Dad sounds run down. He might be regretting his decision to leave Mom. Maybe he’s finally realizing that he can’t be happy without her.
“Things aren’t turning out the way I expected,” he admits.
There it is. He knows he made a mistake. He wants to get back together with Mom.
Someone knocks on my door.
“It’s open!” I yell.
Karen comes in. It’s obviously freezing out. Her nose is red and she has two scarves wrapped around her neck.
“Who’s that?” Dad asks.
“Karen’s here.”
“I’ll let you go then.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Never keep a pretty girl waiting, Seth. Tell Karen I said hi.”
“Will do.” I hang up. “My dad says hi.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Realizing the error of his ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think he wants to get back together with my mom.”
Karen squeals. She throws her arms around me, jumping up and down. “That’s awesome! Did he tell your mom yet?”
“I don’t think so.” I hope he talks to Mom about it soon. She’s been miserable since Dad left. I’ve been worried about her. She’ll be psyched to hear that he regrets leaving. I totally understand wanting your freedom. But not when you’re a middle-aged married guy. Not when you’ve already found your person. Mom is Dad’s person. From the stories they’ve told about all their years together, it’s clear she always has been.
“We have to celebrate,” Karen says.
It’s cool when Karen gets excited about my life. She makes me feel like when good things happen to me, they’re happening to her, too. Which is comforting to a neurotic freak like me. Being with Karen also balances things out with Grant. As hard as it is to believe, Grant has a girlfriend. Her name is Astor. Astor isn’t revolting at all. She’s actually really nice. What she sees in Grant is beyond me.
The four of us are going to Diner on the Square for dinner. Karen, Astor, and I are all packed into our winter gear for the walk down to Center City. Grant has on the same jacket he’s worn since the fall. He’s not even wearing a hat.
“Aren’t you cold?” Karen asks him.
“I refuse to subscribe to cold,” Grant declares.
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
“Cold is a state of mind. If you give in to cold, it will win. But if you accept that you have control over your perception of cold, you can alter your state of being.”
“Isn’t cold, like, a temperature?” Astor says.
“Only because we classify it as such.”
“Um, fifteen degrees is cold whether or not we want to believe it. Are you seriously trying to tell us that you’re warm?”
“Not warm. Just not giving in to cold.”
“Then why are your ears red?”
Grant scoffs. “We don’t have control over all of our physical responses to external stimuli. We can only control our internal reactions.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d still think it’s cold if I wasn’t wearing my hat and coat and everything.”
“Why don’t you take them off and see?”
“No way! It’s freezing!”
“Only because you’re allowing yourself to be influenced by your environment.”
“You mean the environment that’s freezing?”
“Maybe you’d see my point if you were more open-minded.”
“Maybe you’d admit you’re cold if you were less obnoxious!”
Karen and I hang back as the latest Grant versus Astor Debate rages on.
“Why is he like this?” Karen mutters.
“Wish I knew.”
Grant wasn’t this bad when they first started going out. He was probably relieved to find a girl he could tolerate in our rotting society. But the past few weeks have been crazy. Grant has to attack everything Astor says. He feels the need to correct her in the most insulting ways. Astor shouldn’t be treated like this. No one should. Hanging out with them has become painfully awkward.
The wind slices my face as we cross the bridge. When we get to the stairs that go down from the bridge to one of the residential streets, I point them out to Karen. That’s the area I want to live in when I get my own place junior year. Preferably on Pine Street in the Twenties near that old-school soda fountain. It’s such a mellow street, but it’s only a few blocks from the action of Rittenhouse Square.
We follow Grant and Astor into Diner on the Square. Astor glares at Grant as we slide into a booth.
“Who’s feeling breakfast for dinner?” Karen says.
“Definitely,” I say.
Grant puts his menu down. He squints at Astor. “How can you believe there’s some idyllic afterlife above the clouds?”
“Can you stop disrespecting my religion?” Astor fires back. “That’s what I learned growing up.”
“Did you not learn about atmospheric layers?”
I have no idea how their argument morphed from defining cold into what happens after you die. Too bad their argument didn’t die before we got here.
Karen and I hide behind our big menus. Her wide eyes are like, Seriously with this?
“The notion of an afterlife is preposterous,” Grant argues.
“Our souls are energy,” Astor says. “That energy has to go somewhere.”
“Yet you don’t believe in reincarnation.”
“Because I believe in heaven and hell.”
“And where’s hell, exactly? In the asthenosphere? The outer core?”
I shoot a warning look at Grant to shut up. He remains oblivious.
“I’m thinking pancakes,” Karen announces.
“Blueberry?” I inquire.
“Of course.”
Astor turns to Grant. “If you’re so sure there’s no afterlife, why isn’t it a known fact?”
“Most people aren’t smart enough to deal with the truth. Believing in an afterlife is their response to fear. Their antiquated beliefs give them something to cling to.”
“Are you saying I’m stupid for not agreeing with you?”
“Let’s just say that people who blindly follow organized religion aren’t known for being particularly intelligent.”
“Dude,” I say. “No one knows what happens after you die. It’s all a matter of opinion.”
“Ah, but there is such a thing as a stupid opinion,” Grant says.
“Yeah . . . I’m done.” Astor slides out of the booth and grabs her coat from the rack.
“I’m going with her,” Karen tells me. “Call me later?”
“Okay.”
And then it’s just me and my douchey roommate. And blueberry pancakes.
nine
Skye
all the roads lead back to you
“OH MY god!” Adrienne gasps, grabbing my arm. “That’s him!”
“Where?” I frantically search in the direction she’s looking.
“Wait. Sorry, it’s the guy from yesterday again.”
Adrienne thought she saw Seth yesterday. These guys were playing volleyball while she was laying out. One of them looked a lot like Seth. Adrienne and Seth didn’t meet last summer, but Adrienne kind of remembers what he looks like from the party. I was gardening with my mom when Adrienne called to report the Seth sighting we’d been waiting for all summer. Of course I went running down to the beach. But it wasn’t him.
We’ve been looking for Seth everywhere.
Ben is history. Not that three months with a boy I wasn’t in love with is much history. Seth is the only boy for me. My stomach has been churning all summer with anticipation that he might be coming back. What if he comes back and he hardly remembers me? Or he has a girlfriend? Every day I hope I’ll see him. Every day I’m disappointed.
Adrienne is attempting to cheer me up at the snowball place.
“May I have a spearmint lemonade?” I order.
“What happened to watermelon tangerine?�
� Adrienne asks.
“It’s time to mix things up.”
“Sorry about the false alarms. He’ll be here. We’ll find him. I just know it.”
Right when Adrienne is saying, “I just know it,” “Heart of Glass” comes on.
“No. Way.” I gape at the ceiling.
“What?”
“This song. It was totally playing at the roller rink with Seth last year.”
“Sweet.”
“You know who this is, right?”
“Um . . .”
“Blondie! How can you not know Blondie?”
“Might I remind you that you didn’t even know Blondie before your iPod got Sethified?”
“The same song comes on? Right when we were talking about him? It’s a sign.”
“It’s totally a sign,” Adrienne confirms.
As we’re leaving the snowball place, a guy blocks the door with his ginormous dragon kite. He’s trying to come in while angling his kite to avoid wedging it in the door frame. He doesn’t see us trying to get out. There’s some kind of kite festival this weekend. Either that or a bunch of kite enthusiasts have taken over the beach.
Adrienne peers around the kite. “Uh, excuse me? Can we get out?”
“Oh!” Dragon Kite says. “Didn’t see you there.” He steps back so we can leave.
“Let’s check over there.” I point to the biggest bunch of people flying kites on the beach. We’re checking everyone and everything.
Kites are cool. There’s enormous butterfly ones and ones with lots of flapping ribbons and brightly colored spiral ones. I scan the crowd to see if Seth is flying one of these kites. I don’t even know if he likes kites. How wrong is it that I don’t even know if he likes kites? And that I might never get the chance to find out?
Adrienne checks the time. “I have to leave soon.”
“Another secret rendezvous with Greg?”
“You know how we love sneaking around,” she grumbles.
Adrienne’s mother doesn’t approve of Greg. He’s a townie. Adrienne met him when she went to dinner with her parents at the Italian restaurant where Greg is a waiter. According to Adrienne, Greg took one look at her and knew they had to be together. According to Mrs. Nova, Adrienne could do much better. Adrienne will be grounded for the rest of the summer if Mrs. Nova catches them together again.
“Not that the sneaking around is worth it anymore,” Adrienne says. “Greg’s being weird.”
“Like how?”
“Like he won’t call me back. He used to always call me back right away when he missed my calls.”
“Is he working more hours?”
“Not that I know of. But I don’t really know anything. He’s been ignoring me for three days now. Why is it that we wished for boy action for years, then when we finally get some it comes with all this drama? Can’t we ever have one perfect summer with boys? Just one freaking summer?”
“Seriously.” I take one last desperate look around for Seth. “Okay. I’m going to check one more place and then I’m going home. Try not to worry about Greg. He’s probably just been busy.”
“Right, because summer is such a busy time.”
“It is for restaurants. Hello, tourist season! He might have picked up an extra shift.”
“If by ‘extra shift’ you mean ‘another girl,’ then yeah.”
“Just promise me you’ll talk to him.”
“Fine. But when I show up at your house later dying of a broken heart because Greg admitted that he’s lusting after some other girl, it will be your job to fix me.”
“Deal.”
I head over to the roller rink. Of course I’ve already checked there a few times this summer. But you never know when things might turn around.
My eyes take a minute to adjust to the dimly lit rink after being out in the bright sunlight. It’s empty. I’ve never seen it this desolate before. Right when I’m about to leave, a middle-aged guy in skinny black jeans, a Led Zeppelin concert tee, and a heavy silver chain with dog tags comes out from the back.
“Rolling solo?” he says.
“What fun would that be?”
“You’d be surprised. People tend to let their inhibitions down when no one else is looking.”
“I love coming here with my friends. I have a lot of sweet memories of this place.”
“Can’t say I don’t have some of those myself.” He extends his hand for me to shake. “I’m Pete.”
“I’m Skye.”
“Nice to meet you, Skye. Can I offer you a Yoo-hoo?”
“Thanks! I love Yoo-hoo.”
Pete goes behind the counter to the bar. I sit on one of the stools.
“Here you go,” Pete says, expertly sliding the full glass over to me. “One sec.” He roots around below the counter. Then he locates a box of crazy straws. He puts a hot-pink crazy straw in my glass. “The finishing touch. Enjoy.”
“You even have crazy straws? Could this place be any better?”
“Not really. It’ll be a sad day when it shuts down at the end of the season.”
“What?”
“Business hasn’t been good for a while now. Hard to believe this old place is losing money every day.”
“But Wheel in the Sky can’t close! I’ve been coming here since I was nine!”
“You should have seen it back in its heyday.” Pete shakes his head slowly, remembering. “When we first opened, there was a line for skates. It was packed every night. The place had an electric vibe, you know? And now . . .”
We look around the empty rink.
“But it’s early,” I say. “People will come in later.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Most nights don’t get much more crowded than this.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“Couldn’t agree more. I’ve poured my soul into this place for twenty-two years. To watch it go under . . . well, that’s something I never thought I’d see.”
“It’s so fun here. I love the whole eighties theme.”
“There’s a reason for that.” Pete leans forward conspiratorially. “I met my wife in the eighties. She taught me how to skate. Truth is, I’ve been holding on to this place way past when I should have sold it. It reminds me of everything we were. When we were young.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is she . . . did she—”
“We separated last year. That’s when I moved here, to be closer to the rink. A few guys were running it for me before. But now . . .” Pete looks at me. “Rambling! Sorry for the novel.”
“That’s okay.”
“You’re a good listener. You remind me of my son. I can’t bear to tell him the place is closing, though. He’d be crushed.”
For what might be the last time, I take in the vintage Coke bottles, the retro posters covering the walls, the neon Rubik’s Cube flashing over the doorway to the bathrooms. I can’t imagine this place not existing anymore. It just doesn’t seem possible.
“What’s going to happen to all of this cool stuff?” I ask.
“Guess I’ll take some of it home. Most of it will have to go.”
“You can’t find stuff like this anywhere. It’s sad that so much classic Americana is disappearing. It’s like people don’t appreciate meaningful connections anymore.”
Pete gives me a wistful smile. “You are very wise, Skye.”
“I just have one question.”
“Shoot.”
“If you’ve held on to the rink because it reminds you of your wife, then why aren’t you together?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. That’s way too personal a question to ask someone I’ve known for three seconds.
Pete gives me a wistful smile again. “Have I mentioned how wise you are?”
ten
Seth
make the sun shine from pure desire
THERE’S SOMETHING incredibly relaxing about kites. The smooth way they glide on air currents. How their shiny parts glimmer in the sunlight. You could come out her
e with your kite and bask in the sea breeze and forget about everything that’s bothering you.
Or not.
I’m worried that I won’t find Skye. My plan was to come back to Sea Bright in June and start looking for her. Then we’d have the whole summer together. It would have been epic. Except there was this summer session art class I was dying to take. I had to go for it. The next three years are going to be even more demanding than this year was. The thought of graduating without taking a single art class was way too depressing. Getting to use the sick studio space and learning new techniques was amazing. But finding Skye would be even more amazing.
I know she’s here. I can feel it.
We’ll find each other eventually. Unless she’s still mad at me for not showing up last year. What if she’s already seen me? What if she’s avoiding me? I have to tell her what really happened. Other than all the same places we went last year, I don’t know where to look. One option is to stalk those McMansions on the hill until I find out which house is hers. But I’m pretty sure the neighbors would call the police on me for trespassing.
This kite festival makes me think about how different we all are. What makes one person obsess over stamp collecting while someone else has never even noticed stamps? Are our proclivities mostly due to environmental influences? Is a lifetime love of figurine collecting genetic? The awesome thing is that no matter how esoteric your interests are, you can probably find at least one other person who feels the same way. Or a whole bunch of people. Then excellence like this kite festival ensues.
These kites are crazy intricate. I was talking to some enthusiasts before who said that a lot of them were handmade by the owners. My favorite one is probably the big loop with all different shapes spiraling around. It’s inspiring me to try a spiral collage. I found an old Slinky on the beach. Maybe I could stretch it out and work with it.
I’m craving shaved ice. So I go over to the snowball place and order a watermelon tangerine. Right after the cashier (snowbarista?) shouts my order to the woman pouring syrups, she calls out, “Black licorice is up!”
A guy hauling a gigantic dragon kite goes up to the counter to get his black licorice. As he’s turning to leave, his kite bumps into a little girl. She drops her snowball. She takes a second to absorb that her snowball has been reduced to a pink ice splatter on the floor. Then she starts bawling.
All I Need Page 5