“Daze,” I said quietly, walking over to it. “This is beautiful.”
“It’s nice, right?” She reached out to the bottom hem, adjusting it, then stepped back, narrowing her eyes. “I’m still working out how far to take the candy theme. I don’t want it to be totally crazy, but I think I need something sort of fun for the trim. Maybe some silver, to look like Kisses or something.”
“You’re making two,” I observed, as she removed a pin, then replaced it. “Does this mean I still get to wear one?”
She looked at me. “Emaline. You’re entitled to have your own plans and your own dress. I swear, it’s not a big deal.”
“Big enough for you to tell a lie,” I pointed out. “And you never lie.”
It was true. Daisy was unfailingly honest, which could be both wonderful and awful. On the one hand, she would always tell you when an outfit didn’t look good or you were making a bad choice. On the other, she would always tell you when an outfit didn’t look good … or you were making a bad choice. How you felt about it might vary. But she never did.
“You were so happy that night when Theo asked you to the Beach Bash,” she said now. “And it’s just a dress.”
“A gorgeous dress,” I added. She smiled, pleased. “I’d love to have the chance to wear it. If you’ll allow me to.”
“Of course!” she said. “Who else is going to wear it? Morris?”
I looked at the dress again. “Blue’s not his color. Also, the sleeves would look bad with hairy arms.”
“Agreed. But I am getting him to wear long pants this year, if it kills me.”
She bent down over her sewing box, taking out something, and I took my normal place in the chair by the window, out of her creative space but still close enough to talk. I’d seen her through a lot of projects: we had our rituals.
“You want Morris to wear long pants,” I said, “and I’m just hoping I can convince Theo not to get a tux. Want to trade?”
“Nope,” she said. Immediately, she looked at me, worried. “I didn’t mean how that sounded. I just—”
“I understand,” I said, nodding. “Theo’s … well, he’s not for everyone.”
Wisely, she didn’t comment on this, instead bending down to pin something on the hem. From where I was sitting, all I could see was that it was sparkly, catching the bit of light slanting through her window. Finally she said, “He’s really nice. Just …”
I waited, but she didn’t continue. “Not from here,” I finished for her.
She looked over her shoulder at me. “It’s just a big switch from Luke, is all. I think I need a little bit longer to get used to it.”
“Don’t take too long,” I told her. “We’re only going to be together for another few weeks, at most.”
“Emaline!” She looked dismayed. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“You don’t know that.” She turned back to the dress, sliding a pin into the hem.
“I think I do,” I said. “I don’t really see us in a long-distance relationship.”
“Why not?”
“Because they never work?” I asked.
“Some do.”
“Who? My mom and father? Or just about anyone else we know who’s had one?”
“Still, they don’t all fail,” she said, her back still to me.
“The odds aren’t good.”
To this, she said nothing. So it was in total, awkward silence that I finally became aware of how fully and completely I had just stuck my foot in my own big, stupid mouth. Whoops.
“Daisy,” I said. “I was talking about me and Theo, not—”
“It’s fine,” she replied, but the stiffness in her voice erased any doubt I’d struck a nerve.
I got up and walked over to her to stand next to the other dummy. “It’s not. I’m sorry. Look, Theo and I have been together, like, four weeks. You and Morris are long-term.”
She bit her lip, focusing on folding back a piece of the neckline. “No, you’re right. Nobody ever stays together long-distance. And having a boyfriend when you go off to school … it’s a terrible idea.”
“Everyone’s different,” I offered. Lamely.
“I’m going to school over seven hours away,” she pointed out. “He’s staying here and taking classes at Coastal Tech. And that’s if he can get his act together. Which is a big if. I love Morris, but I can’t fix him. Especially from Georgia.”
This was the first time, ever, I’d heard her use the L Word. I had a flash of Morris, walking down the side of the main road, lumbering along. Who was going to take care of him when we were both gone?
“Anyway, my point is that I need to take a lesson from you. Just enjoy things while they last, then be done with it.”
“It’s a bit easier to do when you’ve only been dating twenty-nine days,” I said. “Also, I’m dealing with someone Not From Here. Who wants to wear a tuxedo to the Beach Bash.”
This made her smile, thank God. “It is kind of ridiculous.”
“I know.”
She moved around to the other side of the dress and bent down to the hem again. I looked at the pink version, stretched out across the bed, then around the room itself. I had spent so many hours in this same place, watching her sew while the sound of the Weather Channel (always on, her mom and dad were obsessed with it) wafted in from the living room. It felt like I’d taken everything for granted up until just right now, when suddenly my entire world and all in it became precious and fleeting. I should have paid more attention, soaked it in more. Which you always realize once it’s getting too late to do just that.
“So,” she said, in the voice that made it clear she was ready to switch topics, “what are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have big plans tonight, or something?”
I did. As big a plan as I got these days, which was hanging out at the Washroom or one of Clyde’s other haunts, waiting for Theo to be done with work. After Benji left the office with my dad, I’d been en route to do just that when I passed the entrance to Daisy’s neighborhood and stopped in, on impulse. I was glad I had.
“Not really,” I said, taking my seat by the window again. “You?”
“You’re looking at it.” She turned back to me. “Can you hand me those scissors? The small pair, not the big.”
I bent over her sewing box, finding the ones she wanted, then handed them off to her. She thanked me, then went to her work. In no time, she’d get into that place where she’d forget I was there, but no matter. I knew we were together, at least for now. And right then, while I still could, it was exactly where I wanted to be.
16
“SO THE PLAN,” my father said, gesturing to the living room, “is to keep only the basic furnishings here until mid-August, when we go back home. Of course, if we’re very lucky, we might get an offer by—”
“Dollar!” Benji called out, interrupting him. “You owe me a dollar!”
My father looked at him. “Benji. I’m talking.”
“You mentioned the end of the summer, so you have to pay the tax. It’s the rule! Right, Emaline?”
Now, everyone looked at me. “Um, I think that just applies to us two only. Not everyone else.”
Benji made a face. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear about it. I’m going outside.”
And with that, he left, letting the front screen door fall shut with a bang behind him. We all watched him stomp down the front walk, wildly swatting at the no-see-’ems that hung around the bushes out front as they descended upon him.
My father cleared his throat. “Obviously, he’s not taking the separation well.”
“It’s hard on kids,” Margo murmured, in her Realtor voice.
“Anyway, as I was saying …” he continued, starting to walk again. She fell in behind him, scribbling on her ever-present notepad, but I hung back, looking out at Benji. He was now sitting on the steps by the mailbox, looking down the empty street as if waiting on something that should be showing up soon
, any minute now. The no-see-’ems had returned to the bushes, swirling around each other in a big, buzzing cloud.
By the time I caught up with my father and Margo, they were in the kitchen, which was cluttered with boxes and packing supplies. “I really need to get the bulk of this stuff boxed,” he was saying. “But dealing with Benji and this deadline I’m on for my article, it’s been impossible.”
“We can look into prices for packers,” Margo suggested.
“Paying movers is expensive enough.”
My sister considered this. “Well, then Emaline could do it.”
“Me?” I said. “I’m supposed to be at work now.”
“This is your work,” she said to me.
“Does that mean you’re going to do the towel runs and organize the request checks when we get back? Because I’m leaving the office right at five today, whether they’re done or not.”
“Emaline,” she said. She glanced at my father, who had picked up his phone from the counter and was now studying its screen, then lowered her voice. “What have I told you about discussing personnel issues in front of clients?”
“He’s my father,” I reminded her. “And you can’t just dump everything on me.”
“Fine. I’ll ask Morris.” She made a note on her pad, then said, “Joel, I’m just going to make a few calls. The first movers should be here in a few minutes for that estimate.”
“What?” My father looked up. “Oh, right. Thanks.”
Margo smiled, then picked up her purse from the chair beside her and stepped out onto the screened side porch. Within moments, I could hear her on the phone, talking too loudly as always. I tipped my head back, looking up at the ceiling as if there might be strength there.
“He informed me this morning,” my father said after a moment, “that when I take him back to Connecticut, it will in effect ruin his entire life as we know it.”
I was startled, not least because I’d thought my father was absorbed in whatever text he was reading or sending. “Benji did?” I asked stupidly. Like it would be anyone else.
“To say he was disappointed when I said I’d be doing it regardless is a massive understatement.” He sighed, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down. I did the same. “He’s become very fond of you. Obviously.”
“Well, that’s sweet,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s only about me.”
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
“Maybe not.” I looked out at Margo, pacing around the porch, phone to her ear. “But really, I think it’s Colby, the summer … the whole package. He just doesn’t want to think about everything changing.”
“Change is inevitable, though,” he replied. “As is disappointment. Best to get used to it now.”
“How can you get used to it?” I asked. “It’s always changing.”
At this, he smiled, and I realized how few times I’d actually seen him do so, especially on this trip. “You’ve always been a smart one, Emaline.”
“I think I can just relate,” I said. “With him and me, there’s a lot of big stuff ahead. My whole life is changing at the end of summer, too, with school and all.”
I really wasn’t thinking as I said this; it just came naturally, as truths tend to do. It was only after the words left my mouth that I realized what I’d said, and to whom I’d said it. Sure enough, his face was already reddening, his discomfort obvious.
“Yes, well,” he stammered, then coughed into his hand. “Again, it’s part of life in general. One must learn to adapt, move on.”
Move on. This, clearly, was when I was supposed to do just that. Back off again, sparing him all the discomfort he had easily caused me. But I’d already waded out this far. For once, I decided to dive in.
“The truth is,” I began, then paused as he shifted, still noticeably uncomfortable, in his chair, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. My going to school, and what happened between us, back in the spring.”
And there it was. The elephant in our collective room, the shared albatross around our necks, recognized and out in the open. This was my moment to ask him all my questions, just like the ones I’d written out for Mr. Champion’s class all those years ago. No time for drafts or polish, though. I just had to do it.
“Oh,” he said quickly, shifting again. “Well, I’m not sure this is the right place or—”
“I just never really understood why you didn’t answer my messages,” I pressed on. “And then when you didn’t respond to my graduation invitation, after all the work we’d done … I felt like I’d done something wrong.”
“Emaline.” He held up a hand, palm flat out to me. “Not now.”
“But I just—”
“No.”
In that one word, two letters, I heard it: the sharp, final tone I associated with my actual parents, the one that let you know when something went from a maybe to no chance and keeping up pushing would most likely lead to a punishment. No talking. No explanation. Just: no.
“Think I just heard the movers pull up,” Margo reported, coming in from the side porch. “And they’re on time. Early, even! That’s a good sign. I’ll go let them in.”
She started for the door, and I just looked at him, his red face, the way, without me even really noticing, he’d at some point pulled back from the table, putting that much more space between us. I just knew that if I said another word he’d be gone from the room; another sentence, from the house. This was the way it had to be, or so I was figuring out. When it came to the two of us, it didn’t matter if it was the summer, this past year, or all our lives. The one constant, beside change, was that we played by his rules. Otherwise, the game was over.
* * *
Back at the office, I threw myself into work for a solid three hours, organizing towels, making deliveries, and doing check-ups. Then, at a minute to five, I clocked out and went home to change.
Theo was getting off work early, for once, and he’d made plans for us to have what he called the Best Outdoor Date Ever. All I knew was I’d been instructed to be at the Washroom at 6 p.m. sharp and wear flats. Which was in itself hilarious, as I never wore anything else. But Theo liked to cover all his bases when it came to his Best Evers. The least I could do was follow directions.
At my house, I let myself in and headed down the hallway to my room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear voices just beyond it. Dammit, I thought, feeling that familiar annoyance rise up in me. I pushed it open.
There, on the bed, were Morris and Amber. They were sharing a bowl of popcorn, watching my TV, and both of them had their shoes on. I did not even know where to start.
“Why are you in my room?” I demanded.
Morris swallowed the popcorn he’d been chewing. “You weren’t home yet.”
“Dad’s painting the kitchen trim,” Amber said. Today, suddenly, she was wearing hair extensions, rounding out a retro-feathered look. “It stinks up there.”
“So you made popcorn and got into my bed with your dirty shoes on.”
“My shoes aren’t dirty,” my sister, who knew better than to vouch for Morris, said. She held out the bowl to me. “Want some? It’s still warm.”
I glared at her. Then I remembered I’d skipped lunch because of Margo. Experience had taught me that I really only had the energy to be annoyed with one sister at a time, so I took a handful. “I’m still not happy about this.”
“I know,” she said, as if she’d had nothing to do with it. Morris, beside her, helped himself to some more as well. “Why are you home so early?”
“I told you,” Morris said. “She’s got a date.”
“She always has a date these days,” Amber told him, like I wasn’t even there. Then she tossed her fake hair, a move she’d clearly been practicing. “She’s seeing a dater.”
“A dater?” I repeated, getting my towel and stepping into the bathroom. The door was superthin, so I could still hear every word.
“A guy who likes t
o date,” she explained, chewing. “As opposed to one who just wants to hang out.”
“What’s the difference?” Morris asked.
“Do you plan extravagant events and outings that make for special moments?” she asked him.
“What do you think?” I called out, stripping off my shirt.
“Exactly,” Amber said. “A dater likes dates. Theo’s a dater. The guys I get involved with just like to hang out. Preferably with cheap beer or video games involved. Ideally, both.”
“What’s wrong with video games?” Morris said.
“They’re passive. Dating is active. Which means you don’t do it sitting on the couch.” I heard her eat another handful of popcorn. “Which is why I, myself, am not a dater. I like the couch. And the beer and video games. And I love the boys who love them.”
Usually, I found Amber’s theories to be far-fetched, if not outright ludicrous. But this one, I realized as I started the water, was not so off. Theo was the planner, the cruise director of our relationship. He planned, he paid, he engineered the Best Memories Ever. And on days like this, especially, I was really fortunate to have him.
When I got out of the shower, my sister had vanished, leaving just Morris and the now-empty bowl of popcorn. “Where’s the dating expert?”
“Went to get another Diet Coke,” he replied, studiously avoiding looking at me, even though I was wearing a towel that covered everything. Having a guy for a best friend required certain modifications, especially when it came to undressing. But Morris and I had been best friends a long time. Like me and Daisy, we had our rituals.
I grabbed my clothes, then went back into the bathroom, leaving the door only a crack open. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Wanted to talk to you.”
I raised my eyebrows at my own reflection. “About what?”
“Daisy.”
“Oh.” This sounded serious. “Okay. I’ll just be a sec.”
I got dressed, then combed my wet hair, put on some makeup, and dug my nicer sandals out from behind the hamper. When I returned, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his phone. I joined him, then waited. Morris talked, as he did everything, at his own pace and on his own schedule. Finally he said, “I have to break up with her.”