Little Do We Know

by Tamara Ireland Stone

  I pictured Dad sitting in front of the monitor a few hours earlier, watching Luke onstage, speaking so honestly about what he’d been through, and suddenly, everything became clearer. “It was Dad’s idea to ask Luke to speak at Admissions Night, wasn’t it?”

  “How did you know that?”

  I locked my eyes on his. “I know my dad.”

  Aaron looked impressed. “Luke is this good-looking, nice, clean-cut kid who wasn’t a believer before, but died and came back changed. He believes something important happened to him.”

  “He doesn’t know what happened to him,” I corrected.

  “Maybe not, but he’s starting to realize he’s part of something bigger. Don’t you think he’s supposed to pass it on?”

  “Not if he doesn’t want to.”

  I thought back to the conversation Luke and I had after we shot the video. He didn’t necessarily believe he went to heaven. Or maybe he did, and I was the one who told him he might not have. I wasn’t sure. But either way, he was still figuring this whole thing out. I couldn’t put him on a stage in front of hundreds of applicants and their parents and make him talk.

  “Luke experienced something intense that night,” Aaron said. “He’s trying to figure out what it all means. And talking about it with you, and to a camera…it seems to be helping a little, don’t you think?”

  I had to admit, Aaron was right about that. Luke had seemed like a totally different person when we drove home from the church the night before, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And he’d been texting me all day, telling me how everything tasted better, and colors were more vivid, and his sense of smell seemed to be heightened. He said he hadn’t researched NDEs at all when he got home. He fell asleep right away and didn’t wake up until his alarm went off in the morning. He hadn’t slept for three hours in a row since the accident.

  “He’ll say no,” I said. Aaron didn’t respond. He just sat there, watching me, waiting for me to continue. “I’ll ask him, but I want to do it in person.”

  I needed Luke to see my face and to know he wasn’t under any pressure to say yes.

  I pulled out my phone and started a new text to him. I typed, Video’s done. It’s incredible. Come by tonight? I pressed SEND and dropped the phone on the table next to the keyboard. It buzzed right away.

  Luke: Can’t tonight. Tomorrow?

  Hannah: Sure

  Luke: Meet you at the corner

  “He’s coming over tomorrow night,” I told Aaron.

  “Oh…good. When?”

  “Midnight, I guess. He’ll wait until our parents all go to bed. He has to sneak out. He’s not allowed to drive.”

  Aaron picked up the mouse and started clicking around, closing windows, dragging files into folders. He wouldn’t look at me. I thought about our text exchange a few nights earlier, remembering the way we flirted, talking about the thing that wasn’t supposed to happen again but might happen again.

  “I have no right to be jealous,” he said under his breath.

  “No, you don’t.” He was the one with the girlfriend. He was the one breaking all the rules. “But are you?”

  Aaron turned around. He looked at me like he had something to say, but he wasn’t sure he should say it. “You two on the stage…when he hugged you.”

  “He needed a friend.”

  “It looked like more than that.”

  “It wasn’t.” I shook my head slowly. “He’s Emory’s boyfriend. I’m trying to help him.”

  He sighed. “Look, I realize I have no right to ask this, but I have to know.” He twirled a mic cord around his finger. “Did he try to kiss you after you two left here?”

  He was jealous. He was definitely jealous. Like he’d said, he had no right to be, but I kind of liked that he was.

  “No.”

  “Did you want him to?”

  I looked right at him. “No. Not at all.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I told you. I want you to kiss me. I’ve spent the last week wanting you to kiss me again.”

  He traced my jawline with his finger and brushed his thumb over my lips. And then he leaned in closer and brought his mouth to mine. His lips were soft and warm, and when he parted them, I did the same. I knew I should have asked him about Beth, but I didn’t want to know. I knew I should have stopped him, but I didn’t.

  “What are you grinning about?” he asked between kisses.

  “This,” I said. “You.” And that made him kiss me even harder.

  “Finally!” Mom came barreling around the corner, holding a big box in her arms. “I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon. Where have you been?”

  “Where else? The play is one week from tomorrow. I was running lines at the diner with Charlotte and Tyler.” I knew she’d been lost in her own little world lately, but it was almost as if she’d entirely forgotten what was happening in mine. But I wasn’t about to let it get to me. I’d just done the whole third act off book, and I was finally beginning to feel like I didn’t suck after all. “I’ve gotta say, I’m on fire.”

  “Of course you are,” Mom said. “I told you you’d get your lines down. You always do.”

  I tried to remember when she’d told me that, but I was coming up blank. I didn’t let that get to me either. Instead I gestured toward the box and changed the subject. “What are you all giddy about?”

  “Invitations are here!”

  Good feeling, gone. That glow I’d been happily basking in was instantly replaced by an uncomfortable knot deep in my gut.

  Mom stepped behind me, using the box to push me through the entryway and into the kitchen. “Come on,” she sang. “Let’s look.”

  Her giant three-ring bound wedding planner was on the table, open to the guest list. She set the box down next to it, disappeared into the kitchen, and came back with a knife.

  “Drumroll, please…”

  I thought she was kidding, but then she pointed at the table and widened her eyes. I drummed my fingers against the edge of the table while she slid the knife across the seam, splitting the packing tape in two. Then she peeled the top back and took out a smaller white box wrapped in shiny gold ribbon.

  “Oh, it’s so beautiful.”

  “It’s the box, Mom.”

  “I know…” She tugged at the ribbon, and it fell to the table. Then she opened the lid and grabbed the invitation on top. She handed it to me. The paper was soft and a pretty shade of light green, and I stared at it while she picked up another invitation and read aloud:

  “Jennifer Fitzsimmons and David Mendozzi request the honor of your presence at their wedding.”

  She stopped reading and held her arm in front of my face. “I’ve got chills!”

  I didn’t have chills. I had a lump in my throat the size of Canada. But I shot her a fake grin, and she went back to ogling the invitation.

  “Oh, I love embossed type.” She brushed her fingertip over the raised lettering. “Isn’t this elegant?”

  I didn’t reply. I just dug through the box. “How many did you order?”

  “Sixty. The guest list has ninety-two people, most of them couples, but I wanted to get a few extra in case I decide to add anyone.”

  I reached for her binder and scanned the list. Ninety-two names. Ninety-two people who were going to show up at a hillside ceremony, dance in an enormous tent under tiny white lights, and eat and drink thousands of dollars’ worth of food and wine. I figured D-bag’s friends would make up the majority of the wedding list, but a lot of the names were familiar. Friends from her catering circle. High school friends. Couples she and Dad used to have over for dinner, and families we used to visit and go on vacations with.

  They might all come to her wedding, but not a single one of them could have been bothered to call or text when Mom wouldn’t get out of bed for nearly a year. I would have given anything for just one of these ninety-two people to show up on our doorstep back then.

  “You’re inviting the Jacquards?
” I asked.

  “Of course I am. We’ve known them all your life.” She unwrapped the cellophane and started stacking the invitations and envelopes in two neat piles. “And you’re going to have to figure out how to be in the same room with Hannah by then, because I’m not about to let this ridiculous fight of yours ruin my big day.”

  “It’s not ridiculous,” I muttered.

  I checked the list. At least Luke and his family would be there, too. I could always hide out with the four of them.

  I peered into the box and pointed at a small cellophane-wrapped bundle tied with a bright blue bow. “What’s that?”

  Mom reached for it, tugged at the ribbon, and slid the covering away. “Oh, Emory. Look. It’s our Save the Date card.”

  The background was a black-and-white image of Mom and David at the beach, him down on one knee, presenting her with a ring, and her covering her mouth, looking completely shocked. A local photographer staged the whole thing. In real life, D-bag proposed to her one night at our house. When I went out one Saturday night, she wasn’t wearing a ring, and when I came home, she was.

  “We should start addressing these this weekend. The Knot says you should send out Save the Date cards six to eight months in advance, so I’m already way behind.”

  This weekend.

  And after that, there would be no taking it back.

  I should have been sick of Luke’s video by that point—I’d already lost count of how many times I’d seen it—but watching it next to him made me feel like I was seeing it for the first time.

  On-screen, Luke stared into the camera and said, “Someday, I know I’m going to be in that water again. I’m not ready to die or anything, but I’m not afraid of it anymore.”

  The screen went dark and the car was silent.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  He made a face. “It’s good, I guess. It’s just weird watching myself talk about what happened like that. I sound so…clearheaded. I don’t feel that way most of the time.”

  “You were being totally honest.”

  “Yeah.” He slid his finger across the glass, rewinding the video back to the beginning. “I’m not sure I could do that again, but…”

  “You’re glad you did it?” I asked, finishing his sentence.

  He smiled at me. “I’m glad I did it.”

  As he pressed PLAY, watching it a second time, I thought about what Aaron said. I looked at Luke’s face. He seemed relieved. Happy. Happier than I’d ever seen him.

  “I’m supposed to ask you a question,” I said when the video ended. I had to say it fast before I chickened out. “We have this big admissions event coming up. It’s basically the way we get kids to apply to Covenant. SonRise is singing. The dance team is performing. And a few people are sharing short testimonials.”

  He shot me a look. “If you’re going where I think you’re going with this, no way.”

  “Why not? It’s the exact same room, only with, like, two hundred more people in it.” I thought a joke might lighten things up, but he didn’t even crack a smile.

  “No way,” he repeated.

  “I’m kidding. I figured that’s what you’d say. My dad needs another speaker, and I guess he happened to walk into the sound booth while Aaron was editing this and he got all excited. He thought—”

  Luke cut me off. “Wait. Your dad saw this?”

  I steeled myself, preparing to hear him lay into me for being so careless. “It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

  I waited, still expecting him to be angry or embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I don’t care. It’s your dad. He was there when it happened, so…” His sentence hung in the air, unfinished. “Is your dad the one who wants me to speak at your admissions thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  I was surprised he’d ask, but he genuinely didn’t seem to understand why anyone would care. “He was moved by the video, and he thinks other people will be, too. You’re relatable, you know? You’re just a normal, average guy who had this extraordinary thing happen to him. And there’s something about you. When you talk, you make people want to listen.”

  Luke tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, taking it all in. I didn’t want to push him, but I couldn’t help but think that Aaron had been right about what he’d said in the sound booth.

  “It seems like talking about what happened is helping you. You’re sleeping. You’re eating. That day you showed up on my doorstep, you looked battered and broken. But now you look like I remember you. Like the Luke before all this happened.”

  Luke stared out the window for almost a full minute. “I honestly don’t know who I am anymore.”

  I had no idea how to respond to that, so I sat there quietly, waiting for him to break the silence again.

  “I can’t say no to your dad. I owe him.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t owe him anything. Really. Do this because you want to, not because you feel obligated to my dad or me or anyone else. Do it because talking about what happened to you is helping you to get it out of your head.”

  “When is it?” he finally asked.

  “Next Friday. At seven o’clock.”

  Luke thought about it some more. And then he said, “I have a lacrosse game.” I thought that was the end of it, but then he shook his head hard. “But what the hell. I can’t play anyway. And I can’t stand to watch my team and hear them down on the field, talking about their college plans, while I sit on the bench and cheer like an idiot. Tell your dad I’ll do it.”

  I had to ask. “Are you sure?”

  His mouth twisted up on one side. “It’ll be fun.”

  I’d recruited Tyler, Charlotte, and Addison to help me with my big date.

  As soon as rehearsal ended on Saturday, Tyler drove us to Charlotte’s house and we hauled a plastic box with the word CAMPING written on the side from the garage to the backyard. We dropped everything on the grass.

  Tyler opened the box and started rummaging through it, while Charlotte untied a string on the long, narrow bag and let the blue-and-orange tent spill out.

  “So first, you unroll it and lay it flat, like this,” Charlotte said, demonstrating. “And then you just feed these bendy poles through these little pockets. See, the whole thing pops up as you go. Once all the poles are threaded through, you tuck them into the grommets and stake it down with these—although it’s not like it’ll be windy or anything, you really don’t need to do that part.”

  “Wait, go back. What are grommets?” She showed me the little holes with the colorful reinforced stitching that lined the edges of the tent. “That’s a good word. I like that. Grommet.” I said it a few more times.

  “Weirdo,” she said, handing me a thin, bendable pole. “Here, you take that side, I’ll take this one.”

  “Okay, so when you’re actually camping, what do you do after you put up the tent?” I asked.

  “Get in and get naked,” Tyler said.

  “Can’t,” I said, still working on the tent. “His doctor hasn’t cleared him. I’ve seen the post-op instructions, and it’s all very clear. Three weeks, no sooner. Besides,” I added, “he won’t let me see his scar.”

  “You haven’t seen it?” Charlotte finished her side of the tent. I was still struggling to get mine past the halfway point.

  “He says it’s disgusting. And maybe it is, but I really don’t care.” I finally got the pole over the top of the tent. I started onto the other side.

  Tyler returned to the camping box. “Well, if you’re not having sex, you might as well have these,” he said as he pulled two long metal sticks from the box and held them in the air.

  “What on earth are those for?” I asked.

  “S’mores,” Charlotte said.

  “Oh.” I pictured the fire pit on Luke’s patio. His parents always sat out there after Calletti Spaghetti with their feet propped up on the edge and wineglasses in their hands. “Yeah, we definitely need s’mores. Add those
to the pile.” The grocery store was our next stop anyway. I added graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows to my mental list.

  “And if you get bored, you can duel.” Tyler tossed one of the metal sticks to Charlotte, and the two of them danced around the lawn, pretending to fight.

  I finished my side of the tent. As I then stood back, admiring my work, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and read the screen.

  Addison: Coast is clear!

  “Guys.” I waved my phone in the air, and Tyler and Charlotte stopped dueling. “We’re on.”

  We took everything apart and loaded it in the back of Tyler’s car.

  My feet were kicked up on the edge of the fire pit, and I was pretending to read a book when Luke opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Surprise.” I stood and gestured toward the bag of marshmallows, the box of graham crackers, and the giant chocolate bars. And then I pointed at the blue-and-orange tent I’d pitched on his lawn. Those tiny strands of twinkle lights made it glow from the inside out.

  “You said you wanted to turn me into a camper, remember?” I came up on my tiptoes and kissed him. And then I took his arm, leading him to the grass. I could hear the music playing as I unzipped the tent and crawled inside.

  “Where did you get all this?” he asked as he climbed in next to me and collapsed onto the pile of pillows.

  “The tent and the sleeping bags are Charlotte’s. Addison let me borrow the lights.”

  “Addison helped you with this?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out his hand-drawn map. I handed it to him and he held it up to the light. “You drew that two weeks ago. Can you believe that? It seems like it was months ago.”

  He turned it over in his hands. “Yeah, it does.”

  “Well, I thought we’d better get planning. Prom. Graduation. Road trip.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he said, looking up at me.