See You at Harry's(54)

Couple?

Ran’s dad counts to three and we smile. I don’t even blink. “Perfect! I’ll have Ran e-mail you a copy. Come on, honey, it’s freezing out here.” They wave to Sara and rush back inside. The garage light goes out, and suddenly Ran and I are standing in the dark.

“That really was the best night ever,” Ran says. He is still holding my hand.

I can’t tell him I agree. I feel like . . . like there just can’t be any bests now. Not without Charlie.

“It was really great,” I say.

And then Ran’s face is up close to mine, and he kisses me so fast, I’m not positive it happened.

“Well, see ya,” he says, and rushes up the walk.

“See ya,” I whisper, touching my lips with my fingers. But he’s too far away to hear.

“Woo-woo!” Sara whistles when I open the door to the truck. “Way to go, Ferny!”

I cringe, but inside I am smiling so big, I think my lips will crack just at the thought.

Sara pulls back onto the road, and we drive home singing to the oldies together. When we turn onto our road, Mike turns on the flashing lights.

“Oh, gimme a break,” Sara says. “Is that really necessary?”

I peer through the rearview mirror. “It’s pretty funny,” I say.

Our dad is standing on the porch with his arms crossed at his chest.

“You ready for this?” Sara asks as we pull into the driveway.

“Bring it.”

She laughs. “Fern, you are full of surprises.”

“I know,” I say. “Who would’ve thought?”





WE OPEN OUR DOORS at the same time and step into the cold. Mike has finally turned off the stupid flashing lights.

“Hey, Mr. Wallace. Found your truck-jackers here. You want me to arrest them?”

Boy, he’s funny.

“Where’s Holden?” my dad asks, ignoring Mike’s attempt to lighten the situation.

“Where do you think he is?” Sara asks, handing him the keys to the truck.

Faded Charlie smiles down at us with his giant ice-cream cone. He really does look like a ghost under that stupid paint job. But his eyes still shine in their happy way. His happiness has always been so catching, but I spent his whole short life trying to avoid it. Maybe I was jealous of not being able to be as happy as he was all the time. Why was I so miserable? I can’t remember why. Not now, when I know what real misery is. What real loss and pain are. And I’m not going to let my dad ruin Holden’s one happy night. And not mine, either.

“Dad,” Sara says. “You’ve got to get over whatever issue you’re having with Holden.”

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t tell me what I have to do. I have a right to worry about my son.”

Mike clears his throat. “Uh, well, I’ll be going, then, Mr. Wallace. That is, unless you really do want to press charges?”

“No, no, Mike. Thanks. I appreciate you getting them home safely. Stop by the restaurant sometime and I’ll give you a meal on the house.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he says. “You girls behave yourselves from now on, all right?”

“Thanks for not arresting us, Mike,” Sara says. “Call me!”

It’s dark, but I’m sure he’s blushing like crazy. “Uh . . . sure. OK. Bye.” He rushes back to his car and drives away.

When we turn back to my dad, he’s standing in front of the truck, looking up at Charlie. His cheeks, wet with tears, sparkle in the outdoor lights shining on us.

“Dad,” Sara says quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder, “we didn’t mean to upset you. But we did what we thought was right.”

He looks so sad, it’s hard to be mad at him.

“I know that,” he says. “I know you think I’m horrible for talking to Holden like I did. But I . . . I just don’t think he’s ready to be in a relationship. He’s just a boy. How can he even know for sure this is what he wants? Who he is?”

“It’s who he is for now,” I say. “Can’t he be who he wants to be now instead of who he’s supposed to be in the future? Right now, he’s happy. You should have seen him tonight, Dad. He was with all these friends. And he belonged.” I picture Holden on the school bus with the Things pinging his ears, and then at the dance with his friends surrounding him in their protective circle. No one is going to ping him ever again.

My dad looks at me as if for the first time.

“My God,” he says. “Fern. You’re — You look beautiful!”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask if you were going. Damn it!” He pounds his fist on the truck just below Charlie’s faded face.

I am so used to being overlooked. And usually angry about it. But this time it doesn’t bother me. Because it all worked out. It really did. It was so much better to have fun.

“It’s OK, Dad. Really.”

“No. Nothing is OK.” He steps forward and stretches his hands out to support himself against the truck. He looks up and sees that his hands have landed on Charlie’s ice-cream cone. He stares at Charlie’s sweet face. “Oh, God,” he says, and starts to cry harder.