Remember earlier how hugs were the last thing I needed? Now they were the first thing. As soon as I saw my parents, I ran to them and grabbed two armfuls. And we sobbed. And we said breathy I love yous. We did all the things a family does when it’s been apart for what seems like years, but was really only a little more than a week.
“Graduation,” Dad said. “Together, we make it to that point, and we’re in the clear. Graduation.”
“Where’d you get that?” I asked.
“There was a lot of talk along that fence,” he replied. “This started when senior year started, so it makes sense that it will end when you graduate.”
“Well, if you haven’t noticed, school’s out,” I said. “Permanently, it seems. No cap and gown in my future.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said. “There are murmurs about restarting classes for at least some kids. Gears are moving.”
“The school is wrecked,” I said. “The—”
Mom put a hand on my shoulder, kissed my cheek, and said, “Let’s not worry about murmurs. For now, how about we close Covington Kitchen? Hang out. The three of us. Spend all our time together.”
As appealing as it sounded at first, it was a plan destined to fail. A keen sense of your mortality can make you crave a lot of things, but those things rarely include endless evenings on the couch with the family. I loved my parents, so very much, but I loved them because they weren’t always there.
“The Kitchen has to stay open,” I assured her. “You’d be antsy and broke without it. I’d be bored and annoyed. Whoever is left in town would be pissed. And for what? So we could sit around watching Netflix?”
They nodded.
“You’ve always been so honest with us,” Dad said.
“Well,” I said. “I might as well keep the honesty train rolling then.”
“Meaning?” Mom asked.
“Dylan is coming over tonight. By that, I mean he’s spending the night in my room. Because I don’t see the point in having him sneak in and, honestly, I don’t know how much time we have left.”
Dad stared at me for a moment. “It’s Thanksgiving. You do realize that right?”
“It’ll be after dinner,” I said. “You’ll be conked out anyway. From the trypto-whatever in the turkey.”
“Is this something his mother is aware of?” Mom asked.
I shrugged. “If they have the awesome kind of relationship that we do, then I’d guess she is.”
“I see,” Mom said.
Dad stood up, kissed me on the forehead, and left the room.
“I’ll take that as his approval,” I said.
Mom hugged me hard and whispered, “We’re so sorry.”
“For what?”
“For you having to live this way, in this world. I know we’re supposed to tell you it was harder when we were younger. But that’d be bullshit.”