I laugh. I can’t tell her that I think I just did see it when we were searching her house.
You sure you don’t want to come with us tomorrow?” she asks.
“Are you nuts?” I say. “Tomorrow is for you guys. I’ve got some things planned with my mom anyway.”
Liz unties the bow on the flat, rectangular package and unwraps the fuchsia tissue paper to uncover a framed picture of her and Finn. She stares at it for a long time and I can see the emotion in her eyes when she looks up. “Where’d you find this?” she asks.
“I was organizing some old photos and when I saw it I knew I wanted to give it to you.”
The photo is of her and Finn at the river in Basin Park when we were in eighth grade. We used to go there all the time and swing off a rope somebody hung from a branch that stretches out over the water. In the photo they’re dripping wet in their swimsuits, standing on the bank of the river. Finn is looking very cute and leanly muscular with his floppy brown hair and boyish face, and Liz is next to him. They have their arms around each other. Liz is smiling at the camera, laughing, and Finn is smiling, too, but he’s beaming up at Liz (who back then, before Finn’s growth spurt, was far more than just a quarter inch taller than him). The look in his eyes is unmistakable. He loved Liz even back then. Probably before he even realized it. I knew Liz would see it, too.
Finn peers over Liz’s shoulder at the photo. “Your thumb is in the corner,” he says to me.
I nod. “I thought of cropping that out but then I thought it was a funny way for me to be in the photo, too. I used to love it when we all went out to the river. Do you remember blowing up all those inner tubes?”
“I wasn’t looking at the camera,” Finn adds.
“That’s because you were looking at me,” Liz pipes in. “Which was nice,” she adds, “and I love it.” She gives him a kiss.
“Thank you,” Liz says to me, meeting my eyes with emotion.
“You’re welcome,” I smile. “That was a good day.”
“It was,” Liz says nostalgically. “We had a lot of good days there.”
We all smile and sigh for a moment, remembering, and then we toast with our fountain drinks and I dive into the delicious thin crust slice before me. As I savor the perfect ratio of marinara, mozzarella, and dough I realize that for ten straight minutes I managed not to worry about Alexander.
One more reason I cherish my friends.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Why, exactly, are we going bowling?” I ask my mom as she drives us to the Surf Bowl. I’ve been so busy all summer we haven’t been able to spend much time together and I miss just hanging out. That’s what we’re doing tonight.
“I don’t know, it’s something different,” she replies. “I thought about miniature golf but we just did that after your graduation, and I considered a movie but you said there’s nothing good out. I saw a Groupon for this place and we haven’t been bowling since you were a kid. And, as I remember, we were both terrible bowlers,” she laughs. “This should be fun.”
I can’t help but return her goofy smile. She’s right. I didn’t want to go to a movie because the only good ones out right now are romances. That’s the last thing I need thrust in my face.
When we arrive, I see a group of guys and a girl in the corner of the parking lot, dressed all in black. They remind me of Avestan and a shiver runs up my spine. Could they be dark angels? I stare over at them and the girl looks up at me and glares. Probably because you’re staring at her, Declan. I hate this not knowing and wondering all the time who are the good guys and bad guys. I almost wish Alenna didn’t warn me that Avestan is back. Edwin said that whenever Avestan is away a lot of the dark angels in San Mar leave to pursue easier, lower hanging fruit somewhere else, where there aren’t so many guardians around. Turns out dark guardians are lazy. What a surprise.
My mom puts her arm around me and pulls me in for a quick hug against her side as we walk into the Surf Bowl. I can tell she’s excited and I’m surprised at how busy it is inside. There’s a long row of alleys and rock music is playing over the rhythmic sounds of bowling balls thudding onto the smooth, polished wood and smashing and scattering pins. The young girl at the counter tells us the wait will be about an hour at the same time Chief Stephens spots us and walks over.
“Hi Judy, hey Declan, you ladies here to bowl?” he asks with a smile. He’s dressed casually, out of his police chief uniform, and he has a bowling ball in his hand.
My mom looks startled. “Hi Mark. Yes, we just got here. We’re waiting for a lane to open up.”
“Would you like to join us?” he asks. “I’m here with my boys. They’re home for the summer. You remember Jake and Zach, don’t you Declan?”
I nod. “Of course.” Jake and Zach are a couple years older than me but we all used to play as kids. Their mom used to make the best chocolate milk and brownies. I always loved going to their house. When Mrs. Stephens died of cancer years ago it was a loss the whole town felt. She was such a nice lady. For about the last twelve months I suspected Chief Stephens had a thing for my mom and she must have finally given him a sign she was ready because he asked her out for coffee a couple months ago and she accepted. They’ve been dating—I think—ever since. I haven’t been able to get much information out of her. She insists they’re just friends.
“So would you like to join us?” he asks again.
My mom looks at me. I can tell she’s debating what to do. This was supposed to be our night together. But Chief Stephens is a nice guy. Handsome, too, for an older guy, judging from the way all the single moms in town react to him. As much as I miss my dad, I want my mom to keep living and be happy. She could use a little fun.
“Sure,” I say. “Thanks, Chief.”
“You know you can call me Mark,” he says with a grin.
I smile. “Habit.”
My mom turns to me. “Are you sure?” she asks in a hushed whisper.
“Yes, it’ll be fun,” I whisper back, nudging her.
She turns back and smiles at Mark. “Declan and I haven’t bowled in years. We’re probably not much competition.”
“If you were any good I may have to rescind my offer. My boys and I are terrible,” he says with a laugh. “We came here on a whim, just looking for something different to do. I bought a Groupon.”
My mom looks at me and I can tell her mind is spinning with the wonders of coincidence and fate.
“Same with us,” I say.
“Great,” he declares, “it was meant to be. Declan, we’re on lane fourteen over there.” He points in the direction of the lane and waves to try to get his sons’ attention. “Jake and Zach can help you get situated. I’m searching for a heavier ball,” he says, lifting the bowling ball stuck to his hand. “Judy, do you want to come with me and I can help you find a good one, too?”
I walk over to lane fourteen and tap on Zach’s shoulder.
He turns around and his eyes widen with recognition and surprise. “Declan Jane?” he says. “Look at you, all grown up.”
Jake turns and smiles, too, when he sees me. “The years have been good to you,” he says.
I laugh and give them both hugs. “You, too. My mom and I came here to bowl on a whim and we ran into your dad over there.” I tilt my head in the direction of the chief and my mom. “He asked us to join you guys.”
“So your mom and our dad, huh?” Zach says conspiratorially.
I nod. “I know. You guys okay with that?”
“Okay?” Zach says. “We’re not only okay, we’re fully on board. Dad needs some fun in his life again. And your mom was always one of the nicest moms in the neighborhood.”
“She always had popsicles,” says Jake.
“And she’d save me a grape,” says Zach, “which is still my favorite flavor. Does she have any popsicles on her tonight?”
I laugh.
“How do you feel about it?” Jake asks me.
I shrug. “Same as you guys. My mom could use a li
ttle fun. And I like your dad.”
“Good, so we’re all agreed,” says Zach. “Our parents are cleared for action. Now let’s find you a bowling ball so we can start this game and beat you soundly.”
I laugh. “Bring it.”
We laugh and joke and have a good time as we bowl for the next two hours but inside thoughts of Alexander are never far away. I can’t manage to push away completely the worries that keep resurfacing of Avestan coming after me and Alexander never coming back.
“Did you have fun?” my mom asks as we’re driving home.
“Yeah,” I answer, surprising myself. “Did you?”
“Yes, but I’m sorry that our night together got hijacked.”
“But we had fun,” I insist. “We’ll have plenty of other nights with just us. This was a nice distraction. Really.”
She glances over to meet my eyes. “Good,” she says. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you ever going to tell me more about what happened?”
“There isn’t much more to it, other than what I already said. And I honestly don’t want to talk about it. Tonight I was finally able to not think about Alexander for a while.”
“I really don’t understand you two,” she says. “I think—”
“Please, mom, I know what you think. And, please, I don’t want to talk about it tonight. And speaking of not understanding people, I don’t understand why you don’t just admit you’re dating Chief Stephens.”
My mom looks at me, surprised. “I’m not dating Mark.”
“What do you mean? You’ve been out with him a bunch of times.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Friends with benefits?” I ask boldly.
“Declan!” she says. “I couldn’t do that to your father.”
I search her face. She’s serious. I was right. My mom is not getting all Willy Wonka Wonderland—or whatever the heck Liz said—with Chief Stephens. She pulls into our driveway and I touch my mom’s arm to keep her from exiting the car.
“Mom,” I say softly, “dad’s gone. It’s okay to be with someone else.”
She turns to look at me. “I know,” she says quietly. “Intellectually, I know that, Declan. But I can’t. Not yet. I’m not ready.”
“It’s been a long time, mom. He would want you to move forward … you know that.”
“I know,” she says quietly. “Mark is a kind man … and patient. He understands what it is to miss someone. He lost someone he loved deeply, too.”
I lean over to hug her and she wraps her arms around me tight. “I love you, honey,” she says. “And I worry about you. I want you to be with someone who makes you laugh, and makes your heart sing, and brings out the best in you, like your dad did for me. If that’s not Alexander then I understand and I’ll stop asking questions.”
My eyes well up as I try to speak. “Alexander does all those things, mom,” I say quietly with my head on her shoulder.
“But please don’t ask anymore,” I whisper, and the tears start to fall.
What I don’t say—what I can’t say—is that I know in my heart I’ll never fully recover if Alexander isn’t able to defeat Avestan and come back to me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I can’t believe it,” I say, “he’s dead.”
“Good riddance,” Finn says.
“How can you say that?” I ask.
“You were risking your life.”
“He was good to me.”
“It’s not a person, Dec. It’s a car … an inanimate object.” The expression on Finn’s face makes me wonder if sometimes he thinks I’m clinically insane.
“But Archie was my first car, Finn. He chugged along for longer than I ever had a right to expect, based on how cheap he was. He got me where I needed to go.”
“Yes, but at added statistical risk.”
I shrug. “He was a classic.”
“Being old doesn’t automatically make something a classic,” he says. “I’m glad you won’t be driving it anymore.”
Finn never liked Archie because of the obvious safety limitations of a 1972 VW Bug. No modern seatbelts, no airbags, a tinny-sounding air-cooled engine mounted in the back and myriad other weaknesses professed by Finn, including something about “crumple zones.” From the obvious relief evident on his face, I’m reminded of how worried he was about me driving it all this time and that tugs on my heart. Oh, Finn. I hug his shoulders.
“I’m sorry you never got to drive him,” I say. Finn and I have diligently poured ourselves into his driving lessons but we always use his mom’s year-old Mazda, which apparently meets all current safety standards. Finn refused to drive Archie, even in a parking lot.
“I’m not,” says Finn.
I smile crookedly. “Well, thanks for coming to get me,” I say. I’m grateful Liz and Finn were able to come so quickly. My mom is out showing houses all day and Alenna left two days ago for a quick meet-up with Alexander. To say I’ve been anxiously awaiting her return for a report on how he’s doing is an understatement of mass proportions. Next on my list to call would have been Edwin, but he’s been so busy lately. I’ve seen a lot of cars parked at his house and many late night meetings. Out of acute curiosity I take note whenever I can of who goes in and out. At first I assumed they were all guardians but one day I saw Eddie Garrett, a jerk of a guy two years ahead of me in school, coming out of Edwin’s house. There’s no way that guy’s a guardian. He used to call me “midget” and yank my ponytail when we were kids. He must be a university student of Edwin’s or something. It’s maddening that Edwin and Alenna won’t just ‘fess up and tell me who all the guardians are.
“I got him up to five hundred,” says Liz proudly as she walks out of the service door and joins Finn and me in the parking lot. “And you don’t have to pay for the tow.”
“Really? I already told him I’d take two fifty.”
“Yeah, and I told him you were under the heavy influence of carbon monoxide fumes when you agreed to that highway robbery,” she says dismissively. “What the hell happened anyway? Archie won’t even start.”
“I don’t know. I drove over the hill to deliver some papers to the Fields and Morris office in San Jose and when I was coming back I was almost to the summit when Archie started slowing down … so I downshifted and something just blew. I managed to make it to the side of the road and I tried all the things I normally do, like adjusting the throttle, but nothing worked. I knew something big was wrong this time.”
“I rescued this from the trunk for you.” Liz reveals the gas can she was holding behind her.
I smile. It’s the one she gave me as a joke because the gas gauge never worked and I kept running out and getting us stranded. I look at her and Finn and it really hits me that this is it. Thanks to Liz, the mechanic that towed me here has agreed to buy Archie for $500 rather than $250, but money is small consolation. I’m feeling pretty choked up, to be honest, like I’m losing an old friend.
“Will you guys take a picture with me in front of Archie before we go?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat.
We gather together in front of my cheery-looking yet non-operational bug and my smile is bittersweet as we snap the photo. Liz collects the $500 cash from Tom, the mechanic (who has promised to restore Archie to optimal fighting form) and I hang back for a moment. “Bye, Archie,” I say quietly as I trace my hand over the roof. I peer at his crumpled fender with the garish red paint scrape showing beneath the newer layer of canary-yellow paint. “You’ll finally get fixed up the way you deserved.”
“You did the right thing,” Liz says, patting my shoulder as we drive away in her blue Fiat. “It would have cost way too much to rebuild the engine and get him working again.”
“I know,” I say with a lump in my throat as I look back toward the garage. “It was time … but it still hurts.” Liz turns on some music on the car radio and my mind wanders and before I know it she and Finn are dropping me off ba
ck at Fields and Morris.
“You need me to pick you up?” Liz asks as I get out. “When your shift is over?”
“No, my mom can pick me up, thanks. I’m babysitting Charlie later, but I can bike there or use my mom’s car.”
She nods. “Maybe you’ll get to see Malibu Barbie.”
“God, I hope not. I think she’s still in France.” Molly has been away for a while visiting her dad in Paris.
“Sorry to break it to you,” Liz says, “but she’s back. I saw her downtown yesterday.”
I groan loudly. “Great, I lost Archie and gained Molly Bing.”
Liz laughs. “Your life is a shit show right now.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“Hey, if we can’t laugh about it, we cry.” she says. “Things will get better … I promise. And in the meantime you’ve got five Benjamins.” She hands me a stack of crumpled twenties.
“These are Jacksons,” I say.
She smiles. “But they add up to five Benjamins,” she says. “Go stick this in that chewed-up shoebox under your bed you call a bank, but keep a little out and buy yourself something for once. Girls with broken hearts deserve new shoes.”
I smile. She’s right about the chewed-up part. Willow—my cat who thinks she’s a dog—loves to chew up cardboard. She goes at it like crazy and leaves bits and pieces everywhere. “Thanks,” I say to Liz, “for everything … and for getting that guy up to five hundred.”
“Negotiating is my specialty,” she says with a wide grin. She reaches out of the car window and grasps my hand, searching my eyes. “You okay?” she asks.
I nod.
“Call us if you need anything,” Liz says.
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