“That tracks.” He gives me a quizzical look and I pour a few more M&M’s into his hand.
“One more question. You ever meet somebody and you can’t stop thinking about them?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he says around his mouthful of chocolate. “Molly.”
I follow his gaze and spot the blonde walking around the track with a group of girls, deep in conversation. She’s popular and he’s an actual nerd (no need for the costume), so chancesare, they’ll end up together in college. “And let’s say Molly came up to you and told you she liked you but then she ran away. Would you chase after her or stand there and do nothing, letting her out of your sight forever?”
He looks at me like this is the dumbest question anybody has ever asked. “Coach, I’d run the fastest mile for her.” We stand there for a quiet beat watching the runners, and I can feel him studying me. “I think the real question here is: who did you let get away?”
These kids don’t know who I once was, but they definitely aren’t dumb. I pop another candy into my mouth and glance down at him. “That’s the thing, Jack. I have no idea.”
3
NOLA
Somebody toward the back of the canopy tent taps a knife in rapid succession against their champagne flute and the happy couple at the front of the dinner party leans into one another for a long kiss. The first time this happened, it was sweet; the second time, it was acceptable, but by the third, I was over it. And now we’re experiencing it for the four hundredth time this evening, provoked by my matron of honor speech that was that perfect mix of heartwarming and funny.
I’m truly happy for my younger sister. Belle found the love of her life in Ethan and Hawaii is a beautiful spot for a wedding. But my happiness for her is scattered among a myriad of other emotions. I’m sunburned and jetlagged, and my strong-willed ten-year-old can’t stop fretting about the school assignments she’s been missing while we’re away.
“Mom,” my daughter shout-whispers. “How much longer until we can go back to our room? I need to turn in my math assignment before Ms. Peterson docks me.”
My mini me’s chocolate eyes go wide and her brow worries. Her hair, once curled for the evening’s event, is frizzy and stuck with sweat to the sides of her face. The remnants of a pineapple whip treat decorate her lips as well as down the side of her dark pink dress that, at some point during the reception dinner, became her napkin.
“Emma,” I smile and begin to recite the same monologue I’ve told her for the past five days, “everybody knows you’re gone for a wedding and they said you can turn things in next week when you get back. Ms. Peterson isn’t even watching for assignments right now—it’s late back home. She’s either asleep or watching Netflix.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” she huffs. “You already took perfect attendance from me and now you want to make me lose my straight As? What’s next? Get me kicked out of STEM Club? I’m the vice president—that would besoembarrassing.”
I throw my arm around her shoulder and pull her in close. With a kiss on the top of her head, I tell her, “You, darling child, have had too much sugar and not enough water, protein, or rest.”
“Moooom,” she laments. “My math assignment.”
“It will be fine until tomorrow. I want you to know that even if you get a B, I’ll still manage to love you.”
Her nose wrinkles and her eyes narrow. “But it’s the end of the quarter. This wedding couldn’t have come at a worse time. When I get a B, I willneverforgive you.”
“Noted.” She wiggles out of my arms and, despite what I’ve just told her, she heads off to the dessert table.
The ceremony, followed by dinner and dancing, is held at a beautiful resort on the North Shore of Oahu. We’ve been here a week, and every minute has been booked to the max withsnorkeling, kayak tours, surf lessons, hikes to waterfalls, food trucks, and doing a day of volunteerism by cleaning up a beach down the road. There was also the traditional day-of bridal party pampering and the rehearsal dinner last night. It’s been a lot, especially with a tightly wound daughter in tow. I wish she’d realize that while caring about grades is important, there’s more to life than a report card. And, I mean, it’s Hawaii. I’ve worked overtime all week to make sure she enjoys every second and all she can worry about is turning in a page of fractions.
Ethan takes Belle’s hand and leads her to the dance floor after the best man’s speech. In the center of the tent, they sway to the DJ music for their first dance as husband and wife. I plop my elbow on the table and lean my chin on my palm. Beyond them lies the dark, rocky shoreline and the turquoise water, against the bright green of the palm trees lining the property. The evening lighting begs me to capture it.
I leave the shelter of the open tent and head to the edge of the lawn. Framing everything just right, I snap a few photos and then tuck my arms around me, a light breeze blowing in and out of the area like kids playing tag. Everything about this whole scene is so romantic, my thoughts can’t help but finally drift back to what happened at the bar. I’ve forced myself all weeknotto go there. That move was crazy out of character for me. I’m a single mom in my mid-thirties—I never go to bars. But then to go up to some random guy I had a brief chat with and kiss him on our way out the door? The multiple Alexander Hamiltons loved it, sure, but nobody was more vocal about it the rest of the night than Belle.
“Who are you, and what happened to my big sister?” she’d shouted more than once into the downtown night.
She wouldn’t drop it even after I’d taken us to the last stop of the night—Sid’s Garage—to indulge in greasy burgers, fries, and milkshakes for soaking up their festive evening. Belle gave a rousing speech, thanking all of us for her party, including a sidebar dedicated to me.
“You’re always so rigidly structured, Nola. You can’t help it. You were born part robot or old cat lady, but tonight was one for the books. I’m sad we didn’t get bar-guy’s number or give him yours or make him come with us to Hawaii and do a double wedding.”
That last part made me crack a smile, and she ran with it. “How fun would that be? Besides, when was the last time you kissed a man? Or even went on a date?”
“Who has time?” I asked the group nonchalantly, twirling my onion ring through fry sauce.I say it like a relationship would be the hardest thing to fit into my life, but there hasn’t been anybody since my late husband, and the idea of somebody new scares me.
“How was the kiss?” James Madison had asked me; a curious grin crawled up her cheeks.
I had brushed it off as nothing that night at Sid’s, but now that I’ve slowed down and am standing in this tropical paradise, sky turning into soft pinks and oranges, I remember every second. How perfect the whole thing was. His initial shock, then him giving in and pressing his lips against mine in a way that told me he enjoyed my bold move.
However, there’s not a chance on this green earth he’s given it a second thought. The confidence in the way he approached me in the hall, the side-eye he gave us the whole time for disrupting his evening, and his reaction to the grand slam during the game—bouncing around the room like a fratboy as he high-fived other patrons. The whole production gave off the air of a guy who is used to attention and enjoys it. That’s why Belle dared me to kiss him.
