Sarah Dessen (33 page)

“It’s not that bad,” I told her, spearing a bit of lettuce with my fork. “Just get a folder, a notebook, and get second estimates on everything. And don’t use the Inverness Inn because they overcharge and never have toilet paper in the bathrooms.”

“Oh, weddings are always fun!” my mother chirped, sipping on her glass of wine. And for a second I caught her as a wave of sadness crossed over her face. But she shook it off, smiling at Chris instead. “Anything you two need, help, money . . . let me know. Promise you will.”

“We will,” Chris said.

I gathered up the plates as they kept talking, discussing possible dates, places, all the things that I’d been starting to think about this time last year, when my mother was the bride-to-be. There was something incongruous about one marriage ending the same day another began, as if there was an exchange program in the universe or something, a trade required in order to keep the numbers even.

As I pulled open the screen door, I turned around, looking again at the backyard, where the dark was now coming on. I could hear their voices rising and falling, and for a second I closed my eyes, just listening. Times like this it did seem real I was leaving, and even more that my family, and this life, would go on without me. And again I felt that emptiness rise up, but pushed it away. Still, I lingered there, in the doorway, memorizing the noise. The moment. Tucking it away out of sight, to be remembered when I needed it most.

When I pulled up to the Quik Zip, heeding the call of that Extra Large Zip Diet, I was surprised to see Lissa’s car parked in front of the pay phones. I snuck up behind her in the candy section as she stood debating whether to get Skittles or Spree. She had one in each hand, and when I poked her in the small of her back, she jumped, shrieking, sending both flying.

“Remy!” She swatted at my hand, the color rising in her face. “God, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” I told her. “Couldn’t resist.”

She bent down, collecting the candy. “Not funny,” she grumbled. “What are you doing out, anyway? I thought you were having a big family night.”

“I was,” I said, heading over to the Zip Fountain station. It was weird how even the smallest things were making me nostalgic now, and I had a moment of quiet respect as I picked a cup off the stack, then filled it with ice. “I mean, I did. Bigger family night than you would even believe. You having a Zip?”

“Sure,” she said, and I handed her a cup. We didn’t talk for a second as I filled mine, stopping at the right intervals to allow the fizz to die down. Plus, sometimes you got a new shot of syrup when you pushed in the Diet Coke button, which made them extra wonderful. Then I got a lid and a straw, as Lissa did the same with the 7UP. As I sipped mine, testing it for full flavor, I noticed that she looked very nice; she appeared to be wearing a new skirt, and had painted her toenails. Plus she smelled good, a light floral scent, and I was almost positive she had curled her eyelashes.

“Okay,” I said. “Confess. What are you doing tonight?”

She smiled slyly, dropping the candy by the register. As the guy ran it up, she said, offhandedly, “Got a date.”

“Lissa,” I said. “No way.”

“Three seventy-eight,” the guy said.

“I’ll get hers too,” Lissa told him, nodding at my Diet Zip.

“Thanks,” I said, surprised.

“No problem.” She handed the guy a couple of folded bills. “Well, you know that P.J. and I have been kind of circling lately.”

“Yeah,” I said as she took her change and we headed for the door.

“And the summer is close to over. And today, when we were at this craft festival KaBooming, I just decided the hell with it. I was tired of waiting around, wondering if he was ever going to make a move. So I asked him out.”

“Lissa. I’m impressed.”

She stuck her straw in her mouth and took a dainty sip, shrugging. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought, actually. It was even . . . kind of nice. Empowering. I liked it.”

“Watch out, P.J.,” I said as we came up to her car, both of us climbing up to sit on the hood. “It’s a whole new girl.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she replied, and we pressed our cups together.

For a minute we just sat there, watching the traffic pass on the road in front of us. Another Saturday night at the Quik Zip, one of so many in the years we’d been friends.

“So,” I said finally, prompted by this, “my mom and Don are over.”

She jerked her straw out of her mouth, turning to look at me. “No.”

“Yep.”

“No way! What happened?”

I filled her in, going all the way back to seeing the picture at Flash Camera, stopping at certain intervals so she could shake her head, request specific details, and call Don all the names I already had that day, which didn’t exactly stop me from chiming in again, for good measure.

“God,” she said, when it was all done. “That sucks. Your poor mom.”

“I know. But I think she’ll be okay. Oh, and Chris and Jennifer Anne are engaged.”

“What?” she said, shocked. “I can’t believe that you stood there calm and cool, fixing a Diet Zip, and had an entire conversation with me when you had such big information, Remy. God!”

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just been a long day, I guess.”

She sighed loudly, still upset with me. “What a summer,” she said. “It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago your mom and Don were getting married and I was getting dumped.”

“It’s been a shitty season for relationships,” I agreed. “Enough to make you give up on love altogether.”

“Nah,” she said easily, not even considering this. “You can never really do that.”

I took a measured sip of my drink, pulling my hair out of my face. “I don’t know,” I said to her. “I did. I mean, I don’t believe things can really work out. And this latest with Don just confirms it.”

“Confirms what?”

“That relationships suck. And that I was right to break things off with Dexter, because it never would have worked. Not in a million years.”

She thought about this for a second. “You know what?” she said finally, crossing her legs. “Frankly, I think that’s a bunch of
shit.
”

I almost choked on my straw. “What?”

“You heard me.” She pulled a hand through her hair, tucking a mass of curls behind one ear. “Remy, as long as I’ve known you, you always thought you had it all figured out. And then something happened this summer that made you wonder if you were right after all. I think you always believed in love, deep down.”

“I did not,” I said firmly. “Things have happened to me, Lissa. I’ve seen stuff that—”

“I know,” she said, holding up her hand. “I am new to this, I’m not disputing that. But if you truly didn’t believe in it, why did you keep looking all this time? So many boys, so many relationships. For what?”

“Sex,” I said, but she just shook her head.

“Nope. Because a part of you wanted to find it. To prove yourself wrong. You had that faith. You know you did.”

“You’re wrong,” I told her. “I lost that faith a long time ago.”

She looked at me as I said this, an expression of quiet understanding on her face. “Maybe you didn’t, though,” she said softly. “Lose it, I mean.”

“Lissa.”

“No, just hear me out.” She looked out at the road for a second, then back at me. “Maybe, you just misplaced it, you know? It’s been there. But you just haven’t been looking in the right spot. Because lost means forever, it’s gone. But misplaced . . . that means it’s still around, somewhere. Just not where you thought.”

As she said this, I saw a blur in my mind of the faces of all the boys I’d been with, literally or just figuratively. They passed quickly, their features melting into one another, like the pages in one of my old Barbie dream date books, none of them truly distinct. They had certain things in common, now that I thought about it: nice faces, good bodies, so many of the qualities I’d drawn up in my mind on yet another checklist. In fact, I’d always approached boys this way, so methodically, making sure before I took even one step that they fit the profile.

Except, of course, for one.

I heard a horn beep, loud, and looked up to see Jess pulling in beside us. To my shock, Chloe was in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Jess said as they got out, doors slamming, “nobody said anything to me about a meeting. What gives?”

Lissa and I just sat there, staring at them. Finally she said, “What on earth is going on tonight, anyway? Has everyone gone crazy? What are you two doing together?”

“Don’t get too excited,” Chloe said flatly. “My car got a flat over at the mall, and neither one of you was answering the phone.”

“Imagine my surprise,” Jess added drolly, “when I was her last resort.”

Chloe made a face at her, but it wasn’t a mean one, more just rankled irritation. “I said thank you,” she told Jess. “And I will buy you that Zip Drink, as promised.”

“The deal was Zip Drinks for life,” Jess said, “but for now I’ll just take one Coke. Extra large, light on the ice.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and headed into the store. Lissa slid off the hood, shaking her own cup. “Refill time,” she said. “You?”

I handed over my drink, and she followed Chloe in, one in each hand. Jess came over and sat on the bumper, smiling to herself. “I love it that she owes me,” she said, watching as Chloe fixed the drinks, with Lissa chattering away beside her. From the way Chloe kept glancing at her, her mouth dropping open, aghast, I knew she was getting the full story about my mother and Don. So I filled Jess in, getting much of the same reaction, and by the time they returned and we all had our drinks, everyone was more or less on the same page.

“Asshole,” Chloe said decisively, taking a sip of her drink. Then she made a face, coughed, and said, “Yuck. This is regular Coke.”

“Thank God,” Jess said as they traded, both of them wincing now. “Because this stuff I’m drinking tastes like shit.”

“So let me get this straight,” Chloe said, ignoring this. “Patty sent the picture to your mom?”

“Yep,” I replied.

“But she got the pictures developed at Flash Camera.”

“Correct.”

Chloe swallowed, considering this. “And Dexter knew it was her, and what the implications were, so he showed it to you to get you back for dumping him.”

“Exactly.”

There was a moment of silence, during which all I could hear was the sloshing of ice, creaking of straws, and a few doubtful murmurings. Finally Jess said, “I’m not getting the logic of that, exactly.”

“Me neither, now that I think about it,” Lissa agreed.

“There is no logic,” I said. “He was just being a jerk. He knew it was the one way he could really hurt me, so he did it, just when I’d tried to make amends and had my guard down.”

More silence.

“What?” I said, irritated.

“I think,” Chloe began tentatively, “that there’s really no proof that he even knew that you knew her.”

“Wrong. He met her at my mother’s cookout. And she was at Toyotafaire too.”

“Not naked,” Lissa pointed out.

“What does that have to do with it? Naked or not she still had the same face.”

“But,” Chloe said, “how could he have known it was Don that took the picture? Or even that it was in your mom’s room? I mean, I haven’t even been in there. Has he?”

Now, I was the quiet one, as this logic—if it was even that—suddenly began to click together in my head. I’d just assumed, in my shock, that Dexter had seen my mother’s bedroom, and especially that ugly biblical tapestry. But had he? For all he knew, it was just a picture of a woman who worked for my stepfather getting her kicks taking nudie lingerie pictures in someone’s bedroom. Anyone’s bedroom.

“I’m all for you being pissed at Dexter,” Chloe said, tapping her nails on the hood of the car. “But it should be for a good reason. Face it, Remy Starr. You’re in the wrong here.”

And I was. I’d been so ready to blame Dexter for everything, from my mother’s marriage dissolving to making me trust him in a way I hadn’t anyone else in a long time. But none of it was his fault.

“Oh, my God,” I said softly. “What now?”

“Go find him and apologize,” Lissa said decisively.

“Admit it was a mistake, don’t find him, move on,” Chloe countered.

I looked at Jess, but she just shrugged and said, “I have no idea. It’s all you.”

I’d yelled at him. Told him to fuck off, thrown the picture at him, and stalked out even as he was trying to explain. I’d dumped him because he’d wanted more from me than to be a faceless, smelling-of-sunshine-and-chlorine summer boyfriend, made to order.

So what had changed? Nothing. Even if I did go to him, we’d already be too late, no time left to make a foundation before we were flung to opposite coasts, and everyone knew that kind of relationship
never
worked.

It was just like my mother said. Everything, in the end, comes down to timing. One second, one minute, one hour, could make all the difference. So much hanging on just these things, tiny increments that together build a life. Like words build a story, and what had Ted said? One word can change the entire world.

Hey,
Dexter had said that first day he sat down beside me. That was one word. If I’d talked one minute longer with Don in the office, Dexter might already have been called away and gone when I came out. If my mother and I waited maybe another hour, Don might not have been at the dealership the day we went shopping for her new car. And if Jennifer Anne hadn’t needed that oil change on that particular day of that particular week, maybe she wouldn’t have ever looked over a Jiffy Lube counter and seen Chris at all. But something, somehow, had made all these paths converge. You couldn’t find it on a checklist, or work it into the equation. It just happened.

“Oh, man,” Jess said suddenly, tugging at the cuff of my jeans. “Check
this
out.”

I looked up, my mind still reeling. It was Don. He was driving a shiny, brand-new dealer-tagged Land Cruiser, which he parked on the other side of the Quik Zip. He didn’t see us as he got out, hitting the remote door lock, and went inside, smoothing a hand over the thinning hair on the back of his head as he did so.

“God,” I said. “Talk about timing.”

“What?” Lissa whispered.

“Nothing.” We all watched as he moved down the aisle of the Quik Zip, picking up a bottle of aspirin and a bag of potato chips, which, I figured, was the chosen meal of adulterers. Even when he was checking out he didn’t look at us, glancing instead at the headlines of the newspapers stacked by the register. Then he walked out, fiddling with the lid of the aspirin, and got back into his car.