Chapter 18

 

It took a while for my addled brain to notice other people trying to adjust too. I guess I didn't expect it, there hadn’t been some big, upsetting change. John's friends seemed happy, even relieved.

Linda's response was tough to gauge. She waited for us that Thursday after school.

“Great! You two are home. Will you guys help me get dinner started?”

Not exactly chaperoning, she still hung out with us in the kitchen, providing oversight while we prepared the vegetables for a stir fry.

“Dammit!” John yanked his hand backward, the knife clattering on the cutting board.

“Let me see.” Linda turned on the faucet tap and pulled his hand under the cold running water. “It's bleeding but the cut looks shallow. There are some bandages in the downstairs bathroom.” Keeping her hand on his shoulder, she started escorting him.

“It's fine, I can do it.”

With a suppressed smile, she picked up the knife and took it to the sink to clean it. “Guess the bell peppers are putting up a fight tonight.”

I gave a small smile and dropped my attention back to the less resistant zucchini. I chopped and she joined me at the counter, waiting until I looked back up.

“He told us,” she said, then laughed. “Of course, only with strict instructions that we're not to be embarrassing or act weird about it.” Putting her hand on my shoulder, she gave a gentle squeeze. Not unhappy but her expression grew serious. “You two are such good friends, it makes sense.”

Despite obvious reservations, she was trying not to undermine an opportunity for happiness. I smiled but my voice came out small. “It felt like we reached this point and we had to make a choice but the only options were to go forward or walk away. This is all new to me and I have no idea what I'm doing. I’m nervous, but imagining the alternative feels worse.”

Her squeeze tightened a little and it looked like she might cry. “Life can be like that sometimes. After a while, wait and see isn't an option anymore. You have to choose yes or no.”

“Mom, no. You promised.” Bandaged, John returned to the kitchen and saw the look on her face.

“We were just talking.” Her eyes were still wet but rays of laughter broke through. Rubbing where she'd been squeezing my shoulder, she gave me a half-hug. “We were talking about nothing in particular. Certainly nothing embarrassing, right Layla?”

“So weird,” he mumbled under his breath.

Bill seemed calm when he got home. I worried he wouldn't be able to restrain some enthusiastic expression but he seemed more focused on getting through dinner. After that, he hinted heavily about playing John's new game again. He waited until we started clearing the table to make even indirect acknowledgement.

“So Miles, when do we get to meet your girlfriend?”

“Nope. Not happening.”

“Ah ha! So you do have a girlfriend.” Bill looked pleased with the trapped admission.

“It's not—” Miles glanced to where John and I stood at the sink. “It's not serious. Besides, even if it was, there's no way I'd bring her here. I can only imagine what you'd come up with to embarrass me.”

Bill looked to Linda for support. “Why do we keep getting accused of being embarrassing?”

“I can't think of a single reason dear.”

Miles looked grave. “Really? What about subjecting my date to watching two hours of home movies?”

Linda shrugged innocently. “I wouldn't say subjecting.”

“To be fair, that girl said she thought you were much better on screen than that movie actor guy you wanted to see,” Bill said.

“Seriously, it's like you guys are trying to scare people away! What's next, showing baby pictures and first grade report cards? Please, for John's sake if nothing else.”

Bill and Linda exchanged a look. “Layla,” Linda asked, “you wouldn't want to see some pictures, would you?”

Linda and I sat out the first game. Seated at the counter, she flipped through a baby album. John made a face but didn't protest. His look said it all: this is how they were.

“What's the F stand for?” I pointed to the even cursive below John's newborn photo.

A heavy sound come from where John sat.

“Francis,” Miles sang in a strained falsetto.

“It's a family name.” Linda explained.

John shook his head.

“Believe me, it could've been worse. Your grandma was upset for weeks but at least we spared you from being William Francis Andrews III.” Bill turned to me. “I'm absolutely with your dad on the whole 'No Juniors' thing.”

I turned the pages, taking in the story the pictures told. Linda would stop sometimes, pointing to a particular photograph, filling in details.

“This is when he first started smiling. And here, here's the first time he sat up on his own.” By the time we reached first forays into walking, the pictures documented he would be a big brother soon. Linda noticed me lingering over the picture taken at his first birthday. “They used to call it Irish twins. Despite being fairly educated people, it still wasn't something we were expecting. A lot of good surprises start out that way.”

Nina won the first game and I took her seat at the table. Bill complained the entire round that Miles and John were ganging up on him. Only Miles felt comfortable pointing out that John refused to do anything that might negatively impact me. It led pretty directly to me winning.

I rose to give up the chair to Linda and John stood too. “Well played.” He smiled, leaning in to hug me.

“Celebration hug!” Bill announced, rising and throwing his arms around both of us. “C'mon, Linda. Nina. Otherwise it's just weird.” Under such pretense, we received his family's crushing embrace.

___

 

It was the first time I could remember not looking forward to winter break. It felt all so melodramatic but, each day for the entire week leading up to Christmas, thoughts of something close to dread played at the back of my mind. It happened at the library, during lunch and sadly, even sitting in the break room at work. No matter what, I kept taking measure of the moment, always framed that it would be two whole weeks before I'd get to do this again.

“We need to finalize everything,” Nora announced. Paulson had barely taken his seat, the last to join the lunch table on Friday. I guess she'd been waiting for him. The rest of our mini-conversations stopped mid-sentence. “You know, plans for break. Mark's parents okayed the New Years eve party at his house, so that's set.”

“Is your mom going to kick us out at midnight again?” Briar asked.

Mark shook his head. “She and Dad agreed it's safer to let everyone crash for the night instead of making you all drive home. Mom said it's usual ground rules, so no breaking stuff. Dad's only stipulation is, and I'm quoting here, “no funny business.”

“Do you want us to bring anything?” Paulson asked.

“Just yourselves. You guys can come, right?” Mark's directed question caught John off-guard.

“Um, yeah. I think so.” He looked to me for verification. I shrugged indistinctly, wondering if I'd be able to get permission, wondering if I wanted it.

“I was thinking we should get together before then too,” Nora interrupted. I heard the nervous crack in her voice. “There's a new movie that looks pretty good. I was thinking we could all go see it next week.”

I wasn't the only one dreading being trapped at home for two weeks. Briar and I gave simultaneous assent.

Brett suspiciously eyed the three of us. “So, is this a chick flick?”

“It's a visually striking historical drama,” Nora replied.

He shook his head. “Chick flick.”

“C'mon man.” Mark laughed. “Do you really have anything better going on?”

“It depends. When are you thinking?” He asked Nora.

“Next Tuesday.”

“Christmas Eve eve?” Briar laughed. “Works for me. I'll let Drew know.”

“Sounds good,” Paulson said. Brett said nothing because apparently, he indeed had nothing better to do.

I felt John straightening next to me, shifting a bit but not speaking. Leaning over, I whispered. “What's wrong?”

Expression unsure, he paused before whispering back. “I can't go.”

I started to ask what he meant but Brett interrupted. “What are you two whispering about?” The terseness in his voice startled me.

“I can't make it. My family's going to be out of town until Friday.” He attempted to look indifferent. “Have fun though.”

“Oh, we'll have to find a different day,” Nora said. John gave an unsure look around the table as everyone murmured agreement. “Friday night?” She asked.

He nodded yes but I could see the lingering traces of disbelief. The consensus of the others seemed to be that this worked for all of them too. Brett didn't appear to have anything better to do that night either.

“Is this the trip to the cabin?” Mark asked and John nodded.

“Yeah, everyone's coming this year. My aunt and cousins are even coming up from California.”

Brett showed sudden interest. “Hey, is your one cousin going to be there? The hot one?”

John looked confused and Briar shook her head.

“Are you two still up for getting together Tuesday?” Nora asked.

“Um, sure.” I nodded.

Nora's shoulders relaxed in relief. “Great! We can finish up Christmas shopping and stuff.”

Beneath the table, I felt John's hand closing over mine. I wasn't positive what his smile meant, but he looked happy. A while later, after Brett left, I leaned closer. “When do you leave?”

“Tuesday morning.” No one else objected to our quiet exchange. “Would you be able to come over Monday for a while?”

“I'll find a way.”

___

 

Mom always built it up in her head that we would have so much fun over break, that my presence would fill our house with holiday cheer. Persistently being myself always deflated such aspirations though. We spent Saturday night decorating the house, but Ron and Mom were both directing me on where to put the ornaments on the tree. It devolved into yelling. All day Sunday, Mom tried to entice me back out into the living room by playing holiday music and talking about baking cookies. I refused to leave my room until I heard Ron go to meet Bruce. We did everything Mom talked about and I tried to give her what she wanted. I could see all over her face, though: it wasn't matching up to the magazine articles and perfect photo spreads. She spent most of Monday staring at me, resolutely silent. It looked like she was close to figuring out how I caused this most recent bout of disappointment. At least she didn't object when I told her I needed to go. Not technically lying, she assumed I was headed to the library.

John opened the door when I arrived at the house. Seeing his smile, I felt stupid realizing I already missed him. Inside, preparations to leave the next morning had been efficiently managed. I felt a selfish little moment of mourning when I saw the luggage, neatly stacked in the hallway.

We joined Nina and Linda in the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas.” I placed a small package on top of Nina’s book.

Her face lit up, tearing into the wrapping. “Thank you!” She pulled the four tiny bottles of nail polish from the box, delighted with the garish colors.

I whispered to Linda. “I hope it's okay.”

She nodded with a smile, walking over to investigate. “I did not realize radioactive waste was a color.”

“Is it okay to open them, Mom?” Nina looked hopefully toward her mother.

“Okay.” Linda rose. “But remember, you need to get your homework done tonight. We'll both enjoy break a lot more if I don't have to harass you about it for the next two weeks.”

I didn't quite understand, but Nina ran upstairs to her room.

“John, I need to get the laundry from the basement. Will you keep an eye on her?” Linda pointed upward where we could trace Nina's movement through creaks in the floorboards.

Nina returned with her manicure box, a plastic container filled with cotton swabs, polish remover and her existing collection of obnoxious colors. She insisted I pick a bottle and let her paint my nails too. John looked impatient, but took a seat at the table beside me. I asked her about the book she'd been reading. She started with an answer but somehow ended up talking more about her friends who were all reading the same series.

“All done.” Nina announced.

“What do you think?” I showed John the freshly lacquered nails.

“Your fingers look infected.”

I didn't disagree but thanked Nina for her considerate effort. Linda returned with a basket of dry clothing, immediately greeted with the offer to paint hers next.

Sister distracted, John leaned over to whisper. “C'mon.”

“Layla,” Linda called us back from the hallway. “There's some remover in the bathroom. You know, for any streaks.” Her effort to mollify Nina's cross look.

Grateful, I slipped in the bathroom and cleared off all the color. Mom would've noticed something that bright. I hoped the smell would dissipate by the time I got home. When I left the bathroom, John was still waiting in the entry. He took my hand and led me to the living room. “Better.” He smiled, noticing my hands returned to normal.

The living room was dark except for the lights on the tree. I hesitated at the door, reluctant to enter such a moody room. Still holding my hand, John pulled me in the direction of the tree.

“Mom promised she'd keep Nina busy. I wanted to give you this without her interrupting.” He leaned down to the nearly empty space below the tree, retrieving a small box.

“Oh, wait.”

Realizing what was happening, I backtracked out of the room, grabbing my backpack from the hall. Sinking down to the floor next to him, I offered the rectangular package. “Merry Christmas.”

“You didn't have to do this. You gave me a present two weeks ago.”

“A planner barely qualifies as a gift, and that was for your birthday. Please, you go first.”

He took the package and pulled off the wrapping. His face lit up and he brushed the last scraps of paper away from the book.

“You don't have this one already, do you?”

He shook his head no.

“When we saw the movie on your birthday, I didn't realize it was based on a novel Dr. Sagan wrote.”

John nodded, flipping it over. “They re-issued it last summer, so I've only been able to find it with the movie cover. Where did you find this?”

“The guy at the bookstore called a friend at a used book shop. I think he felt bad watching me digging through the shelves. I know it's kind of beat up, but he said if you're a purist, you'd appreciate the original cover.”

He nodded emphatically, pulling both me and the book in for a tight hug. “Thank you.”

Denying himself more thoughtful examination, he set the book aside, turning and again reaching for the small box below the tree. “Merry Christmas,” he said, attempting to hand off the gift while simultaneously kissing me. Bungling both, he straightened, picking the package up from the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Open it.” He dropped the bright little cube into my lap.

The box felt heavier than I expected. Under John's watchful gaze, I pulled away the ribbon and tore off the paper. Freed from the outer wrapping, a small velvet box tumbled into the palm of my hand. An unexpected sensation of horror emanated from the little box. I'd miscalculated so very badly. I looked at the friendly little gift I'd given, then back at the girlfriend gift I'd received.

Linda walked in. She must have seen my face, the words forming to ask me what was wrong. She saw what I held. Whatever my face was doing, her eyes matched.

Unseeing or unaware, John shifted closer. “Open it.” He again encouraged. Fumbling, I pulled the lid of the box back. It took a moment to process what I was looking at. On an impossibly delicate chain, there hung a silver star. The metal looked so polished, so smooth, it almost appeared liquid. More like abstract art than a predictably stamped charm, the necklace somehow perfectly captured a burst of starlight. My body made a short, sharp inhalation. Forgetting Linda, forgetting everything, my hand covered my mouth. “It's beautiful.” I managed.

“What is it?” Linda affected a pleasant tone, softening but not suppressing the edge in her voice.

I turned it to show her.

“Oh, how pretty!” She exhaled.

I felt my eyes getting glassy. “It's too...I can’t...” I tried again. “You didn't have to do this.”

John smirked. “That’s what makes it a gift.”

Still grasping the box in my hand, I contemplated this phenomenal gift. Reaching over, I hugged my arms tightly around him.

“Now you’ll always have a reminder,” he whispered. Hearing Linda clear her throat, I pulled myself away.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you two, but your dad and I wanted to make sure you got these.” She offered two identical packages. Looking at each other, we each took one of the unlabeled gifts.

Linda rose to leave. “Merry Christmas you.” She leaned over and kissed John on the top of his head. “And you.” She rested her palm on the crown of my head for a moment.

Turning to me and shrugging confusion, John tore into his present. I followed suit. I looked at my gift, and the matching one he held. Two identical picture frames held copies of the same photograph.

I recognized it immediately. The day after Thanksgiving, standing in the park, our images were frozen in black and white. She captured us mid-moment, John saying something, speaking around a smile. My hand looked slightly blurred, reaching to brush away a strand of hair, lips drawn back in a smile I didn't recognize. Uninhibited, close to laughter, we looked happy. I wanted to weep because it felt wrong to let anyone think this was somehow me.

Turning to make sure Linda was gone, John put his picture aside, shifting closer. I held the two gifts, unable to speak. He lifted the little box out of my hand.

“It's so beautiful,” I said, shaking my head. It didn't feel right, acting as though I could accept it.

“Let me help.” He didn't wait for my response, removing the chain from its velvety nest. Reaching around my neck, he secured the clasp. The metal of the star fell against my skin, heavy and cold. John's fingers brushed my neck, tracing the line of the chain. I saw it in his face, the waiting and wanting, but anxious, desperate not to mess up.

I placed my hands at his temples. “Thank you.” Ever so gently, I pulled him closer.