The Sweetness of Salt

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The Sweetness of Salt Page 4

by Cecilia Galante


  “Sophie, come on!” I said. “I already know what happened—”

  Sophie cut me off with a stab of her index finger. Her eyes were still boring down on Mom and Dad. “And I’m talking about the stuff she doesn’t know about…”

  “Can you stop?” Mom begged. “Please, Sophie. You’re ruining Julia’s whole celebration.”

  Sophie stared at Mom. “When are you going to stop living on another planet?” She shifted her eyes toward Dad. “And you…what alternate universe have you settled down in? When are the two of you going to stop pretending like everything is so perfect in this family, and start…”

  “God Almighty!” Dad cut Sophie off, throwing his napkin on top of his plate. “I cannot believe you’re seriously thinking of getting into all of this right now.”

  “Yes,” Mom said. “Please stop it. You really are being selfish.”

  Sophie looked down at the word “selfish.” She began to work her lower lip with her teeth.

  Dad’s teeth were clenched. “You want to talk about Milford, we’ll talk about it. But there is no need to do it right now. Right now, we are celebrating Julia’s graduation and…”

  Zoe’s signature three-beep alert came blaring from the street. I stood up hurriedly, gratefully, and pushed back my chair. “That’s my ride. I have to go.”

  I practically ran for the door, taking my first real breath as I pushed it open.

  “Ten o’clock, Julia!” Dad’s voice followed me. “No later than ten!”

  The door slammed behind me, loud as a gunshot.

  chapter

  7

  I had already decided, while running out of the house, that if Milo was not in the car, I wouldn’t go with Zoe to the party. I just didn’t have it in me tonight. But there he was in the passenger side, one elbow resting on the window. Just like always.

  “Hey, guys!” I tried to sound excited as I got in the backseat, as if I had not just left a train wreck behind me. Milo nodded at me. He looked weirdly handsome in a white button-down shirt and pair of green swim trunks dotted with red lobsters. Only someone like Milo could pull off an outfit like that. He’d slicked his hair back too, and I could make out the faint scent of soap as he leaned his arms over the top of his seat.

  “You guys ready to party?” Zoe had done her eyes up in some kind of glittery purple eyeliner. Her own outfit was a study in dichotomy: black leggings paired with a hip-length T-shirt that said I LIKE CATS; I JUST CAN’T EAT A WHOLE ONE BY MYSELF, and a bright red pair of cowboy boots.

  “Chill, rock star,” Milo said. “And keep your hands on the wheel.”

  “Oh, you’re such a fart,” Zoe said. “Relax.”

  “I’ll relax when you get us there without getting into an accident.”

  Milo turned and looked out the window. He stayed that way too, as Zoe yammered on about the party, not so much as even turning his head in my direction for the entire trip. It was as if the whole conversation we’d had after graduation had never even happened.

  Like we were strangers all over again.

  Melissa’s backyard looked like something out of MTV’s Spring Break. Dark purple material had been draped canopy style over the pool umbrellas, while disco balls, spinning tiny coins of light, swayed lightly underneath. A rap album blared from the outdoor speakers, and tiki torches, standing well over seven feet, blazed against the lengthening shadows. Then there was the food. Aside from the usual pretzels and chips, there were two tables filled with platters of triangular pita toasts, seeded crackers, bowls of strangely hued dip, and small phyllo-dough pockets. Whole sides of ribs were buried deep inside a charcoal pit across the yard, and pieces of chicken sputtered and sizzled on a large silver grill on the patio.

  Off to the right was a kidney-shaped pool, complete with a diving board and circular steps. It was filled to capacity with students from Silver Springs High, including Melissa, who was sitting like a queen on the top step, surveying her subjects, and Cheryl, who was sitting in a lawn chair next to a few other girls.

  “You guys coming in?” Milo asked, pausing at the front gate as Zoe and I peered out from behind him. “Or are you just going to watch everything from back there?”

  “Of course we’re coming in!” Zoe stepped forward, pushing her brother out of the way, and made her way over to the food table. Milo cleared his throat loudly as Melissa came toward us. She had tied a sarong around her hips, and she was spilling out of her bikini top. Behind her, I could make out the slightest tilt of Cheryl’s head as she watched us from her chair.

  “Hey, guys!” Melissa draped a hand casually on Milo’s shoulder. Her eyes took in every inch of Zoe’s appearance in the span of three disgusted seconds. “I’m so glad you could make it! Did you just get here?”

  “Just now.” Milo shoved his hands in his pockets, rose up on his toes. “Wow, Melissa. Your place is great.”

  “Thanks!” Melissa still hadn’t moved her hand from his shoulder. “Did you get anything to eat yet?”

  “We were just admiring all the options,” Zoe said, waving a hand at the phyllo-dough pockets. “There’s a lot of stuff here.”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. “God, that is so all my mother. She belongs to some culinary group down at the country club, so of course she decided to try out all her freaky recipes for my party.” She tossed her head. “Whatever. I mean, just eat what you want. There’s chips and stuff too. You know, real food.” She squeezed Milo’s shoulder, looking at him slyly. “How about drinks? Did you get something to drink?”

  “A drink would be great,” Milo said.

  Melissa bumped him with her hip. “There’s soda in the silver buckets over there, or we have punch in the pool house.” She used her fingers to make air quotes around the word “punch.” “Just get one of those big red plastic cups and fill it up, okay? My parents are upstairs, so don’t even worry about it. Seriously.”

  I glanced over at Milo. He was staring directly at Melissa’s chest. “Cool,” he said. “Thanks.”

  Melissa tossed her hair and looked at me. “Oh, and you guys too, of course. Help yourself.” She tilted her head toward the party. “Okay, well I’m gonna get back in the pool. Come on over when you’re ready.”

  She bounded off across the lawn, running lightly on the balls of her feet. I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help it. There was no way any part of my body looked—or moved—like that in a bathing suit. Cheryl was still watching Milo from her seat.

  “Hey, Milo!” The three of us turned as a guy inside the pool house yelled his name. “Come on, man! Get your ass over here!”

  Milo glanced at me and then Zoe.

  “We’ll be fine,” Zoe said.

  “I’ll come find you in a little while.” He looked at me. “You gotta be back by ten, right, Jules?”

  I nodded and looked away.

  “Okay.” He pointed at Zoe. “You, behave. See you later.”

  “See you, Dad!” Zoe called out behind him. I watched him lope across the lawn, his hair unmoving and stiff on top of his head. “Hey, Julia.” I turned around. Zoe had stuck two baby carrots into her mouth, inserting them at such an angle that they looked like enormous buck teeth.

  I laughed. “You’re such a dork.”

  She let them fall from her mouth one by one. “Listen, are you okay? You hardly said a word in the car.”

  I selected a cucumber spear from an exotic vegetable plate and nibbled on it slowly. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Guess what Sophie got me for a graduation present?”

  “Um…” Zoe looked up at the sky for a moment. “A hundred bucks.”

  “Nope.”

  “Two hundred bucks.”

  I leaned in. “A car.”

  Zoe’s eyes bloomed wide. “A car?”

  “Yup. And not only that, but it’s the Bug.”

  “The Bug?” Zoe squealed. “Oh my God, Julia!” She hopped up and down, holding onto the side of my arm. “That’s so cool! Did you try it? Do you love it?”

  I
shook my head. “I haven’t taken it out yet.”

  Zoe stopped jumping. “You just got a car for graduation and you haven’t taken it out for a spin yet?”

  “There was a lot going on. There wasn’t really time.” I paused as Zoe studied me curiously.

  “You need to talk?” she asked.

  I looked away.

  Zoe nudged me. “Julia?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

  Zoe and I slipped out from the patio, circled back around the side of the house, and sat on the front steps. It was much quieter out here, and more private. A set of pale bricks formed a semicircle of stairs that lead up to the front door. Next to us, two stone lions rested on their haunches, heads up and alert, as if guarding the house.

  Zoe took a long drink from a can of root beer and then gasped, wiping her lip with the back of her wrist. “Who drinks this shit?” she asked. “And how can they even think of serving it at a party? It’s garbage.”

  “Zoe. It’s root beer. It’s the same stuff as Dr Pepper.”

  Zoe’s face darkened. “Take that back!” she said. “Take it back! Now!”

  “Fine.” I shook my head, giggling a little. “I take it back. God, you’re such a nut.”

  “Nothing is the same as Dr Pepper,” Zoe said. “Nothing. Especially root beer.” She set the can off to the side. “Okay. So now that we’ve cleared that up, tell me what’s going on.”

  I plucked a piece of grass from the lawn and tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh, Sophie just got into another fight with my parents. I don’t even know why I’m upset about it. They’re always pissed off at each other. This is nothing new.”

  “What were they fighting about?”

  I shrugged. “What they always fight about, more or less. All the horrible years in Milford before I was born.” I paused. “I’m just so sick of it. Sophie’s always jumping down my father’s throat about it. My mom’s too.” I stared down at the space of brick between my feet. “I’m not saying they’re perfect. I know they’re a little overprotective.”

  “Um…yeah.” To her credit, Zoe stopped there.

  “But they still don’t deserve all this drama every time my sister comes home. It’s so freaking annoying. And totally uncalled for.”

  “Have you ever asked your Mom and Dad what happened in Milford?” Zoe asked. “I mean, to make Sophie so mad?”

  “Well, yeah. My dad used to drink back then. And I guess my parents fought sometimes. But Sophie always makes it sound like she grew up in a war zone or something. And my dad has been sober for fifteen years now! That’s gotta count for something, right?”

  “Yeah,” Zoe said. “Fifteen years is pretty good.”

  A long silence followed. Zoe and I stared at Melissa’s beautiful front lawn. A row of narrow cypress trees separated one side from the neighboring house, and the grass was lush and green. Twilight had begun to descend, and the summer air was fragrant with the purple scent of lilac blooms.

  “Except…” The words came out barely over a whisper. “I might be crazy, but something sounded different this time.”

  “What do you mean?” Zoe asked.

  “I’m not really sure. Something she said about Milford.” I smoothed my palms down the sides of my hair. “She said there were things I didn’t know about. Stuff my parents hadn’t told me.”

  Zoe took another swing of soda. “Well, maybe you should find out,” she said.

  I closed my eyes.

  I didn’t want to find out.

  Zoe shook my shoulder. “Listen, let’s go have fun. It’s your graduation! You can worry about all this stuff later. Right now, you just need to chill and enjoy yourself.”

  “Okay.” I got back up slowly. She was right. Nothing I did right now was going to fix anything.

  The music had been turned up to a startling decibel, the bass thumping above the trees like a gigantic heartbeat. Kids danced and shrieked, running around with red cups in their hands and jumping into the pool. I followed Zoe, who was making her way over to the pool house, but stopped when I caught sight of Cheryl, who had moved from the lawn chair to the side of the pool. Milo was next to her, dangling his feet in the water, holding a red cup in his hand. His shirt was off, and his head was bent toward her. As she whispered something in his ear, Cheryl ran a finger slowly over the curve of his bare shoulder.

  Just then, Milo looked up. Our eyes locked.

  “Oh God,” I said.

  “Where you going?” Zoe asked, as I turned around.

  “I don’t know,” I said over my shoulder. “Anywhere but here.”

  chapter

  8

  A slow thrumming had started to make its way behind my eyes, quickening with every step. Despite the heat, my arms prickled with cold and I shuddered, crossing them tightly over my chest. The houses in this part of town were breathtakingly beautiful. For as hard as Dad worked on our yard, it would never in a million years look like these did, with their acres of landscaped property and exotic bushes. But I did not stop to look at any of them. Instead, as the air around me ached under a relentlessly floral smell, I put my head down and ran as I hard as I could.

  “Julia!” Milo’s voice shot out behind me. He ran soundlessly along the sidewalk, his rubber slides gripped tightly in both hands, getting closer with every step. I kept running. “Julia! Wait up!” He caught up to me all at once, grabbing me by the elbow and spinning me around.

  I jerked my arm away, panting. “What?”

  Milo leaned over, holding on to the front of his knees, struggling to catch his breath. “What…happened? Why’d you leave…like that?”

  There was no way I was going to add insult to injury by stroking his ego. “No reason. I just wanted to go.”

  Milo straightened back up. His gelled hair had flopped out of shape; small pieces of it stood up awkwardly, like grass.

  “Zoe said you had some stuff going on at home,” Milo said. “With your parents and Sophie and all.”

  “And?” I started walking again.

  Milo fell in step next to me, hopping awkwardly as he struggled to get his slides back on. “And…I don’t know, do you want to talk about it?”

  What? Was he really saying this?

  “Not really,” I said.

  “All right.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

  I kept walking, fuming inside. Why would I talk to him about my family’s most private details? Why would I talk to him about anything? We didn’t talk. We didn’t do anything. He barely even acknowledged my presence most days, unless he felt like it. Or unless things weren’t going so great with Cheryl or Melissa or whatever other girl he was interested in that week.

  “Are you…” Milo looked down at the ground. “Are you upset that Cheryl was talking to me?”

  I felt nauseated just hearing him say her name. “Why would I be mad that you were talking to Cheryl? You can talk to whoever you want. I don’t own you, Milo. We’re not dating. Actually, I don’t think we ever went on a date. Prom was just a favor you did for your sister’s geeky friend so she wouldn’t have to spend it alone in her room, wasn’t it?” I laughed harshly.

  Was I really saying these things? Where were they coming from? And how could I take them back?

  “I didn’t ask you to the prom as a favor to Zoe,” Milo said. He was squinting, as if trying to decipher something. “And you’re not a geek.”

  I chewed the inside of my lip.

  “Listen, Julia, I know we’re not dating…” He struggled. “But come on. It’s me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said coldly. “Not every girl at school wants to throw herself at you, Milo.”

  Milo stopped abruptly and pulled on my sleeve. “You’re the one who kissed me, Julia. Not the other way around. That poem at Christmas…it wasn’t meant to be romantic or anything. It was…it was just something that made me think of you. And that’s what I was trying to tell you that night, after prom. But then you just leaned over and kissed me and…”


  “And I’m also the one who said I made a mistake!” I shook my head against the flush of memory, remembering the note I had slipped him the next day in which I tried to explain away my behavior. “Do you remember the note? Or do you want me to say it again? It was a mistake, Milo. A big one, okay? It was a complete and total lapse of judgment. So don’t worry. I don’t want to be with you. I’ve never wanted to be with you. Not now. Not ever. Leaning over and kissing you like that…honestly, I was actually thinking about someone else.”

  Milo blinked. “You were?”

  “Totally!” I tried to laugh. “I mean come on. Do you seriously think I would be dumb enough to want to get involved with my best friend’s brother?”

  Milo looked stunned for a moment. He blinked a few times, and shook his head gently, as if settling something inside. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I know. Right.”

  I turned and kept walking, waiting for the slap of his flip-flops to follow me. But they didn’t come. And when I reached the end of the block and turned my head just the slightest bit, there was no sign of Milo at all.

  chapter

  9

  It was completely dark outside by the time I got home. The last remnants of the graduation dinner had been erased from the dining room table. Only the tulips remained, their pink heads drooping heavily against the sides of the vase, as if exhausted from the day’s activities.

  “Julia?” Mom’s anxious voice drifted out of the living room.

  I walked in. “Yeah, it’s me.” Mom was sitting on the couch, staring at the television, which was muted. She had changed finally into her sweat suit, and taken her sneakers off. One leg was tucked under her. Dad was sitting in the big easy chair, his arm draped over his eyes. He lifted it when he heard my voice.

  “What’re you doing home so early?” he asked.

 

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