phone chimes when the text from Lily comes. I’m out of Solitary, feeling like I can breathe a little better, eating a sausage-and-egg biscuit at Bojangles. When I first came here not long ago, I made a joke about the name, but the food is no joke. It’s greasy goodness.
Buying breakfast and driving out here with little left in my gas tank reminds me that I need to get a job. Or rob a bank.
Maybe you can just get a wad of cash from your new benefactor.
I think for a moment about what to respond to Lily.
NOW I NEED A JOB.
I wait for her response. It comes quickly.
WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR TODAY?
I pop the last bite of biscuit into my mouth, then smile and wipe my hands. I drain my iced tea, which I’ve decided might be the best morning drink ever.
NOTHING MUCH.
Which is my way of saying I’m doing jack squat and I’m texting you because I desperately want to hang out.
WANT TO GO SIGHTSEEING?
For a second, I wonder if this is a joke. Her sarcasm. Yeah, sure, let’s go look at some trees and rocks.
I want to text something like every day in summer school there is a sight to see, and it arrives when you walk in the room.
But that is about the corniest line ever.
SURE , I text.
DON’T SOUND SO EXCITED. I WAS GOING TO GET HARRIS TO GO WITH ME.
I type back, my thumbs not used to texting or this phone.
I’M SURE HARRIS WOULD ENJOY SEEING THE SIGHTS WITH YOU.
I wait.
I’M SURE YOU WOULD ENJOY IT EVEN MORE.
I smile.
I’M SURE I WOULD TOO.
THAT’S A GOOD BOY.
I just laugh. Breathe in. Feel alive. My mind taking it all in.
I’m her little pet.
WHAT TIME? I text.
NOON.
OKAY.
CAN YOU WAIT THAT LONG?
Again I smile and shake my head.
I’LL TRY , I say.
ANTICIPATION IS A MARVELOUS FEELING. ENJOY IT. SEE YOU AT NOON.
SEE YOU.
I stare at the iPhone. It’s only around nine, and I’ve got three hours to kill. Three hours to anticipate seeing her. Three hours before we go sightseeing.
Three hours before who knows what.
And yeah. It feels pretty marvelous.
32. A Great Day
I sit next to this girl who’s no longer a stranger as fireworks go off above us. She’s not draped in my lap in some romantic way that I would have liked. No, she’s just sitting next to me after a fun day full of laughter. At some point in the middle of the colorful display over Lake Julian, Lily pokes me.
“Relax, Chris.”
“What?”
She laughs and looks at me, and I smile.
Yeah okay fine.
Easier said than done. Especially now that night has come and … well, I don’t know.
A day of riding around and seeing some sights like a famous mountain and a cool bridge.
Everything’s happening so fast.
How’d I get here from
No stop not here and now.
So yeah, I stop. And listen to Lily. I let out a silent sigh and keep looking up, but I’m not paying the fireworks any attention. I’m keeping her in my peripheral vision. She watches and comments on the colors and claps and acts like a little girl.
It’s nice to see her relaxed. No—she’s always relaxed, but in a standoffish sort of way. Now she’s just free and easygoing.
Especially when she moves closer to me on the blanket.
We stay on that blanket after the show is over and let the crowd disappear and leave us alone.
Or at least that’s what I’m thinking and hoping.
“Summer of sixth grade. Running around with all my crazy cousins in Georgia. In the country. Shooting off bottle rockets and Roman candles and almost putting someone in a hospital.”
This is Lily’s fondest Fourth of July memory. She laughs at her own comment, not believing how crazy her family used to be.
“Do you ever see them?” I ask.
She shakes her head and doesn’t say more. She’s resting on her elbows while lying on her stomach, staring out at the dark lake in front of us. I’m doing the same, but I’m watching her more than anything else. Even in the dim light of night, I can see her clearly.
“You miss Illinois?” she asks.
“Every day.”
“I can
Buying breakfast and driving out here with little left in my gas tank reminds me that I need to get a job. Or rob a bank.
Maybe you can just get a wad of cash from your new benefactor.
I think for a moment about what to respond to Lily.
NOW I NEED A JOB.
I wait for her response. It comes quickly.
WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR TODAY?
I pop the last bite of biscuit into my mouth, then smile and wipe my hands. I drain my iced tea, which I’ve decided might be the best morning drink ever.
NOTHING MUCH.
Which is my way of saying I’m doing jack squat and I’m texting you because I desperately want to hang out.
WANT TO GO SIGHTSEEING?
For a second, I wonder if this is a joke. Her sarcasm. Yeah, sure, let’s go look at some trees and rocks.
I want to text something like every day in summer school there is a sight to see, and it arrives when you walk in the room.
But that is about the corniest line ever.
SURE , I text.
DON’T SOUND SO EXCITED. I WAS GOING TO GET HARRIS TO GO WITH ME.
I type back, my thumbs not used to texting or this phone.
I’M SURE HARRIS WOULD ENJOY SEEING THE SIGHTS WITH YOU.
I wait.
I’M SURE YOU WOULD ENJOY IT EVEN MORE.
I smile.
I’M SURE I WOULD TOO.
THAT’S A GOOD BOY.
I just laugh. Breathe in. Feel alive. My mind taking it all in.
I’m her little pet.
WHAT TIME? I text.
NOON.
OKAY.
CAN YOU WAIT THAT LONG?
Again I smile and shake my head.
I’LL TRY , I say.
ANTICIPATION IS A MARVELOUS FEELING. ENJOY IT. SEE YOU AT NOON.
SEE YOU.
I stare at the iPhone. It’s only around nine, and I’ve got three hours to kill. Three hours to anticipate seeing her. Three hours before we go sightseeing.
Three hours before who knows what.
And yeah. It feels pretty marvelous.
32. A Great Day
I sit next to this girl who’s no longer a stranger as fireworks go off above us. She’s not draped in my lap in some romantic way that I would have liked. No, she’s just sitting next to me after a fun day full of laughter. At some point in the middle of the colorful display over Lake Julian, Lily pokes me.
“Relax, Chris.”
“What?”
She laughs and looks at me, and I smile.
Yeah okay fine.
Easier said than done. Especially now that night has come and … well, I don’t know.
A day of riding around and seeing some sights like a famous mountain and a cool bridge.
Everything’s happening so fast.
How’d I get here from
No stop not here and now.
So yeah, I stop. And listen to Lily. I let out a silent sigh and keep looking up, but I’m not paying the fireworks any attention. I’m keeping her in my peripheral vision. She watches and comments on the colors and claps and acts like a little girl.
It’s nice to see her relaxed. No—she’s always relaxed, but in a standoffish sort of way. Now she’s just free and easygoing.
Especially when she moves closer to me on the blanket.
We stay on that blanket after the show is over and let the crowd disappear and leave us alone.
Or at least that’s what I’m thinking and hoping.
“Summer of sixth grade. Running around with all my crazy cousins in Georgia. In the country. Shooting off bottle rockets and Roman candles and almost putting someone in a hospital.”
This is Lily’s fondest Fourth of July memory. She laughs at her own comment, not believing how crazy her family used to be.
“Do you ever see them?” I ask.
She shakes her head and doesn’t say more. She’s resting on her elbows while lying on her stomach, staring out at the dark lake in front of us. I’m doing the same, but I’m watching her more than anything else. Even in the dim light of night, I can see her clearly.
“You miss Illinois?” she asks.
“Every day.”
“I can
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