Once and for All(78)
“But she hates the water.”
“Apparently it’s different here? Or she is.” He snorted. “Anyway, don’t worry. We spent half of last night researching him on the Internet and he’s legit. Not my type, of course. But we can’t all get so lucky in first class.”
“We’re just friends,” I heard my mom call out, which was reassuring. Until she added, “For now, anyway.”
My phone beeped again: it was Jilly. “I need to go,” I said. “Call me later?”
“Will do,” William said cheerfully. “Miss you!”
“Love you!” my mom chimed in.
Everyone is insane, I thought as I clicked over to Jilly. “Hey,” I said. “Are we still on for ten?”
She sighed, answering this question. “I’m so sorry. Kitty has an earache and I have to take her to urgent care. Even if it’s not an infection, and it totally is, she can’t swim.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, I can come along, help with the kids.”
“That’s so nice of you!” she replied, as some kind of shrieking—in Baker family style, of indeterminate source—erupted behind her. “But to be honest, Michael Salem already offered to take them to the park with his little brothers for me. We’re all going for lunch at the truck later. You could meet us there, if you want.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll just hang out here, I guess.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “But what are you doing tonight? Did you finally make plans with Ben?”
“We’re supposed to talk this afternoon, when he’s off work.”
Ever since the previous weekend and his invite to World of Waffles, we’d been trying to make something else happen. But Thursday, the guy who worked at Jumbo Smoothie the shift after him didn’t show up and he had to close. Then the night before, when he was free after nine, I’d just come from dinner over at the Bakers’, where they were testing out a new sandwich, the Good Gouda-lee Goo, and was too stuffed to do anything. We would work it out, though, if only because I had a bet to win.
“Well, let me know if you guys end up going out,” she said. “I’ll be kid free by seven if all goes as it should. And you know how often that happens.”
I did. But I told her I’d see her later anyway, then hung up, sitting back against the wall. It was now mid-morning, and the whole day stretched out in front of me. I was sure I’d spend it answering wedding questions for Ambrose, and expected more texts as I changed, then went downstairs and made breakfast. But my phone stayed silent. In my heart, I’d been alone for a long while. But this was the first time in ages that I’d felt like it.
This is good, I told myself, climbing the stairs back to my room with a big cup of coffee in hand. I had a closet to clean out before I left for school, a task I’d been putting off for ages. I grabbed a garbage bag for thrift shop donations and another for trash, then pulled open the door and got to work. An hour later, I was sweaty and sneezing from dust, and both bags were full. There was a third pile as well, marked JILLY, of the clothes of hers she’d abandoned among my own. All that was still left to deal with was the one outfit off to the side.
I’d brought that black dress to Colby that August weekend in a garment bag, the shoes still new in their box. Coming home that Sunday morning, sleepless and giddy, I’d tossed them both into a plastic hotel laundry bag which, when I dumped it out later, also poured forth a fair amount of sand. I got the dress dry cleaned, something I’d later regret so much. Even so, more than once, I’d press my face to it, wishing to find just the slightest bit of Ethan’s smell, the ocean, and that night still on it somewhere. Otherwise I just left it, hanging on its single hook, the shoes lined up beneath it. Like the shroud for the body of the girl I once was and would never be again. Now it had been almost nine months. Maybe it was time.
I pushed my hair off my damp forehead, then picked up Jilly’s pile, turning to toss it outside the door before I walked over to the dress. I reached out, touching the bodice, then felt the tiny row of sequins, almost invisible, along the hem. In my mind, time blurred, moving sideways: Ethan sliding a strap off my shoulder, the skirt blowing across my bare legs, down at the end of the world. I bit my lip, imagining myself sliding it from the hanger, folding it carefully, and putting it in the donate bag. It wouldn’t carry my memory: that would always stay with me. I knew that now. And yet, I remained unable to take those few steps to do this last task. Yet.
My phone beeped from where it was on my bed. I ran out and grabbed it so quickly I would have been embarrassed had anyone been watching. Which, of course, no one was.
KIND OF A TABLE EMERGENCY. SUGGESTIONS?
WE HAVE A FEW, I typed back. HOW MANY YOU NEED?
AS MANY AS YOU GOT. I’LL HAVE SOMEONE PICK THEM UP.
I looked back into the closet at the dress, those shoes, and wished yet another time I could slide back into them, like Cinderella under the fairy godmother’s spell, take a spin and begin all over. But it was just an outfit, and Ethan was gone. Things would change, but never that. No matter how many times I told anyone, it would always be the end of this story. But maybe not, I was beginning to see, of mine.
NO, I’LL BRING THEM, I wrote Ambrose back. JUST TELL ME WHERE.
Bee’s house was a pretty bungalow at the end of a cul-de-sac with sunflowers blooming up the front walk. Much better than a smoking patio. As I climbed out of my car and started for the front door, I realized I was actually curious to see what Ambrose had come up with. After knocking a few times with no response, I heard voices from the backyard and headed that way.