Chapter Seventeen #2
“Not the dresses, apparently,” Clark muttered under his breath.
“Dude,” Ben said.
“What? It’s true.”
“Well, we are getting married at the lake. Usually Jonathan’s family does weddings at his grandmother’s house in Memphis. And it’s as close to the Fourth of July as possible, which is when we met.” Her smile looked a bit forced. “So it is kind of full circle, in the end.”
We were all quiet for a moment. Lana turned an album page, which crackled.
I leaned toward the dollhouse, the open side of which was facing me, and scanned the reproduction there of the room where we were now sitting.
Windows, archway to kitchen. I slid my hand down the hallway to the front door, poking it open.
Ben was on the other side, squinting at the salt-and-pepper shakers, and we both jumped.
“Sorry,” he said as I laughed. He smiled before closing it.
As they all began talking again, I looked at the box of furniture, still by my elbow. Toward the top I saw a couple of wooden beds, a heart carved into each headboard. A pile of crocheted blankets, clearly handmade, were under some nearby bookshelves.
There was nothing in the house except the piano and table I’d put in earlier, plus the tiny pastries.
I picked up the beds, putting one into the reproduction of the room with the Bone Breaking window, which also had a bit of a drop.
The other went behind the tiny door of Juvie, where there was just enough room for it to fit.
Next, a blanket to cover each. It was just a playhouse, all make-believe. Still, better than nothing at all.
For dinner, it was decided we’d get pizza. There was just one problem.
“She’s not?” I heard Liz say from the kitchen, where she’d called in the order. “When will she be back?”
“Poor Kate.” Lana clicked her tongue from the other end of the front steps, where we’d all gone to escape the heat inside.
“Don’t feel too sorry for her. She makes a fortune in tips,” Clark said from the truck. He and Ben were sitting on the tailgate. Anne had left to meet Jonathan at the Tides. “Especially with that brace she’s wearing now.”
Again, I was clueless. Although I was pretty sure this person was not related. Maybe?
“Boatyard Pizza,” Ben explained to me. “Kate’s a delivery driver.”
“The only delivery driver,” Clark added. “Plus she’s a grandmother. With a bad knee.”
“Just as well.” The door clunked as Liz came out, fanning herself with one hand. In the other was a credit card. “I can’t bear to see her wobbling across the grass again just to bring us food. Especially considering she used to be my high school principal.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Also ran detention. She was very familiar with your mom.” She held up the card. “Can someone go grab the order? I’m going to try and catch Trav at the office before he leaves.”
“Not it,” Lana said, closing her eyes as she stretched her legs out.
“Ditto,” Clark added.
A beat. “And then there were two,” Ben said. He looked at me. “Well? You up for another shared memory?”
With him? Definitely.
Soon we’d bounced down the driveway, turned left at the Egg, and were on the curving road, the water glittering out my window.
I was becoming acutely aware of the fact that neither of us had spoken when he said, “Now I’m feeling like maybe before inviting you along I should have prepared a topic or something. ”
It was a particular skill, I realized, to acknowledge an awkwardness in the moment. Disarming, too. “Like what?”
He shrugged. “The weather. Politics? Maybe snack foods.”
“Those are your go-tos?”
“Not politics,” he admitted. “I just threw that one in there.”
“Have you always been so comfortable saying what you’re thinking?” I asked.
“Unfortunately.” He sighed. “I think it comes from moving around so much. I had to get to know people over and over again, do all the formalities. Got to the point where I just didn’t have the energy.”
“It’s kind of endearing,” I observed.
“Yeah?” he said. Immediately, I felt my face flush. Maybe it was the small space. Or just that I’d gotten used to his company. But evidently, I was now getting comfortable as well. He gave me a smile. “Good to know.”
I cleared my throat. Now I was blushing and choking.
“Also,” he continued, “my dad was famous for his tendency towards, um, untruth. I think this weird openness is a way of rebelling.”
“I didn’t say it was weird.”
“Which is exactly my point.” He sighed. “You didn’t have to. I did.”
The road curved again, a sign that said BOATYARD.
Beneath it, in a different font: PIZZA. Ben slowed, then turned onto the wide gravel drive, which was lined with, yes, boats on sawhorses, some partially covered in tarps.
We passed a large metal warehouse-like structure facing the water, also crowded with vessels of all shapes and sizes.
Ahead was a smaller cinder-block building with a BEER neon sign.
“Speaking of my dad,” he said. “He used to have a Jet Ski–and-paddleboard rental place on the dock here.”
“Yeah?”
“Until one sank and it was discovered he had no insurance. That was his first lawsuit.” He pulled up by a strip of grass. “Marshall was about to open Fishbones, threw him a pity job managing. Eventually they became partners in the Egg.”
I looked at him. “Your dad owns part of the Egg?”
“No. He pocketed the money set aside for taxes. Second lawsuit.” He pushed open his door. “After that, he got run out of town.”
Just then, a battered Toyota hatchback pulled in to our right. A woman with short, curly white hair in a NORTH LAKE T-shirt was behind the wheel.
“You picking up?” she asked Ben. She pushed open her door and got out with a grunt. Clearly, this was Kate. I immediately clocked the knee brace. “Who for?”
“Liz,” he replied as she slammed the door.
“Come on, then.” With that, she started toward the nearby building with the neon sign, limping noticeably. Around her waist sagged a battered fanny pack. Her socks were pulled up tight above her sneakers, which looked orthopedic.
The pizza place was small and dark, with an overall sticky feel. A guy with a ponytail was poking at pies in a large oven as Led Zeppelin crackled through a speaker somewhere. Kate went behind the counter, where four boxes were stacked, a receipt slapped on top.
“This is you,” she told Ben. I was closer, so I stepped forward, hoisting the top two into my arms. She narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s your name? You look familiar.”
Even if Liz hadn’t mentioned she’d once been a principal, there was a directness to her tone that immediately made me nervous in that specifically academic way. “Finley,” I replied.
Kate studied me, not saying anything. Ben picked up the remaining pizzas before saying, “Cat Woods is her mom.”
“Aha.” Her voice was flat. “I knew it. You look just like her.”
Before I’d come here, no one had ever told me this.
“Heard they’re selling that house finally,” she continued as the pizza oven banged shut. She made an impatient gesture at Ben, who then handed over Liz’s card. “Estate sale’s this weekend?”
Ben looked at me. When I didn’t reply, he said, “Everything got moved out today.”
“Oh boy, would the Judge be furious to see that.” Beep went the card reader. She looked at me, then said, “Your grandpa sure had a temper. Among other failings. But you know about that from your mom, I’m sure.”
The way she said this, I was pretty sure I was meant to be insulted. I wasn’t. I did wish I knew what she was talking about, though. Ben took the card. “See ya, Kate,” he told her. She harrumphed in reply.
Then we were walking out into what felt like the very bright light. In comparison anyway. “For what it’s worth, she talks about everyone,” Ben said to me. “My dad’s just ‘That Common Criminal.’ Never calls him by his name, if she even knew it in the first place.”
“I did feel like a delinquent just by association,” I admitted. “Meanwhile, I’ve never even had detention.”
“It’s overrated,” he said. “Mostly just clock-watching.”
We passed the office again, then the boats.
This time I took note of the kiosks on the dock offering bait and tugboat rides, imagining his dad there with a younger Kasey and Marshall, who I’d never meet.
Somehow, it was all easier than thinking of my mom as the homecoming queen or a punk girl. And those I’d seen with my own eyes.
I felt a wave of missing Colin hit me, unexpectedly.
There were so many pictures of us, from that first dinner with his family all the way up to graduation, just days earlier.
What would I think of when I looked at them, years from now?
Naming all fifty states, or seeing that girl who resembled me beside him?
It was impossible to know as the shutter clicked.
All you had was that moment. And right then, I wanted them all back.
“Want to talk about the weather?” he asked, bringing me back to the present. “The dew point’s supposed to be insane this week.”
“I probably should,” I replied. “I was thinking about Colin.”
A series of motorcycles passed noisily, going the other direction. In the relative quiet after, he said, “Makes sense. It’s pretty fresh.”
“And I think I’m facing that truth finally,” I said. “Mastodons aside, it’s really over.”
“Endings are hard. Especially when you’re not used to them,” he told me. “Moving on is like a muscle. You have to build it up.”
“And you have.”
“I didn’t really have a choice,” he said. “And it’s not all good. I was just talking about the dew point, in case you missed that.”
“I think I just kind of lost myself in him.” I looked out the window at the water going by. “Especially the stuff I didn’t have, like a big, happy family and cool friends. And now it’s gone.”
He considered this. “Not necessarily. I mean, you have family here. And what’s cooler than a totally awkward friend you share both memories and toothpaste with?”
“Nothing?”
“Exactly,” he replied.
I felt my face warm. It seemed impossible to feel both loss and potential at once. Another surprise. “I think the thing with Colin is… I just got swept up and lost myself. Like a tornado. It was dizzying.”
“Well, at the risk of yet again putting it all out there,” he said as the Egg came up ahead, “it sounds more like a hurricane than a relationship. And around here we try to avoid those.”
I thought of the water creeping up to the porch of the Woods, strong enough to take even a piano. And then Colin, drumming his pencil on his temple, turning to look at me.
“And if you can’t?” I asked.
“Ride it out,” he replied. “Survey the damage. And then rebuild.”