Chapter 17 Bad and/or Weird News
Bad and/or Weird News
Sunlight slips through the curtains. My limbs feel heavy, my body blissfully wrung out.
Penn’s breath is warm against the back of my neck, his arm draped over my hip. When he shifts closer, I try to say “Good morning,” but all I manage is mumbled nonsense.
He lets out a tired, raspy laugh, then plants a kiss on my bare shoulder. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll make breakfast.”
I fall in and out of a strange, dreamless sleep until I finally wake feeling more rested than I should, considering.
Last night, Penn seemed determined to prove he’s fluent in my love language.
And while moving into rated-R territory did not get me out of the game, it did get me out of my head, which is nearly as big a feat.
Recalling Penn’s whispered instructions, I’m worked up all over again, ready to claw at him when he slips through my bedroom door carrying a tray of food.
His hair’s a mess. He’s wearing a white T-shirt, basketball shorts, and a shy smile I’ve never seen. A new, bigger yearning blooms in my chest.
“I didn’t know what to make, and I didn’t want to wake you.” He slides the tray onto the mattress beside me and sits on the bed. “So I just kept cooking.”
Eggs, bacon, toast. Sliced avocado. A pile of banana pancakes. A bowl of berries. A ramekin full of butter. Another full of syrup. “This is an entire breakfast menu,” I marvel. “The Cheesecake Factory of breakfasts.”
“Ah, that’s what I forgot.” Penn clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment. “Dessert.”
“Did you, though?” I slant him a look, and his eyes flash.
I slide my hand up his arm, over the soft skin of his shoulder, and let my palm brush along his sharp, scruffy jawline. I hold it there, and Penn’s eyes lock on mine as he tilts a warm kiss into my hand. I feel it everywhere.
A week ago, I was convinced this was a living nightmare, but it’s become every bit the fantasy. If Real Penn has even half the game of Dream Penn, and if his feelings really are as long-standing as he says they are, then surely, eventually, he would’ve won me over in the real world.
If I’d let him.
He nods to the food, a smirk on his lips. “As much as I’d love to shove this tray off the bed and do everything that we did last night in the daylight, I worked hard on this spread. And you need to refuel.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say and sigh, biting into a slice of toast. He’s already buttered it perfectly. Which is to say, aggressively. Earl would approve.
“Also…” Penn gnaws at his lip. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I have some bad news. Or maybe just weird news.”
“So you were literally attempting to butter me up here?”
He fights a laugh. “Kind of?”
“Let me guess. You already told Theo that I agreed to a toga skate. He’s posted flyers all around town. He’s going door-to-door, wrapped in a sheet that billows in the wind, flashing Lakeville’s finest. It’s a toga-tastrophe, and now we’re a laughingstock.”
Penn waits for me to finish, a smile in his eyes.
I wave my crust with a flourish. “Okay, I’m done. Bad and/or weird news. Proceed.”
“The fish,” he says simply.
“What fish?”
“All the fish. In your aquarium.” Penn winces. “They’re, uh, floating?”
I choke on the bread. It’s half-laugh, half-panic. “I’m sorry. What?”
“It’s freaky,” he says. “I walked in there this morning, looking for my hat, and…I don’t know. Maybe there’s some bacteria in the tank, or—” He keeps talking, trying to explain away the aquatic tragedy, but I don’t hear him, his voice far away as blood rushes in my ears.
First the Jeep. Now the fish. The MASH game must be malfunctioning, one section at a time. But why? How? I’ve messed up. Broken a rule I haven’t considered.
My heart does a janky somersault. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. They’re…” He drags his thumb across his neck, the universal sign for donezo.
I catapult myself out of bed, springing toward my closet.
“What are you doing?” Penn calls after me.
“I need to go to the pet store.”
“What? Now? Don’t you want to eat?”
I slip on the nearest pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. When I turn to retrace my steps, he blocks the closet doorway, leaning against it with a sweet look of surprise. And a smidgen of alarm.
“Ruby, I didn’t know you felt so strongly about the fish. We’ll replace them, okay? But we don’t have to do it right this second.”
The we rolls off his lips easily. It ignites in my gut like a bomb.
What are we doing? What have I done?
“It’s okay,” Penn adds. “There’s no rush.”
I push past him, unable to meet his eyes. “Yes, there is.”
—
Perhaps because he fears for my well-being, Penn offers me the keys to his car so I can dash to the pet store right as it opens. Shockingly, I’m the only customer visiting Paws ’n Claws at nine o’clock on the dot.
Facing a wall of tanks, I scan the different types of fish, wondering if my replacements need to be exact.
Some had bright orange and black fins. Others had a neon blue stripe.
But I don’t know how many of each, or if it matters, or when I became the kind of person who slips up on the details. It isn’t like me.
Maybe that’s what’s gone wrong: I’m losing myself.
From behind me, a woman asks, “May I help you, ma’am?”
Nice. Now I can add “getting ma’am-ed” to my glorious morning.
I turn and face a twentysomething redhead. A familiar redhead. She adjusts her blue apron, flipping her hair over one shoulder, and I gasp. “Katie.”
She startles. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
No, she does not know me. And technically, I don’t know her, either. I recognize her only because I watched her walk down my driveway two days ago, cursed her existence, and later served her grandpa some heavily buttered toast.
Now here I am, wearing hot-pink leggings and a lime-green sweatshirt embellished with a sequin roller skate and the moving lyrics of Chamillionaire: They See Me Rollin’, They Hatin’. So even if Katie did know me, she might pretend she doesn’t.
“Maybe not,” I stammer. “You look like somebody that I used to…work with.”
“Oh,” Katie says, relieved that I’ve gotten us out of this humiliating song and dance. “Well, what brings you in today?”
“I need thirteen fish.”
She blinks at double speed. Her mouth opens, then closes. Like, fittingly, a fish.
“O…kay,” Katie says with a wide, cereal-commercial kind of smile, the very portrait of politeness. “I’m happy to assist you. Although please know that this is only my first week at the store, so I may not be able to answer all your questions. I’ll do my best.”
I smile back, noticing she has Earl’s grass-green eyes.
It hits me, then: When I saw her at the mansion, Katie was dropping off her résumé.
And she’s in nursing school. And she’s lovely.
And Penn won’t hire her anytime soon because I’ve asked for more of his time.
Which means he’ll have even less to give to PennPals, and to Earl, and to the rest of his customers.
Ever since I arrived, I’ve asked, and asked, and asked.
Of Bridget, of Theo, of Connor, and of Penn most of all.
All I’ve given back to Bridget is a bagel and the weight of my problems. All I’ve given Theo is a hard time.
And all I’ve given Penn is a room and flimsy hope for a future I know nothing about.
Last night might have been special, but I can’t make him any promises, because I’m not sure whether the two of us can exist like this, together, in any universe. Every word I say may as well be a lie. And it isn’t even working. Everything’s still falling apart.
I bring a hand to my chest, trying to slow the panic train.
All this time, I thought leaning in to my feelings for Penn would help to get me back to reality, but the closer we get, the more trouble seems to crop up.
I’ve been following what felt like the only possible set of rules, but everything I do here is a gamble.
And I’ve grown far too comfortable taking risks.
When I look at Katie, Lakeville’s own Meryl Streep, who’s busy delivering an Oscar-worthy performance of kindness to what’s surely her most absurd customer, I’m overwhelmed by the sudden weight of all the worries I’ve cast aside.
All the other fates that might be twisted up in mine. The hearts I’m holding in my hands.
This is my game, but I’m not the only player. Penn—he’s part of the game, too. I need to get out of MASHland before I hurt him or anyone else. Before the game fully breaks down and I’m trapped, unable to return to myself.
I need to get out before I lose sight of who I really am and where I’m supposed to be.
My face must be twisting with all the torment that rises like bile in my throat, because Katie’s expression grows even more understanding. “Choosing pets can be an emotional experience, so take all the time you need. I’ll just be…” She points at the cash register and offers a smile. “Over there.”
“Thanks,” I croak out.
Penn seriously needs to hire her. And I need to get my head on straight.
—
When I return home, thirteen fish in tow, Penn’s sitting on the front porch, waiting. He’s thrown on a blue Cubs sweatshirt and his favorite navy hat, and despite my dramatic display this morning, he’s wearing a warm, easy smile. Damn him.
I hop out of his car and nod at the open garage, where cardboard boxes have been stacked into a massive pyramid. “What’s all that?”
“Decorations. For tomorrow’s party,” he explains. “Bridget dropped them off a little while ago. Gave me strict instructions not to touch a thing. She has ‘a vision.’ ”
Oh, God. The pool party.
I’m in no mood to host, and I’m worried that my settling in here—wasting time and enjoying all this a little too much—is why the game keeps falling apart.
There’s no use in trying to postpone, though.
Hell hath no fury like a Bridget held back from doing the absolute most. And who knows?
At this rate, both pools might suddenly, overnight, be filled with neon sand that forces us to cancel the party anyway.
I had a real thing for sand art back in the day.
Penn helps me transfer all the fish to the aquarium, which doesn’t exactly match the sexy morning-after routine I’d anticipated, but that’s a good thing. I need to focus.
When he tells me he has a surprise for me, I resist. “Can’t it wait?” I ask. “I have to get over to the diner. Theo and I need to prep for the 2000s party.”
“It’ll be quick,” Penn promises. “Please.”
I sigh as he drags me downstairs, through the kitchen, and into the yard.
He leads me to the garden in the far corner, where rows of planter boxes house tomatoes and wilted, sad-looking green stuff that I probably need to water.
Inexplicably, Penn’s lined the edge of each planter box with tea lights, as if we’re hosting a weird, midmorning Bachelor date for all the garden insects.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “What is this?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs, nodding toward the expanse of dirt between the planter boxes. “You seemed pretty upset. Like you needed to process it. So.”
I study the garden floor. I didn’t notice them before, but there, in the soil, are three rows of tiny, shallow holes. My breath catches, the start of a laugh trapped in my throat. “Is this…”
“Preparations for a fish funeral,” he confirms. “It’s silly, but I thought it might help.
” The painfully earnest look on his face melts over me like warm honey.
“Your breakfast got cold, too, so I ordered us lunch.” He points to a takeout bag left on one of the patio tables.
“Tacos. Not fish ones, though. I know you love them, but that felt a little too on the nose. And morbid.”
I snort out a laugh, simultaneously feeling hot tears behind my eyes. “This is the strangest, sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
Penn shifts behind me and rests his head on my shoulder, his arms around my waist. “Well, good, because your breakneck effort to replace those fish was one of the strangest, sweetest things I’ve ever seen.
” He plants a kiss on my neck, then asks, “Should we say a few words?” He clears his throat. “Dearly beloved…”
A cackle bursts out of me. “Penn, that’s for weddings.”
“Right,” he says, beginning again. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the short but special lives of Ruby Elizabeth Wynne’s thirteen beloved fish. Let’s pour one out for Spot, and Tiger, and—”
I turn to face him. “You know their names?”
“C’mon, Wynne. I remember everything you’ve ever said to me.”
Wearing a smile that won’t leave my face, I rest back against Penn’s chest, grateful for the steady weight of him, and for the weird, wonderful thing we’ve got.
Even if it wasn’t me who introduced him to all the fish.
Even though the ground beneath us could crack open at any moment.
Wynne-Wynne
Ryan: Ciao, la mia famiglia!
Mom: Are you in Naples now? Look at that tan!
Ryan: Amalfi. I’m never leaving.
Ryan: Ru, it was nice knowing you.
Ruby: We had a good run.
Ryan: Ugh, I need to run. I’ve eaten my weight in olives.
Dad: good live it up have some limoncello for me
Ryan: I’m about 47 glasses ahead of you there, Pops.
Mom: Ruby, how’s the home front? How’s Penn? Tell him we love him!
Ryan: Have you murdered him yet? Does he still have a pulse?
Ruby: Can confirm he has a pulse.