On Saturday morning, Dad’s moving day, he made us one last pancake breakfast before picking up the rental van. We were just finishing breakfast when our buzzer sounded. I leapt up to answer it.

“Delivery for Petula De Wilde,” said a woman’s voice.

I buzzed her up. Mom had wandered into the foyer. “Do you know what it is?”

“No idea.”

All three of us were curious. I opened the door and we glanced toward the elevators.

A moment later a woman in a Canada Post uniform stepped off wheeling a dolly that held the biggest bag of dry cat food I’d ever seen in my life and six large flats of canned food.

I signed for the delivery. A card was attached. Congratulations on winning one of ten runner-up prizes in our Purrfect video contest!

I don’t know why, exactly, but I laughed for a long time.

—

An hour later I was carrying a heavy box out to Dad’s rental van when I saw him, standing on the sidewalk. We hadn’t seen each other outside his apartment or school for quite a while. It was a cool morning, and he was wearing his off-white fisherman’s sweater.

My favorite.

“Need an extra set of hands?” he asked. “One real, one artificial?”

“Sure.”

He opened the back of the van for me. I told him about the runner-up prize. “No way,” Jacob said. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Not exactly an Academy Award, but still.”

“Maybe we could shoot another Cataptation sometime.”

I looked at him, surprised. “Yeah. Maybe.”

We headed inside to get another load of stuff, and ran into my parents in the foyer. They knew Jacob’s story by now; I’d told them an abbreviated version. They both gave him a big hug. “I can’t tell you how happy we are to see you again,” Mom said.

When we’d finished loading Dad’s things, Jacob helped me carry down the boxes and bags from my room. We put the books and knit goods into the van so Dad and I could drop them off on our way to his new apartment.

Then we carried the garbage bag and my scrapbook to the back of the building.

Jacob hurled the garbage bag upward and got it in the dumpster.

I stared at my scrapbook for a long time. I got ready to throw it.

Something held me back.

“Petula.”

I threw it. But my aim was crappy; it bounced off the side of the bin and landed at my feet.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” I began.

Jacob picked it up and chucked it into the dumpster. “There. Done.”

Corny as it sounds, I felt a little bit lighter.

I turned toward him. “I’ve really missed you.” There. I’d said it.

“I’ve really missed you, too.” He took my hands. “If I try to hug you, do you promise not to knee me in the nuts?”

“Promise.”

He hugged me.

I hugged him back.

After a while, I pressed myself against him.

He pressed back.

My face was squished against his sweater. The mothball smell was still there, coupled with his deodorant and his soap, and also the smell that was just him.

When he started kissing me, I kissed him back.

“Can we try again?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

But we kept kissing until my dad hollered for me. His voice startled both of us, and pressed together as we were, we lost our balance.

But we held on. We didn’t fall.