“My goodness, it’s a strange life, isn’t it?” Juanita says, looking out of the window. “The people that come into it and leave it. Sometimes it doesn’t seem to make any sense.”
Ethan clears his throat. He sets the mug down and hugs the urn closer to him.
“But I think,” Juanita continues, “that people come into our lives and leave them at just the right times.” She spots the skeptical look in Ethan’s black-lined eyes. “I do. I really do. It’s hard to think about. It is. Because it just doesn’t seem fair or right. It can seem too soon and all you want is more time.” She looks at me and then at Ethan and leans a little bit toward him. “But some people leave and come back, don’t they?”
Ethan blinks his eyes at her, and I stop drinking my tea.
“And you know what else?” She leans closer toward him, as if she’s going to tell him a secret she doesn’t want me to know. “Just when you start thinking that this is all there is to life, you find out there’s much more.”
Ethan’s chin trembles. “What?”
Juanita’s smile is kind. “I didn’t mean to upset you, honey. But I think your brother was very proud of you. And he loved you just the way that you are.”
The eerie feeling comes over me again, but it’s not in a bad way. The scent of patchouli is replaced for a few seconds with the smell of something burning. I look around Juanita’s bright trailer for a candle or a furnace, but I don’t see any. I just see lots of crocheted blankets. I bet she’s someone’s grandma. She’d have to be. She has that way about her. But she’s not like mine. She keeps her trailer neat and clean. I look over at the kitchen table and notice the porcelain figurine is gone.
I open my mouth to say something, but Ethan stands up. “It was really nice of you to keep my brother’s urn for me, but we’ve got like an eight-hour drive.”
I stand up too, a little surprised, and politely finish the tea she made for us. I see her mug is still full. “Yeah, thank you. Thanks for helping us out.”
“Anytime,” Juanita says, rising from her chair as we put on our coats. I step outside onto the front steps, and wait for Ethan, but he turns before he walks out and gives her a big hug.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
“You’re welcome, honey.” She pulls away from him and looks at him. Then she whispers something in his ear that I can’t make out.
Ethan looks at her for a second or two before he nods.
We tell her goodbye, thanking her again. I get into the driver’s seat this time, and Ethan gets into the passenger seat with Ev’s ashes on his lap.
We’re quiet as we get back on the road and onto the entrance ramp for the interstate. After driving a couple of miles, I feel Ethan’s hand slide over my thigh and squeeze. I reach down and take his hand in mine.
16
Ethan
March 11, 1994
Likes:
-Shane coming up to my room after dark
-Shane looking at me across the table
-Shane saying hi to me in the halls
-Shane taking me to the river in his Bronco to talk and make out
Dislikes:
-Ev asking Shane why he’s hanging out in my room
-Nosy neighbors
-Hiding our relationship in the dark
It’s a secret, and it has to be. On the one hand, the secrecy makes this special between us. Why should we share what we have with the world? It’s no one’s business but ours. They wouldn’t understand. But on the other hand, I wanteveryone to know Shane Carraway is mine. I want everyone to know I love him. I want Gina Pritzer to know when she stands by his locker and talks to him after Spanish. I can tell by the way she looks at him that she wants Shane to ask her to prom. Why wouldn’t she? I think Gina sits behind him in class. I don’t really know, because I’m not in that class. But I heard her asking him about prom the other day. I didn’t hear exactly what she said, but it doesn’t matter. She’s shopping for a date, and of course, she’d pick Shane Carraway. I hate Gina Pritzer.
Jenna Murphy wants me to ask her. I think. She sits in front of me in algebra and turns around every day before the bell rings to talk to me. She’s always chewing gum or eating LifeSavers and she’ll offer me one. I didn’t know until the other day that she’s a senior.
