“My mom is going to get mad at you for bringing McDonald’s into our house,” I said as I held Cooper’s bag in my lap the next day, the heat from the fries warming my bare legs. I tried to tug down my shorts, but it didn’t help.
“I know. That woman watches entirely too many documentaries. She needs to live in blissful ignorance, like the rest of us.”
“Do you think that’s part of the problem? She watches too many shows and reads too many articles and books about the dangers of the world?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? She seems to worry about the stuff she reads and hears more than most people.”
“I know. Maybe it would make things better. If she’d just stay off the internet and away from nonfiction books.” Maybe I could suggest that to my grandpa. Then we wouldn’t have to take the dramatic step of a therapist. “I think she takes everything she learns, then frets about it until it turns into an irrational fear.”
The car slowed, and Cooper squinted out the windshield. I followed his gaze to the right, where a big tree stood in the middle of an otherwise empty field. A man was leaning against the tree. No, not leaning. He was chained to it.
“Stop the car,” I said to Cooper.
He pulled to a stop along the curb and I rolled down my window.
“Sir? Are you okay?”
The man’s gaze had been on the dirt in front of him, and with my yell, he looked up.
“You weren’t assaulted by chain-wielding thieves, were you?” I asked.
Cooper laughed from beside me.
“No,” he yelled back. “I’ve done this to myself.”
“On purpose?”
His smile widened. “A housing development is going in this field, and they want to rip out this tree.”
“Oh. I see. You’re protecting it.”
“Yes.”
“Good luck!”
He lifted his hand in a wave, and Cooper drove away.
“Would you rather live in the treetops forever or in water?” Cooper asked.
“Waterworld for sure. If I can breathe underwater. Can I breathe underwater?”
“Sure. But then we need an adaptation for the treetops too. What would that adaptation be?”
“Monkey arms?”
“I can see why you’d choose mermaid, if the alternative is monkey.”
I smiled and stole one of his fries.
His face went serious. “Don’t eat my fries, Abby. You said you didn’t want any fries, and I said, you’re going to steal mine if you don’t get your own, and you said, no I won’t.”
“Are you reenacting a conversation that happened five minutes ago?”
“Yes, because you seem to have forgotten it.”
“It’s my charge for holding your greasy bag.”
He snatched the bag off my lap and put it on his left leg as he drove.
“You’re no fun,” I said.
“I am the most fun.” He took a fry out of the bag and ate it.
“Speaking of, did you talk to Rachel yesterday?”
“Yes, but why is that speaking of? Are you trying to claim Rachel is the most fun?”
“No, I am the most fun. It was speaking of because it sounded like she was having fun.”
“Yes, she sounded good. Did she tell you about the four-amigo Europe trip for next summer, after we graduate?”
“Did she call it that? The four-amigo? She made fun of me for saying that!”
He laughed. “Our end-of-summer reunion with them is going to be awesome.”
When we got to my house, I made sure I put some space between myself and Cooper and his bag of poison.
“I see how you are. You’ll eat it in the car but won’t admit it to your mom.”
“I know where my loyalties lie.”
But my mom didn’t say anything. She just eyed his bag once when we walked in, then asked what we were up to.
“We are going to go finish our classics so we can finally check that item off the list.”
“But first I am going to fill my stomach with garbage, Mrs. Turner. And I will need to walk it off. You want to go on a walk with us in ten minutes?”
His offer surprised me. We hadn’t talked about doing that. He just knew I was worried about her.
“I think I do, Cooper.”
He stuck a fry in his mouth, and when my mom went back to her book, I mouthed, thank you.
He winked at me.
After we made it to the park and back with zero resistance from my mom, she insisted on showing Cooper my now-finished sunrise painting, like it was a priceless masterpiece. Maybe this was part of my problem. The people around me thought my paintings were much better than they were. They’d given me false confidence all these years.
Against the side wall, with soft cotton covering draped over them, were the spotlight and quad paintings. I thought about showing off those too, but I didn’t. I’d save some surprises for them to see if I made it into the show.
After the sunrise painting was thoroughly analyzed, Cooper and I went to my room.
“That painting is really good, Abs.”
“Thanks.”
“Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?”
“Because Mr. Wallace said he was willing to take a second look at my paintings, and I feel like they have to be a hundred times better than the last ones he saw. I don’t know if they’re there yet.” I threw him his book, which he’d left on my desk when he first arrived at my house before our fast-food run, and I pulled mine out of the top drawer of my nightstand and settled onto my bed. If I could finish this book today, then I wouldn’t have to worry about checking off another item for a couple of days. “I just need to finish the list.”
“The magical list.” Cooper made his way over to it and studied it for several minutes. “Why did you already check off ‘have your heart broken’?”
My heart seemed to stop in my chest with that question. We had successfully avoided this subject for a year. Did I really want to bring it up now? I kept my gaze steady on him even though I wanted to look away. “Because I have.”
Cooper’s eyes shot to the ground, then met mine again. He knew. “Why did you write it on here to begin with then?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Since I’d already accomplished it, I wrote it down. I wanted to feel like I had at least a little depth, I guess.”
He nodded slowly. We were going to move past this quickly. Continue to ignore what had happened a year ago. I could tell. I could linger. Say something. But I’d already done that once. If his feelings were different than they had been a year ago, it was his turn to put them out there.
“What about you? Can you check ‘have your heart broken’ off your list?” I honestly didn’t know the answer to that question. I’d been a witness to pretty much all of his relationships, but I had no idea if he’d ever truly been in love with a girl before. He’d never told me he had, so I assumed he hadn’t.
“No. I can’t,” he said. I was surprised by the relief that coursed through my body.
He jumped onto my bed next to me, back first, and opened up his book.
My phone buzzed with a new email. I pulled it up. Nobody emailed me except my dad, so I wasn’t surprised to see his name in my inbox.
“Your dad?” Cooper asked, peering over the top of his book at me.
“Yeah.” I read the email to myself.
To my daughter, who is better than any of my other daughters at emailing me. From her dad, who couldn’t get to a computer for a few days.
Why haven’t I made you watch the sunrise before? Have you ever tried waking yourself up at five a.m.? That’s your answer. I’m glad I don’t have to ask twenty questions about Elliot, because I can’t think of twenty questions to ask. Well, except tell me his last name so I can run a background check. What about that other boy in your life? What’s his name? Your mom says he still comes around a lot. I hope he’s treating you nice. We’re going to be busy here for the next couple of weeks moving locations. Sorry in advance if I can’t email/call as often as normal. It sounds like you’re keeping yourself busy with your list. Make sure you update me, I like to hear about your adventures.
I smiled and pointed to my desk, which was closer to Cooper. “Can you hand me my laptop?”
He reached over and grabbed it, then set it on my legs. “What’s the news from your dad?”
“Not much. He doesn’t really tell me a lot of what’s happening over there in email for security reasons. So it’s mostly just him asking about me.”
“Does your dad like me? I can never tell when he’s home.”
“My dad likes you.”
“Good, because he’s a little scary.”
I laughed. “He’s harmless.”
I opened my laptop and typed a response, hoping he’d get it before they had to move their camp.
From your only daughter, who, if she found out others existed, would fight them to the death to maintain that title. Ha. Ha. Two laughs. One for the background-check idea and one for you pretending not to know Cooper’s name. Thanks for those. You know I like to laugh. As for an update, I’m crawling my way through Crime and Punishment and nearing the end. I tried dried crickets. I don’t recommend them, but they do taste decent with ice cream. Mr. Wallace is having me take a preschool group through the museum on Saturday, so that should be fun. And I decided to go on a date with Elliot No Last Name. I’m only telling you because I know Mom will. It’s not a big deal. Also, be safe!!! XOXO
Before I closed my laptop, I clicked on a saved tab at the top of the screen.
“You know,” Cooper said when the new page came up, “you could actually just send in an application instead of staring at that page every time you get on the computer . . . or your phone.”
“I will. I’m waiting to see how the showcase plays out though. I need a sale.”
Cooper jammed his finger onto my screen. “Recommended requirements. Last I checked the word recommended meant optional.”
“Lots of people apply for the winter program. I want to give myself every advantage.”
“Stalling,” Cooper coughed out.
“I am not.”
“We should finish the list so you can show Mr. Wallace your paintings and have no more excuses.”
I ignored his jab this time and said, “You’re right. Let’s do one of the ‘try something new’ items, since we have a couple of those left to do.” And saying that out loud reminded me of something. “Did you ever take Iris to that underground garden? That would count for you.”
“No, she didn’t want to do that. We ended up at the movie on the beach.”
“Hey, the beach movie is our thing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. She didn’t want to go to the gardens.”
I swallowed down my hurt. “What kind of monster are you going out with?”
He smacked me on the shoulder once with his book, then opened it. I opened my book as well, then let my left hand fall against his right arm and rest there. When he took twice as long to turn the page of his book one-handed, rather than move his arm, I smiled, but like always, didn’t let myself read into it too much.
Cooper left close to ten, and I went to Mom’s room, where she was hanging clothes.
“Hey,” I said. “I have a complaint to file.”
“Listening,” she said.
“How come when Cooper and Dad are around, you have no problem walking to the park, but when it’s just us, you can’t?”
She paused with a shirt halfway on its hanger and scrunched up her nose. “I go out a lot with just you.”
“But more when they are here.”
“I don’t know. They both have a relaxed way about them. It rubs off on me, I guess.”
“But I don’t?”
“You do, hon.”
I crossed my arms. “Apparently I’m not the only one attached to Cooper.”
“He is a nice boy. I have no issues with him, aside from the fact that he likes to drag my daughter’s heart around.”
“I’m the one attaching my heart to his leash.”
She gave me a thin-lipped smile but didn’t argue.
“I’m working on it,” I said.
“That’s good.”
I watched her add more shirts to hangers and stack them on her bed. I was constantly trying to downplay the fact that Mom didn’t go anywhere to Grandpa and Cooper and Dad. Convince them that she could have a fulfilling life without venturing beyond the four walls of our house. That it wasn’t a big deal. And maybe it wasn’t, but I was beginning to realize that sometimes it wasn’t about her. If I were being honest with myself, I knew that sometimes it was about me. I could remember only a handful of my events she’d attended in the past, and only because my dad was there.
“What?” she asked when she noticed me still standing there.
I sighed and lowered myself onto her bed. “Mom.”
She turned, giving me her full attention.
I played with a hanger on the stack of clothes, nervous about what I was about to say. “If I complete this list and somehow gain a depth of emotion that makes me paint like Picasso, will you come to the gallery to see my paintings on display?”
She hesitated, and disappointment hovered around me.
I should’ve just dropped it, said never mind. But that painting I’d done with her just outside the spotlight, watching me audition, gave me a vision of what it could be like seeing her at the art show, so I pushed on. “Dad can’t come, being gone and all. But Cooper will be there, and Grandpa. It will be like having your own bubble of protection. You’ll be surrounded by familiar, relaxed people.”
She pressed her lips together, and I could see the tension on her face, but she said, “Yes, honey. I would love to see your display.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
I smiled big and jumped up to give her a hug. “Now I just have to get Mr. Wallace to let me in the show.”
“He will, my brilliant daughter,” she said rubbing my back. “He will.”