The Throwback List

by Lily Anderson

  Reclaiming her position at the grill, Autumn stuck her tongue out. “Tell me Mom isn’t cooking for you, Flo. And us by extension.”

  “It was Mom’s recipe, but I did all the work,” Flo said with a defensive grunt. “I can stir onions in a pot.”

  “If you say so,” Autumn sang. She stacked briquettes into a pyramid. With sooty hands, she pointed toward the kitchen door. “It’ll go perfectly with the only bag of Doritos to escape the slumber-party junk-food massacre. It was hiding in the back of my trunk.”

  “It can’t be as broken as my Jen G chips,” Jo said.

  “You only brought Doritos?” Flo asked his sister. “We can’t have hot dogs without buns, Autumn!”

  “Hot-dog buns?” Autumn repeated, eyes wide with panic. “Did you tell me to bring—”

  Florencio cracked up, shaking his head. “Too easy!”

  “Shit-ass!” Autumn chucked an unlit piece of coal at him.

  The grill was starting to smoke. Oregon didn’t smell like home until something was on fire. Smoke and sand and sea, the whole world in a deep breath.

  No one questioned when Jo started setting up her tripod in front of the keg.

  “Let’s do this,” she announced when the shot was framed to her liking. “I’m not trying any amateur acrobatics with light beer already in my belly.”

  “Despite its pale color, High Life is technically a pilsner,” Birdy said. “The light is a different—You know what? No one cares. I apologize! I haven’t had this much fresh air in a whole week. It’s going straight to my head.”

  The Kelly siblings came to Jo’s aid with the handstand.

  “I could carry her weight by myself,” Flo said.

  “It’s not a keg wheelbarrow,” Autumn said, grabbing Jo’s right leg. “It’s a keg stand. Her legs need to go straight up.”

  “I swear, if you chant chug I’m gonna throw up in your yard,” Jo hissed at Florencio, doing her best not to picture him holding her legs like a wheelbarrow here in front of God and the Birdys.

  Up she went. Or down? She nearly went over. Her arms trembled, from nerves and strain and the freezing rim of the keg biting into the heels of her hands. The end of the keg tap appeared in her line of sight, bumping into her chin. She opened her mouth; Autumn popped the faucet between her lips.

  “Did we consider how to clean this?” Bianca asked.

  “Clorox wipes,” Jo tried to say with her mouth full. Plastic clacked against her teeth.

  “Chug!” Autumn said.

  “Drink!” Flo cheered.

  “Imbibe quickly!” Birdy added.

  Jo did not drown in beer, but she could definitely see her stupid BuzzFeed death headline for this stunt as well—“Grown Woman Dies Upside Down; Forgot to Breathe.” She tapped out as well as she could while keeping her balance and the Kellys righted her.

  As she staggered away, her feet took her in a dizzy circle, the same way she used to feel when she and Autumn would hold each other’s hands and spin underneath the endless blue skies of idyllic childhood.

  Jo did not throw up, but she did sit down hard. Her designated Adirondack chair was in front of the lopsided fire pit. The circle of gray pavers filled with flames waggled in front of her eyes for a whole minute before she could belch and say, “Someone pass me the camera. I gotta make sure I never have to do that again.”

  Hot dogs, church dip, and frozen taquitos eaten and beer starting to feel like a chore, the group pulled on jackets and sat around the fire pit. With the sun faded behind the trees, the fire was twilight’s bright star.

  Autumn gave a victorious cry as she successfully hacked into the speaker system, replacing the campy rap of Florencio’s workout mix.

  “What the fuck is this?” Florencio asked, frowning up at the mounted speaker.

  “The Baz Luhrmann Romeo and Juliet soundtrack,” Jo responded into the head of her most recent beer. She licked the foam away from her lips. She smiled at Autumn. “It’s one of the top-five all-time favorite Autumn Kelly albums, dude.”

  “You don’t recognize ‘Young Hearts Run Free,’ Florencio?” Birdy asked. “It’s a classic.”

  “Lita would surely disagree. She’s anti-disco, like anyone still cares,” Bee said, gulping down the ice water Flo had poured her. It felt too early to be sobering up. Day drinking was a tricky mistress.

  “Lita feels about disco the way hipsters—I mean…” Birdy gave a fake cough. “I’m sorry. The way Wren feels about wrapping things in bacon.”

  “Oh my God,” Bianca said, leaning toward Jo. “How is Wren? I haven’t thought about your handsome ice queen in days! Is she still creeping on your social media without an account?”

  “There is no more Wren,” Autumn said, plopping herself down next to Bianca with a new cup of beer. Clear plastic because Florencio insisted that only children drank out of red Solos. “In a she’s mean and wrong way. Not in a she’s dead way.”

  “We decided not to go forward with a romantic relationship,” Jo told Bianca. “I’m too much of a loser for her.”

  Jo tugged at her wool collar. Everyone else was cozy in flannel or fleece and all she had was her sandstone J.Crew coat. Her life in California had included far fewer cold-weather hangs. No one in Palo Alto would be outside in weather cooler than sixty.

  If her wrists and neck couldn’t get warm at the same time, she would have to resort to borrowing one of Florencio’s many uniform hoodies. Luckily everywhere he worked branded him in printed sweatshirts. There had to be extras in the house.

  “Wren was unnecessarily mean about it, though,” Autumn said, pausing to drink. Tiny rabid bubbles were left in the corner of her mouth as she smacked her lips. “So we’re mad at her.”

  “We are not,” Jo said, putting her palms as close to the fire as she dared. She was sure her Brazilian blowout made her extra flammable. “My feelings do not affect the feelings of the group. That’s culty.”

  “That’s family,” Bianca corrected from behind her water cup.

  “I’m not mad at Wren,” Jo stated, for the group record. She hadn’t considered that it needed stating. “I’m mad that she was right about me. Like, I’m not on track to hit my goals by thirty.”

  “That’s not true. You landed that keg stand beautifully!” Birdy said.

  “You are getting real close to the end of the Throwback List,” Flo said, holding his beer loose between his knees.

  “How did you guys decide that you were doing the right job?” Jo asked. “What makes a career your career? What makes a job the right job?”

  “The paycheck?” Autumn guessed.

  Florencio made a buzzer sound. “Stop trying to buy your happiness, Autumn. It’s why you can’t replace your car.”

  “To replace my car, I still have to buy something,” Autumn said petulantly. “So, money can fix some of my problems but not all of them? Pfft, ya burnt, Flo!”

  “Birdy, why are you an orthodontist?” Jo asked. “Did you ever know another orthodontist or were you just like fuck everything else, I love fixing a goof-ass smile?”

  “There’s also option three: secret sadism,” Autumn guessed.

  “I’ve told you many times, Autumn, I am not the dentist from Little Shop of Horrors. I’m not a dentist at all,” Birdy said, taking a sip of water for every sip of beer. To Jo, he explained, “My mom was a dental assistant when I was a kid, so I grew up in dental offices. I think the tech is neat and saw how impactful the work was and knew it was for me.”

  Jo scowled up at the sky as stars started fading into view. “Ugh, not helpful. My parents can’t commit to anything long enough to be useful to my career aspirations. They’ve never sold anything I liked.” She bit the inside of her cheek, realizing that wasn’t quite true. “I guess I wanted to work in an office because my dad used to. Before he fell in love with my mom and the ocean, he worked in finance in Seattle. I used to think he was so stupid for cashing out his 401(k) to buy the store. I mean, I continue to worry about how they’ll ever retir
e, but…they’re happy. I have so many questions about how they live their lives, but they seem to have found something to love in selling tea and surfboards.”

  “Maybe they just like being together,” Autumn said. “And work is second.”

  “You could try doing the opposite of whatever they do,” Bee said, leaning closer to the fire. “They sell tea and surfboards, so you could sell iced coffee and snowboards.”

  “Not quite opposite enough,” Jo said.

  “Have you thought about doing wedding photography?” Florencio asked. “It’s expensive as fuck, so I’d imagine the pay is okay.”

  “I’d need a portfolio. I’ve never shot a wedding. I’d need to find someone to apprentice under for a bit. I don’t know how long I can put my parents through having me at home. Not long enough to do an unpaid internship.”

  “We could host a fake wedding!” Autumn gasped. “Totally stage it with people from the town. On the beach. A white dress. Some fancy angles and your website skills? It’s a recipe for success!”

  “My mother is getting married,” Bianca said as though the information was also a surprise to herself. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have a photographer unless it was someone free. We’ll be lucky if she even puts on a dress without wrinkles.”

  “Bonnie still isn’t speaking to you?” Autumn asked Bianca, voice heavy with concern.

  “She heard about the renovations. I don’t know which of the artists snitched on me. Or maybe it was Lita. Mom called me, super pissed. I told her that if she didn’t like it, then she and Lita could fire me and figure out how to pay the bills on the house and the shop.”

  “Bianca!” Autumn gasped. “That’s so huge. Good for you!”

  “Only if they don’t take me up on the firing thing,” Bianca said. A laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Because she and Lita sure as hell aren’t talking to me. If Birdy weren’t home, I would be starting to believe I was a ghost.”

  “In my experience,” Flo said, tongue wedged into the corner of his mouth, “when people aren’t talking to you, it’s because you made a choice without them. They give you silence when they feel silenced. When you’re working toward the same goal, then the truth doesn’t hurt to hear.” He squinted into his beer with one eye and swiped a fleck of ash out of the foam.

  Jo’s coat pocket vibrated. She checked the caller ID.

  Gia.

  Shit.

  “It’s official. I’m crying uncle,” she said in the too-loud voice that slipped out when she was trying to pretend to be a functioning human being. “Florencio, may I please borrow one of your many, many sweatshirts?”

  Flo gave her a smug smile from the keg. “Sure thing. You can wear whatever’s in my closet.”

  “You’re too kind,” she said, getting to her feet.

  “And yet not kind enough to go get it himself,” Autumn noted, passing her empty cup to Flo.

  “It’s fine,” Jo said, rushing for the door before anyone activated Flo’s inflated sense of gallantry. “I’m gonna rifle through his medicine cabinet, too.”

  “It’s many kinds of allergy meds!” Autumn warned.

  “And suspicious amounts of lotion!” Bianca added.

  “Oh my God,” Flo said, reproachfully holding Autumn’s cup out of her reach. “I can’t invite you people anywhere!”

  Jo slipped inside, answering the call but waiting until she was out of sight of the backyard before putting the phone to her ear.

  “Hi, Gia, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tiptoeing into Flo’s bedroom. She had to fumble for the light switch. When the room finally flooded with light, she caught her reflection in the mirrored closet doors.

  “You have been avoiding my texts!” Gia squawked in her ear. “You gave us a clean piss sample, so I know we have your interest. Have you been on a bender since? Because, girl, I have been there before.”

  For all the things Sandy Point didn’t have, there was a diagnostic lab next to Fred Meyer. Not submitting a sample would have been as definitive a choice as just saying no. To count as a maybe, she had to submit her urine. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide. She’d been to the spring carnival and knew meth-free was the way to be.

  “No, really, G, it’s just been sort of a—”

  “It’s okay. I get it. Going into sales isn’t what you were expecting. But, Jo, I really think you could be great at this, okay? I have seen you grow from that gawky intern in an Old Navy blazer to a marketing powerhouse. You could be using that in the field. Not just thinking up slogans and giving goody bags to influencers. Actually talking to people. Trying new things. Haven’t you been happier since you’ve been doing your list?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And aren’t you running out of list to do?”

  Jo gulped. There were fewer than ten items left on the list. She had been so focused on getting things done, she hadn’t realized how few remained until someone had commented, asking what she would do next.

  There was no plan for after the list. May 1 would come and go, and all of her friends would still have jobs and families and responsibilities. What would Jo have when the Throwback List was over?

  “This could be your next big thing,” Gia continued. “I want you. Rachel wants you. Here’s what we’re offering.” She listed a number that made Jo sit down on Florencio’s blue plaid duvet. “Full medical, dental, vision. You make your quota in the first month and we’ll write you a signing bonus that will pay off your car, Jojo. I’m serious. If you want this, you need to say yes right now.”

  “Yes,” Jo breathed.

  “Good girl. Call Rachel to set up paperwork. I’m texting you her number riiiight now. There.”

  Jo hung up the phone, stared at her reflection in the closet doors. Mirror-Jo had guilty eyes and one hand fisted in the comforter. Her pineapple necklace wiggled as she gave a dry swallow. She grabbed the first hoodie she found in the closet.

  Outside, the world kept spinning. Jo meant to open her mouth, tell her friends that she had made the decision to change her life and move to a new city. But Autumn had another beer waiting for her and Florencio was mid-story, explaining how many of his wrestlers cried the first time they got pinned and the ways he was trying to normalize it for them.

  Jo sat down in her chair, toasty warm in a sweatshirt that only fit because Flo wore it baggy, her coat draped over her knees like a blanket.

  Was this the feeling that led her father to cash out all the money he had, all those years ago, when he decided to choose the smaller life of a small town? Why had she never asked him before?

  About two logs swallowed by the fire later, the party had wound down much further than the keg. Bianca’s watch gave a sleepy chirp.

  “Look, Elton John gets a lot of heat,” Birdy slurred. “But ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ is the best song ever written. People don’t know because they don’t know the best version isn’t the one in the movie.”

  “I know, big guy,” Bee said, rubbing circles on his chest. “That’s why we played it at our wedding.”

  “Should have played the live version. Biggest regret of my life.”

  “You’ve lived a blessed life, man,” Flo said.

  “Time to go. I need to put Lita to bed,” Bianca announced. She helped Birdy to his solid leg.

  “Damn, I wish I had my guitar,” Birdy said. “I could play ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ and convince you all it’s the greatest.”

  “Next time, Birdy,” Autumn promised.

  “I love him so much,” Bianca told the group with a shake of her head. “But I will never fix his taste in music.” She gave hugs all around. “Autumn, you want a ride?”

  “Yes! I am so tired of walking.” Autumn bounded for the car, seemingly more happy to be invited than to be off her feet. “Good night, friends!”

  “Good night!” Jo called back. She looked at her own car and then back at Flo. “I’m not sober enough to drive yet.”

  “Glass of water?” Flo offered. “Or anoth
er beer?”

  Jo accepted the latter. She didn’t have work tomorrow.

  But she had a job. A new job. A new career.

  She sat down on the chair next to Flo, in front of the waning light of embers in the pit. It wasn’t the first time they’d been left alone, but there was no activity to drive them, no bar between them. Insects buzzing and the whisper of the ocean blended together into a comfortable white noise that kept the lack of talking from feeling like silence.

  Flo pushed his sleeves up, warming the art on his arms. There were pictures of his tattoos on Bianca’s website. Apparently, both his and the Chief’s Celtic knot work had been done by Bee’s grandfather, the Salty Dog himself. After he died, one of the other artists finished the left sleeve and worked on the Filipino iconography of his right arm.

  Jo’s curiosity finally spilled over. “What kind of person gets nature-versus-nurture sleeves?”

  Flo shook his head and rested his chin in his palm. No one pulled off semibashful like Florencio Kelly. His whole face crinkled with the joy of it. “Just your average transracial adoptee with internet degrees in child development and friends who own a tattoo parlor.”

  “Internet degrees, huh?” Jo asked, curling up the best she could in the slant of the Adirondack chair. “Is that how you managed to never leave town?”

  “That’s how,” Flo said. “I spent some time at Tillamook Bay, thought I would get into the fire program, do the job—”

  “Fight fires instead of starting them,” Jo said, indicating the dying embers in the fire pit.

  “Exactly,” Florencio said. “But it turned out that I liked being able to focus on school without spending all of my free time training. So, I switched majors and transferred to OSU’s distance learning school. I got to work part-time and go to school from home. It was a good system.”

  Jo combed her fingers through her hair. “You never got tired of living here? Don’t you get tired of people asking where you’re really from?”

  Flo picked up his beer and took a swig. “You mean do I get tired of people expecting me to speak Spanish when I’m Asian? Sure. Who likes racism?”