The Optimist's Guide to Letting Go

by Amy E. Reichert

  Joe’s recklessness inspired her. Lorraine snuck quietly to her room and retrieved the blanket he’d loaned her, spraying it liberally with her perfume. Maybe, just maybe, he’d feel about her perfume the way she felt about the campfire and pipe smoke. When she pulled her new car into the dealership lot, he was already standing in front of the building, as though he’d known she’d come to him at the first possible second. A smile lit every angle of his face. She grabbed the blanket and got out.

  “I didn’t steal it. I merely forgot to return it,” Lorraine said, not bothering with a proper greeting. Damn propriety.

  He came to stand in front of her, still all-confidence and charm, and reached out a hand.

  “Lorraine. It is Lorraine, isn’t it?” She nodded. “Are you sure you didn’t intentionally keep it so you could return it to me? Alone.”

  “Of course not. I’d never do anything so . . . blatant.” And yes, while it was true she hadn’t intentionally taken the blanket, the perfume was a different matter.

  “Too bad.”

  “What do you mean too bad?”

  He reached for the blanket in her hands, making sure his hand brushed hers. She wasn’t used to men who flirted. “If you took it, that would mean you had wanted to see me again. And if you wanted to see me again . . .”

  He let the words trail off, but his hand was still touching hers where they both held the blanket. She never wanted to let it go.

  “And? If I did want to see you again—what would that mean?”

  “Then I’d ask you to see a movie with me. Maybe grab a burger at Kopp’s. You do like butter burgers, right?”

  At last, he reclaimed the blanket completely, leaving her hands empty and restless for something to do. She clasped them in front of her. Her mother always said to keep still and people wouldn’t know what you were thinking. But she wanted Joe to know what she was thinking. She wanted to go to a movie and Kopp’s with him—maybe share a hot fudge shake and onion rings. She unclasped her hands.

  “Then why don’t you ask me?”

  The way he smiled, she was lost right then. Then he did the one thing she’d hoped he’d do but never expected: he lifted the blanket to his face and inhaled. This was the man she would marry.

  “Lorraine, would you do the honor of going to a movie with me this Friday night? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  She nodded, suddenly shy after all her boldness. He opened her Beetle’s door for her and helped her into the driver’s seat, shutting the door behind her. He leaned into the window.

  “I’ll see you then, lovely Lorraine.” He started to back out, then paused. “And your perfume is going to keep me up all night.”

  He had the decency to return to the building, giving her a chance to compose herself and still her shaking hands before driving herself home—though the drive felt more like flying, her head was so high in the clouds.

  When she told her parents about her plans that night over dinner, unable to resist sharing her joy, she crashed abruptly back to earth. Her mother began cutting her pork chop into smaller and smaller pieces and pursed her lips so tightly, the wrinkles looked like a cat’s bottom. Her father took a more direct approach.

  “My only daughter will not be seen with a used-car salesman or a Polack. I forbid it.”

  “It’s just a movie, Dad.”

  “Do not talk back to me again. Besides, Friday is dinner at the club, you need to be there. The Miller lad said he would be stopping by our table to visit, and you will be there to greet him.”

  “Benjamin? Are you talking about Benny Miller?” He had tried four separate times last summer to lure her out onto the golf course alone while their parents downed brandy old-fashioneds in the main room. She may be inexperienced, but she knew a cad when she saw one. “I’m not interested in Benny.”

  “His family does invaluable business with my factory. You’ll be there and you will be polite, young lady. Or that car goes back to the lot.” He pointed his fork at her as he chewed viciously on a bite.

  “I hear the Carrington boy is back from Yale. He should be there, too, Lorraine,” her mom said, as though that was a peace offering.

  She knew her mom was trying to do a swap. Yesterday Chad Carrington would have been motivation enough to get dolled up for another dull evening avoiding Benny and his friends, but after meeting Joe, Chad held all the allure of a dusty rock. She’d never get permission to go out with Joe—that was clear. But she didn’t have to. She’d learned to work around her parents’ rules long ago. She had a few tricks yet to try, and if anyone was worth the effort, Joe with the straightforward smile and easy invitation was.

  “Oh, it’ll be nice to catch up with him.” She smiled at her mother and finished her dinner, clearing all the plates when everyone was done, like a good girl should.

  On Friday, Lorraine filled a plastic sandwich bag with milk and cooked oatmeal, making sure the twist tie was tight as could be. She slipped it into the pocket of her pink-and-green-checked shift dress, a matching pink cardigan carefully draped to hide the bulge.

  “Lorraine, honey, it’s time to go.” Her mother’s voice drifted up from the foyer.

  “Down in a minute . . .” She held a heating pad to her face, then stepped carefully down the green-carpeted stairs. Her parents waited under the crystal chandelier, which in her opinion was too fancy for the shag under her feet. Her father checked his watch, and her mom primped in the gilded-frame mirror, tucking a stray strand of honey-brown hair that had escaped from her French twist.

  “And I told Maureen about the Millers. I know she was hoping Benjamin would show interest in her Ingrid.”

  “Mm-hmm,” her father responded. He rarely paid attention to her mother’s prattling. Instead, he smoothed his navy-blue sport coat over his belly.

  As Lorraine reached the last step, she clutched the wrought iron banister, letting her kitten heels catch in the green shag, tripping forward.

  “Whoa.”

  Her mother paused to look at Lorraine.

  “You okay, dear?”

  “I just got a little dizzy, and my head’s starting to hurt. But I’ll take some aspirin.” She smoothed her dress, making sure her sweater still concealed her pocket. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Right on cue, her mom touched Lorraine’s forehead.

  “You do feel hot. Maybe some aspirin will help. I’ll get it.” Her mother scurried off toward the kitchen.

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t want to miss seeing Chad.”

  Her dad watched her with squinted eyes. He was always the harder one to fool. Her mother returned with two aspirin and a glass of water. She swallowed them and drank the water.

  “Thanks. That’s bett—” Lorraine dropped the glass and covered her mouth, running to the small bathroom off the foyer that her mother insisted on calling a “water closet,” even though none of them had been to England. She intentionally left the door cracked so her parents could hear. As she pulled the sandwich bag from her pocket, she made retching sounds, then tore a hole in the bag, letting the contents slop into the toilet. She wrapped the bag in toilet paper and tossed it into the garbage, then flushed the toilet and splashed water on her face. For the final touch, she ruffled her hair in the mirror and rubbed her eyes to look appropriately disheveled.

  She left the bathroom, closing the door meekly behind her. Now for the risky part. Her parents might not believe her.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m ready to go now.”

  Her father had his arms crossed and her mother waited for his cue on how to proceed. He took in her mussed hair, damp cheeks, and slumped shoulders. If this worked, she deserved a daytime Emmy.

  “You can’t leave the house like this. Get in bed. Mother will bring you some ginger ale and saltines. I’ll be in the car.”

  He exited out the front door, Mom nodded and rushed off to finish her task. In the empty foyer, Lorraine smiled.

  Five minutes before seven, she peeked out the front door. She’d reapplied her
makeup and straightened her hair, even adding an extra dab of perfume below her ears, hoping Joe would get close enough to smell it. As the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed its seventh bong, he pulled up in a sleek red convertible, way too nice a car for a used-car salesman.

  Before he even came to a full stop, she was out the front door, her feet carrying her almost as fast as her heartbeat. He jumped out of the car and hurried around to greet her, stopping in front of her, looking unsure if he should hug her, or kiss her, or shake her hand. Lorraine knew which she would prefer.

  “Lovely Lorraine, you’re more stunning each time I see you. If this continues, the stars will start to get jealous.”

  Lorraine blushed. She knew a line when she heard it, but he said it with such sincerity. Could he mean something so nice?

  “Flatterer.”

  “But an honest one.” His eyes didn’t leave her face, sucking her breath away. If they simply stared at one another for the entire evening, she would consider it a perfect date.

  But Joe broke the silence. “Should we go inside to see your parents?”

  Lorraine blinked back to reality. He wanted to meet her parents? She hadn’t expected that from him—especially since he’d already met her father, who hadn’t made the best of impressions. Who would want to spend more time with him?

  “They had to leave for the club and couldn’t wait. Next time.” She didn’t like lying to him, but she didn’t want to tell him that her parents thought he wasn’t good enough, not before she knew him better. “What a fab car!”

  He beamed.

  “Thank you. My boss lent it to me for the night. I told him about our date, and he thought it would be less embarrassing than my normal heap.” Ah. He opened the passenger door for her, and she slipped onto the long, buttery soft, leather seat. After she wrapped a scarf around her hair to keep it from becoming a mess, they set off into the warm spring night.

  Lorraine wiped the tears away from her face.

  “I can’t believe you took me to Love Story on our first date. I must look a mess.”

  Joe handed her another tissue.

  “I think you look even more beautiful. I liked it—they found a way to be happy even though they came from different backgrounds.”

  “Until she died.”

  “There are always setbacks.” He shrugged. “The point is that they didn’t let it stop them from finding whatever joy they could.”

  Joe pulled into her driveway and stopped the car under the overhanging oak tree as Lorraine tried to discreetly check to make sure her parents weren’t home yet. They rarely returned before eleven, and it was only ten, but she didn’t want to risk getting caught.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be gone before they get back.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice but was more grateful he understood and didn’t seem to mind. Lorraine looked at him, and he reached for her hand.

  “Lovely Lorraine.” He pulled the scarf off her hair and rubbed the soft fabric. “I may not be rich, but I’m smart enough to tell when someone is sneaking around—I did it enough when I was younger. I took the measure of your dad. He thinks a doctor or lawyer—preferably someone from old money—is better suited for his daughter, am I right?”

  So this was how this wonderful night—this wonderful experience—would end. He wouldn’t want to be with her, knowing her parents didn’t approve. She didn’t want to answer, knowing that would be the end of the fairy-tale evening. Disappointment pulled at her shoulders until she slumped forward in defeat, her head tilted toward her lap.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and I really thought you were great when we met. Honestly, Joe, this was the best date I’ve ever had.”

  “Even with the tears?”

  She nodded. “Maybe because of the tears.”

  He reached out for her hand and traced his finger along the inside of her wrist.

  “If this weren’t our first date, I’d tell you that ‘love means never having to say you’re sorry,’ but that seems a bit heavy-handed this soon.” He laced his fingers with hers so they were holding hands in the dark, in the shiny convertible, alone. Now he was going to ruin this perfect moment by telling her it could never happen again.

  Lorraine sucked in a breath. “I don’t care what my parents think. My dad has controlled every part of my life until now. All of the boys my parents want me to date are more interested in my dad’s business than in me. I’ve never had a boy ask me out because he liked me. I would very much like to see you again. Please say that you do, too.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “Brave girl. I don’t need anyone’s approval to take you on a date except yours. If you’re offering that, I’m taking you up on it.” They stared at each other in the dark. She didn’t want the night to end, but she also knew the clock was ticking.

  “I better . . .” She motioned to the house. Joe got out of the car and walked around to open her door. As she stood he spoke.

  “Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow?” He was so close to her. His shirt brushed against the front of her dress, lighting her nerves on fire and pulling the air from her lungs.

  “I’d love to.” She tried to catch her breath, but the words came out as a whisper. “How about noon at the diner on Downer Avenue? They have the best cherry pie.”

  He looped her arm in his and led her to the front door.

  “Until then, lovely Lorraine.”

  Then he did what she had been waiting for all night, he leaned in to kiss her, soft and sweet. His lips moved gently, letting her match him. She stepped closer so her body aligned with his, and their lips became more urgent until he stepped back, breaking off the kiss.

  “If we keep doing that, we’ll still be kissing when your parents get home. Probably not the best first step toward them accepting me as your boyfriend.”

  His crooked smile finished off his confession, as if his lips hooked on the word that caught her attention.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “I’m not the kind of boy who kisses a girl without meaning it.” He winked and smiled. He gave her one more quick kiss and was off before she could open her eyes. “Tomorrow, my lovely.” And he was gone. She stood on the stoop, watching his taillights disappear down the street and then headlights take their place. Her parents! She rushed into the house, stripping off her clothes as she ran up the stairs, and making it into her pajamas and under the covers just as her parents turned the key.

  All the subterfuge had been worth it. She didn’t want a stuffy club boy. She wanted someone who said pretty things to her just to make her smile, and who didn’t mind if she cried at movies, who saw how she tried to be brave, who wanted to hear her. She wanted Joe.

  Looking back at that night, at how she’d felt so heard, Lorraine realized she had forgotten how to speak way before the stroke. She had stopped saying what was in her heart, stopped valuing her own voice. For so long, and out of fear, she’d parroted the words expected of her by Floyd, by the ladies at the club, by her own misguided belief that ignoring Joe’s memory was the best way forward. Not anymore. She would find her voice again.

  WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST REGRET?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  May, it’s time to go. I let you sleep late because you were with Aunt Vicky last night. We need to get to work.”

  Her mother’s voice came from the hallway outside her door, then her steps retreated back to the kitchen. May could smell pancakes and hear the muffled chaos of her cousins.

  May stretched out under her covers. She and Aunt Vicky hadn’t gotten home until after midnight. She had been a little worried she really was going to have to drive the two of them home last night, but it all worked out, impromptu plan included.

  They had tiptoed into the house, giggly after their adventure. Aunt Vicky had checked on each of her children, then drank a huge bottle of water before going to bed. May had sat at the table, not quite ready for bed yet either. She had found her phone in one of her m
om’s usual hiding places—the top kitchen shelf behind the spices, like she couldn’t reach there. She had a text from Connor.

  U alive?

  It had arrived three hours ago.

  She had wanted to reply. Maybe he was still awake? But she didn’t want to get in more trouble. Just knowing he had texted made her smile. She turned off the phone and slid it back into its hiding place. In three days, winter break would be over and she’d be back in school, so she could see him in person. Besides, Aunt Vicky said that if a guy really liked you, he wouldn’t stop just because of a little silence.

  “May, let’s go!”

  From her still-flat position, she heard her door scrape open, followed by little feet and soft giggles.

  “Coming,” she mumbled back, still trying to clear the sleep from her brain.

  She pretended she didn’t hear the wake-up brigade until they were about to pounce, then while still under the covers she sat up and grabbed them, their squeals waking her better than any alarm.

  “You little goobers, what were you trying to do?”

  Maggie and Nathan only giggled louder. May kissed the tops of their heads. Greta and Jake must still be eating breakfast.

  “Mama said we would go see tigers and monkeys,” Maggie said. She couldn’t say her Ss quite right, so her sweet voice held a tiny lisp that was adorable. They settled on top of her blankets, each sitting crisscross.

  “Yeah? Are you sure she wasn’t calling you tigers and monkeys?”

  Nathan scrunched his face up, giving the idea serious consideration.

  “I don’t think so. Mama said we would see them, not be them.”

  May stifled her laugh. He had always been the serious one, the scowling baby next to his laughing twin.

  “Then we must be going to the zoo!”

  “Okay, you two, let May get up. She needs to go before Aunty Gina gets really angry.” Aunt Vicky stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. Maggie and Nathan slid off the bed and scampered out. “Sorry, they escaped this morning.”