Jo started to scoot Florencio out of the booth. “That reminds me. I should set up the tripod. I got distracted chatting when I’m supposed to take pictures.”
“Chatting was the point!” Autumn said, motioning for her to sit. She didn’t want Jo to start hiding behind her camera when there were people around. Their whole senior year, after Wren went off to college, poor heartbroken Jo took pictures instead of talking to people. “It’s totally okay to get distracted by friendship.”
“Encouraged, even,” Florencio said. Turning the full wattage of his smile on Mrs. Frosty as she processional-marched a punch bowl full of dessert to their table, he asked, “Ma’am, would you mind taking our picture so we can dig into our cold brunch?”
The resulting photos got a grudging approval from Jo. After ticking judgmentally through the camera roll twice, she turned the camera around to the table. “This is the post. Everyone’s eyes are open and you can see the water behind us. I’ll frame it out with a crop. Bianca, do you want me to tag your personal account or the Salty Dog’s? Views have been really steady since I got some pity reposts from a few influencer contacts.”
“I’d rather direct your thousands of followers at the shop, not me,” Bee said, touching her roll of bangs as though it could have budged an inch.
“Do you think Frosty’s has an Instagram?” Jo asked.
Bee shook her head. “They don’t even have a website. The Salty Dog is one of the only places on the boardwalk that does. Other than your parents, obviously.”
“This town is run worse than a roadside attraction,” Jo said, stuffing the camera back in her bag. “Seriously. On my drive up from California, I saw a cement dinosaur with more current marketing tactics. I’m so tempted to just gift every business on the boardwalk a website with their address, phone number, and open hours. They can’t expect everyone to walk up and check their business hours on the door. That’s absurd.”
“That’s what people do,” Autumn said. “It is a small town.”
“A small town that relies on tourist revenue to exist,” Jo huffed. “Some people like to plan their trips. Meals included.”
“People end up here on their way somewhere else,” Flo said. “Usually the Goonies house.”
Birdy ducked his head and raised his hand. “Guilty.”
Jo lifted her spoon in cheers. Everyone fumbled to keep up.
“To the list,” toasted Jo.
“To friends,” Autumn added.
“To life,” said Florencio, proving that he did listen to his sister with a Fiddler on the Roof reference.
“L’chaim,” said Birdy with a grin. As a gregarious giant, he had, of course, been enlisted to play Tevye back in Sweet Apple, Ohio.
“Well, if everyone is toasting…” Bee muttered before lifting her spoon the highest. “To free ice cream if we finish it within the hour.”
Five long metal spoons clinked together.
Jo took the inaugural scoop, between the mint-chocolate-chip mountains and the hot-fudge river. Her lashes fluttered closed in decadent ecstasy. “This is a fucking delicious mistake.”
Bee stiffened. “Food doesn’t need moralistic judgments. That can be triggering to people, thanks.”
Jo’s eyes popped open. “Oh. No, sorry. Not calories. The hot fudge is going to melt everything way before our hour limit is up.”
“Eat all the hot components first!” Autumn said, heaping her spoon with warm caramel and letting it ribbon onto her tongue.
Drawing the spoon out of her mouth, Jo examined the wall. “I’m almost positive that this is the exact same color my parents painted the inside of their house.”
“It’s probably the same paint,” Bee said, also looking up at the wall. “Your mom and the owner’s wife play Bunco together.”
Jo looked baffled. “What the fuck is Bunco?”
“D and D for moms,” Florencio said.
“Bingo with binge drinking,” Autumn clarified. Some of the PTA moms played in the monthly Bunco night at Surf & Saucer. Autumn had yet to earn an invitation. Pat Markey definitely got to go. She always bragged about the crab dip she brought.
Bee shuddered. “It would take something way more fun than a dice game to convince me to party with the wine moms.”
“More fun like death?” Jo asked.
Birdy scrunched up his face. “Is Apples to Apples still hot?”
“Two minutes in before you outed yourself as the oldest, Birdy!” Autumn teased.
“It’s true.” Birdy spread his hands in a shrug. “I didn’t have a cell phone in high school. I’m old.”
“Prehistoric,” Bee joked.
Birdy put his arm around her, planting a kiss on her temple. Bee smiled but wriggled away to reach for a scoop of Marshmallow Fluff, which struck Autumn as odd. Normally Bee and Birdy were annoyingly affectionate whenever Lita wasn’t around to shame them for it. Then again, if the group ended up paying for the sundae, their contribution would come out of the same bank account. Bee could get weird about nonessential spending.
“So, Jo,” Birdy rhymed, carving a divot into the cheesecake side. “Bianca said you used to date Autumn and Flo’s new boss.”
“Not my boss,” Florencio said. “I answer to the athletic director.”
“But Wren is a boss,” Autumn clarified. “She could boss at any moment. Her main focus is students, not staff.”
Jo lowered her lashes, focusing on scooping a perfect bite. “Wren was my first girlfriend.”
“First love,” Autumn added.
“First everything.” Jo hid her face behind the sundae. “I haven’t heard from her in years. Hadn’t.”
Autumn stage-whispered to the rest of the table, “They went out last night.”
Jo’s lips curved up into the bashful smile of the seriously smitten. Autumn’s plan was totally working.
Not that it had started as a plan. It started out as Pat Markey throwing her under the bus in front of the vice principal.
The staff lounge was at its busiest before the first bell as everyone crowded around the Keurig and teakettle, shaking out sugar packets and stuffing dollar bills into the Sunshine Committee jar when the French-vanilla creamer ran low.
Wren and Autumn hadn’t been super close in high school—Jo had always been between them to keep conversation afloat, to connect the dots of their disparate interests—but working together for the last few months had forged a new bond, a double knot of acquaintanceship that felt almost like being friends. Wren rarely made it out of meetings in time for lunch, so they tried their best to catch up as they dressed their coffees.
Early Wednesday morning, Pat had sidled up to the two of them and said to Autumn: “I know that Eden Freeman didn’t follow protocol for having her sister join us on campus, but I hope you will reach out to Jo and invite her back to finish taking headshots for the Senior Showcase. The students were so looking forward to their photo shoot with her when you ran her out on a rail.”
Autumn had opened her mouth to protest that Pat had all but told her to send Jo away, but Wren spoke first, her face pert with interest.
“Johanna was here?”
When Autumn mentioned Jo taking down a list of old goals, she had seen Wren’s teeth in a smile. Normally Wren saved loud facial expressions for sports and academic progress.
That toothy smile was a declaration of love, Autumn was sure of it.
Wren and Jo had been bonkers about each other from the moment they met. Like Romeo and Juliet without the fourth or fifth act or Maureen and Joanne in Rent with two Joannes. The couple had been true high-school-sweetheart material, except for the single year between them. When Wren left for college, Jo had been absolutely disconsolate for most of twelfth grade.
If Autumn knew anything about Jo, she already had a pro/con list about staying in Sandy Point. Probably on the whiteboard in her bedroom.
Wren would be a big check in the pro-town column.
“It wasn’t a date or anything,” Jo protested. “We wo
rked on my résumé. She reworded some of my LinkedIn profile. And she let me borrow a book so that we could discuss it the next time we get together.”
“So there is a next time!” Autumn exclaimed.
“That is exactly what I think dating Wren Vos would be like,” Bianca said, adjusting her beret to a jauntier tip. “Homework. That’s how she ran the honor society, too.”
“Homework is Jo foreplay,” Autumn said.
Jo threw her head back, letting loose one of her Disney-villain laughs. “I’ve been gone for almost a decade. How can you still read me to filth?”
“Um, best friends forever.” Autumn giggled, poking her friend in the ribs. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bianca turn away. She imagined tearing herself down the center, leaving two Autumns to converse at full speed with both friends without having to leave anyone out. Or bursting into a song that both Jo and Bee could sing, too, something that could convey all of their feelings in three scripted parts.
Offstage, no one ever fell into perfect, unrehearsed harmony. Jo was mostly tone-deaf anyway.
“You should have invited Wren along today,” Birdy told Jo affably. “The more the merrier. Based on name alone, I already like her.”
Jo gave a sheepish shake of her hair. “She commutes here five days a week. I didn’t want to ask her to come back on a Sunday.”
“‘On an ordinary Sunday.’” Autumn hummed the last note of Sunday in the Park under her breath, hoping to clear the earworm.
“What is Wren Vos’s apartment like?” Bianca asked Jo, one penciled-in eyebrow raised impishly. “Not to be super nosy—”
“But she can’t help it. It’s genetic,” Birdy interrupted.
“My guess is white soundproof box,” Flo said. His eyebrows drew together like Oscar the Grouch’s. “Vos drinks Soylent.”
“But Soylent Green is people!” Birdy said.
“We keep Ensure around for when Lita doesn’t want to eat,” Bee said dismissively. “It’s the same as Soylent with less-cool packaging.”
“And, Florencio,” Jo said, hitting each syllable of Flo’s name hard. “Didn’t you used to drink your mom’s Slim Fast for extra calories when you were trying to make weight in high school?”
Rubbing the heel of his hand bashfully over his eyes, Flo asked, “Who remembers shit like that?”
“Everyone!” Autumn laughed. “Especially Mom. Watching you pack on weight was why she stopped buying those shakes. She thought it was proof that they didn’t work.”
“When really it was proof that her growing son needed twice as much food,” Flo said.
“Pobrecito,” Bianca said, drawing a single tear down the side of her face. “Go ahead and eat all the ice cream you want now.”
“Anyone else getting full?” Birdy asked, flipping a chocolate chip cookie into an untouched scoop of brownie-batter ice cream.
“Oh yeah,” Bee and Jo said in unison.
“Don’t you give in to that quitter’s mentality!” Autumn said, pointing an accusing spoon at the assembled party. “We can’t even see the bottom of the punch bowl yet!”
“I’m still thinking about that hot dog,” Flo said.
“Here you go, Coach.” Jo turned the bowl counterclockwise so that the rest of the cheesecake slice ended up in front of him. “It’s cream cheese. Full of protein. Practically savory.”
Frosty’s got their second sale of the day as Dr. Wiley came in. The town pediatrician had the same gray ponytail she’d had the day she diagnosed Autumn’s teddy bear with croup.
“Good morning!” Dr. Wiley announced to the room at large. She had the sort of voice that would have carried clear across the Pacific if the restaurant walls hadn’t been in the way. “I’ll have two franks to go!” She winked at the group. “Not exactly clean eating, but a nice happiness honeypot after a bummer sermon. Is that the Sunday Sundae Surprise you’ve got there?”
“It sure is!” Autumn said.
“Would you like some, Dr. Wiley?” Birdy asked. “We’ve got plenty!”
“A kind offer, but I will pass today. I’m afraid I know what the surprise is. I did hear that congratulations are in order to you, Dr. Birdy! We’re excited to have you on Main Street!”
“I am excited to be had!” Birdy beamed, apple-cheeked. “Birdy Family Orthodontics, coming this summer! I’ve always wanted my own swinging bungalow.”
“You got the office? I didn’t know we were celebrating!” Florencio said. “Congratulations!”
“We might do our grand opening right after the Fourth of July parade,” Birdy said. “We’ve got the perfect spot to give out toothbrushes and burgers to the town.”
“Fourth of July weekend?” Autumn asked, aiming the question at Bee. “Won’t you be in Hawaii?”
“Oh. We aren’t going,” Bee said, blinking a lot in a bad impression of airy. “We’re upgrading lobby furniture.”
“What?” Autumn lowered her voice and angled her face away from the group. “Since when?”
She couldn’t possibly be this far out of the loop on Bianca’s life. They talked practically every day. Bee had been running the countdown earlier this week, hadn’t she?
“Birdy Family Orthodontics, eh?” Dr. Wiley asked with a mortifyingly conspicuous look at the second button of Bee’s red coat. “Is the nest growing yet?”
Birdy cleared his throat. Bee all but shouted, “Ha! No! Nooo! Birdy’s buying a second house; that is plenty of nest for us right now!”
Dr. Wiley took a step back from the table. “Oh well, welcome to the neighborhood regardless. I’ll leave you all to your sundae!”
Waving one of her franks, Dr. Wiley closed the door with another gush of winter air.
“I like the phrase happiness honeypot,” Jo noted to no one in particular. “Do you think it’s trademarked?”
Bee seethed, wielding her spoon in her fist to stab apart a brownie. “I swear to God everyone in this town either wants to tell me that I’m practically still twelve or they want to know why I don’t have kids yet.”
“Getting a dog could push that off for a couple years,” Florencio said. “That’s what I did.”
Autumn glared at him. “You gave your dog to Mom.”
“I share my dog with Mom,” he corrected. “She needed the company, not the vet bills. She’s living on a limited income now.”
“I can’t have a dog,” Bee said, loud enough to declare the route of conversation. “I have a business and a Lita.”
“Thank you for leaving me off the list, sweetheart. I appreciate your reserve.” Birdy leaned over to kiss the curve of her cheek. “But I would love a dog.”
Bee leaned away, brushing aside an itch on her nose. “You’d love ten dogs.”
Birdy’s chest puffed out. “One for each kid.”
“That sounds terrifying,” Jo said.
“Unless you picture the kids riding the dogs,” Autumn said, miming holding the reins to a galloping golden retriever. “Then it’s adorable. Except in real life; then it’s animal cruelty. Picture the dogs with robot bones.”
“Birdy’s a big family guy,” Bee explained to Jo.
Birdy popped a gummy bear into his mouth. Autumn couldn’t tell which part of the sundae had been hiding gummy candy. “My dad was the baker’s dozen of his siblings. He and my mom started late and only got to three.”
Jo’s eyes bulged. “Holy shit! Roman Catholic? Mormon?”
“I think they prefer Latter-day Saints,” Bee said.
“They do, but we aren’t,” Birdy said.
“Nana Birdy told me that Birdys just love babies,” Autumn said, remembering last year’s Birdy Bash trip to Orlando and subsequent cruise down to Bermuda. For Autumn, who grew up without cousins nearby, being absorbed into a family of fifty had been like stepping into a Cheaper by the Dozen film. Two solid weeks of overindulgence and PG-13 fun at top volume. Chaotic bliss.
Bianca sucked her teeth. “My vagina and I reserve the right to not love childbirth. Of course, we a
re years away from it being a problem. There is no way in hot hell that I am raising a kid and a Lita, thanks.”
A second silence fell over the table, this one as dense and suffocating as a weighted velvet curtain to the face. Autumn may have been behind on the honeymoon news, but she knew for damn sure that the Boria-Birdy household hadn’t made an official ruling on babies. Until now.
It seemed to catch Birdy by surprise, too. He kept searching for Bee’s attention, but she was busy turning the sundae again—pausing only once she reached the maraschino cherry pile. She crushed a mouthful between her teeth as her smartwatch rang.
“My mom,” she said with a weary flash of red-stained teeth as she slid out of the booth. “Excuse me.”
Birdy watched her mutter into her wrist and walk away, his face tight. He sniffed and forced a jovial expression at the table. “I love that watch. It looks like she’s talking to the Enterprise. So, Autumn, what happens if things don’t work out between your boss and your bestie? You’ve got a union, right?”
The shift in conversation was so fast, Autumn felt dizzy. “What? Yeah, but—”
“No!” Bee snarled into her watch as she stepped outside. “Firm no!”
“Excuse me.” Birdy tossed his chair back as he bounded after his wife.
“Ten bucks says they aren’t coming back,” Flo said.
“I’ll take that action,” Autumn said. Her tongue tried to anxiously wedge into the gap in her front teeth, only to bounce back against the cold smoothness of her veneers. She loved having straighter teeth in photos but missed the comfort of the gap that was no longer there.
“Weird news,” Jo said, peeking under an orb of spumoni. “The bottom layer of the sundae is pie.”
“Surprise!” Autumn shook two jazz hands.
COMPLETED ITEMS
TP Bianca’s house
Perform onstage
Get belly button pierced
Redo the yearbook prank
The Throwback List Page 11