The Moon and More (33 page)

By the time I caught up with my father and Margo, they were in the kitchen, which was cluttered with boxes and packing supplies. “I really need to get the bulk of this stuff boxed,” he was saying. “But dealing with Benji and this deadline I’m on for my article, it’s been impossible.”

“We can look into prices for packers,” Margo suggested.

“Paying movers is expensive enough.”

My sister considered this. “Well, then Emaline could do it.”

“Me?” I said. “I’m supposed to be at work
now
.”

“This
is
your work,” she said to me.

“Does that mean you’re going to do the towel runs and organize the request checks when we get back? Because I’m leaving the office right at five today, whether they’re done or not.”

“Emaline,” she said. She glanced at my father, who had picked up his phone from the counter and was now studying its screen, then lowered her voice. “What have I told you about discussing personnel issues in front of clients?”

“He’s my father,” I reminded her. “And you can’t just dump everything on me.”

“Fine. I’ll ask Morris.” She made a note on her pad, then
said, “Joel, I’m just going to make a few calls. The first movers should be here in a few minutes for that estimate.”

“What?” My father looked up. “Oh, right. Thanks.”

Margo smiled, then picked up her purse from the chair beside her and stepped out onto the screened side porch. Within moments, I could hear her on the phone, talking too loudly as always. I tipped my head back, looking up at the ceiling as if there might be strength there.

“He informed me this morning,” my father said after a moment, “that when I take him back to Connecticut, it will in effect ruin his entire life as we know it.”

I was startled, not least because I’d thought my father was absorbed in whatever text he was reading or sending. “Benji did?” I asked stupidly. Like it would be anyone else.

“To say he was disappointed when I said I’d be doing it regardless is a massive understatement.” He sighed, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down. I did the same. “He’s become very fond of you. Obviously.”

“Well, that’s sweet,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s only about me.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Maybe not.” I looked out at Margo, pacing around the porch, phone to her ear. “But really, I think it’s Colby, the summer … the whole package. He just doesn’t want to think about everything changing.”

“Change is inevitable, though,” he replied. “As is disappointment. Best to get used to it now.”

“How can you get used to it?” I asked. “It’s always changing.”

At this, he smiled, and I realized how few times I’d actually
seen him do so, especially on this trip. “You’ve always been a smart one, Emaline.”

“I think I can just relate,” I said. “With him and me, there’s a lot of big stuff ahead. My whole life is changing at the end of summer, too, with school and all.”

I really wasn’t thinking as I said this; it just came naturally, as truths tend to do. It was only after the words left my mouth that I realized what I’d said, and to whom I’d said it. Sure enough, his face was already reddening, his discomfort obvious.

“Yes, well,” he stammered, then coughed into his hand. “Again, it’s part of life in general. One must learn to adapt, move on.”

Move on
. This, clearly, was when I was supposed to do just that. Back off again, sparing him all the discomfort he had easily caused me. But I’d already waded out this far. For once, I decided to dive in.

“The truth is,” I began, then paused as he shifted, still noticeably uncomfortable, in his chair, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. My going to school, and what happened between us, back in the spring.”

And there it was. The elephant in our collective room, the shared albatross around our necks, recognized and out in the open. This was my moment to ask him all my questions, just like the ones I’d written out for Mr. Champion’s class all those years ago. No time for drafts or polish, though. I just had to do it.

“Oh,” he said quickly, shifting again. “Well, I’m not sure this is the right place or—”

“I just never really understood why you didn’t answer my messages,” I pressed on. “And then when you didn’t respond to my graduation invitation, after all the work we’d done … I felt like I’d done something wrong.”

“Emaline.” He held up a hand, palm flat out to me. “Not now.”

“But I just—”

“
No
.”

In that one word, two letters, I heard it: the sharp, final tone I associated with my actual parents, the one that let you know when something went from a
maybe
to
no chance
and keeping up pushing would most likely lead to a punishment. No talking. No explanation. Just: no.

“Think I just heard the movers pull up,” Margo reported, coming in from the side porch. “And they’re on time. Early, even! That’s a good sign. I’ll go let them in.”

She started for the door, and I just looked at him, his red face, the way, without me even really noticing, he’d at some point pulled back from the table, putting that much more space between us. I just knew that if I said another word he’d be gone from the room; another sentence, from the house. This was the way it had to be, or so I was figuring out. When it came to the two of us, it didn’t matter if it was the summer, this past year, or all our lives. The one constant, beside change, was that we played by his rules. Otherwise, the game was over.

Back at the office, I threw myself into work for a solid three hours, organizing towels, making deliveries, and doing
check-ups. Then, at a minute to five, I clocked out and went home to change.

Theo was getting off work early, for once, and he’d made plans for us to have what he called the Best Outdoor Date Ever. All I knew was I’d been instructed to be at the Washroom at 6 p.m. sharp and wear flats. Which was in itself hilarious, as I never wore anything else. But Theo liked to cover all his bases when it came to his Best Evers. The least I could do was follow directions.

At my house, I let myself in and headed down the hallway to my room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear voices just beyond it.
Dammit
, I thought, feeling that familiar annoyance rise up in me. I pushed it open.

There, on the bed, were Morris and Amber. They were sharing a bowl of popcorn, watching my TV, and both of them had their shoes on. I did not even know where to start.

“Why are you in my room?” I demanded.

Morris swallowed the popcorn he’d been chewing. “You weren’t home yet.”

“Dad’s painting the kitchen trim,” Amber said. Today, suddenly, she was wearing hair extensions, rounding out a retro-feathered look. “It stinks up there.”

“So you made popcorn and got into my bed with your dirty shoes on.”

“My shoes aren’t dirty,” my sister, who knew better than to vouch for Morris, said. She held out the bowl to me. “Want some? It’s still warm.”

I glared at her. Then I remembered I’d skipped lunch
because of Margo. Experience had taught me that I really only had the energy to be annoyed with one sister at a time, so I took a handful. “I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know,” she said, as if she’d had nothing to do with it. Morris, beside her, helped himself to some more as well. “Why are you home so early?”

“I told you,” Morris said. “She’s got a date.”

“She always has a date these days,” Amber told him, like I wasn’t even there. Then she tossed her fake hair, a move she’d clearly been practicing. “She’s seeing a dater.”

“A dater?” I repeated, getting my towel and stepping into the bathroom. The door was superthin, so I could still hear every word.

“A guy who likes to date,” she explained, chewing. “As opposed to one who just wants to hang out.”

“What’s the difference?” Morris asked.

“Do you plan extravagant events and outings that make for special moments?” she asked him.

“What do you think?” I called out, stripping off my shirt.

“Exactly,” Amber said. “A dater likes dates. Theo’s a dater. The guys I get involved with just like to hang out. Preferably with cheap beer or video games involved. Ideally, both.”

“What’s wrong with video games?” Morris said.

“They’re passive. Dating is active. Which means you don’t do it sitting on the couch.” I heard her eat another handful of popcorn. “Which is why I, myself, am not a dater. I
like
the couch. And the beer and video games. And I
love
the boys who love them.”

Usually, I found Amber’s theories to be far-fetched, if not outright ludicrous. But this one, I realized as I started the water, was not so off. Theo was the planner, the cruise director of our relationship. He planned, he paid, he engineered the Best Memories Ever. And on days like this, especially, I was really fortunate to have him.

When I got out of the shower, my sister had vanished, leaving just Morris and the now-empty bowl of popcorn. “Where’s the dating expert?”

“Went to get another Diet Coke,” he replied, studiously avoiding looking at me, even though I was wearing a towel that covered everything. Having a guy for a best friend required certain modifications, especially when it came to undressing. But Morris and I had been best friends a long time. Like me and Daisy, we had our rituals.

I grabbed my clothes, then went back into the bathroom, leaving the door only a crack open. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Wanted to talk to you.”

I raised my eyebrows at my own reflection. “About what?”

“Daisy.”

“Oh.” This sounded serious. “Okay. I’ll just be a sec.”

I got dressed, then combed my wet hair, put on some makeup, and dug my nicer sandals out from behind the hamper. When I returned, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his phone. I joined him, then waited. Morris talked, as he did everything, at his own pace and on his own schedule. Finally he said, “I have to break up with her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Daisy. I have to break up with her.”

“Why?” I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “I swear to God. If you fooled around with another girl—”

“Of course not.” He sat back, leaning on his palms. “She’s going to college in, like, four weeks. Once she gets there, she’ll want nothing to do with her stupid loser high-school boyfriend.”

I felt a pang just hearing this. “Morris. Don’t—”

“We both know it’s the truth,” he said, cutting me off. “And Daisy’s so sweet, she’d feel like crap having to dump me, especially long-distance. She’d be miserable. Someone’s gotta be the bad guy. I’m better at it.”

I bit my lip, thinking of Daisy studying her dress dummy, acknowledging in her own way how far-fetched their chances of staying together were. Different languages, same message.

“She’s not leaving yet,” I told him quietly.

“But she will.” He cleared his throat. “It’s like Amber said. She needs a dater, and I’m a couch guy. That’s never gonna change.”

“You don’t know that.” He made a face, doubting this. “You don’t. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But even that’s not long enough to be the person she deserves. I just think it’s probably time to let her get started finding whoever that is.”

It was the most twisted, sad, Morris-esque logic. And yet I understood it completely. Some people—like myself and Theo, say—would let the flame burn as long as possible, squelching it only when it was just about going to go out anyway. But Morris, despite his lack of long-term goals, still had a way of seeing the bigger view.

I could hear Amber coming back down the stairs. Aware he probably didn’t want this public conversation or knowledge, I said, “So when are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know.” He looked down at his hands. “All I’m sure of is that it’s gonna
really
suck.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re a good guy, Morris.”

“Naw, I’m an asshole,” he replied, pushing himself to his feet. “But at least this time I can say I have a good reason.”

Again, this made me think of Daisy, and her white lie about the dresses. We were willing to do so much for the people we loved, even if it meant hurting ourselves. Maybe that, in the end, was what love—all kinds—was really all about.

Amber came back in, carrying a can of Diet Coke, which she popped as she crossed the threshold. When she saw Morris headed for the door, she said, “Don’t leave on my account.”

“This isn’t your room,” I pointed out.

“Gotta go,” he told her. To me he said, “Talk later?”

“Talk later.”

He left, and a moment later I heard the door fall shut behind him.

“I told him to take his shoes off,” Amber informed me. “Just so you know.”

“And yet, you kept yours on.”

“Mine are clean.”

I rolled my eyes, then picked up my brush and gave my hair a few good strokes. “He’s such a good guy.”

“I don’t know about that,” she replied, scraping the bottom
of the popcorn bowl for the last few kernels there. “But he’s a
very
good Morris.”

I smiled at this, bending down to grab my purse. “Don’t leave that bowl in here.”

“Do I ever?”

This I chose to ignore, instead just waving as I headed out myself.

“Have fun with the dater!”

“Thank you,” I called over my shoulder. I figured I’d catch Morris walking down the driveway, give him a lift to wherever he was headed, or at least partway there. But when I got outside, he was nowhere in sight. I looked both ways, drove an extra loop around the neighborhood. No luck. Weird. Someone who normally moved so slowly, this time, for once, was long gone.

When I walked into the Washroom at the appointed time, I was surprised to find that Theo wasn’t there. Instead there was just Clyde, alone, perusing a cookbook in the small booth that doubled as his office.

“Where’s Ivy and Theo?” I asked.

“No idea,” he replied. “They left for lunch, never came back.”

“Lunch?” I glanced at my watch. “When was that?”

He flipped a page. I caught a glimpse of a piecrust, the top woven lattice style. “Two thirty or so.”