by Jo Knowles
She looks at me funny and shrugs. “Anyway. A bunch of us are heading over to Joe’s. Wanna come?”
“Joe’s?”
“Cuppa. You know, the café on Main? Big white coffee cup for a sign?”
I wonder what she means by “a bunch of us” and if that includes Stella and Britt. I can’t exactly ask. Obviously. But there is no way I want him to see me now. He probably thinks I’m some sort of stalker.
“Thanks, but I have too much work to do.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry.” I start walking away. Then I stop and turn around. She’s still standing there. “Thanks for asking, though.”
“Sure,” she says. “See ya.”
I spend two hours at the school library on my own. Jason never shows up. Maybe he got invited to Joe’s, too. The whole time I’m there, I keep thinking about how Stella and Britt looked. Happy. Maybe he is a bit possessive, but the guy clearly does love her. And she loves him. So yeah. That’s good. Whatever.
On my way out, I run into my guidance counselor.
“Josh! How’re you doing? Any news?”
“Nah, not yet.”
“Well, these next few weeks, the acceptances will start rolling in.”
I nod.
“How’s everything else going? You holding up? This time of year can be pretty stressful.”
“Yeah, I’m doin’ pretty good.”
He pats me on the back. “Good.”
Right.
Outside, the sky is a grayish blue. It’s windy, too. I wait for the bus with a bunch of other students. Some I recognize, some I don’t. They nod to me but don’t talk to me. It’s like I’m almost invisible but not quite.
At Larry’s apartment, I dump my stuff in my room and head to the kitchen to make dinner. Clover follows me, since she knows I’ll give her a treat. Larry will already be at the Y, teaching. I only have a few minutes to scarf something down, so I make a sandwich and sit alone at the kitchen table, with Clover rubbing against my legs.
While I’m eating, the phone rings.
“Hi, Joshy, it’s me,” my mom says. “I tried calling your cell, but you weren’t picking up.”
“We can’t use phones in school,” I say. “Remember? Sorry. I always forget to turn it back on.”
“That’s OK, honey. I just wanted to check in. I’m so glad I caught you. It’s been a while.”
There’s an awkward pause. My mom tried keeping up with her pledge to call me once a week to make sure I’m “fine,” but she always seems to call when I’m at practice. Or out. Sometimes I wonder how much she really wants to know.
“So, I have some good news,” she tells me. “I got a promotion at work!”
“Hey, that’s great!”
“It’s such good timing, with you starting college next year.”
“I can take out student loans, Mom. You don’t have to pay.”
“Of course we’ll pay! I mean, as much as we possibly can. We’ll take out the loans if we have to. Have you heard anything yet, honey?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, I’m sure you will soon.”
“Yeah, hopefully.”
Awkward silence.
“So, in addition to my promotion, I also got a nice little bonus, and your dad and I decided to go away for a long weekend.”
“Wow,” I say.
“I know. Crazy, huh? Your dad and I have never really gone away like this before. Just the two of us. It’s a big step.”
“That’s great, Mom.” I mean it. I do. Even if it’s a little weird. I knew things were better at Christmas, but I didn’t realize we’d reached, like, second-honeymoon level. If someone told me a year ago they’d be like this, I would have laughed.
“Actually it was our therapist’s suggestion. He thinks going away might help us . . . you know. Rekindle . . . things. Between us.”
Oh, God. I so don’t want to hear about them rekindling anything. And also, therapist?
“Is everything OK with you guys? Why are you seeing a therapist?”
I listen to her take a few slow breaths before she answers. “We’re trying, Josh. But it’s hard. We thought a therapist could help.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, honey. This is a good thing! Anyway, we’ll be staying at a little bed-and-breakfast place in Vermont. I wanted to let you know, in case you needed to reach us. I don’t know what the cell coverage will be like there.”
She gives me the name and phone number of the place, and I write it down.
“How’s Dad doing with — everything else?” I ask. I can’t seem to bring myself to say the drinking. I don’t know why, since we’re talking about them going somewhere to “rekindle” things.
“He’s fine,” she says, stealing my word. “He has his struggles, you know. But he’s trying really hard. And the walking has been so good for him. Rosie, too!”
“Tell them I said hi,” I say.
“It’s good to hear your voice, honey. School is still going all right?”
“Yeah, everything is fine.” I imagine her cringing at the word, but she doesn’t seem to miss a beat.
“All right. We’ll call when we get home.”
“I hope you guys have a good time,” I say. “Really.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
I hang up the phone and look down at Clover, who’s staring at me with her big, wondering eyes.
“Crazy,” I say to her.
“What’s crazy?”
I jump about a mile.
“Jesus, Larry, you scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry, Sammy. I had a break, so I dashed home for a bite before class. That your mom on the phone?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“She and my dad are going away for the weekend. Together.”
“Nice!”
“You mean crazy.”
“No-oh, I mean nice.”
“Nice and crazy.”
“Why crazy? They’re married, right?”
“Well, yeah. But they’ve been married for seventeen years, and they never wanted to be alone before. At least not in my memory. It’s just — crazy.”
“Seventeen years? Really? Wow. Time flies.”
Yes. Seventeen years, Larry. Do the math.
“So, what’s the special occasion?” he asks.
“My mom got a promotion. And my dad is stone-cold sober. And they have a therapist who thinks a weekend away is a good idea.”
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“Why aren’t you more excited? You should be happy for them, right?”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound like it.”
“I am!”
“Well, you don’t have to get all upset. Jeez.”
“I’m not upset. I’m just . . . never mind. I just wonder what made them change, that’s all.” But I feel like I know. And I guess it’s not such a bad thing. Maybe something good should come out of the mess I made. At least something good for other people.
“So, where are they going?”
I motion to the piece of paper on the table.
“Oooh, Vermont! Maybe they can scope the place out for me.”
Give me strength.
He makes himself a smoothie and downs it in about three gulps.
“Ahhhh. OK. Ready to hit the Y?”
“That’s all you’re having for dinner?”
“I’m going to meet the little lady after practice for a late meal.”
“Little lady? Seriously, Lar?”
“Aw, lighten up.”
I shake my head.
“You should be happy about your parents, Josh. You know? It’s cool they’re getting help to make things work. It means they still love each other. That’s awesome!”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t happy for them. I am! If I’d known what a positive effect my absence would have on their marriage, I would’ve left a long time ago.”
“Come on, that�
��s not true. And hey, it’s you who kept them together in the first place.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hell-o-oh? You know what I’m talking about. Shotgun wedding?”
Oh. So he does know.
“Do you know what the chances are of those kinds of marriages surviving? But look at your parents. After all these years, they stuck it out. And they’re still dedicated to making it work.”
“So you think they did the right thing?”
He looks at me and hesitates. Like he knows he has to be careful now.
“Every situation is different. All right? They made the best choice for them. You made the best choice for you.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
Larry’s quiet.
“Never mind,” I say. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No,” he says sarcastically. “Obviously not.”
But I don’t reply. I go to my room, grab my karate stuff, and follow him out to the hall, down the stairs, and all the way to the Y in silence.
First thing Saturday morning, Stella, Larry, and I head downtown to look at rings.
“Can’t you leave that thing at home?” Larry asks Stella, who is madly texting and walking at the same time. “I can’t stand how everyone’s always buried in their phones. Hello! Pay attention to the people you are with.”
She ignores him.
“What are you typing, anyway?” he asks.
“A love letter.” She elbows him, finishes texting, and drops her phone in her purse.
A love letter. Fantastic.
We check out the mall first, but Larry says all the rings there look the same. He says we need to go somewhere off the beaten path. Finally, we find a shop downtown that’s an artists’ co-op, which means a bunch of different artists all sell their stuff at the store.
We lean over case after case until we finally find an artist Larry likes. Someone who works there comes over to help us.
“Would you like to see a few of these?” she asks, gesturing toward some artsy-looking silver bands Larry has his eye on.
Larry leans closer to the glass. “I think so,” he says. There’s sweat forming on his forehead.
The lady smiles and opens a glass door on her side of the counter.
“It has to be really special,” Larry tells her.
“Don’t they all?” she asks.
Larry looks embarrassed.
“I’m Grace, by the way.”
“Larry. And this is my nephew, Josh, and our friend Stella.”
“Nice to meet you.” She pulls out a bunch of gold and silver rings and sets them in front of us. A lot of them look like the usual diamond ring, just with slightly different designs on the bands.
Larry picks one up that has tiny diamonds all the way around it rather than one big one.
“Oh, that one really is unique,” Grace says. “Look.” She takes the ring from Larry and shows how the diamonds are on some sort of inner ring that turns. She puts it on her finger and spins the ring of diamonds with her thumb. “Isn’t that fun?”
Larry takes the ring back and puts it on the tip of his pinkie. He makes the diamonds spin. “Cool,” he says. “What do you guys think?”
“Let me try it,” Stella says. She puts the ring on and holds her hand out, fingers splayed apart. She moves the inner ring and the diamonds sparkle as they spin around her finger. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I say.
Her cheeks turn pink. My own face feels warm, too.
“It’s very unique,” Grace interrupts. “It’s lovely on you.” I think she is going in for the big sale, because obviously this ring, with all the diamonds, is going to be a lot more expensive than the others.
Larry steps back and squints at the ring on Stella’s finger, tilting his head at different angles. “I just don’t know,” he says. “Maybe too flashy.”
Stella slides it off her finger and carefully hands it back to Grace.
“Is this a surprise engagement?” Grace asks. “If not, why don’t you bring your fiancée here to see what she likes. An engagement ring is an important purchase. She’ll be wearing it for the rest of her life.”
“It’s a surprise,” Larry says hopelessly. “Crap. I don’t want to screw this up. I want it to be romantic.”
He sounds like a little kid.
“You don’t have to decide right this minute,” I say. I take him by the arm. “Come on, let’s check out a few more places.”
Stella hesitates at the counter a little bit longer, looking at the ring in a dreamy way. She’s probably daydreaming about getting engaged to Britt.
“C’mon, Stell,” I say, pulling her away from the counter.
Grace gives me a dirty look, like I just blew her chance on a giant commission. I give her what I hope is an apologetic look. Because I do feel bad. But this is Larry. We have to make sure he’s happy.
We go outside and walk down the sidewalk until we find a café, where Larry buys us all hot chocolate.
“This is hopeless,” Larry says when we sit at a tiny table in the back. “Maybe that lady’s right. Maybe I should just ask Arielle first, and then let her pick out a ring.”
“No,” Stella and I say at the same time.
“I think Arielle will love whatever you pick out,” I say. “It’s not about the ring. It’s about you, you know, telling her you love her and want to spend the rest of your life with her.”
Larry clutches his chest and pushes back his seat dramatically, as if I just said the most earth-shattering thing he ever heard.
Stella laughs.
“What?”
“I do believe my nephew is a hopeless romantic. Who would’ve thunk it?”
Ha. Ha.
“Right. Whatever. All I’m saying is, I think you’re getting way too stressed out over this.”
“Josh is right,” Stella says. “If someone proposed to me, I wouldn’t care about the ring. I’d just care about the proposal. And what the guy said. Like, how he would always love me.”
Larry sighs. “I know, I know. In the ideal world, you’re right. But I’m so afraid Arielle will say no. I mean, it’s like you said. It’s the rest of our lives!”
I don’t point out that, in fact, statistically, marriage is only for the rest of your life fifty percent of the time.
“Look,” I say to Larry. “Do you really think she’s going to say no because she doesn’t like the ring you pick out? Get a clue. If she’s that shallow, she doesn’t deserve you.”
“She’s not,” Larry says, all defensive.
“I know. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Don’t sweat the ring.”
We finish our drinks and decide to call it a day. Larry seems kind of withdrawn as we walk home.
“Through the park?” he asks hopefully when we get to the entrance.
“I gotta get back,” Stella says. “But you two go.” She looks like part of her really wants to stay with us. But she’s already reaching in her purse for her phone.
“You sure?” Larry asks.
“Yeah, it’s daytime. No worries.” She gives Larry a big hug and whispers something in his ear. We watch her hurry down the sidewalk and disappear around the corner.
“You guys would make the cutest couple,” Larry says.
I give him a shove.
“I’m serious!”
“I know,” I say. Well, not about the cute part. But she’s with Britt. And after seeing them together in the hall that day, I know she’s happy. “You gotta let it go, though, Lar. She’s got a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
It’s sunny, and warm for March, and there are quite a few people out walking their dogs. We go a ways without talking, then Larry grabs my arm and stops.
“I’m going to do it next weekend,” he says, as if he just decided. “If I don’t do it soon, I’ll go nuts. This whole thing is causing me way too much stress.”
“OK,” I say.
“That’s it? Just OK?�
�
“Um, would congratulations be premature?”
“No!”
“Just kidding! I’m really happy for you, Lar. I mean it.”
“Hey,” he says, facing me. He puts both hands on my shoulders. His fingers press through my jacket and squeeze.
“Easy,” I say, looking around and hoping no one sees this strange act of affection.
“Be my best man,” he says. “Will you?”
“What? Me? Why?”
He lets go. “Because you’re my man! Samurai Sam!”
I stare at him.
“My man!” he says again.
I really wish he wouldn’t say that. Especially in public.
“What about my dad?” I ask.
Larry rolls his eyes. “You know Hal and I have never been close. Plus, can you see him in a tux? C’mon. Say yes, Sammy. Pleeeeeeease?”
Anything to make him stop calling me that.
He waits, peering into my face like a puppy waiting for me to toss him a ball. I smile, realizing how much I love my uncle, sappy as that seems. He took me in when he hardly knew me. He brought me into his life and got me into a sport I never would have imagined being able to do, much less like. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel like I’m not a loser. Like I really could be someone or do something good with my life. He makes me feel like I matter. I can’t believe I spent the past few weeks obsessed with what school I’d get into and my ticket out of here instead of facing what I know now: It’s going to be really hard to leave.
“Of course I will, you big dope,” I finally say.
He jumps up and down and runs circles around me. Then he gives me a huge bear hug and lifts me up in the air.
“Easy, easy,” I say, trying to pull away.
He punches me in the arm. “I’m so happy,” he says.
“I can see that.”
“I really hope she says yes.”
“I’m sure she will.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I say. “She will.”
And God. For his sake, I’m hope I’m right.
Just as we’re leaving the park, Larry’s phone starts playing Jackie Chan singing “We Are Ready.” I really wish I was kidding.
“Heh-ay beautiful,” he says, beaming. Arielle, he mouths to me, like I couldn’t figure that out.
He walks over to an empty bench and sits down. I stand nearby to wait, but he motions for me to go on without him. I leave him in his state of bliss and head home.