Love, Life, and the List

  The party was happening five days from now. I wanted to tell him that I changed my mind. That I did the Fourth of July on the pier. I watched the fireworks light sections of the ocean bright blue or green or pink. And I watched those same colors reflected in Cooper’s eyes. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? I had been doing the same things day after day and year after year and expecting different results. Who had said that was the definition of insanity? Einstein? Whoever it was had seen inside my head.

  My thumbs were poised ready to type something back when Mr. Wallace came down the hall. “Abby, can you take a summer preschool group through the museum Saturday at four? It was a last-minute request and all my docents are busy.”

  “Saturday?”

  “Yes. I know you don’t normally do tours, but it would really help me out.”

  Taking a group through the museum was like a dream job for me. Cooper had another race on Saturday. He’d texted me about it just that morning. It started at two, though. I just wouldn’t be able to celebrate afterward. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be here.”

  “Great. Thank you. Make sure there’s a blazer that fits you in the closet.” Mr. Wallace looked at the mop, the painting next to me, then my phone. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” I held up my phone. “My brain hit pause while it was trying to make a decision.”

  He gave an agreeable grunt. “I hate it when that happens.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Mr. Wallace started to walk away. “I have two weeks left, right?” I called after him.

  He turned with a confused face on. “No, the tour will be this Saturday.”

  “Right. I know. I mean for the showcase. You’re informing applicants in two weeks, right?”

  “Yes. But I thought we talked about this.” His face had a tired look that seemed to say, this is why I had banished you to the ticket counter—to avoid this conversation.

  “I want a chance. I’m working on my depth.”

  “I can’t imagine that in this short of time anything has changed enough in your technique that will affect my decision.”

  “I just want a chance to prove myself.”

  He sighed a heavy sigh, and it was probably only the super-pathetic pleading face that I’d put on that made him say, “I’ll take a look.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Abby. You don’t meet my age requirement, and you have a lot of really strong competition.” With that he finished walking away.

  It was a reluctant yes, but it gave me the hope I needed to continue on my quest.

  I moved to put the mop back in the bucket when I realized I still held my phone with the open text window. I sent two texts. The first was to Elliot.

  Let’s just meet there.

  I was already changing something by going to the party in the first place. I didn’t want to feel trapped, though.

  The second text was to Cooper.

  Hey, I won’t be able to celebrate after your race on Saturday. I will be trying to convince four-year-olds that art is more interesting than snack time.

  I tucked my phone away and dipped the mop into the soapy water. My phone buzzed against my thigh before I even had time to take it out again. I thought it would be Elliot, but it was Cooper.

  You can’t even convince me that art is more interesting than snack time. How will you ever accomplish this?

  Not sure. Especially when half the art is replications of food.

  But you’ll still make the race, right?

  For sure.

  Thanks.

  And I need to finish up my list and two more paintings.

  Help me think of something else.

  I’ll ponder it.

  Have you finished your classic?

  No.

  Me neither, I texted.

  Okay. I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a car with me either.

  My brows went down in confusion before I realized I was reading a pop-up text from Elliot.

  I responded. It’s not about that. It’s more about not wanting to be trapped at the party.

  We can leave anytime you want.

  My phone buzzed again before I had time to answer Elliot. What does epoch of incredulity mean anyway? Cooper was asking. I vaguely remembered that line from the beginning of A Tale of Two Cities.

  Did you start over? I gave you the summary. Did you not trust my summary?

  I switched back to Elliot’s text and answered. Okay, I’ll drive over with you. Do you have my address? It’s what I had originally planned anyway.

  No, but if I’m going to read the book, I had to at least read that famous paragraph. I don’t do things halfway, Cooper responded.

  Except chemistry projects. And English papers. And cleaning your bathroom.

  Fine. Things I care about.

  I smiled. He cared about the list. That made me happy.

  Another text from Elliot popped up. I already know where you live. But I’m not a stalker. My best friend lives on your street and I saw you pull into your driveway a while back.

  Who’s your best friend?

  To Cooper I wrote: It’s a period of skepticism. Or disbelief.

  You are. Why? Cooper wrote back less than a second after I had hit send.

  I am? What did that mean? I was a period of disbelief? I kind of felt like I was going through a bit of skepticism right now in regard to him, but he couldn’t possibly know that. I looked at the text again. Oops. I’d crossed texts.

  No, he really does. Ben Williams. Do you know him? Elliot responded to my skepticism text.

  I sent you the wrong text. That was meant for someone else, I wrote to both of them.

  Elliot answered first. Oh. That makes more sense. So I’ll see you Tuesday then. Eight o’clock?

  Sounds good.

  Cooper responded a few minutes later. Who was it meant for?

  Elliot.

  Why were you asking Elliot who his best friend is?

  Because I want to know if he’s looking for one. I’m searching for a replacement.

  Funny.

  I thought so. Gotta run. This floor isn’t going to mop itself.

  You’re mopping floors!? You’re out of ticket purgatory??

  Yes! So happy!

  You’re the only person I know who is happy to mop.

  Shhh. Art.

  BTW, good job on texting Elliot.

  Yeah yeah.

  When my shift was over, I made my way up the wide stairs with the glass half-wall railing and walked the halls slowly, trying to figure out which paintings and pieces to show the children I’d bring through on Saturday. We changed out the art all the time. There were very few pieces that were permanently housed here. It’s what brought patrons back time and again—new artists to see. But there was a permanent one that was always a hit with the kids. Mr. Wallace had hired a paper artist to come and create a flowing, swirling design made of paper that covered an entire corner of the upstairs hallway. It was three-dimensional and mesmerizing. That was a must-see.

  We’d just gotten a modern art piece on loan, and I hadn’t had time to look at it until today. The kids might appreciate the bright colors and strong lines of the painting. We’d done an art workshop last summer, and I’d discovered that kids loved to paint with bright colors. Remembering those kids’ paintings, I had an idea.

  I ran down the stairs and searched out Mr. Wallace. I stopped in front of him, breathless. “Could we display some of the kids’ art?”

  “What kids?”

  “The preschool group that’s coming through. Can you contact the teacher and ask her to bring by some of their drawings or paintings before Saturday, and I could hang them upstairs? I think it would be fun for them.”

  “You’ll come in early and do that?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “The children would probably like that.”

  “Of course they would. Everyone likes to see their own art displayed.” I hadn’t meant to say that with a
hard edge to my voice, but I did, and he noticed. I quickly finished, softer this time, with “I’d love to do that for them.”

  He nodded. “Good idea, Abby.”

  “Thank you.” Perhaps it was seeing those kids at the soup kitchen that made me think of it. Or maybe it was just that forcing myself to think differently was creating new ideas in other areas of my life too. Either way, I was happy I’d come up with it.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket with an incoming call as I headed for the door. I waited until I was outside before I answered it. A breeze played with my hair and brought with it the scent of the ocean.

  “Hello?” Instead of walking to my car, I took the path around the side of the building to the overlook. Two benches sat on the bluff, with a perfect view of the ocean below.

  “Abby!” said a voice that sounded distant but excited.

  “Hi?”

  “It’s Rachel! I found a pay phone! Austria has pay phones!”

  I sat down on the bench. “Rachel! It is so good to hear your voice. I miss you!”

  “Remember how I wondered if I’d love living without my phone?” She sighed. “I don’t. Not at all. Thank goodness my parents weren’t right.”

  I laughed. “Tell me everything.”

  “Aside from the phone thing, it’s been pretty amazing, actually. You and your artist brain would absolutely love it. It’s gorgeous, and there is so much art everywhere. Old buildings and history and culture.”

  “Have you been to Italy yet to find your cute Italian boy to make out with?”

  “Italy was first, but it’s hard to make out in front of constantly hovering parents. There were lots of really hot Italian boys though, so flirting was accomplished. We need to come back here after we graduate. The four of us.”

  “Four?”

  “Have we shrunk since I’ve been gone? Or expanded?”

  “Oh, right. Cooper and Justin.”

  “Oh no, I’ve been gone too long. Everything has changed.”

  “No. It hasn’t. We’re good. The four amigos.”

  “Did you really just say that? You’ve been hanging out with your grandpa too much this summer, haven’t you? I can’t leave you ever again.”

  “So true. I miss you,” I said.

  “You too. So, seriously, anything new happening there?”

  “Nope. Just art stuff.”

  “Any word from Justin?”

  “He sends pics occasionally. I think he sends more to Cooper.”

  “Send him a text from me, will you? Tell him: This is an equal friendship circle—we all get the same things or no things. Don’t be the cause of our demise.”

  “Wow, so dramatic.”

  “He’ll think it’s funny. Plus it’s true.”

  “So if we all get the same things, does this mean you’re calling Cooper next?”

  She growled. “You’re right. I guess I do need to call him.”

  “Do you want me to add something to your Justin text, like, I miss you? Or, I hope your work on the schoolhouse for the disadvantaged is going well?”

  She let out a single laugh. “Yes, add: Thank you for fulfilling the quota of good deeds required per friend group all by yourself.”

  “I will send it immediately.”

  “I have to go. My parents are standing by a bakery of some sort across the street and waving at me with both hands. People are starting to gather around them, as if they need help. And if I have to call Cooper now, I don’t have much time.”

  “Okay. Tell Cooper I said hi.”

  “Okay . . . wait. Why? You’re still talking to Cooper, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She took a relieved breath. “Okay, good. I’ll try to find another time to call you soon.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  A loud click sounded in my ear and the line went dead. I smiled. That’s what I was missing—my complete group of friends. I couldn’t wait for her to get home. With Rachel gone for the last month, I had forgotten why I had never told her about my feelings for Cooper. Now I remembered, and I was glad, once again, that I hadn’t. We all had the perfect dynamic, and everything would be back to perfect when they got home. I sent off Rachel’s message to Justin and left.

  SEVENTEEN

  “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.”