Flat-Out Celeste (6 page)

“Julie and I still email each other,” Celeste said, “And text. Why do
you
not do that with her?”

Matt did little to hide his exasperation. “You know we’re not together. Therefore, we don’t go around texting each other adorable things.”

“I did not say that the communication exchanges had to be adorable.”

He crossed his arms. “What exactly should we be talking about then? Just minor chit chat? The weather? I could say, ‘It’s cold and miserable here like it always is,’ and then she could say, ‘It’s sunny and fantastic
here
like it always is.’ Would that make you happy? Because it wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I did not mean to upset you, Matthew.” Celeste did feel terrible now. She knew that Julie was a sore subject. Still, there was always the hope that they might recapture what they’d had together. She had very much liked Matt and Julie as a couple, and their separation still hit Celeste hard. “You could send her a picture of you in that T-shirt. It is very much what she calls ‘geeky.’”

Matt glanced down at his shirt, and Celeste was pleased that he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“See? She would find it amusing.
Never trust an atom. They make up everything.
It is quite funny. You two could engage in a friendly exchange.”

“And then what? It’s done, Celeste. It’s been done for a long time.”

“But I have concerns that you live alone and that you do not have a girlfriend. There has been no one since Julie, has there? Two years, Matthew. That is a long time.”

He glared at her.

Celeste missed Julie, too. Julie who had swooped into their lives when Celeste had been thirteen. Julie who had captured their hearts and taught them to save themselves from the paralyzing, dysfunctional grief that had taken hold after Finn was killed. The pain nearly destroyed the family, but Julie’s presence in their lives slowly undid many of the tight knots that kept them from moving forward. And in the process, Matt had fallen in love. Deeply in love. But now that was over.

“You are a grown up now, Matthew.”

“Oh my God, I’m a what?” Matt gasped and flailed his hands around. “How did this happen? When? It’s not fair!”

Celeste rolled her eyes. “You are terribly funny. I know that I made an obvious statement, but I hate to see you age and not have a great romance in your life.”

“You hate to see me
age
? Are you aware that I’m not a hundred years old yet? I mean, soon, of course, but I have a little time left before I reach for my walker.”

“I suppose you do. But the proverbial clock is ticking, and I say that as someone who has no affection for proverbial expressions.”

“Celeste…” He sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this. Please.”

“I apologize. I do. We can go back to discussing my collegiate future.”

Two mugs of tea later, brother and sister returned to the cold. It was getting dark now, and the street lights and neon signs lit up the street. Celeste tucked her arm into Matt’s as they walked. “Matty?” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He looked as his feet as they walked. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“That’s not true.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and squeezed his arm. “I suspect that to others, right now we may appear to be a romantically linked couple. But I enjoy looping my elbow with yours, so I do not mind.”

“Don’t be gross,” he said with a laugh, “although this is the closest thing to a date that I’ve had in a while.”

“At least you have had dates in your life. I have yet to experience even one.”

“That will change, you know. I promise.”

“No. I don’t believe it will. It feels clear that romance will not be a part of my life. I don’t hold that appeal.”

“Celeste, stop it. Don’t worry about dating right now. As your brother, I’ll say that it grosses me out to admit this, but you’re a beautiful girl and must have guys all over you. I bet you’re just being picky. As you should. And, frankly, I don’t think you should date until you’re forty.”

“No matter. I am fortunate to have such a solid, dynamic group of comrades. Truly. It really is special to be part of the so-called ‘in crowd.’” She flinched. This was a particularly hideous lie, Celeste thought, but it reassured Matthew. “Yet, in terms of dating, if males are drawn to me for my appearance, they are soon discouraged by my other qualities. Eccentricities, of which I know I have many, do not hold universal sexual and romantic lure. I understand that.”

Matt stopped them, and he looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. You don’t need to give a crap about universal anything. You give a crap when you have love that defies boundaries. That’s it.”

“Is that what you had?”

He paused, clearly uncomfortable. “I thought so.”

“But it was not enough. Not enough to make you try with everything you had.”

“Stop.”

“You did not. Or you would be with Julie. I know that you are fantastically in love with her. Still. But that does not, I gather, matter.”

“That’s different. Circumstances changed. She got that great job in Los Angeles with the UC–Davis study-abroad program. She had to go. I mean, she’s in charge of creating programs in different countries and communicating with universities all over the world. It was an amazing position for her, and she earned it. And I had to stay here for M.I.T. ”

“So there. You have proved the point. If you and Julie were not able to rise above simple challenges such as location, I decidedly cannot rise above what is clearly a more catastrophic set of problems.”

“Location is not simple. And what about you is catastro—“

“Wait! California!” She stopped short and jerked Matt back.

“Huh?”

Celeste scanned the street. “I just remembered something.”

And there, across the street from them, was Border Cafe. It was already five-thirty, past the start time of the Barton event. Not that she would have gone inside anyway. Church Street was bustling tonight as people headed for their favorite restaurants and bars, and a line was forming outside The Brattle Theatre. She moved her head to see past pedestrians. A young man in a bright blue hooded sweatshirt and black down vest stood out front, holding open the door for diners who were entering and exiting, and he did so with such style that Celeste couldn’t help but be intrigued. Each time he reached for the door handle, he simultaneously performed a dramatic bow, complete with a sweeping hand gesture, followed by a quick, full-body spin. The patrons were eating it up.

“It has a slightly tacky sign, does it not?” she murmured.

“What has a what?” Matt asked.

“That restaurant. I have never noticed it. I was invited to something there tonight, but I politely declined.”

“You’ve lived here your entire life and never noticed Border Cafe? I’ve failed you as a brother, clearly. You want to grab dinner? I feel a craving for a margarita or nine.”

“What? Now? No. No, certainly not.” But she could not take her eyes off the boy who stood out front. He bounced on his toes a few times and then hopped in the air and landed by the door just in time to let out more customers, who he then saluted very properly and marched alongside with high knee-lifts as he escorted them to the next block. The three girls giggled in response to his antics as the boy dashed back to his post.

“Hello?” Matt waved his hands in front of her face. “Celeste? What are we doing? If we’re not going in, then let’s go. It’s getting cold.”

“Sure. Okay…” But she watched the boy. “Let’s cross here.” She dragged Matt across the street, causing a taxi to brake hard.

“No, that’s fine. I don’t mind if that taxi hits us. Really. Hospitals are fun on Saturday nights,” Matt grumbled. “No one’s ever there.”

“They are indeed fun,” she replied, only half paying attention.

As they slowly walked toward the restaurant, she made eye contact with the boy in the hoodie. He paused for a moment—just a moment—and tilted his head to side. She took in the way his soft brown hair did a sort of whooshing-off-his-face thing that she quite liked. As if on cue, he ran a hand haphazardly through it and started to smile at her, looking a bit hopeful. Hopeful as to what, Celeste did not know. Most likely that his boyish good looks would charm her and that he’d bring in more customers. He had short sideburns. Wide eyes of the lightest blue. And smooth pale skin that was flushed from the chill. There was energy and freedom and kindness about him. Celeste had to admit that if the Barton event weren’t going on right now, she could be persuaded.

“Come on!” Matt yanked at her arm. “You can’t just stop walking in the middle of an intersection.”

She realized that they had crossed one street, rounded by the restaurant and were now stagnant in the crosswalk of Palmer Street, her eyes still glued to the boy. “Yes, this is unsafe. We should move.” Matt tugged at her arm. “Yes, okay.” Her voice was barely audible.

Then, in what Celeste found to be the smoothest of movements, the boy dropped to one knee, swept his arm across his body and gestured to the front door. She blushed and shook her head slightly. She turned her back to him and finished crossing the street.

But when safely on the corner across from the restaurant, Celeste dropped her arm from Matt’s and looked back. She swept one foot behind her and lowered herself evenly in a perfect curtsy. It was not a voluntary move, but more as though her body had been invaded by someone with flirting skills.

She bounced up and rushed ahead of Matt, her palm pressed to her forehead in horror. “Damn it, Matthew!”

“Oh my God, what is going on? Did you just
curtsy
at someone?” Matt tried to turn his head to see behind them, but she put her hand flat on the side of his face and pushed him away.

“This is your fault! Why did you refer to me as
Victorian
? Look what I have done! How atrocious and… and… absurd!” She stormed ahead. “You should consider yourself fortunate that I am still willing to give you a ride.”

“Will we be making the journey by horse and carriage or—”

“That is not amusing to me!”

Still, despite the moronic curtsy, Celeste felt a certain level of cheer at having seen the boy in the blue hoodie and black vest. The boy with the whooshy hair and cool sideburns.

The boy who got down on one knee for her, if only for a moment.

THE SNOWY OWL

Dear Celeste-

So sorry we didn’t see you on Saturday! The Camptown shrimp were good, but it was missing something. I’m pretty sure it was Barton’s most sought-after student. The lead recruiter for our school, Peter Fritz, spent the entire night adjusting his tie and scanning the room for you, even though nobody knows what you look like! Anyway, I’m back at school now, but I’ll be part of some more events over Thanksgiving weekend and then winter break. The east coast is a hot spot for applicants, possibly because during the winter months we wave around giant pictures of sunny San Diego and throw sand and seashells. Of course, there was once an unfortunate incident with a seashell and someone’s head and a possible laceration… Look, I don’t have good aim, what can I say?

The school is sending out actual official emails and postcards for these events, so you won’t have to rely on me for information via six hundred separate emails! You’ll miss them, I bet, right? Yeah, I know, I know…

Really, Barton is such a great school, and we would love to tell you more about it. I’m sure you’re getting pursued by all the big names. I get that. But I can’t say enough about the professors here, not to mention that the students are some of the greatest people I’ve ever met. To be honest, I didn’t have that phenomenal of a time in high school, so maybe I notice this more than others would, but campus culture is part of the whole college experience. Very strong academics lured me in, but it’s the people who keep me here.

-Justin

Celeste slumped deeper into the armchair and squirmed, using her feet to pull the ottoman closer. This cushiony chair was one of her favorite spots. Nestled into a funny nook below one of the windows in her room, she often sat here, as she did now, with a knitted blanket around her shoulders while she worked. In warmer months, she would lift open the window and allow spring and summer air to flow in. She loved the smells during those times, when plants and flowers came to life again. In the evenings, the jasmine released its scent and flooded her room, and Celeste would close her eyes and inhale, drifting away in thought.

She pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. It was interesting that Justin commented on his high school experience. She fidgeted for a moment and then typed.

Justin-

I, too, am sorry that I was not able to attend the Barton “meet-up” and that I missed the now infamous Camptown shrimp. Please extend my apologies to Mr. Fritz, as well. I do hope the event was successful.

Yes, high school can be a challenging and cumbersome balancing act for many teens, what with all the social and academic pressures weighing down like multiple copies of Dickens novels stacked atop one’s head. Even at private schools like mine, students can demonstrate remarkable levels of callousness and heartlessness.

While I must acknowledge being highly flattered by Barton’s eagerness to meet me in person, I also must be fair in conveying that I have set my sights on, as you correctly guessed, Ivy League institutions. Barton does sound like a lovely school, though. I am curious; how does Barton know about me?

Best wishes,

Celeste

This business of emailing back and forth with Justin felt markedly out of character, yet it also felt distinctly good. And there was, she knew, safety in these exchanges because she would never meet him or have to manage in-person communication. It was as though he did not actually exist in the real world, but rather retained a small and imaginary place in an alternate universe. She liked having him there.