35. One for a Return
35
One for a Return
The final days leading up to the festival are too full for me to develop any more best-laid schemes. After working late every day, I spend evenings on campus to go over things with Evie before heading home to handle Watch Me Unravel or text the volunteers, and, as has happened almost every night, fall asleep in Wanda’s room to the sounds of artillery being fired.
Gladys, Uncle Andy, and I work to check and double-check what we will be bringing to the festival, then get it packed up, ready to go. Gladys rivals me with her organization, resulting in the most detailed and neatly labeled boxes I’ve ever encountered.
“I’ve got to keep focus,” Uncle Andy says whenever I bring up Cass, even in the most subtle and indirect manner.
“I need to work on the statue. It’s keeping you in college,” Cass replies when I make any mention of Corner Books or Uncle Andy. “It’s going to come down to the wire.”
I feel guilty trying to tell Cass what to do with Uncle Andy, considering I’ve essentially ghosted Luke. My polite and grammatically correct answers have turned into one-word replies, mostly yes or no .
Wanda gets up from her gaming chair and stretches. “We both better get some sleep. Tomorrow’s the festival.”
“I only have a few more things to respond to,” I say, switching between my laptop and phone.
“By the time I’m done in the bathroom, we’re both turning off all electronics for the night.”
“Sure,” I yawn, typing as fast as I can.
Tomorrow will either be a disaster or work out successfully, a lot like Dean Perez and his Rubik’s Cube.
I turn off my laptop and phone, place them on the corner of Wanda’s desk, and notice the bar on the bottom of her screen flashing.
I lean forward and click open the game she was playing, a futuristic space adventure. There’s a message from chickn_backflip.
Hope tomorrow is great for you and your friend , it reads.
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. At least one person I know deserves a happy ending and Wanda’s the last man standing. She’s almost family, after all, but since she doesn’t share any genetics with Cass or me, Wanda can’t have the same skill at lousing things up with guys as we do. Wanda’s putting herself out there more. She must be overdue for romance.
I listen to make sure I can hear water running before I sit down in Wanda’s chair and type: Maybe I’ll see you there?
chickn_backflip sends a reply: Is that you saying you’re ready to meet?
My first instinct is to answer, “Duh!” But Wanda wouldn’t do that. She’d play it cool.
I type, It’s a public event. Say hi if you’re around.
I see chickn_backflip typing but the water stops running in the bathroom. I log out of the game. It goes back to its loading screen, erasing the messaging history.
When Wanda enters, I stand and stretch. “I’m going to sleep in my own bed tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No more electronics,” Wanda warns, shutting her computer down. “Promise?”
“They’re already turned off.” I head downstairs.
My sleep is restless and I’m up before my alarm, which I set extra early so I could get to Corner Books to do my own checks before Gladys and Uncle Andy arrive.
I’m the first customer in the coffee shop down the block and it’s nice to see Mya is working and hear her and Jerome are still going strong. I order one of the new, overpriced, deluxe beverages. My only instructions to her, “Extra caffeine and lots of sugar.” After a couple of sips I can feel the buzz.
As I enter Corner Books and relock the door, I get a text.
Luke: Are you going to give me the cold shoulder IRL too?
I look up from my screen to see him standing on the other side of the door, holding his phone.
I open the door. Luke steps inside and follows me to the stacks of boxes that are going to the festival.
“You don’t answer my texts anymore?” Luke asks.
“I answered.”
“Barely.”
I wave at all the boxes. “I’ve been swamped.” I swap my coffee for my clipboard with my pages of checklists.
Luke places his hand over my papers. “We hang out all summer. You say we’re friends. Then you won’t even look my way. I think I deserve to know what I did.”
Excuses form, but they never take shape. Instead, I say, “You didn’t do anything. That’s what you did.”
He wrinkles his brow. “I don’t know what that means.”
I wet my lips and swallow. “The night I fell outside your house, I saw you holding Roger.”
Luke’s brow furrows, thinking. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”
“You had your arms around him. You told him you loved him.”
“I didn’t.”
“I saw you.”
“If you’d let me explain.”
“I don’t need an explanation.”
Luke takes his hand off my clipboard. “I never know where I stand with you. You’ve been sending me mixed signals from the moment we met.”
“Want to talk about mixed signals, love Grinch? How about you never told me you were into guys.”
“I told you the second time we spoke.”
“You weren’t clear. I thought you were talking about reading.”
“You read everything,” he says. “You should have read between the lines.”
We’re both silent.
Finally, Luke says, “What was I? Another person for you to manipulate? A piece in one of your plans?”
“I help people find love.”
“You play with them. You can’t stop yourself. I don’t even think you know you’re doing it.”
“Like you’re any better with your bench, or the stone, or the skinny-dipping. At least mine are innocent mistakes. I try to do something good.”
Luke shakes his head. “Tell that to your collateral damage. Like Andy. Or Cass. Or Truman.”
I smack my clipboard down on the nearest stack of boxes. “I’m not the one who was playing house with my roommate.”
Luke slings his backpack off. “You don’t even know what you saw.”
“I know exactly what I saw.”
Luke unzips his backpack and pulls out three books. The three I gave him. He holds them out to me.
“Tell the Book Whisperer I’d like to make a return.”
When I don’t reach out to take the books, Luke puts them down on the counter. He pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket and smooths it out on top of the stack, then turns and leaves.
My list for my perfect summer with Luke’s name crossed off.