“You haven’t had enough in the way of home improvement projects?” June teased as she let them back into the house and Eleanor greeted Benjamin, who looked up from his train set just long enough to be polite before returning to his elaborate construction.
“What can I say?” Eleanor answered as she and June gathered the muffins. “I’ve got the bug. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I’m done with renovating the bookstore.”
“Run a bookstore?”
“Oh, yeah,” Eleanor agreed, popping the cork on the champagne in June’s fridge and mixing mimosa. “That’s a good point.”
The women chatted amiably as June moved through the different places she wanted to clean, glad she’d started with the really heavy-duty scrubbing, which wasn’t as easy to do whilechatting with a friend as was sorting through a closet full of old clothes.
She was sifting through a bunch of Benjamin’s old clothes, most of which needed to be donated, when she found a box that she didn’t recognize.
“What’s this?” she asked, speaking mainly to herself. She lifted the flaps and let out a startled laugh. “Oh, gosh.”
“What?” Eleanor asked, peering over her shoulder. “You can’t say stuff like that and then not share. Give me the goods!”
June held up the paper she’d uncovered, a creased program from a musical she’d been in in high school. The high school drama club hadn’t had the budget for full-color programs, so the photo on the front was black and white, a little grainy, and creased with age. And yet you could clearly see June, totally playing the ham on the front cover, playing Kim inBye Bye Birdie. She’d been fifteen or sixteen, and was dressed up in full 1950s style. It was, in short, alook.
“Oh my goodness!” Eleanor looked like she was about to fall out of her chair with excitement. “Look how cute you are! Look howlittleyou were! June!”
“Okay, okay,” June said, laughing. “It’s not that exciting.”
“Uh, agree to disagree,” Eleanor countered. “You look like you’re having the time of your life.”
June smiled down at the photo. She really did. She remembered how fun it had been too, how thrilled she’d been to get the lead role even though she’d only been, what, a sophomore? She flipped over the brochure to check the date then paused when she saw a handwritten note.
Congrats to the prettiest, most talented girl on any stage. Love you, little songbird. Xoxo, Keith.
Next to his note, he’d drawn a little bird, something that she could only identify because she’d seen him draw it so frequently. He had been an absolutely horrible artist, truly one of the worstJune had ever seen. But he’d drawn the bird on nearly every note he’d left June in all the years they’d known one another, mostly because it made her laugh at his lackluster skills.
June traced her fingers over the drawing, then over the short line of text.
“You okay?” Eleanor asked gently.
June gave her a sad sort of smile.
“Yeah,” she said honestly. “I am. Grief is… it’s a very weird up and down journey, but right now I’m at a place where I’m glad for the reminders. Not that I ever forget Keith, of course,” she hastened to add.
“Of course not,” Eleanor said supportively.
“I just…” She tapped her fingers against the program, making a small hollow sound, while she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I guess the term is ‘bittersweet,’ but it’s just this sort of, I don’t know, sad happiness? Happy sadness? Maybe there’s no difference between them.”
“Maybe not,” Eleanor allowed, “but look at this.” She pointed back to the picture. “That looks like a pretty happy memory to me.”
At this, June grinned.
“Oh, yeah,” she agreed. “I wassonervous before the first show. Like, ‘afraid I was going to throw up on my shoes’ nervous. And Keith comes to where we’re all about to go backstage, this total hangdog look on his face. Says he has something to show me.”
“Oh boy,” Eleanor chuckled.
“Right? I mean, this is not a look that you get when something has gone right. So I follow him over to his locker. Turns out, he’s gotten me flowers. We were fifteen, so it’s a cheap bouquet from the nearby gas station. It’s absolutely adorable… except somehow, he managed to slam it half in, half out of the locker door.”
“What?” Eleanor said with a startled laugh.
June was laughing too, lost in the memory. “I know, right? And he’s trying to explain how it happened but, Eleanor, let me tell you, this explanation madenosense. How do you get flowers stuck in a locker door? But there they are, staring at me. And worse? Somehow, they jammed the locker mechanism, so he can’t even get them out again.”
“I have to ask,” Eleanor said, “did he do it on purpose to make you laugh?”
June held up her hands. “He always denied it, but I was never convinced. In any way, it worked. And the play started on a Friday night, after the janitor was already gone. So nobody could pry that locker open until Monday. So, for the next two days, on my way to the theater, I walked past his locker and saw this poor bouquet, looking more and more beaten with every day.”
