We pull up to airport departures, and I get out of the car to give Carole a hug.
“Hey, there’s no need to get out,” Carole says. “I only have this small duffel bag and my book. I can manage. I’m only gone a few nights. I love my parents, but I can only stand them for so long, you know. When I get back, we will have a second birthday celebration. Maybe even include your dad and Sarah.”
“Carole, I didn’t get out of the car to help you with your bag. I got out to give you a hug and this.” I pull from my pocket the small card I’ve been hiding in my book since Hanukkah. “This is for you. Open it after the plane takes off.”
“Well, this is very mysterious,” Carole says, her curiosity piqued. “I will, I promise. Have a very happy seventeenth birthday and I promise we will celebrate properly when I get back from Portland. I’m trusting you to make smart decisions while I’m gone. I love you.”
I give Carole a hug and watch her disappear into the terminal and the crowds of fellow travelers. I get back in the car and start the drive back home. “Edge of Seventeen” resumes playing through the car speakers. I am keeping this on repeat. But… I lean forward and press the button, advancing to the next track.
39
In the Still of the Night
“Come on in, the door is open,” I yell. “My hands are full.”
The front door opens and just like that, the kitchen is filled with PJ’s smiling face. We are alone in my apartment for the first time. He kisses me on the cheek and lays a duffel bag on the floor and a brown paper bag on the kitchen table.
“Did you bring a salad?” I drop the spaghetti into a large pot of salted, boiling water.
“I did, but it’s probably not what you were hoping for.” He takes off his coat and drapes it over a kitchen chair. He reaches into the paper bag and pulls out mixed salad greens and a bottle of Italian dressing. “Look, it’s triple washed!” He waves the limp bag of salad in front of me with a big smile on his face.
“So, when you asked me if you could make something for dinner tonight, you meant, can I pick something up? Am I right?”
“Correct! Wow, look how well we are getting to know each other. We’re just like an old married couple.”
“Uh huh, and do your amazing culinary skills include being able to put the salad greens in a bowl?”
“You’re in luck, they do! Let me throw my duffel bag in your bedroom and I will get right on that. I brought a change of clothes for tomorrow, a toothbrush, my pillow, and Billy. Sorry, I need my own pillow.”
“Who is Billy?”
“Oh, he’s my stuffed otter. I’ve had him since I was six. I can’t sleep without him or my pillow, of course.”
“Damn! Could you be any cuter?”
PJ smacks me on the butt on his way out of the kitchen and disappears into my bedroom. When he doesn’t return right away, I get impatient.
“PJ, what are you up to?” I yell.
“Something,” he calls out. “Mind your own business.”
“Well, excuse me!” I say and resume preparing the pasta.
I set the table and take the garlic bread out of the oven. I carefully slice the crispy bread into strips and put it in a cloth-lined basket the way Mom used to do it. I try to remember what side of the plate the fork is supposed to go on, but I can’t. It looks correct on the left and right. I choose the left, hope it’s correct, and keep my fingers crossed that PJ doesn’t notice if I got it wrong. But I probably shouldn’t worry about it. If he brought a bagged salad, he probably has no clue what side the fork is supposed to go on either. I check that the sauce is hot and drain the pasta. I put PJ’s salad in a bowl for him and add some leftover sliced cucumber and tomato from the fridge.
“Dinner’s ready,” I call out. No answer, but I hear PJ close the door to my bedroom. What is he up to? I shrug my shoulders, sit down at the table, and wait. After a few more minutes, I call again. “Dinner’s getting cold.”
No answer. I pull out my phone and scroll through Instagram.
I can’t believe how my little nerd trio—Mags, Neel, and me—have all partnered up. And it’s all because I changed high schools. Neel’s feed is full of photos of him and Suzi. Her gothiness must be contagious because he now sports dark eyeliner and wears all black. Mags’ feed teems with photos of her and Toni devouring each other’s faces. Smooching at the mall, smooching on the couch, smooching here, there, and everywhere. It’s pure cannibalism, but still fun to see. Who would have predicted it? All three of us are in relationships.
After a few moments, my bedroom door creaks open, and PJ reappears in the kitchen. But he is in different clothes. He has on a baggy, Incredible Hulk T-shirt and fuzzy plaid flannel pants with tan slippers.
“Well, I stand corrected on what I said earlier, you can get cuter. You’ve made my fantasy come true. You’re Pajamas in pajamas!”
“I thought I would get comfy. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Nope, I like you this way.” I grin.
