dad who he really is. Things shouldn’t be like this.
After Blake wins, I shuffle the deck to play again.
He’s like, “So are you hiding in here all summer or what?”
“I go out. I go to work, don’t I?”
“What about going out for fun?”
“I’m having fun with you.”
“You’re avoiding him.”
“Who?”
Blake leans back on the couch. He watches the fan whir.
“You know who.”
“No I don’t.”
“Let’s see. He’s about five nine, light-brown hair, green-blue eyes, is a lifeguard, is cute, rhymes with mason.”
“You think I’m avoiding Jason?”
“Umm . . .”
“Because I’m not.”
“Of course not. You’re just . . . hanging out. Here. With me. Because it’s so fun and all.”
“You know I love hanging out with you.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that you’re in love with him?”
I stop shuffling. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. It’s your life. You should stop fighting your feelings.”
“What would be the point of that? He’s my best friend’s boyfriend, remember?”
“Yeah, but since when can we control who we love?”
He has a point. We can’t help who we love. Blake knows that better than anyone. Love isn’t logical, or even our choice.
Love chooses us.
After dinner, I help Mom wash the dishes. Dad’s snoring on the couch. A crossword-puzzle book is splayed out over his chest.
“Mom?” I go.
“Is that dish towel too wet? There’s another one—”
“No, it’s fine. I wanted to ask you something about Dad.”
She rinses a plate. “What is it?”
“Did you ever think . . . I mean, did you ever think that you were too different? You know, for things to work out?”
“Interesting question.”
She’s probably wondering where it came from. Of course, I could never tell her. What am I supposed to say? That I have way more in common with Jason than Erin does so I should be with him instead? Or since they don’t have as much in common, why are they together?
“Well,” Mom says, “some differences are important in a relationship. I don’t think it’s healthy for two people to spend all of their time together. That said, you definitely need to share some common interests. It’s the things you have in common that connect you.”
“But don’t you guys have way more differences than similarities?”
“Maybe. But a few big similarities are more important than lots of little differences. You have to think about what’s most important to you. If those things are most important to the person you’re with, then you have the basis for a strong relationship. The small things don’t matter as much.” Mom looks over at Dad, snoring away on the couch. “I know it doesn’t always seem like we’re on the same page, but you have nothing to worry about. Your dad and I still love each other.”
“Uh, that’s—”
“Nothing’s going to change.”
It’s like Mom thinks I’m asking because I’m scared they’re going to get divorced or something. If I had the energy, I might explain that I’m not asking about them. But then she’d want to know why I’m asking, and then what would I say?
I don’t know if Erin and Jason have enough important things connecting them. All I know is, Jason and I connect on so many different levels that it’s like a whole new plane of existence. We have the kind of connection my parents can’t even imagine. Or maybe they can, they just never found it.
If the psychic was right, I’ll have more than one great love in my lifetime. Which means I’ll get another chance. But is that any reason to throw my first chance away?
22
Here’s the number-one reason why my summer job rules: I’m a berry freak. I have love for them in this order: raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries. I get these crazy cravings for them in the winter. Sometimes I even have these dreams where I’m right here at the berry patch, picking basket after basket like a fruit-starved maniac.
I’ve been
After Blake wins, I shuffle the deck to play again.
He’s like, “So are you hiding in here all summer or what?”
“I go out. I go to work, don’t I?”
“What about going out for fun?”
“I’m having fun with you.”
“You’re avoiding him.”
“Who?”
Blake leans back on the couch. He watches the fan whir.
“You know who.”
“No I don’t.”
“Let’s see. He’s about five nine, light-brown hair, green-blue eyes, is a lifeguard, is cute, rhymes with mason.”
“You think I’m avoiding Jason?”
“Umm . . .”
“Because I’m not.”
“Of course not. You’re just . . . hanging out. Here. With me. Because it’s so fun and all.”
“You know I love hanging out with you.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that you’re in love with him?”
I stop shuffling. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. It’s your life. You should stop fighting your feelings.”
“What would be the point of that? He’s my best friend’s boyfriend, remember?”
“Yeah, but since when can we control who we love?”
He has a point. We can’t help who we love. Blake knows that better than anyone. Love isn’t logical, or even our choice.
Love chooses us.
After dinner, I help Mom wash the dishes. Dad’s snoring on the couch. A crossword-puzzle book is splayed out over his chest.
“Mom?” I go.
“Is that dish towel too wet? There’s another one—”
“No, it’s fine. I wanted to ask you something about Dad.”
She rinses a plate. “What is it?”
“Did you ever think . . . I mean, did you ever think that you were too different? You know, for things to work out?”
“Interesting question.”
She’s probably wondering where it came from. Of course, I could never tell her. What am I supposed to say? That I have way more in common with Jason than Erin does so I should be with him instead? Or since they don’t have as much in common, why are they together?
“Well,” Mom says, “some differences are important in a relationship. I don’t think it’s healthy for two people to spend all of their time together. That said, you definitely need to share some common interests. It’s the things you have in common that connect you.”
“But don’t you guys have way more differences than similarities?”
“Maybe. But a few big similarities are more important than lots of little differences. You have to think about what’s most important to you. If those things are most important to the person you’re with, then you have the basis for a strong relationship. The small things don’t matter as much.” Mom looks over at Dad, snoring away on the couch. “I know it doesn’t always seem like we’re on the same page, but you have nothing to worry about. Your dad and I still love each other.”
“Uh, that’s—”
“Nothing’s going to change.”
It’s like Mom thinks I’m asking because I’m scared they’re going to get divorced or something. If I had the energy, I might explain that I’m not asking about them. But then she’d want to know why I’m asking, and then what would I say?
I don’t know if Erin and Jason have enough important things connecting them. All I know is, Jason and I connect on so many different levels that it’s like a whole new plane of existence. We have the kind of connection my parents can’t even imagine. Or maybe they can, they just never found it.
If the psychic was right, I’ll have more than one great love in my lifetime. Which means I’ll get another chance. But is that any reason to throw my first chance away?
22
Here’s the number-one reason why my summer job rules: I’m a berry freak. I have love for them in this order: raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries. I get these crazy cravings for them in the winter. Sometimes I even have these dreams where I’m right here at the berry patch, picking basket after basket like a fruit-starved maniac.
I’ve been
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