shop, some of the locals from the bike park, that cute girl from Jumbo Smoothie, and –’
This thought was interrupted by the sound of someone banging up the steps. ‘Yo!’ a voice bellowed. ‘You guys better have some beer, because I am ready to get –’
Jake Stock – in a form-fitting black tee and a deeper tan than ever – stopped talking and walking the minute he came through the door and saw me and Maggie, side by side on the couch. Talk about a buzz kill.
‘Get what?’ Leah asked him, sipping her beer.
Jake looked at her, then at Wallace, who shrugged. ‘Lovely to see you as always,’ he said to Leah, then walked past her and us, heading to the kitchen. I glanced sideways at Maggie, but she was staring straight ahead at her beer on its coaster, her expression unreadable.
‘It’s not too late to hit the clubs,’ Leah said to her. ‘New boys, new chances.’
‘Grill’s on!’ Adam hollered from the back door. ‘Who wants the first dog?’
Maggie stood, picking up her beer. ‘Me,’ she called back, walking past Jake, who was leaning against the bar, sniffing the candle. ‘I do.’
An hour later, I’d had one beer, two tofu dogs, and, despite my efforts to keep up with the party and conversation around me, entirely too much time to run over what I’d seen on the boardwalk with Eli and Belissa. I looked at my watch: it was almost midnight. This time the night before, Eli and I had just been leaving Clyde’s, where he’d done a load of whites and we’d shared a piece of butter-scotch almond tart. I looked down at the bowl of nuts, untouched on the table in front of me, and took another sip of my beer.
Really, it had been stupid to expect anything anyway. A few late nights does not a habit, or a relationship, make.
Just then, my phone rang, and I felt stupid by how quickly I jumped to answer it, thinking it might be Eli. Who, I realized a beat later, did not have my phone number. I flipped it open, only to see the number of another man who always seemed to keep me wondering: my brother.
‘Aud!’ he said as soon as I answered. ‘It’s me! Guess where I am?’
As we’d played this game before, and I’d always lost, I just said, ‘Tell me.’
‘Home!’
At first, I thought he’d said Rome. It wasn’t until I asked him to repeat himself, and he did, that I realized he was two hundred miles away instead of however many thousand.
‘Home?’ I said. ‘Since when?’
‘About two hours ago.’ He laughed. ‘I am jet-lagging like crazy, let me tell you. I have no freaking idea what time it is. Where are you?’
‘At a party,’ I said, standing up and walking to the front door, pushing it open.
‘A party? Really?’
He sounded so shocked I probably should have been offended. Then again, a few weeks earlier, I would have been surprised, too. ‘Yeah,’ I said, walking down to sit on the bottom step. ‘So… what brings you back?’
There was a pause. For dramatic purposes, as it turned out. ‘Not what,’ he said. ‘Who.’
‘Who?’
‘Aud.’ Another pause. Then, ‘I’m in love.’
As he said this, I was looking up at a streetlight, bright and buzzing overhead. A few bugs were circling it, tiny specks up high. ‘You are?’ I said.
‘Yeah.’ He laughed. ‘It’s crazy, I know. But I’m sick with it. So sick I cut the trip short and jumped a plane to follow her back here.’
The trip had been going on for a couple of years, which I wouldn’t exactly have called short. But with Hollis, it was always about the bigger picture. ‘So,’ I said, ‘who is she?’
‘Her name,’ he said, ‘is Laura. She’s amazing! I met her at a youth hostel in Seville. I was there for this big three-day festival-slash-rave…’
I rolled my eyes at no one, there in the dark.
‘… and she was there for some genetic conference. She’s a scientist, Aud! Doing grad work at the U, of all places. She was studying in the library where I was sleeping. Said my snoring was disturbing her research and I needed to get up and get out. Crazy, right? It’s the story we’ll tell our grandchildren!’
‘Hollis,’ I said, ‘you’re messing with me right now, aren’t you? You’re in Paris, or somewhere, and just –’
‘What?’ he replied. ‘No! God, no. This is the real deal. Here, I’ll prove it.’
There was a muffled noise, followed by some static. Then, I heard my mother recite, at a distance, in her most droll, flat tone, ‘Yes. It is true. Your brother is in love and in my kitchen.’
‘Hear that?’ Hollis asked, even as I sat there, startled at her voice. ‘It’s no joke!’
‘So…’ I said, still grappling, ‘how long are you home for, then?’
‘As long as Laura will have me. We’re looking for an apartment, and I’m going to sign up for fall classes. Might even hit up the English department, you never know.’ He laughed. ‘But seriously, before then I want to come down, visit you and Dad and Heidi and the munchkin, introduce my girl around. So let them know, okay?’
‘All right,’ I said slowly. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Hollis.’
‘Me, too. See you soon!’
I hung up, then looked out at the quiet street, the ocean somewhere in the dark beyond. It was so early and yet, between what I’d seen with Eli and my brother’s strange homecoming, I felt, for the first time in a long while, like all I wanted to do was go crawl into bed. Pull the covers over my head, finding my own dark, and wake up when this night was over.
Thinking this, I went inside to say my good-byes, but the living room was empty, stereo still playing, beer cans scattered – mostly uncoastered – across the coffee table. I picked up my purse, then walked through the kitchen to the back door. Through it, I could see everyone gathered on the back deck: Adam at the grill with Maggie beside him, Leah and Esther sitting side by side on the rail. Wallace was opening a can of baked beans while Jake looked on from a nearby rusted lawn chair.
‘You knew he probably wouldn’t show,’ he was saying to Adam, who was busy turning dogs over the flame. ‘He’s been antisocial ever since it happened.’
‘It’s been over a year now, though,’ Adam said. ‘He’s got to start hanging out again sometime.’
‘Maybe he is hanging out,’ Maggie said. ‘Just not with you.’
‘Meaning what?’ Wallace asked. I stepped back behind the open door, waiting for Maggie to respond, but she didn’t. ‘Belissa? I can assure you, that is not happening.’
‘No kidding. They’ve been broken up for months, idiot,’ Jake said.
‘Yeah, but she’s still been hung up on him,’ Wallace replied. ‘But then tonight, she came by the shop to tell him she’s got a new boyfriend. Some guy from the U, down for the summer working at the Cadillac tending bar. Said she wanted to tell him in person, so he didn’t find out from someone else.’
There was a short silence. Then Leah said, ‘And how do you know this, exactly?’
‘I might have been just inside the door, checking the air on the display bikes.’
Someone snorted. Adam said, ‘You are the worst gossip, Wallace. Worse than a girl.’
‘Hey!’ Esther said.
‘Sorry. Just an expression,’ Adam told her. ‘Seriously, though, Maggie might be right. Maybe he does have something going on, somewhere else. When I invited him tonight, he said he’d try to make it, but he already had plans with someone to run some errands.’
‘Errands?’ Leah said. ‘Who runs errands at night?’
‘It didn’t make sense to me either,’ Adam told her. ‘But that’s what he said.’
I looked around the kitchen, then walked over to a nearby drawer, pulling it open, then the one beneath it. In the third, I found what I was looking for: the Colby phone book. It was such a small town, only one Laundromat was listed.
‘The Washroom, Clyde speaking.’
I glanced outside again, then stepped closer to the fridge. ‘Hey, Clyde. It’s Auden. Is Eli there?’
‘You bet. Hang on.’
There was a bit of interference, and a short exchange, as the receiver was handed over. Then Eli said, ‘You are missing out on some serious apple crumble right now.’
‘I got dragged to a hot-dog party,’ I said.
A pause. ‘Really.’
‘Yeah.’ I turned around, shutting the phone book. ‘Apparently, they are a very important rite of passage. So I figured I should check it out, for my quest and all.’
‘Right,’ he said.
For a moment, neither of us said anything, and I realized that it was the first time in a long while that I’d felt nervous or uncomfortable around Eli. All those crazy nights, doing so many crazy things. And yet this, a simple phone conversation, was hard.
‘So let me guess,’ he said. ‘Right about now, Adam’s probably still cooking hot dogs, even though no one wants any more.’
I glanced outside. Sure enough, Adam was at the grill, opening up another pack. ‘Um,’ I said. ‘Yeah, actually.’
‘Leah and Esther are probably starting to argue about leaving.’
Another look proved that yes, they did look like they were having a somewhat spirited conversation. Leah, at least, was gesturing pretty widely. ‘They are. But how did you –’
‘And my brother,’ he continued, ‘having arrived talking big about throwing down and scoring with women, is most likely drunk and dozing off somewhere. Alone.’
I peeked back at Jake. His eyes were definitely closed. ‘You know,’ I said, ‘with all the time we spent together, you could have mentioned you were a psychic.’
‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘You need a ride?’
‘I do,’ I replied, without even hesitating.
‘Be there in ten.’
Seventeen minutes later, and I was out on the deck with everyone else, watching Leah and Maggie argue.
‘The deal was,’ Leah was saying, her voice slightly slurred, ‘that I would come as long as we could leave at some point and do something else.’
‘It’s past midnight!’ Maggie replied. ‘It’s too late to go anywhere.’
‘Which was exactly your plan. Get me here, get me drunk –’
‘You got yourself drunk,’ Adam pointed out.
‘– and get me stuck. Same as always,’ Leah finished. ‘What happened to our big, fun summer before college? The one that was supposed to be full of new experiences and great memories we’d take with us for when we were apart? It was supposed to be… to be…’
She trailed off, clearly grasping for words. I said, ‘The best of times.’
‘That’s right!’ She snapped her fingers. ‘The best of times! What happened to the best of times?’
Everyone fell completely silent, I assumed because they were all contemplating this question. Then I realized it was because Eli had appeared behind me in the open kitchen door.
‘Don’t ask me,’ he said. We were all staring at him. ‘I just came for the hot dogs.’
‘Hot dogs!’ Adam burst out excitedly. ‘We’ve got hot dogs! Tons of hot dogs! Here! Have one!’
He grabbed a bun, stuffing a dog into it, and thrust it out toward him. Eli raised his eyebrows, then took it. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem!’ Adam said. ‘Lots more where that came from, too. Plus there’s chips, and baked beans, and –’
‘Adam,’ Wallace said, his voice low. ‘Chill out.’
‘Right,’ Adam replied just as loudly. Then, in a somewhat more subdued tone, he added, ‘We have Popsicles, too.’
Everyone looked at Eli again. It was so awkward and tense, you would have thought we were at a wake, not a cookout. Then again, maybe we kind of were.
‘So, Eli,’ Maggie said after a moment, ‘how’s it going with the shop? Come up with a name yet?’
Eli glanced at her, then down at his hot dog. ‘It’s still in the discussion phase.’
‘Personally,’ Adam said, ‘I like The Chain Gang.’
‘That makes us sound like a singing group,’ Wallace told him.
‘A bad singing group,’ Leah added.
‘It’s better than Pump Cycles.’
‘What’s wrong with Pump Cycles?’ Wallace asked. ‘That’s a great name.’
‘It sounds menstrual,’ Adam told him. Esther swatted at his arm. ‘What? It does.’
‘I think,’ Jake said, surprising everyone, as we’d assumed he was fast asleep, ‘that we need a name with edge. Something dark, kind of dangerous.’
‘Like?’ Eli said.
‘Like,’ Jake went on, eyes still closed, ‘Barbed Wire Bikes. Or Flatline Bikes.’
Adam rolled his eyes. ‘You can’t call a tourist bike shop Flatline Bikes.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because people on vacation want to think about happy, relaxing things. When they rent a bike, they don’t want to think about dying in some accident.’
I could tell, by Adam’s face as he said this – relaxed, opinionated – followed by just after – shocked, then ashamed – that he’d had absolutely no idea what was going to come out of his mouth until it was too late. And now it was.
Another silence fell. Adam’s face was flushed, and I watched Maggie and Esther exchange a desperate kind of look. Beside me, Eli just stood there, the awkwardness tangible, something solid you could feel. All I could think was that it was my fault he was there, that any and all of this was happening. But I had no idea what to do about it until I saw the pot of baked beans on the table next to me.
It was a split-second decision, the kind you hear about people making in the most dangerous or serious of situations. This was really neither, but I still was not thinking, just doing, as I reached my hand into the beans, scooping out a big gob with my fingers. Then, before I could reconsider, I turned and launched it right at Eli.
The beans hit him square in the forehead, then splattered back into his hair, a few falling to hit the deck at his feet. I could hear the inhaled breath of everyone else on the deck, indicating their absolute shock, watching this. But I kept my eyes on Eli, who blinked, then reached up, wiping some beans from the tip of his nose.
‘Oh, man,’ he said to me. ‘It’s so on.’
And just like that, he was reaching across me, lightning quick, and grabbing the pot of beans. One smooth movement – too fast to even think, much less stop him – and he’d overturned it on my head. I felt heat on my hair, something slimy trickling down into my eyes, even as I grabbed for a discarded plate nearby, launching the half-eaten hot dog back at him.
‘What the hell…’ I heard Leah say, but the rest of the sentence was lost as Eli pelted me with buns from the bag he’d grabbed off the kitchen counter. I ducked my head – still covered with beans – and ran across the deck, picking up along the way a bag of Cheetos for ammo.
‘Wait!’ Adam yelled. ‘That’s my breakfast for the week!’
‘Oh, lighten up,’ Maggie said, picking up a handful of coleslaw from her plate and tossing it at him. When Leah gasped, she threw another fistful at her.
Leah’s jaw dropped. She looked down at her shirt, then up at Maggie. ‘Oh, boy,’ she said, picking up a beer can and shaking it, hard, before popping the top, ‘you better run.’
Maggie squealed, taking off down the stairs with Leah behind her, the beer already fizzing over. Meanwhile Adam and Wallace were now exchanging rapid fire with the leftover nuts while Esther, arms over her head, ducked behind Jake, who was asleep with a sprinkling of coleslaw over his face. All of this I noticed before running back into the house while trying to simultaneously dodge the Popsicle pieces Eli was tossing at me and chucking potato chips back at him behind me. I was so busy defending myself and keeping up my offensive that I didn’t realize he had me trapped in the kitchen until it was too late.
‘Wait,’ I said, gasping for breath as I leaned against the fridge. I held up my hands. ‘Time-out.’
‘There’s no time-outs in food fights,’ Eli informed me, throwing another slushy piece at me. It hit my shoulder, knocking off some beans.
‘Then how do they end?’
‘Whoever runs out of food first has to formally surrender,’ he said.
I looked at my hands, covered with bean residue and pieces of chips, but basically empty. ‘I’m not good at surrendering.’
‘No one is,’ he said. ‘But sometimes, you lose. Nothing you can do but admit it.’
We were both so filthy, standing there, beans in our hair, food all over our clothes. It was the last moment you’d think would mean anything, and yet somehow, it did. Like only in all this chaos could it finally feel right to say the one thing I’d wanted to, all along.
‘I’m really sorry about your friend,’ I told him.
Eli nodded slowly. He kept his eyes right on me, not wavering a bit, as he said, ‘Thanks.’
Outside, I could hear someone still shrieking, other battles going on. But in the bright light of the kitchen, it was just us. The way it had been those other nights, yet suddenly something felt different. Not like we’d changed so much as that we could. And might.
I was looking right at Eli, thinking this, and he was staring right back at me, and it was suddenly so easy to imagine myself reaching my hand forward to brush his hair from his face. It was all there: how his skin would feel against my fingertips, the strands against my palm, his hands rising up to my waist. Like it was already happening, and then, suddenly, I heard the door bang behind me.
‘Hey,’ Adam called out, and I turned to see him holding up the camera again, the lens pointing right at us. ‘Smile!’
As the shutter snapped, I knew it was likely I’d never see this picture. But even if I did, it wouldn’t come close to capturing everything I was feeling right then. If I ever did get a copy, I already had the perfect place for it: a blue frame, a few words etched beneath. The best of times.