I’d gotten to Cooper’s house at eight. It was now almost midnight—my curfew. He’d been in and out of sleep. We had several incoherent (on his part) conversations. I’d wet and rewet his rag tons of times. But now that his fever was gone and he was sleeping comfortably beside me, I could leave. An hour before, Amelia had come in and said good night. Everything was going to be fine. I needed to leave.
I lifted Cooper’s heavy arm from where it rested on my lap and got out of his bed. His phone sat on his nightstand. It was nearly dead—I’d heard it buzz its low-battery signal earlier. I plugged it into the charger so he’d have a way to text me if he woke up. Then I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.
Curfew. Had to go. Hope you feel better.
I lingered by the door. Why was I lingering? Why did I hope he’d wake up and beg me to stay? I needed to leave. So I left.
That night, I dreamed that I slept through the show. I woke the next morning in a panic before I remembered it was only Saturday. I still had a full day before I should’ve had a dream like that, but I was relieved it was only a nightmare.
I had two texts waiting for me on my phone. The first was from Lacey: You saw him last night. Avoid him like the plague today and tomorrow to counteract your weakness.
Yes, boss, I texted back.
The second was from Cooper: I heard I was a baby last night. Thanks for taking care of me.
So he didn’t remember? Is that what he was saying? I answered: You were. Does this mean you’re feeling better?
Much. Good enough for my quad and the dunes. You in?
Funny.
I thought you conquered that fear.
I faced it. Didn’t conquer it.
The next text that came through was from Lacey again: And don’t text him all day either.
I laughed and did just as she directed. I didn’t text him another word. He must’ve figured I was busy setting up for the show, because he didn’t text me another word either. I didn’t dwell on it (too much) because I was busy setting up for the show. I scrubbed so many baseboards and chair rails that day that my shoulders ached.
“Grandpa, I need a shoulder rub. But no deep tissue,” I said when I got home that night. I plopped myself on the floor in front of his chair.
“How else am I supposed to get the knots out then?”
Mom turned the computer to face me and I saw my dad’s smiling face on the screen. “Hey, kid! You made the show!”
“Yes! I did. You got my email?”
“I did. I answered back, but you’ve had a busy week, I hear.”
“So busy. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Good luck. I’m sad I can’t make it.”
“Can’t make it, huh? Yeah, right. You’re going to surprise me, like those soldier dads I see on the internet all the time jumping out of boxes at football games or cakes at birthday parties, aren’t you?”
“They jump out of boxes at football games?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s very dramatic and there are lots of tears.”
Grandpa started rubbing my shoulder, and I sucked in a painful breath.
“No, kid, that’s not happening. I wish,” Dad said.
“That’s what they all say. They try to play it off. But I’m onto you. Just don’t jump out of any of my paintings or you’ll have to pay for them. I will work on my good crying face though.”
“Abby, I—”
“She’s kidding, Paul,” Mom said. “She knows you’re not coming.” She waved her hand at me behind the computer telling me to knock it off.
Grandpa, who was always quick to jump on board when he thought people were the most uncomfortable, said, “I hope you have a videographer set up for all this, Paul. Those kinds of videos get millions of views online.”
My mom sighed and turned the computer back toward her with an apologetic look on her face. “You know how they are,” she said. “They like to take things just beyond the funny point.”
“What?” I said indignant. “I thought we were just under maximum level of humor on that one.”
“Me too,” Grandpa agreed while digging into the knot on my neck. “I had at least two more rounds in that volley.”
“Nobody says rounds in a volley, Grandpa.”
“I do, so that’s not true.”
“Ouch. I said not deep tissue.”
He backed off a little. “Are you all ready for tomorrow?”
“Yes. I think so.” I was ready to show my art. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to kiss Cooper, but both were happening regardless of if I was ready or not. I just hoped he was.