I stand with uncertain legs and excuse myself before the main course arrives. The outside air has cooled off with a steady breeze that ripples the silvery surface of the nearby pond. I march along the uneven stone path toward the gazebo, which is empty. Parking myself on a bench facing the water, I calm myself with a familiar film score that I conjure from memory. Something soft with lots of twinkling, jingling piano. Danny Elfman, maybe.
The song is just about to hit its apex when I hear: “Hi.”
Derick is standing over me, raking a hand through his beachy hair. My calm song flips to something sultry with a throbbing bassline. Damn the devious band leader inside my brain.
“Hello.” I stand and extend a hand to him as if this is a business meeting and he’s just entered my office. He looks at it, unsure, and I retract it right away. “Sorry to disrupt your dinner.”
“Sorry for staring. It’s just, I mean, you being here caught me by surprise.”
“You being here caughtmeby surprise. Shouldn’t you be in the Berkshires somewhere getting ready to graduate?” Before we left for college four years ago, we compared academic calendars, swearing we’d meet on breaks to catch up. Hang out. Spend realtimetogether.
That never happened.
“I graduated last weekend. Moved back. My brothers all just got off work and flew in or drove into town to celebrate, so that’s what we’re here doing,” he says. “Celebrating.”
“Same here. I graduated today. I picked this place because we came here on that date once.” My blunder makes me blush. “Co-date, I mean.”
Co-dates were part of our peer leadership class. As co-leaders for community service projects, Derick and I were required to hang out outside of class and charitable assignments to get to know one another. One night, he suggested this spot for a quick dinner, and even though I could barely afford an appetizer, we chatted through three courses that he charged to his dad’s bougie credit card.
“He won’t even notice,” Derick had said. They’re that kind of rich.
Derick doesn’t smile at my faux pas. He’s nothing but pure earnestness. “If this is about the email… Look, Wrenji, I’m sorry. I…”
I don’t know whether he’s going to sayI’m sorry I fell out of your lifeorI’m sorry I never felt the same way about you, and I realize I don’twantto know. Hearing the words out loud would be so much worse than anything I could imagine. To ward off the upset, my defensiveness rips through to the surface. “What?” I fake a laugh. “It’s not about the email. No, I don’t care about that.” I desperately care about that. “I don’t feel that way anymore either.” I have no idea how I feel. “That meant nothing.” He used to mean everything.
His eyebrows thread together. “It didn’t seem like it meant nothing.”
I really can’t handle being let down gently right now, so I switch tactics. “No, seriously. But I mean, if you want to talk about something, how about you tell me why you ghosted me freshman year?”Like I wasn’t your friend. Like I didn’t even matter.My legs are somehow even wobblier as I stand and cross to the opposite side of the gazebo. The sun hides behind a patch of clouds and the twinkle lights spontaneously come on, casting a romantic glow across our horribly unromantic scene.
He sighs, rubs a hand across his eyes. “Wrenji.” There’s so much weight I can’t even begin to understand embedded in that old nickname.
That year, when his texts grew sparse before I came home for winter break, I thought,He’s busy. When his texts grew monosyllabic leading up to our reunion, I thought,He’s always been brief.Then, on the night of what should’ve been our first college hang, he stood me up without a word.
I’m both desperate and afraid to hear how he could so easily slip in and out of my life as if I meant nothing, but then—
“Derick?” We turn to see Derick’s brother Damien, the former high school baseball team captain turned college championship outfielder with the goatee and long hair to match. “The tiramisu is getting gross, and Dad’s getting annoyed. Like, he’s-threatening-to-leave-without-you-level annoyed. Let’s go.”
I’m glad he keeps away because, right at that moment, my heart decides to give up, spurring tears to spill out my eyes. Tilting my head away so Derick can’t see, I wave a dismissive hand. “Yeah, bye. See you later.”
He hesitates but doesn’t say anything else. And soon all I hear are his footfalls crunching back up and into the restaurant.
I take five minutes to myself and then return to the table, doing my best to act like everything is fine. Avery and Mateo give me twin expectant looks, but I ignore them. I ignore Derick and his family across the busy restaurant, even when Derick tries to catch my eye as they eventually get up to leave. After the table is set with entrees and sides, Dad insists on making a toast, a riff on the one he usually gives at his annual New Year’s Eve party for the township utilities crew he oversees. I lift my glass, which must be full of cement right now with the amount of effort it takes.
I tune him out until the very end when he says, “To new beginnings!”
The irony is not lost on me.
All the glasses tap together at once.
Clink. Clank.My heart (and summer) is sunk.
Chapter 5
Dr. Tanson is in a meeting.
At least that’s what the sign on her office door says.
We had our own 10:32 a.m. meeting scheduled because for some reason she doesn’t believe in normal timetables. (“Who gave the intervals of five all the power?” she once yelled at our Queer Cinema class as if we had burdened her with the concept of time.) She also doesn’t believe in being punctual, so at 10:40 a.m., I decide to call Earl and follow up about the Derick situation.
