Chapter 28
Like Strawberries on a Summer Evening
Aria
When I open my eyes, I’m lying in my bed.
I can’t remember how I got here. My eyelids are crusty; I roll onto my back, stare up into the warm golden dots of my string lights, and think back to yesterday.
About how I went to the party to see Paxton and wound up meeting Wyatt instead.
I wait for the familiar pain that always arrives when his name pops up, but this time it doesn’t.
Something has changed. And there’s another feeling inside me.
A growing sadness, and suddenly I know why.
Camila.
I jump out of bed all at once, rush into the bathroom, quickly brush my teeth, comb my hair, and get dressed—quick, quick, quick.
I jump down into the hall instead of using the ladder and tie my hair in a bun on the way to her room.
I tap my knuckles against the rough wood of the door.
Camila’s exhausted voice calls me in. I peer cautiously through the crack. “Hey. Can I come in?”
Camila nods. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, her phone in her hand, her hair still wet from a shower. As I sit down next to her, she starts winding it around her finger nervously. “Wyatt’s already told me what happened yesterday.”
“How do you feel?”
She shrugs. “Okay, I guess. A bit tired, and I’ve got a headache, but otherwise…”
I react with a distracted nod while considering the olive-green titmice on the wallpaper and what the best way to begin might be.
“Listen, Cam… Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about?”
Her fingernails scratch at a glitter sticker on the back of her phone. Without looking up, she shakes her head.
“You’re seventeen,” I say, my voice gentle and understanding.
“Seventeen, Camila. You shouldn’t even be drinking beer, but you’ve been hitting much harder stuff than that.
” The wet strands of her hair leave damp traces on the back of my hand as I stroke her shoulder.
“What’s going on in that lovely little head of yours? What can’t you handle?”
There’s a long pause in which Camila just taps her phone against her ankle. Eventually she takes a deep breath as if ready to say something. But at the last second, she swallows and shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m just trying things out.”
“We tried things out, too, eh? But I’m talking two, three beers, Camila. Now and again a shot of something stronger, but that was it, and the next day we’d be hungover enough to last the next half year of school.”
Camila puts her phone down in her lap and looks up at me. “Those were different times, Aria. Everyone else in my grade drinks every weekend. At least.”
“Good for them. Really cool. I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed when they get cirrhosis. Must be as cool as it sounds, huh? I mean, cirrhosis, wow, exotic. Who wouldn’t want that?”
She acknowledges my sarcasm with a disparaging glance.
“Well, Cam, what do you want me to tell you? Lie? You’re going to do yourself in if you keep up like this.”
All of a sudden, there’s a knock at the door, then Mom’s voice rings in from the hall. “Housekeeping!”
“Not now, Mom!”
A few seconds go by. I can see my mother standing behind the door, wondering what I’m doing here in Wyatt’s room, even though he’s not even here—but of course she can’t know that.
Finally, she starts moving again. I hear her footsteps and the room service trolley rolling down the hall before her voice rings out again outside our neighbor’s door.
By the time I turn back to Camila, she’s turned away.
She’s looking at her red nail polish, her head tilted.
“Last night, that was… No idea,” she says, timidly and quietly.
“I didn’t drink all that much. Paxton was at the party, and, seeing as I wanted to talk to him, I drank a few beers at the ski hut after work first.” She shrugs. “That’s it.”
“Paxton?!”
She blushes.
I frown. “What’s up between you and Paxton?”
“Nothing.”
“You have a crush on him?” When she doesn’t answer, I add, “Are you in contact?”
The red spots on her face get bigger and move down to her neck.
She slides around restlessly on the mattress.
Suddenly she grabs her phone and jumps up.
“No. He, umm… Friends of mine have told me that he’s into you, so…
Yeah.” Her eyes hurry to the door. “Your mom asked me yesterday if I could help her out with the stuffing, so I better be getting downstairs.” A short and quite obviously fake laugh crosses her lips before she adds, “Need to make sure Ruth doesn’t fill it with raisins instead of bread again. ”
What a lame excuse. Mom just walked by.
Camila goes toward the door.
“Wait. Cam, wait. I wanted to ask you if, well, I mean, Knox… He’s studying psychology, right? And, well, seeing as he’s something like a second brother to you, maybe the two of you could talk about everything that’s happened sometime and… Hey!”
The door clicks shut. No chance. Camila’s locked up tight. I think she has a lot to say, but she’s too distant for my questions to ever reach her.
The button on my jeans is tight. My tummy is so full that it protests loudly against the restriction. Mom wants to load me up with another piece of turkey, but I wave my hands and shake my head while the sweet potatoes melt in my mouth. “I’m stuffed.”
She simply dumps it on William’s plate instead, which is next to mine. He immediately digs in as if he hadn’t already eaten two fully loaded plates. Cranberry sauce is dripping from the depths of his gray beard. My eyes meet Wyatt’s. He grins, and it looks so beautiful that I choke on a bean.
The corners of Wyatt’s mouth grow even wider before he turns away and briefly puts his hand on my mom’s shoulder. “That was really good, Ruth. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Oh, Wyatt.” She ruffles his hair just like she always used to when, for a change, he wasn’t wearing his hat. “Of course.” Then she looks around the table. “So, who’d like to begin?”
Right, almost forgot. Time for giving thanks. I nervously stick my hands under my thighs and lower my gaze. All day long I’ve been wondering what to say. Indeed, what am I thankful for at the moment?
But before I can think of anything, Mom starts speaking again. “I am thankful for having my daughter back.”
I look up. She’s smiling faintly, and the glow in her eyes is warm and loving.
“And for having gone to the naturopath.” She outright begins to beam as she raises her hands and looks at them as if they were new.
“After I talked it through with my doctor, we adjusted the meds—less cortisone, more support. Thanks to that and the right supplements, the swelling is going down, and the pain is getting more manageable by the day. I wouldn’t have thought that a mix of injections, vitamins and just doing things differently could help that much.
And no, I haven’t thrown out my prescriptions, just found out something that helps on top of them. ”
William pats his chest. “That’s what I always told you, Ruth. Life can be painful, but nature heals. That’s what I’m thankful for. For nature. And that I live in this wonderful town with all its wonderful people.”
Mom gives him a glorious smile. She’s looking at William like he was the most beautiful creature on earth, with his cranberry-sauce beard and suspenders.
He smiles back, a bit awkwardly, but with an expression I’ve never seen on him before, and suddenly I get the shock of my life—I realize what’s been going on here all this time.
It’s not just that William likes my mom; it’s that she likes him, too.
OH. MY. GOD.
My head automatically whirls around, my widened eyes bore into Wyatt’s, who immediately knows what I’m thinking and has to make an effort to suppress a laugh attack. Holy Mary, Mother of God. This situation has got to finish, like, now.
“I am thankful for this, umm, pumpkin pie.” I poke it with the fork, without having cut it into pieces beforehand, and leave a large crater behind. I shove one fork after the other into my mouth. “Wow. I mean, wow. This is just sooo good, really.”
Camila wriggles her nose. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be having any of that now.”
“What?” Crumbs spill over my lips. “You of all people are saying that?”
“I am thankful for being healthy,” she says. “And, in case you’ve forgotten, you had herpes once, and I am not interested in that at all.”
Wyatt spits his wine back into his glass, sprinkling the edges with red. “I remember that.”
“That was seven years ago!”
She shrugs. “Once herpes, always herpes.”
My chin drops. “You monster! Take it back. Oh, and by the way, your insurance statement came yesterday; they’re covering your stay. But take a guess what caused the water damage.”
Wyatt raises his head; Camila sinks hers.
“What? No one’s told me a thing yet.”
I point at his sister with my fork. A piece of pie falls into my wine glass.
“The pipes were eaten away. Presumably from too much Drano. Not accusing anyone of anything, of course, but I wouldn’t be surprised at all to learn that our chaos queen here never cleaned her drain when her thick strands of hair blocked it and simply poured too much cleaner down it afterward.
” Camila turns bright red. A confident grin sneaks onto my face.
“Tell me again to my face I’ve got herpes. ”
Everyone breaks out in laughter, even Camila, until William looks at his watch. Sizing up the situation, he tilts his head from left to right before saying, “I’m afraid I have to leave you all.”
“Already? I’d hoped you would be able to stay longer,” my mom says with a sad look.
Ugh, no, this is something I don’t want to hear, not at all.
“Sorry, Ruth, but I can’t.” He rigorously shakes his head, pushes back his chair, and stands up with his chin out and hands behind his back as if he’d just gotten orders from a superior.
“In seven minutes and thirty-five seconds, the moon will enter its highest phase of the cycle, which will make me unbearable, utterly grating.”
Camila coughs. “Only then?”
He turns to her. Cranberry sauce drips onto his odd, colorful, knee-high wool boots. “You should see a doctor, Camila. Your bronchitis doesn’t sound too good. I’ll make you a special mixture.”
“I don’t need any…”
“Oh!” His eyes grow wide as he looks back at his watch. “Six minutes and fourteen seconds! From here I need five minutes and three seconds to get home, so… Oh, Aria! Sorry, excuse me, sorry.”
I think I’ve been blinded. His elbow just hit me in the face.
Wyatt laughs. “Quick, Will, quick! Hurry up, you’re already getting unbearable!”
Will starts to panic. He trips over Hershey, who hisses, and we all break out laughing again and are laughing still when the door shuts.
Mom is sitting there looking outside, a dreamy smile on her lips, shaking her head. “William Gifford, you are incomparable.”
She is still smiling as she stands up and begins to clear the table.
Wyatt, Camila, and I help, but when she moves to empty the dishwasher, we send her upstairs.
Despite the conversation Camila and I had, things are relaxed as we clean up, and, once we’re done, we all sit down in front of the TV together to watch a documentary on the pack behavior of elk.
At some point Camila begins to snore. Her grunts are only partially muffled by the pillow she is lying on.
Wyatt looks at me with a wry smile that makes my heart sink into my pants.
He slowly stretches out his arm, puts it over my shoulder, and pulls me closer.
My stomach tingles. His lips are very close to mine, and I feel the softest of touches as his rough voice rings out.
“So, Moore.” He cocks an eyebrow. “I seem to remember you owing me a walk.”
My hand finds his thigh without my being able to control it, and this closeness, this longing within me, makes me close my eyes to try and collect myself. “What luck,” I whisper at his lips, “that I stick to agreements, Lopez.”
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me, please.
He doesn’t. He grins instead. “Yeah.” A gap-toothed smile. My heart leaps. “What luck.”