Maybe This Time(68)

“To Manhattan?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Sophie wants to go to college in Manhattan,” Mr. Williams said.

“Maybe,” I responded. Lately, I’d realized something in all my realizing—the city wasn’t going to turn me into this sophisticated person that I had always thought would emerge once I was there. Who I was, who I was going to be, depended on me, not where I lived. “I’m going to apply to a lot of places.”

Micah’s head whipped toward me as she headed for the door, carrying four glasses. “What?” she said. “No New York for you? Since when?”

“Since … I don’t know. One day. I still want to be there one day.” Maybe I needed to be surer of myself first, so I didn’t completely lose what bits of myself I was finding in all the chaos.

For the first time … ever … Jett looked at me with a hint of interest.

Micah pushed through the door with her hands full of glasses.

I stopped stirring. “I think the gravy is done,” I said.

“Good, good,” Mr. Williams said. “Pour it into the boat over there and let’s start putting food on the table.”

I carried the single boat of gravy into the dining room. The first thing I saw was the flower arrangement I had made the day before sitting in the center of the long table. It was mostly calla lilies, framed by some palm leaves. The note Caroline had left for me from the call-in request had said: An orange calla lily arrangement, your discretion. Will be picked up on Wednesday evening.

I’d gotten off work at four yesterday, so I had no idea who’d come to pick it up. Had Mrs. Williams ordered it? I looked around, but I was the only one in the dining room. I could hear laughter coming from the living room.

“I have paid off one of my debts,” a voice said from behind me. “A flower arrangement, bought by me and arranged by you. Orange calla lilies.”

I turned around to look at Andrew, a bit of gravy sloshing onto my hand. It was hot and I sucked some air between my teeth, then set the gravy on the table and wiped off my hand.

“They’re pretty,” he said when I still didn’t speak.

“They’re my favorite.”

“Because they’re pretty, or do you have a history with them?”

I did have a history with calla lilies. There’d been a daddy-daughter dance at school and my dad had brought me a single calla lily. My mom had threaded it into my ponytail. It had been a good night. We used to be a pretty solid family. My dad had thrown that all away. He was continuing to throw it away. After his I’m sorry text, I’d called him and he’d confirmed all his lies. He hadn’t saved a dime of money for me. He said that he was planning to do it. He kept hoping he’d catch up. He just wasn’t there yet.

“I’m sensing history,” Andrew said.

I realized I was staring at the arrangement. Probably not kindly. I turned to answer him when a train of people came into the dining room, carrying food dishes.

“Thank you,” I said to him quietly.

“I haven’t stolen a flower since February, by the way. I’m reformed.”

I smiled.

“Let’s eat!” Mr. Williams said.



My plate was empty for the second time and my stomach was beyond full. I groaned and leaned back in my chair. Mr. Williams had made fried turkey, mac and cheese, fresh dinner rolls, green beans, and more, and I’d sampled almost everything.

“You didn’t pace yourself,” Andrew said from beside me.

My brother was on my other side, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“I know,” I said. “Rookie mistake.”

Andrew picked up the bowl of ambrosia salad and held it out for me. “You didn’t even get any of this,” he said.

I had been purposely avoiding that salad. It would remind me of a certain hot day by a certain shed kissing a certain boy whose mouth tasted like cherries. I didn’t need to think about kissing Andrew right now. I was trying to remind myself that he was leaving, not that I wanted him to stay.

“No thanks,” I said.

Micah sat on Andrew’s other side, and she leaned forward and looked at me. She hadn’t said anything about my New York declaration in the kitchen earlier, so I waited for what she was going to say now. But all she said was, “I hope you saved room for dessert.”

“Ugh,” I said, rubbing my stomach. “Hey, Micah. Do you still have that karaoke machine?” I hadn’t seen it in a couple of years.

“Yes,” she said warily. “Why?”

“Because my mom would rock at karaoke.”

“You think I haven’t done karaoke before?” Mom, who sat across from me, said.

I shrugged. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Well, you’re right. I am fairly amazing at it. We could have a sing-off.”

I smiled and Micah gave me another confused look. It wasn’t what we normally did on Thanksgiving. Normally, after dinner, Micah and I walked the neighborhood or threw a football around the backyard while the adults chatted inside, but new traditions could be fun too.

Micah looked at her mom, who gave a smile and a nod. Then Micah said, “Okay, I’ll set it up after we clear dinner.”

Andrew took a small bite of the corn pudding on his plate.