Dad,
Well, it’s 12:01 a.m., meaning I have officially made it through the first anniversary of your Gone Day. I’ve survived one full year of firsts without you, and I’m still here, and you’re still gone.
Did you catch tonight’s concert from wherever you are? The band sounded great, and Julie is a showstopper. It’s funny how things can be exactly the same in a brand-new way.
That’s how I feel about the Outpost, too. I love it here, Dad. It’s the same as it’s always been, but I’m starting to see what it might become next. Renee says I make the same face talking about this place as she does when she talks about theater, and I…well, I think she’s right. I don’t think I can sell it back to the band. I’d be ignoring my own advice—if I’m passionate about this place, it’d be a waste to walk away.
But it’d be a waste to walk away from the person I’m passionate about, too. I feel more certain about Renee than I feelabout much of anything right now, but I’m not sure that she feels the same, even if she did before. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to get involved, but I would blame myself if I never gave it a shot.
So you’re the first one I’m telling, Dad. I’m keeping the house, and tomorrow, I will talk to Renee. Hold me to both of those, would you?
Love,
Your Dallas Alice
Twenty-eight
It’s jarring to jump from Gone Day back to wedding mode, but that’s how it is these days: a sequence of heartbreaks and celebrations, strung together like beads on a friendship bracelet. It’s alwaysand, neveror. Griefandjoy. Lightanddark. Multitudes, all playing out at once. Somehow, I move through it, and this morning, I’m movingfast.We all are; the house is buzzing, a hive of worker bees flitting about like they’ll fall asleep on their feet if they dare slow down.
If it’s possible to iron tableclothsintensely, that’s what Mom’s up to in the living room. At the kitchen table, Chris and Chrissy have a system for stuffing welcome bags, and while it’s not one that makes any sense to me, the job is getting done. Out front, Rishi and his brother wave in a giant beeping truck of wedding rentals. But no Renee. I swear my heart has arms, the way it reaches for evidence of her. There’s only the bed pillows stacked beside a neatly folded Pendleton blanket on the couch where she must have slept.
“Have you seen Renee?” I ask anyone within earshot. Mom shakes her head. Chrissy and Chris are just as unhelpful. In the kitchen, still no Renee, but the fridge is freshly stocked, replete withcaffeine options: cans of nitro cold brew, Diet Coke, and the same energy drinks Aidan likes. I can smell it—that inedible combination of peaches and batteries, wafting from behind me. Gin hovers by the window, her short red hair slicked back with sweat into the tiniest nub of a ponytail. There’s an energy drink in her hand.
“Since when do you drink those?”
“Since somebody left a case of them in the teacher’s lounge last year.” Gin’s face twists into a shameful wince. “I know, I know. It’s bad.”
“There are worse vices.”
“No, Alice. I mean it’sbad.” Gin smacks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “These things taste like cat pee. But theenergy.” Her pupils dilate. “I feel like I could fight God.”
I laugh as I snap open a can of cold brew and join her at the window, scanning the backyard for signs of Renee. There’s only Rishi’s parents, assembling a four-posted arbor of sorts.
“That’s the mandap.” Gin lifts her chin to the half-assembled structure. “It’s the altar, essentially. It’ll get draped in tulle.”
“Do we have tulle?”
“Renee is picking it up right now.”
My head jerks toward her. I’m like a dog who just heard the wordtreat. “Do you know when she’ll be back?” I ask. A little too eagerly, it seems, because Gin sputters a laugh.
“So are you going to tell me what’s happening there or what?”
“What’s happening…where, exactly?”
“Between you andRenee.” She traces a heart in the air. “I should have known I’d have to drag it out of you.”
Something inside me stops and starts at least twice. “So you know about that.”
“Of course I know about that,” she says flippantly. “Ididthat.”
“I…you what?”
Gin’s smile is somehow both regal and villainous. An evil pageant queen, claiming her crown. “You two think you’re so slick, keeping all sorts of secrets, like I haven’t been trying to set you up all summer.”
Whatever gears have to turn to keep my brain functioning grind to a screeching halt.
“I really thought you’d figure it out in Palm Springs,” Gin goes on. “You know, when I wanted to room with Chrissy?” She drains what’s left of her energy drink, winces, and adds, “Youknowthat girl snores even louder than she laughs.”
