Holding Up the Universe(56)

And then I see it. The Jackson 5. I choose the song I was looking for and also a couple of others—Sly and the Family Stone, Earth, Wind & Fire—so we can have a whole block of them. Then I go back to the table, which is the table in the upper northwest corner, the one with the girl in the purple dress.

She says, “You didn’t have to do that. You don’t have to do anything. I’m being dumb.”

“You could never be dumb.”

“I can be dumb.”

She takes a bite of pizza. I take a bite of pizza. We eat in this weird silence.

And then suddenly the song is playing, as in the song. I wipe my mouth with the napkin and toss it aside. I’m on my feet, hand out.

Libby blinks up at me. “What?”

“Come on.”

“Where?”

“Just come on.”

And I lead her down the stairs to the center of Clara’s, right to the one open spot, at the front of the restaurant, near the entrance to the dining room. Then I spin her into my arms, and we’re dancing. Oh so slowly. “I’ll Be There” is the obvious choice, but the one I chose is “Ben.” If ever a song was written for Libby and me, it’s this one. Two broken, lonely people who maybe aren’t so broken or lonely anymore.

At first I’m aware of every eye in the room on us, but then all the faces fade away, and it’s just Libby and me, my hands on her waist, all that woman in my arms. We’re in perfect sync, moving together, making it up as we go.





I can feel the tears burning against the backs of my eyes. Every line is me, Libby Strout. It’s us, but mostly me. And also Jack. God.

I could cry in the arms of Jack Masselin as an entire restaurant of strangers watches, or I could push the tears back and down until they’re buried. I push them. And push them. I won’t let them out. At some point, he leans in and, just like that, without a word, kisses my face, first one cheek and then the other. He kisses me where the tears would be if I’d let them fall, and it’s the single loveliest thing anyone has ever done who wasn’t my mom. Suddenly I’m filled with this safe, warm feeling that I haven’t felt in a really long time. It’s the feeling of everything is going to be okay. You are going to be okay. You may already be okay. Let’s us be okay together, just you and me.

I suck in my breath and don’t breathe again until the song is over. The jukebox goes jumping right into the next track, which is a fast one, thank goodness, and that’s when Jack breaks out the moves.

He says, “Get a load of this, girl. If you can handle it.”

And he is grooving all over the place.

“Handle this!” And I’m dancing too, till we’re dancing like lunatics, and I don’t feel like crying anymore ever again.

He goes, “Do the Exploding Hair!”

And he shakes his head to the left, to the right, to the middle. He has an unfair advantage because his hair is so much bigger, but I do my best to shake my hair all around.

I go, “Do the Lightning Strike!” And I jump and shake, jump and shake like I’m being electrified. He starts jumping and shaking too, and at some point, I look around and a handful of other people are on their feet and dancing at their tables.

Jack says, “It’s a dance revolution!”

He takes my hand and twirls me round and round so that I’m spinning like a top and laughing. I think what an amazing world this would be if we all danced everywhere we went.

He walks me to the front door of my house, and when we get there I wait for him to kiss me good night, but instead he hugs me. This isn’t a Fat Girl Rodeo hug. It’s warm and enveloping in a good way, and I can smell the soap and outdoors on him, like he rolled in fresh grass. I want him to hold me forever, but then he pulls away and gazes down at me with half-closed eyes. “Good night, Libby.”

And I say, “Good night, Jack.” And I go inside and my dad is there, and I tell him about the dinner and then I go to my room and close the door and sit on the bed and think, Why the hell didn’t he want to kiss me?

My phone buzzes. Best date ever.

Followed by: I can’t wait to do it again.

Followed by: This chick Mary Katherine really reminds you of us? From what I can tell, she’s pretty much bats in the belfry.

I write: Yes, but in a kind of lovable way. She’s got this big secret, and no one understands her. Does that help you make the connection?

He writes back: Oh I didn’t say I don’t see the connection, but tell me you don’t think we’re that crazy.

Me: I think we’re even crazier.

Jack: I’ll buy that.

A few minutes later, he writes: I can’t stop reading. This may be the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten, next to the soldering iron they gave me when I turned nine.

Me: That’s what I like about you. So manly, yet so cerebral.

Jack: Those are only two of the many, many things you like about me. And don’t get me started on what I like about you. I’ll never get this book read, and it’s my life’s mission to finish it tonight.

He texts me off and on through the rest of the night, giving me a running commentary on what he’s reading. Eventually, I fall back into the pillows, a big, loopy smile on my face. He may not have kissed me after our date, but it’s almost definitely, undeniably, absolutely guaranteed that he will.