21
CAMILLE
“Lucianna,” Drew says as he leans halfway out of his car door. “Lucianna is you?”
“Camille Lucianna Marino.” I try to say my name with Nonna’s same pride and tone, the declaration as her namesake. But the words fall flat. The magic of the night is gone, drained by priorities that have risen to the surface in the short drive home. Seeing the truck reminds me that there are more pressing things in my life, and the decision to keep it simple with Drew is for the best. “Lucianna is my middle name, and my grandmother’s first. I named it after her because she taught me everything I know.”
“You said you worked in marketing,” he repeats.
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” I grin. “Honestly, being a mobile restaurateur is half food, half marketing. I don’t plan one thing without the other. But we can talk more about that later. Ready for the whirlwind that is my sister?” I get out of the car and start up the cement steps to my building, a picturesque purple Edwardian. Despite my anxiety knowing I’ve come home late, seeing my cute, historic apartment makes me smile. I love living in an eclectic part of town. And as a bonus, my neighbors don’t mind if I have to park my truck here once in a while.
I turn when I don’t hear Drew’s footsteps behind me. He hasn’t moved from the side of the car. His jaw is fixed and his hands brace the door. “You okay?” I call back.
He answers with a stiff nod. A beat later his eyes meet mine, and his posture softens. “Yeah. Course.”
I take a breath and press the top of a line of six chipped buttons. The doorbell can’t be heard from out here, but I wince anyway. Ally is probably out of her mind. I should have been here at least a half hour ago.
I should have come home last night.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes! You’ll have to take me in the truck. We missed the M two minutes ago!” Ally bursts out, a comet of mismatched and ripped clothing, a fedora on her head, and smelling like strawberries. So incongruent, so her. She grabs my wrist and flings me around. She slows two steps down, then says, “You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady.”
“I . . . um. Well, um.” I grimace and watch as her death stare sweeps from me to Drew. Crimson flourishes from the bridge of Ally’s nose. Oh, she’s pissed. And probably reconciling that I have never had a sleepover with a guy, that she knows of anyway. This is uncharted waters for the both of us.
She places a hand on her hip. “What’s up with all the ums? What does um mean?”
“Uh . . . um.” Drew stutters, flustered, too. I stifle a laugh. Afraid of my sister, is he?
“Um means we’re sorry. I mean, I’m sorry, but we’re here now and we can talk about this later.” We’ve got to get her to her meeting, though I would have eaten the nub of a banana to find out what Drew would have said. I walk to the back of the car and pull open the door. “We’ve got fourteen minutes now, and Drew’s nice enough to take us. Get in.” I wait until she is completely inside before I flash Drew a look in warning. Don’t say a word.
Drew nods, though his eyebrows are hunched low. His smile doesn’t quite make it to his eyes. This is so unlike his usual self. I start to ask him what’s wrong, but I bite my cheek. With my sister in the car, the conversation will have to wait.
As we get on our way and merge onto the freeway, Ally’s hands slip between the front seats. Her body follows. “Are you friends with benefits now?”
“Ally! Sit back, please.” I give her the eye. The one that says, Quit it before I put you in a headlock. My face burns, not only because this is a topic I refuse to discuss with my sister, but because I seem to be that transparent.
“Just calling it like I see it, sis.”
“First of all, it’s none of your business. And second, Drew’s here because—”
“I wanted to come help her with the truck. I was actually thinking it needed a paint job.” He winks at Ally through the rearview mirror.
I’m not sure what’s more shocking, that Drew has a clue about what needs to be done for Lucianna or that my sister is melting like chocolate over slow heat, starting at her eyes and moving down to her toes. I squelch the sarcastic remark burning in my throat. The less attention I bring to the subject, the better.
“Turn right at Divisadero,” I announce, refocusing this wayward conversation. “It’ll be the second building from the left. You ready, Al?”
Ally snaps to. Her pupils widen into saucers, and she’s practicing her yoga mountain pose, though she’s sitting. Neck straight, shoulders back. She practically oms at her exhale. A determination settles on her face, and she nods.
The car screeches to a halt. Drew scores us a parking space steps from the front of the art building and we all get out. Ally has slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and exudes serenity. This look is familiar, because I’ve felt this kind of peace, too, when I’m in my clogs and apron, working in a warm kitchen. And at this moment, I am so proud and happy.
I also know she’s going to kick butt.
“Got everything you need, sis?” I adjust her fedora, tilt it slightly to the right.
“Y-yeah,” she says, her voice shaking.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“No. I’m an adult, remember?” she teases. “I have a list of questions to ask. I’ll get all the details.”
I kiss her on the cheek. “All right. Good luck. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Seeing Ally walk away is like feeling the wind against my cheek—it’s joy mixed with hope—and I’m not so sure, truly, if I’m ready to send her off. But she’ll go, if not this summer, then one day. She will make her dreams come true. But can I help her do it?
“She’s going to do great.” Drew’s hand is warm on my shoulder.
“I don’t have any doubt she will. This was the only thing she focused on her senior year, this one summer session. She’s ready. But the question is, am I?”
“What do you mean?”
“My nonna helped me financially. That’s another reason I named the truck Lucianna—it’s because she believed in my dream. Helping Ally with her dream is important to me.”
He’s silent for a bit, then says, “You’ll do it. There’s loans, financial aid. You’ll make it happen.” His voice is confident, so self-assured that I turn, locking my eyes on him.
“It’s not that easy. Ally and I—we’re alone. Just us. So it all comes down to me, for the support, for everything. And what if I’m not doing the right thing? What if it’s not enough?” I regret my tone immediately. I’ve only just let Drew into my life. He doesn’t know the struggles we’ve had, and I know he’s only trying to help. “I’m sorry. This intensive is a big deal, and I want Ally to be okay, whether or not she goes, whether or not I can send her.”
“Don’t be sorry.” His lips quirk up, and he rests his hands on my hips. “I’m okay with you telling me how you feel. I’m also good with you putting me in my place when I’m being a dumbass. But as a third-party observer, here are my two cents: you and Ally have a good thing going. And whatever happens, if she goes or if you can get her there, it’s all just logistics and details. Because you two will make your dreams happen anyway.”
Drew takes a step closer, so we’re toe to toe. My chest swells, much like it used to seeing him across the dark gym at homecoming. Except now it’s fantastically bright and he’s here, for me. And I realize we’ve done this relationship, or whatever it is, backward and inside out. We started in his bed and now we’re catching up, and it’s both frightening and a relief.
Yes, I can confide in Drew. I trust him, but then what? How many people do I have to say good-bye to, where I remain to pick up my own pieces? The people I love sprout wings and end up flying away, and it’s beyond my control. While I don’t want to be the anchor, or anyone’s excuse, I can’t subject myself to this over and over again.
I explain my feelings in the best way possible. “I’m not sure how this works, Drew. This whole letting go. Jasmine, Ally, and you—you all tell me I need to do it, but I can’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m scared of the unknown. For all the good things that have happened in my life, I’m scared for the other shoe to drop. Because inevitably it will.”
“That’s a happy thought,” he says wryly.
“I’m being a realist. Not everything happens perfectly all the time.”
“Yeah, but if you’re too cautious, then you’re always holding back. And after so many times of holding back, let’s say, five percent of yourself, you end up missing out on a majority of your life.” Drew’s eyes roll upward, as if he’s looking for the answer in the clouds. “Let’s practice a little at this letting go. Question: What do you want?”
The question stumps me, because it is as deep a chasm as it is narrow and stifling. “No one’s asked me that in a long time. Do I have a limit?”
“Just the sky.”
“You’re asking for trouble now.”
“Try me, Marino.”
I bite my cheek. Nonna used to have me practice in front of a mirror, to look at myself and declare my dreams. Say it and it will come true. “I want to cook every day. I want Ally to be anything she wants. I don’t want to have to think about money.”
“Anything else?”
I want to share my life. “Yep. That’s it.”
His face stills, and I wonder if he can tell I held back. Then I realize Drew was right. Jerk.
I clear my throat and try again. “I also want to be with . . . someone . . . a partner.”
Drew’s expression is neutral. Should I have said him? But where would he belong in my life, knowing he’s not here for good? My life is in this city. His life extends beyond the city limits, beyond the state.
I clear my throat. He’s closer now, so I wrap my arms around his waist. “How about you? What do you want?” I ask.
Drew’s eyes soften. “I want it all, Camille. I want the Army, the fun, the family, and the girl. Do you think that’s too much?”
I swallow a gallon of nerves. He wants the girl. Is that girl me?
He levels me with sincerity. “Granted, it’s scary as fuck, because it’s not possible to have everything. Someone’s going to be unhappy, or something won’t be fulfilled. But I’ve still got to try, you know? I can’t give up because I’m anticipating loss. I would never be able to take the risk of deployment, of leaving home. If I held back, I wouldn’t be right here. And right now, honestly? I want you.”