The Next To Last Mistake

by Jahn, Amalie

  Soul Food

  Saturday, April 27

  Cameron and the other members of the chess club take off right after the awards presentations, leaving the rest of us loitering in the hotel’s parking lot.

  “What’re you doing about dinner?” Alice asks, searching her purse for the keys to her car.

  “I dunno,” I say, glancing at Dad. The two of us hadn’t made any plans outside of the competition itself.

  “We were talking about going to this place called Mo’s Soul Food, around the corner off I-40. My dad always took me there as a kid for mac and cheese. His way of apologizing for dragging me along to university functions,” Leonetta says. “You wanna come with?”

  I open my mouth to decline, concerned for my dad’s feelings, but Summer pipes up before I can respond. “We should totally go celebrate your big win. And you’re welcome to join us too, Sergeant Goodwin,” she adds quickly at the end.

  He brushes off the offer with a wave of his hand, knowing the request was only extended out of polite obligation. “Nah. I appreciate the invite, but you girls should go on without me. Truth be told, I oughta be getting back to Fayetteville sooner rather than later. I’ll hit a drive-thru along the way.”

  “You sure, Dad?” I hate bailing on him after he gave up his entire day for me.

  He grins, fishing keys out of his pocket as he turns toward his truck. “Had my heart set on listening to my entire Pink Floyd playlist on the drive home…”

  “Oh God, no.” He knows how I feel about his obsession with seventies British rock bands, effectively handing me a guilt-free pass. “You’re positive you don’t mind?” I ask again as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

  “Have fun. Enjoy the mac and cheese. Don’t come home too late. And Tess?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I really enjoyed watching you play.”

  *

  The girls don’t say anything about the exchange between my dad and I as we pile into Alice’s car. Two plastic dress bags hang from the garment hook above my head.

  “Looks like you guys had a successful shopping trip,” I say.

  “Yeah, we did,” Alice says enthusiastically from the driver’s seat. “Go on and look at them. Mine’s the blue one and Leonetta’s is the orange.”

  Between the plastic clothing protectors and cramped conditions in the back seat, it’s hard to tell what I’m looking at. From what I can tell Alice’s is tiny and sequined and the color of the sky at sunrise. By contrast, Leonetta’s is a swath of tangerine satin.

  “Seeing them on the hanger doesn’t do them justice,” I tell them both diplomatically. “But I’m sure they’re gonna look amazing on.” Then I notice there’s no plastic bag for Summer. I hesitate to ask.

  “I’m not going,” she says flatly, her face to the window, expression hidden. What I catch instead is Alice’s mournful glance into the rearview mirror.

  Something’s wrong, and I reach out tentatively to touch her arm. “What happened?” I ask.

  “I broke up with him,” she says with a tiny shrug.

  The car shudders, tires crunching over the gravel parking lot at Mo’s. Before I can grill her on the details of the breakup, Alice shuts off the engine, and I follow the others into the vestibule inside the diner’s double doors. We’re led immediately to a booth at the far corner of the sparsely populated restaurant by a bored and haggard-looking waitress. I wait until after she takes our drink orders and lumbers off before properly attending to Summer’s heart.

  “You wanna talk about it?” I ask her, eyeing Alice and Leonetta skeptically in an attempt to assess how bad the situation is.

  She shrugs again, dolefully perusing her menu. I can tell by the way she’s angrily flipping the pages she’s not actually reading any of the options.

  “Another girl?” I prod.

  She nods.

  “I’m sorry,” I manage, because what else is there to say.

  “We’ve been trying all day to convince her she should still go to prom with us. Especially since I’m the only one with a date at this point,” Alice says. “If anyone should be feeling like the odd man out, it’s me.”

  Summer closes her menu defiantly. “I don’t feel like the odd man out. I feel like a stupid idiot for putting up with his crap for so long. It would have been nice if he could have held out being such a raging douchebag a little while longer. Long enough to get through prom at least.” She shakes her head. “That jerk forced my hand, though. Because seriously, a self-respecting woman can only put up with so much before she has to bail. Enough is enough.”

  Although curiosity is eating me apart, I don’t ask for the specifics of the actual breakup or what ultimately led to her decision. As much as it isn’t any of my business, prom obviously isn’t something she’s keen on discussing. So, I let it drop.

  But Alice doesn’t.

  “If you don’t want to go solo with Netta and Tess, you could always go with Cameron.”

  Summer furrows her brow, dubiously. “Cameron, the chess kid?”

  The waitress arrives to deliver our drinks and takes our orders. Alice chooses the fried catfish, Summer the chicken and waffles, and Leonetta and I get the macaroni and cheese.

  Alice takes a sip of her pop before turning to Summer. “Did you not notice the way he was lookin’ at you today?”

  Summer rolls her eyes, but there’s no way she missed him stealing glances at her while he thought no one was looking.

  “He’s coming with us anyway and think of how much it would mean to him if you went with him as his date.”

  Summer softens, settling herself into the corner of the booth where the back of the torn plastic seat meets the window. “He’s a sweet kid,” she says finally, looking at me across the table as if this is all somehow my fault. “But I’m not asking him. He’s gonna have to pluck the courage to ask me if he wants to go as a couple.”

  “I’ll mention it to him,” I say, wondering whether he has the social graces to pull off something of this magnitude, even knowing Summer’s already agreed to say yes. “But I can guarantee he’s not going to ask using rose petals to spell out WANNA GO TO PROM? in your front lawn.”

  Bo Wysong asked Lacey Pemberton to prom using rose petals the year before. Of course, the entire town knew every detail of the proposal by the following morning after her mother sent pictures of the event to the local newspaper. It was no coincidence Bo chose the day before the weekend edition came out to stage his elaborate request. Zander and I were positive Lacey masterminded the scheme, orchestrating the entire proposal from behind the scenes so she’d make the front page of the paper. Typical Lacey.

  Our food arrives and, after slathering her waffles with butter and syrup, Summer waves off my warning. “He can ask me at lunch. With regular words. Anything, as long as I’m not the one inviting him.”

  Alice looks encouraged about Summer’s willingness to join us. “Fair enough. And besides, it’s not like any of this is even going to matter in the whole scheme of things. I’m only concerned poor Cameron might fall head over heels for you because of this.”

  “Who knows? Maybe it’ll be a love connection,” Leonetta says through a mouthful of mac and cheese.

  Summer gazes out the window into the parking lot, but her eyes are unfocused as if she’s a million miles away. Quietly, she says, “Don’t worry. I won’t be here long enough for him to fall in love with me.”

  Alice sets her fork on the edge of her plate, steadying herself with both hands against the table. No one speaks, and all I can hear is the muffled conversation and clanking of silverware from the kitchen. That and Leonetta’s labored breaths.

  “My dad got his assignment yesterday afternoon, so it’s official,” Summer continues, unwilling or unable to make eye contact with the rest of us. “We’re going to Fort Huachuca in Arizona. He’s going to be an instructor there for at least the next two years. We leave May 17.”

  Although I can tell she’s trying, Alice can’t stop herself from i
nterrupting. “And you waited all day to tell us this because…?”

  Of course, the reason she’s guarded her secret for the past twenty-four hours is obvious to me. Why she’s been hushed and aloof instead of her typical vivacious self. Knowing how she feels about Travis, we should have guessed her impassivity wasn’t simply a result of their breakup. It was from holding in this heart-wrenching information capable of reducing us all to tears.

  And so, before Summer can reply, it’s my turn to interrupt. “She waited all day because there’s not much worse than telling the people you love that you have to leave them. Because until you say it aloud, there’s still a chance it might not be true.” I tap her foot gently under the table and she glances up at me. Our eyes lock and an unspoken understanding passes between us. I can empathize with how hard it’s going to be for her to leave Alice behind. “It sucks.”

  She nods her reply, too overcome with emotion to respond with words.

  As the tears fall, Alice gathers Summer against her. “It’s gonna be okay,” she whispers into Summer’s head of chestnut curls, and I can’t help but wonder who Alice is trying to convince: Summer or herself?

  Realistically, it’s both.

  We’re quiet for several moments—silent forks, brooding hearts. Finally, Leonetta says, “They’re making you leave before the end of the school year? That ain’t even right.”

  Summer nods. “The Army doesn’t care about disrupting families. All they care about is having soldiers where they need them when they need them. They say jump and we jump.” She pushes what remains of her waffle around her syrup-laden plate with her fork. “I guess I should be glad he’s not slated for the Middle East. At least not yet.”

  Simply hearing the warzone mentioned causes a pinch in my chest. A growing pit I’ve been quietly preparing to fill with the pain of my dad’s possible deployment. But instead of turning inward to dwell upon my own loss, I focus on the situation at hand, making the conscious decision not to waste time being depressed about Summer’s impending departure. Looking back, Zander and I foolishly squandered our final weeks together, pushing one another away instead of enjoying the time we had. I won’t allow the four of us to make the same mistake.

  What my friends need now is a mission. Something to unify us and take our minds off Summer’s departure. And I’ve got just the thing.

  I clear my throat, wiping cheese from the corners of my mouth with my napkin as I say, “I overheard Monika talking to Jayelle in chemistry yesterday. Apparently, she found out someone named Latrina bought her same prom dress, and now she’s trying to get her dad to pass some citywide mandate preventing girls from wearing identical dresses to the same dance.”

  There’s a mischievous gleam in Alice’s eye. The first I’ve seen in quite some time. “You’re kidding?” she says.

  I shake my head, twirling the ice nonchalantly in the bottom of my glass with my straw.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Summer says. “Why doesn’t she just get another dress? Lord knows her daddy will buy her whatever she wants.”

  “True,” I say. “But she doesn’t want another dress. She wants the dress she already has. Said she looks, and I quote, ‘hot as sin’ in it, and I don’t think she’ll stop until she’s sure she’s gonna be the only one wearing that dress.”

  Summer swallows her last bite of waffle. “Her dad may be a county commissioner, but he doesn’t have the ability to pass legislation about stupid prom dresses. Monika has to know that. She’s talking to hear herself talk.”

  Having taken the bait, Alice leans across the table at me, grabbing for my arm. She can’t resist the opportunity to see justice served, even if it’s her own brand of justice. “Tell me you know what this dress of hers looks like.”

  “I might have seen a picture of it on her phone.”

  Summer’s brow arches in understanding. “No way, Alice, don’t even think about buying the same dress. You don’t want to take her on. It’s social suicide. And besides, you already bought a perfectly nice dress.”

  Alice scoffs. “Please. I can put up with anything Monika dishes out. And I’ll take the other dress back. It’ll totally be worth it to bring that triflin’ heifer down a notch.” She shimmies her shoulders, running her hands along the length of her torso. “And you all know I’ll look better than she will in that dress.”

  “No doubt,” Leonetta agrees.

  “The look on her face when she sees me in her dress...” Alice looks seriously around the table at the three of us. “Showing her up is the least I can do. A little retribution for the way she’s treated you all.”

  “You don’t have to,” Leonetta says, but there’s no mistaking the muted anticipation in her voice.

  “Are you kidding?” Alice smiles. “That’s what friends are for.”

  chapter 26

  Coming and Going

  Saturday, May 11

  I’m having trouble recalling the last time I wore something other than jeans or cutoffs as I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, struggling to secure the zipper of my prom dress. The fastener’s lodged uncomfortably between my shoulder blades, and as I try to shimmy it into position, a vague image of a long-forgotten floral sundress comes to mind. Mom insisted I wear a dress to my eighth-grade graduation and although I resisted at the time, I’m beginning to realize how blessedly simple it was compared to the intricate ensemble Summer’s chosen for me to wear to prom. I’m still contorted, all angles and elbows, cursing under my breath when Dad appears at my bedroom door.

  “Well look at you,” he says, whistling from against the door jamb. “My little farm girl’s all grown up.”

  I roll my eyes over my shoulder at him as I turn my back in his direction. “Thank God you’re here. Can you zip this thing up?” I ask, holding my hair over my nape.

  His hands warm my bare shoulders as his deftly fastens the zipper, and I’m relieved to finally take a proper breath.

  “Lotta straps on that thing,” he says, propping himself on the corner of my desk as I admire myself in the mirror. “How’d you figure out where your head was supposed to go?”

  I shrug, not quite certain how I did discern between the arm holes and the head hole. The dress is cherry red, with crisscross straps across the bodice and matching bands across the back. There’s a hint of cleavage showing and the skirt flows gracefully from my waist to above my peep-toe heels.

  “You don’t think it’s too much?” I ask, his approval paramount in all things.

  “I think it’s perfect.”

  Although I flush at the sincerity of his compliment, his melancholy tone draws my attention, and I brace myself for what I fear is coming: a sentimental oration about how I’m growing up too fast and how he wishes I could stay his little girl. He’s prone to fits of sappiness, especially about matters which are out of his control. I cross my arms beneath my bust and raise an eyebrow.

  “Go ahead, Dad. Say whatever it is you need to say. You can get it off your chest but don’t make me cry because I suck at makeup and I’ve already had to redo my eyeliner three times this afternoon.”

  He sighs. There’s a painful edge to it catching in his throat, and it serves as a cautionary beacon, a warning I’m ill-prepared for what he’s about to say. But instead of speaking, he stands, stretching the small of his back. Finally, he says, “It’s nothing. Another conversation for another time.”

  He makes for the door but I stop him, tumbling over myself in my heels. If my steady push toward adulthood isn’t what has him wrought with sentimentality, there’s only one other thing it could be.

  “Tell me,” I whisper, steadying myself against him. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  His nod is almost imperceptible, the slightest motion I’ve ever seen, but the affirmation is clear in the lines of his face, the way they deepen with worry as he stares at me.

  “When?”

  “The end of June,” he says.

  “How long?”

  His eyes cut away, unable to mai
ntain my gaze. “Until they let me come home. Nine months. Could be a year.”

  I’m quiet for a moment, lost within myself, trying desperately to calm the churning maelstrom building beneath the surface. Rationally, I’ve known this day might come. Fighting against Assad with the Syrian people was one of the reasons he re-enlisted, and his unique decoding abilities were the reason the Army was willing to take him back.

  Leaving was not only possible. It was probable.

  He wells up, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, and I need to look away. Seeing him cry only reminds me of how hard it was for him to leave the farm back in January. Leaving his family behind in Fayetteville will be harder still. But he’s not a farmer anymore, and he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t do what he’s been trained to do as the soldier he’s become.

  “We’ll miss you,” I say at last, my voice wavering. “I’ll miss you.”

  He takes a deep breath, pulling me to his chest. “I wasn’t going to say anything yet. Especially not on your big night. I don’t know how you see through me, but you’ve always been able to. Anyway, I’m so sorry I upset you.”

  Before I can respond, my phone starts buzzing from beneath a pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

  Dad takes me by the shoulders, holding me at arm’s length, and smiles. A weary, splintered sort of smile that nearly breaks my heart. Inside are all the apologies he wants to make and promises he wants to keep. “Take the call. Then come find Mom and me before you leave, okay? She wants to take some pictures.”

  I tell him I will, and as he closes the door behind him I fumble for my phone. I assume it’s Leonetta or Summer, calling to check on my progress or to confirm our meeting time, but instead, the name on the screen makes my heart race.

  “Zander?” I say by way of greeting, hoping he can hear me over the distinct hum of a tractor engine in the background.

  “Yeah. Hey, Tess. How’s it going?”

  His voice simultaneously soothes my soul and sets me on edge. Hearing it reminds me of home. Of lazy, summer afternoons in the barn. Of carefree days, full of tree climbing and snowball fights. But it also frightens me. I’m not sure why he’s calling instead of sending a text. It’s not Sunday. It’s not even his week to call. Immediately, I assume the worst: something’s happened to his family or maybe Sunshine.