The phone beeped again, and Michael held out a picture of a squashed, pink face in a little red hat. It reminded me of the garden gnome in my grandma’s front yard. “Adorable,” I said.
A smile broke out over Dad’s face. “Looks like a little prize fighter.”
“I want one,” Michael said, looking like he was about to melt.
“It’s a baby, not a Pokémon card,” I said.
“Which hospital?” Dad asked.
“Riverside,” Michael said. It was the same hospital where Mr. Keeler had died.
“Another life hits the earth,” Dad said.
Later, after Michael went to work, Dad and I went downstairs to get our bikes.
“We’ve got plenty of time before dark,” Dad said as we came out the back into the alley. “Greenway?”
I nodded.
I followed him, even though I knew how to get to the Greenway by now.
Moving through the air made it feel cooler even though sweat still rolled down my face. Dad was a little slower tonight, more relaxed.
We merged onto the Greenway and rode through the growing shadows.
When we passed the Girard Street ramp, I thought again about Michael and Dad meeting there almost a year ago. It was such an ordinary place. Maybe that’s where most magical things happen.
“Let’s stop at Lake Bde Maka Ska again,” I said. Dad nodded.
When we came to the lake, Dad and I locked our bikes at our usual beach. The sun turned the waves into diamonds. We sat on the warm sand.
Dad skipped a rock. “The summer’s almost done,” he said. “August is just about here.”
I opened my mouth, then bit my lip. I watched two little kids splashing in the water.
“Are you going to marry Michael?” I finally asked.
Dad smiled at me, then looked out at the water. The wind blew his hair wildly around his head. “I would like to,” he said, then stopped.
“But?” I asked.
Dad looked out at the water, then stared at me for a long time. “Michael isn’t quite ready. He…” Dad took a deep breath. “He said he wants to wait until he knows whether you approve.”
“You’re waiting for me?” I was surprised.
“Yes and no,” Dad said. “Believe me, Jeremiah, your opinion means a whole lot to me, but I’ve lived too much of my life waiting for other people’s approval. To me, if I think I should marry Michael, I’m going to do it.”
I nodded.
“But,” he continued, “your opinion means a whole lot.”
“You have my approval,” I said. “Whether or not it matters.”
“You mean it?” Dad asked testing, “I thought you didn’t like Michael.”
“I thought so, too,” I said. “I think I was wrong.”
Dad was quiet for a long time, sitting perfectly still. From the look in his eyes, I could tell that his brain was working. “I do have a plan for the proposal,” Dad said. “And I was wondering if you would be a part of it. You could show Michael you approve.”
“Sure,” I said, a smile opening across my face. “What’s the plan?”
Unlike most plans that Dad created, this one required waiting for over a week.
Chapter
21
“They’re getting engaged,” I told Mom on the phone. I was surprised at the excitement I heard in my own voice. “They’re getting engaged next Saturday.”
“Wait,” Mom said. “Your father has actually made a plan for the future? That’s a first.”
“What about your engagement?” I asked.
Mom laughed. “Totally off the cuff. He didn’t even have a ring. So, what’s Al’s plan?”
“It’s going to be at the place they first met,” I said. “I’m going to deliver the ring. Dad said it’s really important to Michael to know I approve.”
I hesitated, then asked the question I had been wondering. “Are you okay with all this? Does it bother you?”
“Why would it bother me?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. I was worried about telling her what I actually thought. “I’ve just noticed that you never tried to find someone else. It almost feels like you’re waiting. For him.”
Mom sighed. “I could not be happier for Al. I’ve served my time with him, but I don’t want to go back. We broke up because we were incompatible. That hasn’t changed.”
I took a deep breath. “It wasn’t because he’s…” I hesitated. “Because he’s interested in men?”
“He’s bisexual,” Mom said. “Trust me; he was very interested in me back in the day.”
I took a deep breath, but couldn’t think of what to say.
“Do you think that’s why we broke up?” Mom sounded surprised. “I don’t care that he’s bi. I knew that going into the relationship. We broke up because we are two peas in a pod. That’s what was so fun at first. Everything we did was spontaneous, off the wall. But we were stuck. We were driving each other crazy. We separated and then divorced. Your dad needed to find someone to stabilize him.”
I thought about Michael and the stability he brought to Dad, making meals, planning ahead, actually using a calendar.
Mom kept talking. “I could not be happier for Al. And Michael. And you. Who knew you would be getting a second dad this summer?”
“Not me,” I said. Before I hung up, I asked how her tomatoes were doing.
“They are thriving,” Mom said. “I can’t wait till you get home. They should keep producing until it frosts. You’ll get to see them.”
The next week flew by.We went and visited Dave and Heather and tiny Gordon. Michael had that melty expression as he held the baby. Dad’s face lit up when he took a turn holding the newborn. I felt a surprising stab of jealousy even though I knew it was stupid.
That week, back at the apartment, Michael and I finished painting the hallway, the very last room of the apartment. It went quickly, taking barely any time to finish the small space.
I finalized plans with Sage for the big day. She was going to join me in my ring delivery since Dad still didn’t want me to ride through the city by myself.
We took several rides to the Girard Street exit, timing our rides so we could know just when to begin our ride Saturday morning.
Finally, it was Friday, the night before the art festival. The night before the engagement. The night before Sage and I would ride our bikes out to the Girard Street exit and give Dad and Michael the ring.
“You still on?” Dad asked in a whisper.
I nodded.
“Don’t be late,” Dad said, winking at me.
“I won’t.”
The next morning, I woke up early. This wasn’t part of the plan, but I was excited. Everything was ready.
I tried to read another chapter of Grapes of Wrath, but I couldn’t concentrate. I walked to the living room and slouched on the couch, watching TV.
Dad woke up next. He sat next to me. Although he didn’t say anything, he was smiling to himself.
“How are you feeling?” I asked in a low voice.
Dad’s face turned a little pink. He scratched behind his ear. “I’m excited.”
Soon we heard Michael go into the bathroom and the shower turn on. Finally, Michael walked out, his hair perfectly styled, wearing paisley print shorts.
“Let’s bounce,” Michael said.
Dad got up.
I stayed on the couch. “I’m not up for it.”
“No!” Michael said it like there was no possible way that I could not go to the art festival. “What’s wrong? You can’t miss the festival. This has been on our calendar for months.”
I shrugged. “You guys go ahead. I’ll hang out here.”
Dad stepped in before Michael got carried away. “He doesn’t have to. You sure, Jeremiah?”
&n
bsp; “Yeah,” I said. I was trying to act nonchalant, like I wasn’t jittery and nervous. “I just don’t feel like going.”
“You have no idea what you’re missing out on,” Michael said. “It’s nearly criminal.”
“I’m not up for it today,” I said.
Michael kept pestering me. “We’re taking the bus. You won’t have to exert yourself to get there.”
Dad moved towards the door and pulled on his bi flag hat. “He’s fine. We’ll see you later, Jeremiah.” Dad pushed Michael out the door and poked his head in to give me a big wink.
I waited until their footsteps faded down the back steps. I went to my room and put on a clean button-up shirt. I checked myself in the mirror, combing my shaggy hair. I don’t know why; I wasn’t the one getting engaged today.
I reached behind my books to where I had hidden the ring box. I opened it to make sure the band hadn’t disappeared during the night. The band was wide, dotted with five small diamonds nestled into the gold. I shut the box and placed it into one of the zippered pockets of my cargo shorts, then grabbed my bike helmet.
When I went out the front door, Sage was already waiting for me on the front stoop, her face shining.
“The lilies.” She pointed to the garden. The daylilies were blooming, bright and fiery in the morning light. It felt like a good omen. I hoped that Mr. Keeler could see it somehow.
Sage and I stared for a few moments at the lilies, then walked across the street to the park.
Now came the hard part. Waiting. Dad wanted time to get Michael to the festival and wander around for a few minutes before pulling him away down the ramp where they first met, and he would “recall a few memories” before we rode up at 11:00. It was only a 16-minute ride. The plan was to hang out in the park until 10:35, then get our bikes, leaving us plenty of time to ride out.
Sage and I walked across the street to the park. We sat in the shade.
“Maybe we should just go.” Sage said. “I hate waiting.”
I shook my head. “It’s all part of the plan. It would be weird if we were just sitting there at the bottom of the ramp when Dad and Michael started to walk down it.”
“Agony.” Sage lay back, looking up at the sky through the waving leaves.
Sage kept a close watch on the time. People walked past with their dogs. A mother came with her toddler to play on the small playground. Finally, Sage looked at her watch.
“10:35.” Her voice was high with excitement.
“See you in a minute.” We parted to our separate buildings. I brought my bicycle up to the alley behind our building. Sage was there, straddling her bike, her helmet already clipped.
“Ready?” she asked.
I put on my own helmet and swung my leg over the crossbar. My feet were ready for the ride.
I took a deep breath. “Yes.” I said.
“The ring?”
I patted my pocket.
It was still a little weird to me that Sage would be joining me for one of the bigger moments of my life so far, but with Sage, it just felt right somehow.
“10:39,” Sage called as we began cycling down the alley. Everything was going according to plan. We should have plenty enough time to ride down to the Greenway and pedal to the Girard Street exit.
Dad and Michael would be there. Dad would probably be standing there telling Michael all sorts of memories from their year together.
We began to pick up speed in the alley. I looked up to tell Sage to watch out for potholes. It would be a joke. Michael always had to say it in his parental voice when we were biking this way.
The words never came out of my mouth.
It happened fast!
My bike jerked. My body jarred. I flew forward into my handlebars. I heard what I thought was a gunshot.
It was my tire popping.
I had hit a pothole.
I cursed. Really cursed.
Sage came riding back.
We stood for a long time staring at my tire. It was a full blow-out.
Chapter
22
We stood there, staring at my useless bike. Neither one of us knew what to do. We didn’t have spare tires sitting around.
I squeezed the flat tire. The black rubber yielded limply.
Sage spoke first. “Can you fix it?”
I shook my head, feeling hollow and stunned.
“Maybe we could take your dad’s bike,” Sage suggested.
“I can’t,” I said. “It’s too tall.”
I needed another bike. Then it hit me.
“I have a plan.” I said. “Wait here.” I pushed my bike back to the building and carried it down the stairs. I dropped it next to the rack.
Then I took a deep breath and looked down at my fate.
The Uni-cycle.
There it was: glittery, streamers, the large shimmering head of a unicorn, grinning triumphantly. And of course the Uni-cycle was unlocked, because who would dare to steal such a noble beast?
I took another deep breath before reaching out a hand to touch it. What else was there to do?
My hand closed around the glittery frame. I pulled it up the stairs, doing my best to avoid getting coated in glitter. I tried not to imagine myself riding this creature, not to think about all the people who would be staring at me.
When I pushed it out the back door, Sage squealed with laughter.
“Yes!” she said. “Unicorns are magic. We’ll be fine now.”
“Only if we hurry,” I said. “This is a one-speed.”
Sage looked down at her watch. “10:44.”
Sage and I rode down the alley to the street, headed towards the Greenway. I pedaled as fast as I could, leading the way, but the Uni-cycle was slow. Really slow.
People called and shouted comments at me just like they did at Michael. I could feel my cheeks burning, but not as much as my thighs already were. The bike was not made for speeding recklessly to a proposal.
The sun was hot, but we created our own breeze. The wind filled my ears. We had to make it. We had to.
Sage continued to yell updates, each one reminding me how much further behind we were falling. Why couldn’t this thing go any faster?
Sage called 11:02 just as we began the descent down the ramp, to merge onto the Greenway. I barely noticed the continued pointing and catcalling. I focused on the Girard Street exit where Dad and Michael would be standing.
We rode under bridges, past other bikes rolling along.
Not long now. Finally, I could see it up ahead, the Girard Street ramp that led to Uptown.
“What time is it?” I called to Sage.
“11:08,” she yelled back. “We’re late.”
I scanned for Dad and Michael. They should have been standing right there up ahead at the foot of the ramp. My stomach sank.
They weren’t there.
I slowed my pace, calling back to Sage, “We missed them.”
I rolled to a stop. The sun beat down on us. Without the wind of riding, I could feel my shirt begin to stick to the sweat on my back.
Sage pulled up next to me, staring ahead. “Wait,” she called. “There they are.” She pointed up the ramp. I followed the line of her finger.
Dad and Michael were at the top of the ramp, walking back into the noise and pavilions of the festival. They disappeared into the crowd.
I stood up on my pedals. “Let’s go.”
We pedaled as fast as we could up the steep ramp. Sage and I dismounted, pushing our bikes through the crowd. Not as many people were staring at us up here. There was so much else going on.
The festival was packed. People pressed around us. The air smelled like fried food and wood smoke. Booths filled with paintings, photos, jewelry lined both sides of the street. The sun glittered across tables of colored glass.
&nbs
p; We pushed our way forward, but Dad and Michael could be anywhere.
We had to find them, but where?
“Could you just call and ask your Dad where he is?” Sage shouted over the noise of the crowd.
Call him. Why didn’t I think of that? What the heck was I doing, pedaling here at high speed, frantic? I had a cell phone. In all the hubbub, I had completely forgotten about it.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I pressed it to my ear as the phone rang once, twice, three times. It forwarded to voicemail. Dad probably couldn’t hear his phone in the noise of the festival.
I scanned over booths and food vendors. Then I saw the giant lemon-shaped lemonade stand. Yes. Michael could be there, ordering his radiant lemonade. I pushed towards it, scanning the people in line.
Nothing.
Think. Think.
Michael had probably bought the lemonade as soon as he had arrived. He might even have bought a refill by now.
“We need to find the port-a-johns,” I called to Sage, following a crazy idea.
“What?” Sage asked.
“Follow me,” I said.
It wasn’t long before we found the line of port-a-johns, ten of them standing side by side. I pushed the Uni-cycle towards the line of people waiting to enter.
I saw them. Michael leaning against Dad, holding the empty cup in his hand.
I leaned the Uni-cycle against my leg and threw my hands over my head. I meant it as a way to wave to Dad. But Sage stood next to me, doing the same.
“Just like the painting,” she said. “Victorious.”
Dad turned and saw me. His face burst into a smile.
I pushed the Uni-cycle through the crowd.
“I’m here,” I called to them. “We made it.”
It was then that Michael turned his head. He looked from Sage, to me, to the Uni-cycle. He shrieked. “Jeremiah!” He said it like there was going to be more to what he said. But there wasn’t. He just stood there, his mouth open.
Dad turned around, his eyes lighting up. “I thought you backed out.”
I shook my head.
“I tried stalling, but Michael here…” Dad jerked his head towards the port-a-johns.
Second Dad Summer Page 10
