The Memory Book(53)

“Sure,” Coop said, and smiled at me with his lips closed.

By the time we exited off Highway 89 and parked near the banks, Stuart had texted that he couldn’t come, he was working, but he’d call me later.

“Well, looks like it’s just you and me, Coop,” I told him.

I leaned on him as we climbed from rock to rock, until we were in the middle of the little falls, watching the streams split and meet again along the boulders. We talked about when we were kids before phones and social media, when we knew what boredom felt like. This was before either of our parents could afford summer camp, and basically used us as glorified babysitters. We got so bored, we did some weird shit. I mean, all kid stuff, but kind of messed up all the same.

We were cracking up, reminiscing about the time we told Bette she was actually a ghost, when Coop asked me, “When did we stop being friends?”

“Hm.” I took a deep breath. “Besides the day you got kicked off the baseball team?” I saw his eyes that day, what had sunk inside him.

“Oh, yeah,” Coop said quickly. “Yeah,” he repeated. “Thanks for…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Thanks for not telling anyone.”

I swallowed. Something told me, Not now. “I would never… yeah. I never told anyone at school,” I half lied.

“But I mean before that.” He was right. That was only the last straw on the camel’s back.

“I think it was a gradual thing, but I remember one time…” I said. Cooper turned to face me, his arms perched on his knees, listening. “Freshman year. Even before you got… you left the team. I remember you were supposed to come over and help me watch the kids, and you never showed. Then you never said sorry. You didn’t answer my calls for, like, a month. And I was, like, screw it.”

“Huh.” Coop looked down at his hands, picking at invisible dirt.

“And you had moved your seat in Spanish so you could sit next to Sara Gilmore. So it was weird to try to talk to you at school.”

Coop shrugged his shoulders, twisting his mouth a little, searching for what to say. I waited for the excuses I figured he would make, how he got busy, or how I was kind of a know-it-all (I was). But he could have at least said something.

“I was a little *,” Cooper said.

“You were.” I nodded, and found myself giggling a bit out of triumph. “Sorry, it’s just nice to hear you admit that.”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, and then closed it. He stood up and leapt to another rock. He put his hands on his hips, and then raised a fist to the sky.

“Do you remember this?” he called.

I did. When Coop made that gesture as a kid, he had automatically transformed into CAPTAIN STICKMAN! Captain Stickman was a friend to all humans and animals. His special power was, well, that he had a stick. But! The stick could be used as a sword, a walking stick, a flag to claim territory, or a wand that could turn anything into anything.

“CAPTAIN STICKMAN!” I yelled, laughing. “But you’re missing your stick!”

I reached over the rock and searched for a piece of driftwood in the water. All I could find was a beer can. I tossed it at Coop; it fell egregiously short.

Coop got on his belly and fished it out. “CAPTAIN STICKMAN!” he yelled, his voice echoing off the falls.

I joined in with a fake announcer voice, as I had done when we were kids. “A FRIEND TO ALL HUMANS AND ANIMALS!”

“A FRIEND TO ALL HUMANS AND ANIMALS, INCLUDING SAMMIE MCCOY!” he yelled.

I smiled at him. He smashed the beer can between his hands.

“IS THIS INDEED CORRECT?” he asked, pointing at me with the smashed can. “I AM SORRY FOR BEING AN ASSHOLE. ARE WE FRIENDS AGAIN?”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course.” I didn’t really know what that meant, especially now. Minus shooting the shit at the Potholes, I didn’t really know what Coop and I would do together. Still, he looked more like my friend than ever, out of breath, and hair all over his face, excited for no reason.

“YOU MUST YELL IT TO MAKE IT SO,” he said.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. “CAPTAIN STICKMAN IS A FRIEND TO ALL HUMANS AND ANIMALS, INCLUDING SAMMIE MCCOY.”

Captain Stickman once again raised his fist to the sky, and then leapt back to my rock, turning back into Coop.

We got into the Blazer. We talked about the time Captain Stickman had gotten too ambitious about his ability to land on his feet after jumping from a tree, and broke his leg. Then, because crutches were an ideal sticklike tool, Captain Stickman again overstepped his abilities and broke the other leg. We were cracking up by the time we pulled into my driveway.

“Hang on,” Coop said when I unbuckled. He kept his eyes on my house as he said, “There was a time for me, too.”

“For what?” I asked.

“That I thought we weren’t friends anymore. I mean, it was kind of my fault. But. Do you know what I’m talking about?” He looked at me, clutching the steering wheel.

I thought back. “That time I corrected you in Spanish in front of everyone?”

“No, before that.”

I thought of middle school. “When I didn’t believe you that you were allergic to bees?”

Coop laughed a little. “Nope.”