Day-Day

by Cronk, LN

  “Hi!” I said, hugging them both. Charlotte didn’t look too happy. I knew she’d been at the landfill all day so I didn’t ask her what was wrong.

  She was pretty quiet during dinner too, but after we’d eaten she told us, “I got you something for Christmas.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s from me and my mom . . . and a few other people too.” She was brightening up a bit.

  Charlotte went to her suitcase in the living room and pulled a big package from it. The wrapping paper was wrinkled and ripped in a few spots, but she handed it to us without an apology. I sat in the middle of the couch with Laci and Charlotte on either side.

  “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” I said, tearing off what was left of the wrapping paper. It was a white box, and in that was an album.

  I put the box and the paper on the floor and opened the album to the first page. Laci leaned in to see and so did Charlotte. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, glancing into my face to see my reaction.

  There were two baby pictures . . . one of me and one of Laci, side by side. I’d seen mine often, Laci’s a few times.

  I turned the pages to find pictures of us as infants and then as toddlers . . . first day of preschool pictures . . . an Easter egg hunt on the church lawn.

  “Oh!” Laci said, pointing to herself at three. “I remember that dress! I loved that dress!”

  “Look at that,” I said. There was a photo of our preschool class, posing in front of the school building. Laci and I searched for ourselves.

  “There you are,” I said, finding her easily. “Before you chopped your hair all off . . .”

  “There’s Tanner . . .” Laci said. “Where are you?”

  “He’s right here,” Charlotte said, pointing to the back row. The preschool teacher had her arm firmly on my shoulder as if she were keeping me from fleeing.

  “Where’d you get all these, Charlotte?” I asked, turning the page.

  “Everybody . . .” she said. “When your mom started asking around for pictures for your office my mom and I got the idea to do this album. We just told everybody that while they were at it to give us some too. A lot of these are scans . . .”

  They must have talked to Natalie and Ashlyn’s parents too because there were pictures of them when they were little. There was a picture of Natalie and Laci at the bowling alley, celebrating somebody’s birthday and one of Ashlyn and Laci wearing sunglasses and posing for the camera. There were pictures of my dad, handing Mike a medal for winning the pinewood derby in Cub Scouts, of Tanner standing next to me and holding up a fish, and of Natalie, Ashlyn and Laci all dressed up to go to a dance.

  Not only had she included pictures of the Christmas pageant we’d put on in the fourth grade, but of the program that had been distributed at church too. Next to a picture of a grinning Mike (with both of his front teeth gone), she’d put a gum wrapper.

  “Oh!” Laci said. “He always chewed that kind . . . remember?”

  I nodded.

  “This is unbelievable,” I told Charlotte. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

  “A lot of people helped.”

  She’d done everything chronologically. There were pictures of Laci’s volleyball teams and track teams and team shots of me and Tanner and Mike in soccer and basketball and baseball. They ranged all the way from the time we were in pee-wee leagues until we’d been in high school. From the seventh grade on, Greg was in the team sports pictures too.

  She had a copy of my Red Cross lifeguard certification next to my first paycheck stub from the pool. She’d also included a take-out menu from Hunter’s Pizza and Subs and next to that was a penny.

  “Did you get that penny off Greg’s dresser?” I asked her, smiling. Charlotte nodded and smiled back and I shook my head. Every time I’d eaten there when Greg was working I’d tipped him a penny and he’d kept them all in a jar on his dresser. He said he was saving them up to buy a pack of gum.

  Charlotte had even found a piece of notebook paper where Greg and their dad and I had worked out some of our AP physics problems.

  We were nearing the end when Charlotte suddenly stuck her hand out and stopped me from turning the page.

  “For this next part,” she said, “I had all your friends tell their favorite memory of you.”

  “That was a nice idea, Charlotte,” Laci told her.

  “This whole thing was a nice idea,” I said.

  I turned the page and saw Natalie’s senior picture on the left hand page and two letters (one to each of us) on the right.

  Dear Laci:

  My favorite memory with you is that time when there was a meteor shower and I came over to your house and we laid out in your driveway and watched it together until about two in the morning.

  I’m so glad for all of the times that we’ve shared together and I’m so excited for you and David. Can’t wait to see you both and meet Gabby. Don’t have her before your shower! I’ll be there.

  Love, Natalie

  Under that was her letter to me.

  Dear David:

  My favorite memory of you is of one Halloween when we were probably in the fourth or fifth grade. You and Tanner and Mike came trick-or-treating at my house just when I was getting ready to take Emma out. You picked up one of the pumpkins on our porch (I think you thought it was mine, but it was Emma’s) and you were looking at it when Mike accidentally bumped into you and you dropped it and it smashed all over the porch. Of course Emma was crying and howling and playing it up for all it was worth. My mom came out on the porch to help clean it up and try to calm Emma down and you kept apologizing over and over. My mom told you not to worry about it, but I could tell that you felt really, really bad . . . you actually looked like you were going to cry. That was the first time I thought that maybe you weren’t the heartless idiot I’d always pegged you for.

  Love ya! Natalie

  I looked at Laci.

  “Is there supposed to be a compliment in there somewhere?” I asked.

  “I think so,” she laughed.

  Tanner’s was worse.

  (Don’t read this David)

  Dear Laci:

  My favorite memory of you? Hands down . . . prom night!

  Love, Tanner

  (I told you not to read this, Dave!)

  “He’s real funny,” I said. Laci put her hand over her mouth so I wouldn’t see her smile. Then we read the one he’d written to me.

  Dave:

  Just one? I only get to pick one? Okay then, I pick the time I was trying to teach you to drive my dad’s stick shift in the parking lot of the high school. You had a bit of trouble with the clutch . . . remember?

  Anyway, this cop pulls up and taps on the window and then makes you get out of the car – he thought you had to be under the influence or something. So he makes you get out and start walking a line and touching your fingertips to your nose and everything and you were like “Really, officer . . . I’m not drunk! I’m just a bad driver!” I was laughing so hard. I think he was really disappointed that he couldn’t write you a ticket. I know I was.

  Can’t wait to see you guys! Tanner

  I just shook my head. I was going to kill Tanner when I saw him again.

  Ashlyn’s senior picture and letters were next.

  Dear Laci-

  My favorite memory of us is when you and Natalie would come over to spend the night and we’d make pizzas and drink Mountain Dew. One night we watched scary movies on TV and we got so freaked out. We heard something on the porch and started screaming and my dad came out of the bedroom yelling at us to keep it down and we were like “There’s something on the porch! There’s something on the porch!”

  We were pretty sure it was an ax murderer or something, but Dad flipped on the light and it was a raccoon. He told us we’d better go to sleep and not wake him up again. We didn’t wake him up again, but we were too scared to sleep all night!

  Love you! Come home soon!


  Ashlyn

  Dear David-

  I remember when we were in biology class together and Tanner and I were lab partners. We took our fetal pig heart and put it inside your pig when you weren’t looking and you thought you’d discovered some great scientific freak of nature or something. You showed it to Mr. Powell and everything and he was like “Umm, David? Does anything look a little strange to you about this second heart?” You started poking around at it for a minute and when you figured out it wasn’t attached you just looked right back at me and Tanner and glared at us. I said “Uh-oh,” but Tanner told me not to worry about it.

  Then at lunch he went to go get some ketchup and he found that little heart nestled in his corn when he got back. The funniest part is that putting it in your pig wasn’t Tanner’s idea . . . it was mine!

  Love, Ashlyn

  “Yeah,” I said. “That stupid thing wound up in my notebook the next day.”

  “That’s disgusting!” Charlotte said.

  “I got even with him though,” I went on. “I put it in his locker.”

  “Yuck,” Charlotte said.

  “It’s not still getting passed back and forth, is it?” Laci asked. “I’m not going to find it in our bed tonight or anything, am I?”

  “No,” I said. “He threw it at me in history and missed and it kinda landed on Mrs. Butler’s desk . . .”

  “Oh, that’s so gross!” Charlotte said.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “It was pretty gross.”

  “Did you guys get in trouble?”

  “No, she didn’t see it happen . . .”

  “You two just left it there?” Laci asked, clearly appalled.

  “Let’s get back to the album!” I said, anxious to change the subject.

  The next page was Mike’s. Next to his senior picture (taken the year after we’d graduated because he was a year younger than the rest of us) were the letters he’d written.

  Dear David:

  My favorite memory of you is actually probably several memories strung together, but I remember you coming over to the house and playing chess with my dad. Whenever you saw an opportunity to beat him, you’d do it . . . and then you’d rub his face in it every chance you got.

  Other people always treated him with kid gloves, but you never acted like he was sick or anything. You always made him feel really normal. I appreciated that, and I know he did too.

  Merry Christmas!

  Love, Mike

  Dear Laci:

  My favorite memory of you also involves my dad . . . and my mom. The week after Dad died I had training camp and I was really worried about leaving my mom alone, but she insisted that I go ahead. That whole first day of practice I was really concerned about her and couldn’t keep my mind on things at all.

  When Tanner’s mom dropped me off at my house I ran inside, worried about how I would find her, and the first thing that hit me when I walked in the door was the smell of Pine-Sol. And there you were . . . in the kitchen with my mom, helping her clean the floor, and both of you were laughing and talking. I still think about that every time I smell Pine-Sol.

  Take care of that baby! Can’t wait until spring!

  Love, Mike

  I was a little nervous before I turned the next page. I knew it should be a ‘Greg’ page, but I couldn’t figure out how it possibly would be.

  It was though. His senior picture was there, and there were two letters . . . one to Laci and one to me.

  His mom had written both of them.

  Dear Laci:

  I’m sure I won’t be able to pick the same memory that Greg would have, but one thing I really remember is when you came over to help him cut his hair that first time. He was really excited about that. Of course he was also really happy when you and David got together . . . he always said the two of you were meant to be. He was right! And he’d be so happy to know about Gabby too . . . maybe he already does.

  Love,

  Mrs. White

  “I didn’t know you helped him cut his hair,” I said.

  “There’re a lot of things you don’t know,” she grinned.

  The last letter was the one Mrs. White had written to me.

  Dear David:

  Just like with Laci, I’m sure I won’t pick the same memory that Greg would have chosen, but I’ve been thinking back on the times when the two of you were together – which was pretty much all the time!

  Greg was always pretty happy, but he seemed especially so after his dad took the two of you fishing out on that charter boat. Remember? He seemed not only unusually contented, but amused too . . . I don’t know what about. I do know, however, that he was really glad that you were able to go to Florida with us.

  Not sure if that brings back any special memories for you or not, but I hope so. Can’t wait to see both of you and meet the baby!

  All my love,

  Mrs. White

  “Does it bring back some special memory?” Laci asked when she finished reading it.

  “Probably for him it would have,” I admitted. “I was barfing like a dog the whole time we were out on that boat.”

  Laci laughed and I didn’t say anything else, but I knew there was another reason that Greg had been “unusually contented, but amused too”.

  It was on that trip that I’d told him I knew I wanted my relationship with Laci to be more than just a friendship. Just that thought had turned me into such a nervous wreck that I’d hardly been able to enjoy my week in Florida at all. Greg was happy because he’d really wanted me and Laci to get together, plus he’d always enjoyed watching me squirm.

  The rest of the pages were blank.

  “These are for you to put pictures of Gabby,” Charlotte explained.

  “What about you, Charlotte?” Laci asked. “How come you didn’t put down your favorite memories?”

  “I just wanted it to be about you and your friends,” she said.

  “You’re our friend,” I told her.

  “You know what I mean,” she said, and I did.

  “Well, tell us what your favorite memories are,” I said. “I wanna know what you remember.”

  “Well . . .” she said, putting a finger to her mouth and looking at Laci, “I remember you babysitting me. Whenever I found out you were going to babysit I’d always get so excited. Mom would let me pick out whatever I wanted for dinner and you would make it for me and we’d get to eat it in front of the TV.”

  “What’d you pick for dinner?” I asked her.

  “Spaghettios,” Laci answered for her. “Always Spaghettios.”

  “And Chips Ahoy cookies for dessert!” Charlotte added.

  “I could actually go for some of those right now,” Laci mused.

  “What about me?” I asked.

  “Well,” she said. “I told you I remember when you made Greg move that snowman for me . . .”

  “Uh-huh. What else?”

  “I remember you playing Go-Fish with me in the basement when there was a thunderstorm outside . . .”

  “What else?”

  “Um . . . I remember you helping Greg and my dad take off my training wheels and I remember that one time you let me put barrettes in your hair . . .”

  “Are you sure that wasn’t Greg?” I asked skeptically.

  “Positive. You let me paint your fingernails too . . .”

  “Okay,” I said. “Never mind. I’m sorry I asked.”

  The next day before the bus brought the landfill kids to our house again, Charlotte stuck her head in the door of my office to say hello.

  “Thanks again for that album, Charlotte,” I told her. “It’s really fantastic. Laci and I looked through the whole thing again two more times before we went to bed.”

  Charlotte beamed.

  “And if you see Tanner you can tell him I was deeply touched by his letters . . .”

  “I see him almost every day . . . remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “I almost forgot that he teaches you.”

  “I�
��ll probably have him in high school too. I think he’s going to try to get a job there,” she said. “He’s already helping coach some of their teams . . .”

  “Football?” I guessed.

  She nodded. “Baseball in the spring, too.”

  “Is there going to be a job opening at the high school?”

  “Coach Williams is probably going to retire either this year or next.”

  “Well,” I said, “I hope for Tanner’s sake that he gets the job. No offense, but I can’t imagine teaching a bunch of middle schoolers all day.”

  “I hope he gets it too,” she nodded. “I want him to be our P.E. teacher in high school.”

  “He’s a good teacher, huh?”

  “Oh,” she said, shrugging, “he’s fine I guess, but Jordan absolutely hates having his brother for a teacher. I want Tanner to get the job just so that Jordan will be completely miserable.”

  “What’s your problem with Jordan?”

  “I can’t stand him . . .” she said, contempt clouding her face.

  “You guys use to play together all the time when you were little.”

  “Don’t remind me . . .”

  “What’s so terrible about Jordan?”

  “He’s disgusting and mean and I can’t stand being around him.”

  Tears started welling up in her eyes.

  “Sit down,” I said, motioning for her to sit on the small couch that was along the wall. She did. I wheeled my chair closer to her.

  “What’s he done that’s so terrible?” I asked her, suddenly feeling very protective.

  “Nothing,” she said, running a hand across her eyes.

  “Well, Charlotte . . . he must have done something or you wouldn’t be so upset just talking about him . . .”