He scraped a hand across his stubble, his lips parting. “Oh, no.”
Natalie poked my thigh under the table. While a pinwheel of emotions trawled Caleb’s expression, moving from doubt to some kind of dawning awareness, I jammed my hand into hers, squeezed, released.
Caleb cleared his throat. “My mother saw you.”
“Saw me?”
“Leaving. After...” He tracked an uncertain glance to Natalie.
“Olivia’s taken pregnancy tests for me,” Natalie said. “But this is my cue to go for a lap around the restaurant. Let’s not pretend it’s for anything other than that.” She winked. “Be back soon.”
“She’s subtle,” Caleb said.
“As a hurricane.” I shifted. “Your mom saw me leaving?”
“Yeah. Early. The morning I left for college.” He couldn’t meet my eyes. “She knew you slept over. She flipped out on me the whole ride to school, even though I reminded her I was legally old enough to make my own decisions and on my way to life without parental supervision. It sucked.”
I flinched at the image of teenage Olivia picking her way down the early-morning street, blissfully unaware that the mother of the boy she’d lost her virginity to was very much aware. Mrs. Mariner probably had crossed arms, a dog leash in hand, a frown fixed to her mouth. “But you barely talked to me after that,” I said slowly. “Rarely texted. No calls.”
“I thought that’s whatyouwanted,” he said. “You kept insisting that we shouldn’t be awkward.”
“Of course I did, Caleb. Why wouldn’t I want things to feel normal?”
“I was trying to be normal. Be cool. I thought that meant not talking about it. Besides, have I mentioned that I used to fake being sick so I could play online chess? That I made miniature dioramas for fun? You think I knew how to be cool?”
I covered my face with my hands. “I forgot about that.”
“I assumed you thought I was bad.”
“Why would you think that?” Flush crept up my neck.
“Because it was too good for me, so I thought I was bad.” No trace of redness on him. Just wryness.
“You think I didn’t think the same?”
“I’m not joking when I say it didn’t cross my mind.” He widened his eyes. “And then over Thanksgiving break, my parents bought me a new phone and I lost the old SIM card. And then? I never heard from you again. Mom said you were hanging around with a—” He rubbed his hands together, as if he could produce words from them. “A bad crowd? You had a new boyfriend. And then you didn’t answer the postcard I—” He bit off the words. “Oh, god. She never sent it, did she?”
My mind wheeled, calculating. There had been no new group. No new boyfriend. There was just a lonely kid left behind so many times. First by my sister, then Caleb. I shook my head. “I hung out with the track team that year at spaghetti dinners or Papa Gino’s fundraisers. Not exactly wild. And, no. No postcard.” No nothing, other than so many nights crying into my pillowcase, and an extra packed bag of grief for college.
“All right,” Natalie said, announcing her return with a flourish. “Obviously, I pledge allegiance to Olivia, but I did charm the kitchen into a complimentary plate of brownies in case we need some peace.” She looked at me for help. “Where are we at?”
Caleb leaned back in his chair. “I was just about to tell a story where my mother tried to break up our friendship bysetting me up on a brutal blind date with one of her friend’s kids.”
Clarity was muddy, complicated. I thought I would feel some kind of clean understanding, but I was just sad, layered with what-ifs like I was covered in blankets. With a pang, I thought of this summer’s trending media word—regret. It turned out that you really had to live life to feel it.
“Sothat’swhy you went out with the cranberry juice heiress,” I said, fighting a smile. The Mariner family’s version of Massachusetts royalty. If social media was then what it is now, then Caleb’s mom would have founded mommy bloggerhood.
He gave a small laugh. “Bingo.”
“That is so painfully Cape Cod.” Natalie crammed a cracker and hummus into her mouth. “Cranberry juice creates empires now? I’m in the wrong career.”
“Cranberry bogs are a thing there, but this family’s dough was land-related.” At the next table over, two women openly stared at us. Atme. I shrank into my chair.
“I retaliated by studying abroad,” Caleb said. He hesitated. “Do you really mean to tell me you honestly weren’t seeing someone senior year? My mom really said that to you?”
“Really did.”
“I still remember the night you told me about this in college.” Natalie touched my shoulder. “Remember? We got drunk on limoncello shots, and you threw up on your phone.”
