See You at Harry's(55)

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Dad, it’s all right.”

“Oh, God,” he keeps saying.

I press harder on his shoulder. Charlie smiles at us. He just keeps smiling. Frozen. I want to look away, but I can’t. I want to help. But I can’t. I don’t want to see my dad like this. He’s supposed to be the strong one. But now that all of us seem to be . . . surviving, he seems like he has let go.

I think about the morning Charlie died. How that strange warmth spread all through me as I lay awake, unable to sleep. I wonder if anyone else felt it. I think part of me died at that moment, too. Maybe part of all of us died. That piece of Charlie that connected us all together unclasped. And now we’re all walking around with a missing piece. Maybe my dad’s piece is bigger. Maybe it’s growing.

“I miss him so much,” my dad says, not looking at either of us. “I miss him so much, I don’t think I can survive it sometimes.”

I look at Sara, fear rising in me. “We know, Dad,” she says soothingly. “Let’s all go inside.”

My dad wipes his eyes and nods. “I wish Holden would get back here,” he says.

“Holden is in good hands, Dad. Don’t worry.”

“He really is,” I say. “Promise.”

We follow him inside and find my mom in the living room, sipping a glass of wine.

“Where’s Holden?” she asks.

“He’s with Gray,” I say. “He’s fine.”

“Fern?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

My mom puts her glass down and stands up. “Oh, honey. You look beautiful! Where did you get that dress?”

“Cassie’s sister.”

She puts her hand to her mouth so we can’t see it trembling. But then she starts to cry. “I’m so sorry, Fern. I didn’t even know you were going.”

When she says it, I realize I really should be mad at her. She’s my mom. She was supposed to help me get ready. She was supposed to take pictures of me. And Holden.


But I was supposed to tell her I was going in the first place. So what did I expect?

“It’s OK, Mom,” I say.

“You’re so beautiful,” she says again, looking at me. I mean really looking at me, and seeing me, as if for the first time in forever.

“Thanks,” I say. But I don’t think she realizes what for. Or maybe she does.

At around midnight, my parents are starting to freak out. But Sara convinces them to go to bed and promises we’ll wake them up when Holden gets home. Sara makes some popcorn and starts to put in a movie. But before it starts, I click pause.

“You know that stuff Dad said?” I ask. “About not knowing if he could survive?”

“Mm-hmmm.”

“Do you ever feel that way?”

She puts her arm around me. “Yes, I do. But at the same time, I know I will. I know we all will.”

“Mom put his ashes in his bedroom. Did you know that?”

“Yeah.”

“I think we should find a better place.”

Sara leans her head on my shoulder. “We will. It just takes time.”

We stay leaning against each other like that, with her arm around me. It doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. It feels familiar.

I wake up on the couch with a start to Holden towering over us. Sara jumps, too.

“Hey,” he says, grinning. He twirls in a circle.

“Hey, Cinderella, what time is it?” Sara says.

“One thirty.”

“You don’t look like a pumpkin to me.”

“Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, you dope. Her carriage does.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Holden sits down in the oversize chair and kicks off his shoes. He sighs happily.

“Well?” I ask.

“It was good,” he says. “Really good.”

“Where’d you go after the dance?” Sara asks. “How’d you get home?”

“There was a party at Scott Davies’s house. He’s a senior at the Academy. We hung out there and watched people get drunk and act stupid. Then this wasted girl threw up on Gray’s leg.”

“Ew,” I say.

“I know. So anyway, we had to wash Gray’s pants since we have to return the tuxes tomorrow. We hung out in the laundry room for, like, two hours. And we just talked and stuff. It was really . . . nice.”

“Just talked,” Sara says, grinning. “Right.”

“It’s true! We decided that we didn’t really like each other as boyfriends, and that it was stupid to date each other just because we’re the only gay guys we know. So now we’re going to try to find boyfriends for each other.”

“It’s like a real-life fairy tale,” Sara says. Then she cracks up. “Fairy. Get it?”

Holden shakes his head. “So not funny.”

“Oh, come on,” she fake-punches his arm.

“It kind of is,” I say.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be my trusty sidekick. Don’t go over to her side!”

“Fern’s no sidekick,” Sara says. “She’s a free woman.”

That makes me feel good. But I’m also glad that Holden still thinks of me that way.