okay—like, what if it’s not okay, Neily? What then? What if she dies? What if she dies and you’ve been sitting here the whole time telling me that everything’s going to be okay?”
“What do you want me to tell you? Tell me what I can say to make you feel better.”
“I don’t want you to tell me anything—I want you to listen to me.”
“Well, I’m listening now.” I took her hand.
“That’s not good enough. You can’t just be there for me when it’s convenient for you, or when I tell you that you’re doing a lousy job at it. I’m going through enough of a hard time as it is, and I can’t be worrying about your feelings. It’s too much, Neily.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I know.” She wiped at her eyes. “I need some time alone. To spend with my mom.”
“Okay. Whatever you need.” It killed me to say it. Part of me sensed that we were moving toward something dense and ugly and all too real, and that I had no power to stop it.
I left Carly alone for that entire weekend. As difficult as it was, I didn’t call or e-mail or send her any text messages. When I saw her at school the following Monday, I feared it was all over. We stood at opposite ends of a bank of lockers, staring at each other. I wanted to approach her, but I knew that she had to make the first move. When she eventually did move, she tried to brush past me, embarrassment and regret etched all over her beautiful face. Unwilling to let that be the end of it, I caught her wrist as she passed and pulled her toward me, leaned down, and kissed her deeply. She kissed me back, throwing her arms around my neck. When we came apart, I pressed my forehead against hers and said:
“I love you, please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry.” “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I love you, too.”
I smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. From behind us came the sound of a throat clearing. We both looked to the sideand saw Finch standing only a couple of feet from us, glaring his disapproval. Wordlessly, he lifted his finger skyward, and at that exact moment, the bell rang.
“That’s enough,” he said. “You’re both officially late for class. And I will be by the library later to check up on you , if you know what I mean.”
“Ten-four,” I said. Carly smiled at him sheepishly.
“This better not be how you spend all your time these days,” Finch said, stepping back as we scooted past him on our way to music appreciation. “I don’t want to have to split you two up.”
By the time school ended for the summer, things were looking better—Miranda was responding to the chemo, and Carly’s mood had taken an upswing. Paul had engaged a nurse for his wife, and the whole family was feeling good enough to take a night off from hospitals and IVs and worry and go out to dinner for Carly’s fourteenth birthday. Miranda invited me over Paul’s objections. It wasn’t that he didn’t like me , Carly insisted; it was just that he didn’t approve of his daughter having a serious boyfriend at such a young age. My mother had similar concerns, but she mostly kept them to herself; Paul was not as subtle.
The fine dining options in Empire Valley being limited to fast-food restaurants and one moderately priced steak house, Paul took us all up to San Francisco in his brand-new Mercedes. Bored with the innumerable Italian, Mexican, and seafood restaurants the city had to offer, Paul had chosen something different—a tiny, family-run Polish restaurant inWest Portal that doubled as an art gallery. Halfway through our pierogi appetizer, Paul announced that he had news.
“I don’t know how much this will interest you , Neily,” he said, taking a swig of Polish beer. “But Enzo’s coming back to town, and he’s bringing Audrey with him.”
“Enzo? Really?” Miranda seemed surprised. “Why?”
Paul shrugged. “Now that it looks like Hilary’s gone for good, I guess he wants to bring Audrey closer to
“What do you want me to tell you? Tell me what I can say to make you feel better.”
“I don’t want you to tell me anything—I want you to listen to me.”
“Well, I’m listening now.” I took her hand.
“That’s not good enough. You can’t just be there for me when it’s convenient for you, or when I tell you that you’re doing a lousy job at it. I’m going through enough of a hard time as it is, and I can’t be worrying about your feelings. It’s too much, Neily.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I know.” She wiped at her eyes. “I need some time alone. To spend with my mom.”
“Okay. Whatever you need.” It killed me to say it. Part of me sensed that we were moving toward something dense and ugly and all too real, and that I had no power to stop it.
I left Carly alone for that entire weekend. As difficult as it was, I didn’t call or e-mail or send her any text messages. When I saw her at school the following Monday, I feared it was all over. We stood at opposite ends of a bank of lockers, staring at each other. I wanted to approach her, but I knew that she had to make the first move. When she eventually did move, she tried to brush past me, embarrassment and regret etched all over her beautiful face. Unwilling to let that be the end of it, I caught her wrist as she passed and pulled her toward me, leaned down, and kissed her deeply. She kissed me back, throwing her arms around my neck. When we came apart, I pressed my forehead against hers and said:
“I love you, please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry.” “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I love you, too.”
I smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. From behind us came the sound of a throat clearing. We both looked to the sideand saw Finch standing only a couple of feet from us, glaring his disapproval. Wordlessly, he lifted his finger skyward, and at that exact moment, the bell rang.
“That’s enough,” he said. “You’re both officially late for class. And I will be by the library later to check up on you , if you know what I mean.”
“Ten-four,” I said. Carly smiled at him sheepishly.
“This better not be how you spend all your time these days,” Finch said, stepping back as we scooted past him on our way to music appreciation. “I don’t want to have to split you two up.”
By the time school ended for the summer, things were looking better—Miranda was responding to the chemo, and Carly’s mood had taken an upswing. Paul had engaged a nurse for his wife, and the whole family was feeling good enough to take a night off from hospitals and IVs and worry and go out to dinner for Carly’s fourteenth birthday. Miranda invited me over Paul’s objections. It wasn’t that he didn’t like me , Carly insisted; it was just that he didn’t approve of his daughter having a serious boyfriend at such a young age. My mother had similar concerns, but she mostly kept them to herself; Paul was not as subtle.
The fine dining options in Empire Valley being limited to fast-food restaurants and one moderately priced steak house, Paul took us all up to San Francisco in his brand-new Mercedes. Bored with the innumerable Italian, Mexican, and seafood restaurants the city had to offer, Paul had chosen something different—a tiny, family-run Polish restaurant inWest Portal that doubled as an art gallery. Halfway through our pierogi appetizer, Paul announced that he had news.
“I don’t know how much this will interest you , Neily,” he said, taking a swig of Polish beer. “But Enzo’s coming back to town, and he’s bringing Audrey with him.”
“Enzo? Really?” Miranda seemed surprised. “Why?”
Paul shrugged. “Now that it looks like Hilary’s gone for good, I guess he wants to bring Audrey closer to
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