“Did they have to put us in the room with no windows?” Justin says. “Janice and Chris have a window at least.” Janice and Chris are two of our co-workers in another conference room down the hall. There’s space for only two people and two computers and scanners in each room.
“It’s like being in a casino,” I say, “you can’t tell whether it’s day or night.”
“They could take our phones and work us for 24-hours straight,” Justin says, “and we’d never know the difference.”
I chuckle. “Janice and Chris’s window looks out over the air-conditioning unit in the parking lot,” I say, “and it makes a lot of noise. I worked in there a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah,” he says, “I did, too. I’m just complaining to pass the time.”
I smile. Justin is a nice guy. We’ve been assigned to the same conference room for several shifts and we’ve gotten to know each other well because there’s simply nothing else to do other than talk to each other when you’re stuck in a windowless conference room scanning documents mindlessly all day.
“Can I confess something?” he asks.
I look up from the page I’m scanning. “What?”
“I’ve been manipulating the work assignments for the last week so that you and I end up in the same room.”
“Why?”
“Because Chris has bodily function issues and all Janice talks about is her cats.”
I’m in the midst of taking a sip from my water bottle and I nearly spit it out as I laugh. “What bodily-function issues?”
“He devours five-pound burritos from the Spicy Monkey food truck across the street,” Justin proclaims as if the explanation is more than enough. “Never get assigned to the windowless room with Chris,” he adds. “Trust me.”
I laugh. “How do you manipulate the work assignments?”
“I’m just nice to Nora, the receptionist,” he says. “She’s the one who makes the project sheets and I asked if she wouldn’t mind assigning us together.”
I nod.
“That okay with you?”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “Janice is nice enough, but I’ve been assigned to the windowless conference room with Chris.”
He laughs.
“Thanks for asking me, though,” I add as we both pull out yet another legal document from our file boxes to feed into the scanners.
Alenna and I are on our way to get a juice smoothie after aikido class but Finn had to leave so he’d have enough time to shower before meeting up with Liz.
“Who’s guarding Finn right now?” I ask as we watch him disappear on his bike around the corner.
“Don’t worry,” Alenna says with a touch of her hand on my forearm. “There’s always someone nearby.”
“And you haven’t seen Avestan?”
“Alexander will find him,” she says. “Try not to worry if you can. It will all work out in the end.”
Her answer isn’t exactly reassuring. I hate it when people say that. What does it even mean? What if it works out badly?
“So how are things with you and Alexander?” she asks as we walk past the shops downtown to Jamba Juice.
“Fine,” I say with a vague nod. I’m leery about talking about Alexander with her and hurting her unnecessarily.
“Declan, Alexander is my friend … and so are you now. I’ve never seen him light up the way he does when he’s with you. I’m happy he’s happy. I hope you know that.”
I nod, smiling. “Thanks. We’re doing great.”
“You’re breaking new ground, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“A guardian and a mortal. Or a sprite, I should say. Although I did hear something about a guardian falling to be with a mortal once before.”
“Really? I thought they couldn’t do that, because they’d start over?”
She shrugs. “It’s probably just a story.”
I nod, unsure what to make of her disclosure.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” she says, “how does that work between the two of you? When you, you know…”
“Huh?” I ask, startled out of my mind-wanderings.
“You know what I mean…” she says with a sly smile.
“Are you talking about sex?”
She laughs. “Just between us girls. I’ve been wondering … because with the difference in strength, how does that work? How can he let go with a mortal? I don’t know a lot about sprites, so I guess I’m just curious … you can tell me to shut up at any time here if you want.” She smiles apologetically.
I don’t answer at first. If I was going to talk to anyone about this kind of thing it would be Liz, first and foremost. But I can’t talk to Liz, or my mom, because they have no idea Alexander is a guardian. How would I explain to them that one of the reasons Alexander and I haven’t had sex is because he’s so strong he’s afraid he might hurt me by mistake? Meanwhile, here stands Alenna, who, admittedly, I don’t know all that well, but she’s so nice and easy and open, and, when I think about it, she’s really the only one I can talk to who knows the whole story. I mean, who else is there? Edwin? I almost laugh out loud at the thought of having a talk about angel sex with him. And that’s why, as I circle over all of these thoughts in my mind, I find myself deciding to answer Alenna with complete and utter candor. “Well I don’t know much about sprites either,” I say. “I’m still trying to figure out what it all means and what I can do. I don’t have your strength—I know that much. But honestly, Alexander and I haven’t crossed that bridge yet, so I couldn’t answer your question even if I wanted to.”
“You haven’t?” The expression on her face is pure incredulity.
“He says he’s worried about his strength,” I explain. “And I don’t know … I wasn’t sure how ready I was either. But lately I’ve been wondering if there’s something more to it than what he’s saying. Do you know?”
She shakes her head slowly. “I have no earthly idea,” she says. “Just between you and me that was never a problem before, if you know what I mean.”
I know exactly what she means and despite her laugh and the way she nudges me jokingly I’m starting to hate her a little right now.
She sees the look on my face. “Oh, Declan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes I put my foot in it without thinking. The strength issue is real. That must be the reason. I’m sure otherwise he’d want to. I don’t think it’s because he’s having second thoughts about being with a mortal.” She puts her arm around my shoulders and gives me a quick hug for reassurance.
I nod, partially mollified at first, but her words: “I don’t think he’s having second thoughts,” hang in the air.
Maybe he doesn’t want to?
My insecurities start to take hold but before they form roots my inner drill sergeant yells at me to stop being an idiot. Suddenly it all becomes clear: how foolish I’ve been, wondering and waiting and not saying anything. Alexander is open and honest … we talk about everything. All I need to do is ask him. I don’t know why I haven’t already.
Actually, that’s a lie. I do know why.
For the exact reason Alenna just teased out.
I know Alexander loves me, but maybe he’s having second thoughts about being with a mortal and everything that goes with that decision.
I’m not sure what his answer will be.
Chapter Seven
“I have an idea,” my mom says as we get ready to walk to the beach. It’s the anniversary of my dad’s disappearance and we always go to the ocean to remember. My mom has always said it’s not a day to be sad, it’s a day to remember how lucky we were to have him in our lives as long as we did. And it’s a chance to communicate and let him know we’re doing okay.
“What?” I ask as I fill my backpack with two bottled waters and two towels to sit on.
“Instead of balloons I thought we could use some of the extra sky lanterns from your graduation,” she says. “They were so beautiful. And we have a lot left over.”
I smile. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I was ordering them by the case.”
“It was meant to be,” she says with a smile, giving me a quick hug. “We can use them for years.”
I hug her back. That’s my mom, always looking on the bright side.
We’re quiet as we walk to the ocean, lost in our own thoughts. When we get there, we take the stairs down the cliffs to the beach where I set down my backpack and lay out our towels. We both kick off our sandals and scrunch our feet in the sand. It’s dusk and a few scattered groups of people have claimed fire rings to have bonfires on the beach later. My mom pulls the sky lanterns out of her large beach bag and hands me one. I can see there are already tears in her eyes and I give her a hug as mine well up, too.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she says quietly. “I just miss him.”
I nod and hug her tighter. “Me, too.”
She kisses my cheek and pulls back, wiping a stray tear. “Let’s do this,” she says. “For your dad.”
We walk toward the water with the sky lanterns in our hands and when we get to the edge, with the water lapping over our feet, my mom looks at me.
“You ready?” she asks.
I nod.
“Anything you want to say out loud?” she asks.
I shake my head. I’m too choked up to speak.
She nods and turns toward the sky. “I just want to say that we love you, Frank,” she says softly. “And we miss you. And we know you’re okay, wherever you are. And we are, too.” Her voice cracks on the final sentence and she lights the thin layer of wax fuel for her lantern and then hands me the lighter so I can light mine. Then we both look at each other and raise our hands in the air and let them go.
As the round paper lanterns rise in the sky, beautifully lit from within, my mom and I hold hands and communicate the rest silently, from our hearts.
We watch as they get higher and higher, out over the ocean, until eventually the glowing messages to my dad disappear and flutter out in the night sky.
I hope you can hear us, dad.
We love you.
Chapter Eight
“Everything okay with you?” I ask Finn. We just finished a bike ride along the length of Seacliff Drive and now we’ve planted ourselves on a bench overlooking the ocean as we gulp from our water bottles. As I await his answer I peer around to see who might be watching us, good or bad, but everyone appears to be normal folk going about their day, not paying any attention to Finn and me.
“Why?” he replies.
“I don’t know … you seem kind of down today.”
“Down?”
“Depressed, I mean.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “It’s not that. I looked it up.”
“What do you mean you looked it up?”
“I thought I might be depressed so I looked it up online,” he replies matter-of-factly. “My symptoms don’t meet the criteria.”
I meet his eyes. “Finn, just because your feelings don’t match some list you found online doesn’t mean that’s the end of it. Something must have been bothering you enough that you looked up depression in the first place. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you been thinking about that list you keep in your head? Of all the things to worry about?”
“It’s not that.”
“Are you sad about something?” I ask.
Finn is silent for a long moment. I can tell by the look on his face that he wants to form a precise answer. “I’m … conflicted. I want to do something that I don’t want to do.”
My heart sinks as I wonder if he’s trying to tell me that he wants to break up with Liz. “Is everything okay with Liz?” I ask tentatively.
“Yes,” he says. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess I was worried that you regretted not accepting a spot at Stanford.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“Isn’t that one of the reasons you chose to go to UCSM instead of Stanford? Because of Liz?”
The expression on his face is utterly baffled. “What does Liz have to do with where I go to school?”
“Nothing,” I say, relieved I’m wrong. “I guess I thought you might have wanted to stay close to her.”
He stares at me, bewildered. I can almost hear the synapses firing in his brain trying to make sense of what I just said. “I chose UCSM because of the space sciences program,” he says.
“Of course,” I say. “Forget what I said. It’s your life and your career at stake. I know Liz would choose the best school for her, too, regardless.”
He nods and we both take a sip from our water bottles.
“Seventy-eight percent of romantic relationships that begin in high school don’t last,” he says.
I look over at him. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
“No,” he says. “It means that if it doesn’t last it’s probably not my fault. And it also means that twenty-two percent of them do.”
I can’t help but smile a little. “What is it then?”
Finn is silent for a long minute before he answers. “Can I ask you a favor?”
I turn to meet his eyes. Finn so rarely asks for anything I feel like he’s giving me a gift simply by asking. Whatever he wants, I’m in. “Of course. Anything.”
“Will you teach me how to drive?” he asks.
My eyes widen with surprise. “Yes,” I say without hesitation as I absorb his request. In the past, Finn has been adamant that driving requires too much sensory input surging at him all at once and he wants nothing to do with it. “I thought you didn’t want to drive, though?”
“My mom was sick last month and my dad wasn’t home to drive her to the ER.”
“Is she okay? Why didn’t you call me?”
“It turned out to be nothing. But I’d been thinking about it even before that. I’m tired of relying on other people to drive me places that are too far to go on my bike. And I’m tired of the bus. It doesn’t always go where I need to and it takes too long. Uber is okay but it’s expensive for long drives. And truly driverless cars won’t happen for years.”
I nod. Of course Finn would have thought this through thoroughly. “I’m honored you asked me and of course I’d be happy to teach you.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it,” he says.
His eyes meet mine and I can see that he’s been fighting a war with himself over this. Finn avoids doing anything he thinks he might not be good at. It caused a lot of strife for him as a kid when he’d stomp off after losing a game or stop before the end of a game if he thought he might lose. I never, ever bring it up because he’s embarrassed about it now, but I wish I could convince him he shouldn’t be. We all did things as kids that we’re embarrassed about now. Learning to accept losing was obviously excruciating for him but he somehow learned to deal with it. I suspect as he grew more confident in other areas it just didn’t matter as much anymore. But he still prefers to stick to tasks in which he excels. And to be honest, who doesn’t?
“You know what I think?” I say. “First of all, you don’t really have to drive if you don’t want to in today’s world. There are plenty of other options and they keep getting better. Secondly, the last time you tried to drive you were fifteen and maybe you weren’t ready yet. Our Driver’s Ed teacher, Mr. Guilford, was a lunatic drill sergeant. I was in a state of terror the whole time we were in his car. Why do you think Molly Bing ran off the road into that fence?”
Finn laughs and I’m so happy to see his furrowed brow change to a smile. The “Barbie crash” or “B.C.” as we came to refer to it, was a minor accident, no one got hurt, and Finn relished it gleefully because Molly had been needling him all day about what a lousy driver he was. Even so, I actually felt a little sorry for Malibu Barbie after we crashed. It could have just as easily been me that hit the gas and mowed down that fence in a panic while Mr. Guilford barked orders in our ears. Liz, to her never-ending regret, was assigne
d to a different Driver’s Ed class that semester but she made us recount the story for her, in fine detail, many times.
“I think we should feel proud we managed to stay alive,” I say. “Mr. Guilford scared the crap out of me.”
Finn smiles. “He smelled like oranges and old comic books.”
“He did,” I say as I remember. “I can almost smell it now.”
“I hate the smell of oranges,” Finn says.
“Maybe because it reminds you of Mr. Guilford.”
“No,” he says, “I always hated it.”
“I forgot about that,” I say as the hard drive in my brain spins up a previously lost file. “I used to ask my mom to pack me grapes in elementary school because you wouldn’t sit next to me when I peeled those Cutie oranges at lunch.”
He looks over at me. “I hated those little oranges.”
I laugh. “I like grapes better anyway. But getting back to your favor, you know who I really learned to drive from? Not Mr. Guilford.”
“Your mom,” says Finn, “I know.”
“No. That’s what my mom thinks, and she tried, but I was stressed out of my mind in the car with her. She used to correct me every second and it threw me into a panic. The person who really got me comfortable driving was Mrs. Denuzio.”
“Your neighbor who was a hundred years old?” he asks.
“Ninety-five,” I say. “I used to help her get groceries and one day she tossed me the keys and told me to drive. She was so laid back about it I was never stressed with her.”
I think back to Mrs. Denuzio and her classic pale yellow Ford Mustang convertible. She used to say that everyone should know how to drive a stick shift and if I could drive her car I could drive anything. She instructed me on how to operate the clutch and gears exactly once and then let me figure it out for myself. Rarely did she say anything as we drove, or if she did, it’d be something like ‘Now change lanes up here, doll, and look to your left because the rat bastards in this town don’t know how to drive.’ She always assumed I was in the right if someone honked at us. I loved that.
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