33. Broke Backward Statue
33
Broke Backward Statue
“You can’t just freeze out Luke,” Wanda says as we lift a heavy plate of glass encased by a metal rim into Uncle Andy’s truck.
“Easy,” Cass instructs. “The structural integrity was already compromised when the glass was initially damaged. Wrap them in those blankets like they’re newborns.”
“You don’t say,” Uncle Andy says, wiping his brow.
I give him a look that tells him to cut it out. Cass has no sense of humor when she’s stressed.
I say to Wanda, “I answered all his texts.”
“He showed me. You were polite. And grammatically correct. Not replying would be better than using passive-aggressive punctuation.” Wanda grunts as we lift another of the plates into the truck. Fortunately, a lot more camp counselors are already at the library, where the statue is to be assembled.
“He’s with Roger,” I say. “I have to respect that. That means no drama or confrontation or profession of love. It’s what Dean Perez told me to do anyway.”
“He should be with you.”
I lift my end of the plate onto the truck first. “Well, he’s not.” I cross to Wanda’s side to help.
“You can’t just ignore your feelings.”
“People do it all the time. It’s a valid course of action. Besides, it’s all I could think of.” I don’t tell Wanda that I can’t ignore the dark ache that fills me. I don’t tell her I’ve been exhausting myself to try to avoid thinking about Luke. I don’t tell her I wake up from dreams of conversations I have with him where I try to convince him I’m the right person for him and then can’t get myself back to sleep. I don’t say any of those things because I don’t know how else to get through all this, and if I fall apart like I did with Truman, nothing will get done. Not the statue. Not Corner Books’ booth. Not the festival. I’ve got no time or desire to indulge emotions I wish I didn’t have. With mere days to go till the festival, I’ve got too much work, and if I learned anything from the situation with Luke, it’s not to let my emotions control me.
“Maybe you should let Bobby drive your truck,” Cass tells Uncle Andy when the last of the plates are loaded in. “He drives with the brake. He’s annoyingly safe.”
“Hey!” I call across the driveway.
“I know how important this is,” Uncle Andy says. “I’ll treat my driving as carefully as I do you. You’re my shotgun, Cass.”
She throws up her hands. “Fantastic! Even Bobby moves faster than you. We won’t arrive until next century.”
I get into Cass’s car that I’ll be driving with Wanda, so I miss Uncle Andy’s reply if there is one.
Wanda slides into the passenger seat. “He can’t be with Roger. No one likes Roger. Everyone likes you.”
“Not everyone.” I start the engine and back down the driveway.
“I should have pushed you two together when I met him, but I thought Little Elm’s resident meddling romantic would have it in the bag.”
I check my blind spot before I change lanes. “I’m mending my wicked ways. Give me some credit. I didn’t get involved with chickn_backflip.”
“Because I told you it isn’t like that and to butt out. How was setting up Cass and Andy mending your ways?”
“It does count.” I try to change the subject. “How are things going with your mystery man?”
“We decided we’re going to meet.”
“Things are getting serious. When?”
“We didn’t establish anything concrete. That’s all you’re getting. I’ll be taking no further questions at this time.”
Not setting a date to meet is a serious red flag, but I hold my tongue as we slow down in front of the library.
Evie is organizing the volunteers into teams.
“Are Roger and Luke here?” I ask.
Evie points. “Over there.”
“I’m in a different group, right?”
“Like you requested.” Evie flips through pages on her clipboard. “Everyone knows what they’re doing?” she calls. “Transport vehicles finish arriving any second. Get ready, people! It’s go time!” What Evie hasn’t developed in organizational nitpickiness, she makes up for with the authoritarian attitude of an overlord.
As soon as Uncle Andy slows to a stop, Cass is out of the truck and at Evie’s side.
“I can’t stress enough the pieces need to stay in order. Everything is labeled.”
“I hear you,” Evie says. “Top priority after safety.”
As the teams begin unloading the plates, Cass hovers to give instructions to whomever is nearest. She needn’t because it’s all being handled flawlessly. I keep glancing around, making sure Luke and I don’t intersect.
That is until Roger decides to lift the same end of a glass plate as me. Uncle Andy and Wanda grab the other end and we’re in motion as a unit before I can back away.
“I hate apologizing,” Roger whispers, “and I’ve already done it once to you. But if you’re ticked off at Luke because of something I did, I’ll say it again. I’m sorry.”
“Neither of you did anything,” I say. “The festival is in a few days. I’m inordinately busy.”
“He’s inordinately upset about you,” Roger grunts as we carry the plate up the steps of the library, walking backward. “He’s a nightmare to live with.”
I don’t need a reminder Luke and Roger live in the same house. The whole thing is bad enough as is. “There’s nothing for him to be upset about,” I say, wishing we could put down the plate so I could get away from Roger.
“My sentiments exactly,” Roger says. “I can’t believe he’s falling for your drama queen routine.”
I turn my head to give Roger a dirty look, but in doing so I don’t lift my foot high enough on the stairs. My heel catches. I stumble and pull Wanda and Uncle Andy off balance. Roger, sensing me about to fall, steps aside, leaving the weight of the glass plate all on me. Wanda and Uncle Andy overcompensate. We lurch and I topple through the open library doors into the foyer, crashing backward into a stack of plates for the statue. There is a sickening crunch as I collide, then a crack, the corner of the plate in my hands hitting the ground with me.
Everyone stops.
Uncle Andy is the first to reach me.
“Are you ok, Bobby?” he asks, kneeling.
Wanda kneels on my other side.
“I think so,” I reply.
They slide the glass plate off my legs.
Cass walks around the stack of cracked glass plates. “Breaking that damn window once wasn’t enough for you?”
“Cass,” Uncle Andy says, helping me to my feet. “He didn’t trip on purpose.”
“Back off, Andy,” Cass warns.
“Don’t you see he’s exhausted? He’s been working every waking hour to make the statue and the festival a success. He should be at home resting, not lifting a heavy statue.”
“I told you to back off. You don’t need to get involved with everything in our lives. And there’s only a statue because of his screw-up.”
The flames ignite in Uncle Andy’s eyes as he stares at Cass, but this time it’s not passion. “I know you’re stressed out, but I’d be careful what you say next.”
“I mean it. Butt out.”
“Don’t be like this, Cass.”
“Like what?”
“You pull me close one second and shove me away the second things don’t go as planned. You did it in high school. You’re doing it again now. People aren’t yo-yos.”
“Don’t start that again. You didn’t show up.”
“You didn’t wait. I’ve always shown up for you.”
“Who asked you to?” Cass asks. “It’s my job to take care of me and my kid, not yours. You’re not his father.”
I get up and step between them. “Don’t fight.”
“Don’t worry. I’m done fighting.” Uncle Andy pulls out his keys. “I’m done being the guy you want when no one else sticks around. You don’t want me showing up for you? Fine. I won’t be your last resort anymore.” Uncle Andy walks out of the library.
“Do something,” I say to Cass. “Yell at him. Go after him. Anything.”
Cass balls her hands into fists. “I’ve got a broken statue to deal with.”
I look at the glass plate with the cracks running through it. I toss the car keys to my mother who snatches them out of the air, and I jog after Uncle Andy.
“Wait,” I call. “She didn’t mean it.”
Uncle Andy sighs and jerks his head to the passenger seat. We both get into the vehicle.
“But I did,” he says. “Get in. I’ll drive you home.”
“I’m sure I can smooth things out once you both calm down.”
“It’s not your job to fix everyone.” The bite in Uncle Andy’s tone is gone. “Your mom told me to be a lion. We would have done better to leave the cage shut.”
We drive in silence. I rack my brain, looking for solutions. For the statue. For Uncle Andy and Cass. For Luke and me.
After Uncle Andy drops me off, I continue to look for answers. I lie in bed until I hear Cass unlock the front door.
Cass stops at my bedroom. “That got ugly.”
“How’s the statue?”
She sighs and sits down beside me. “I might be able to fix it, but I need more time.” She pats my thigh. “The biggest mistake I ever made,” Cass says, “took me nine months to turn into the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t have nine months. I don’t have nine days. The unveiling is Saturday night.” She stands to leave. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
I sit up in bed. Cass almost never apologizes. If she’s saying sorry, someone else deserves one too so things can begin being mended.
“What about Uncle Andy?” I ask. “How much more time do you need?”
“It’s not your job to fix us.” Her tone is a lot like Uncle Andy’s. “Get to sleep. Tomorrow morning is damage control,” she says as she leaves my bedroom.
I grab my phone and set my alarm for extra early. It might not be my job, but there might be one way I can buy more time.