Days Like This

by Danielle Ellison

  “They call me that at work. That’s all. You, Mrs. H and Mom are one of the few people who called me ‘Graham,’” I said tightly. I was trying to keep my composure here and she wasn’t making any of it easy. Not with her touches and her smile and her being Cass.

  Cass laughed, and the sound was sort of awesome. So warm and light. I missed that, too.

  “Why are you working with James, anyway?”

  I shrugged. “I needed money and people around town needed help. I fell into it, but the pay is good and when I’m at Rice I’ll be a little better off.”

  “You’re really going?” she asked.

  “I’m on the wait list, but I’m holding out. Should be any day now.”

  Cass looked at me, really looked at me, and I wondered what she was thinking. Did she think this was a crazy plan? Did she wish I wasn’t going? Did she really care about it at all?

  “You’ll get in,” she said, brushing away a piece of her loose hair. I used to be the one who did that. “I have no doubt.”

  I smiled softly. Whatever she’d been through, she was still so sure of me. She’d told me she hadn’t been so sure of herself, of what she wanted, for a long time, but you’d never know it from looking at her. She’d carried herself with so much confidence. At least I’d thought. “What about you? What’s next?”

  She took off her flip-flop, slid it back on. “I don’t know yet.” Silence spread between us, but it was brief. “I was thinking about Texas, but it’s pretty hot there. I heard that was why they all liked to wear hats.”

  I laughed. She was thinking about Texas. She didn’t mean that, so I let it go. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

  Cass pushed me gently, bringing back those rumbles in my body. If this was my new reaction to her then I wanted her to touch me again and never stop. “Then, why do you think they all wear those cowboy hats? You should get one of those cowboy hats.”

  “I’m not getting a cowboy hat,” I said with a smile. This was Cassie—a glimpse of her, anyway. The one who was laughing next to me and joking, almost like we used to.

  “You’d look good in a cowboy hat,” she said, staring again.

  I met her gaze, and in her eyes I saw more than I could explain. A past that was so entwined there was no distinction between her and me. The future that I’d wanted for us where we were together and we had everything we wanted because the most important thing was each other. And I saw the present, the right now, where we were strangers sitting on a porch. Strangers who could never really be strangers because we knew each other in and out. I reached out and pushed that piece of hair behind her ear. I had to touch her, to remind myself that the past was over and the present was some messed up reality where we’d never get that future I wanted. But maybe I could be okay with another future where Cassie and Graham are completely just friends.

  I pulled my hand away and leaned back against the step. “Tomorrow, we should go do something fun.”

  “Something fun?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Go somewhere. Friends can go places, right?”

  I hoped the answer was yes, because otherwise, I shouldn’t have asked that question. This was fire. Friend or not. What was I doing?

  “Yes,” she said. She smiled, and her whole face was practically glowing. I loved that I was the one to put that smile there. Even as an awkward some kind of friend. I could do this. I was hanging out with a friend. A friend who made me feel like I could walk through fire or scale buildings and walk away without a scratch. A friend I’d sacrifice anything for, as crazy as it was to do that.

  “Graham?” Molly called. I jumped up from the stair and started to walk toward her, but she was already on her way over. She’d already spotted Cassie next me. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I was helping out with some things around here,” I said, moving closer to Molly. I hadn’t told her that the girl in the hospital was Cass. I had to get out of there. “I’m done for now though.”

  “I’ve seen you before,” Molly said. She focused past me on Cassie. “At the hospital. I’m Molly.” She held out her hand.

  Cass shook her head and reached for Molly’s hand. “Right, you’re the girlfriend. I’m Cassie.”

  Molly’s eyes darted toward me, and her mouth made a little O. In a flash, her focus was back on Cass. “I didn’t realize the connection.” Molly studied the house. I was in trouble for not telling her everything about Mrs. H and the fire and the girl next door being the girl in the hospital.

  “We should go,” I said, and I dragged Molly away before anything else was said.

  We were going into my apartment when she said, “That was Cassie?”

  “Yep.”

  “And her mom was the neighbor in the hospital? The one you saved from the fire?”

  “She was.”

  “And she’s back now?”

  “Yep.”

  “How long?”

  “Don’t know?”

  “And you’re hanging out with your ex?”

  “She’s just my neighbor.”

  Molly raised her eyebrow, as if she was waiting for me to say something else. I didn’t say it. I should’ve said other things. I should’ve said there’s nothing between us, that she’s only an old friend, a part of who I used to be, but when I was about to say it, I couldn’t.

  19.

  Cassie

  I didn’t think Graham would really carry through his plan of doing something together—as friends—but he called me first thing the next day, and within a few hours we were packed in his truck listening to The Avett Brothers. They weren’t really my choice, but they weren’t bad. There was this sound to them that reminded me of Graham. An easy-going, folksy, high-energy vibe that shouldn’t go together, but it did.

  The best things didn’t seem to go together at first.

  I reached over to turn down the air, just as he reached over to turn up the music and our elbows bumped. “Sorry,” I fumbled.

  “Hot?” he asked.

  I nodded, and he changed the air, but I wasn’t so sure it was just the outside. Graham rested one hand on the wheel and the other on the seat. I looked down at it. There was only a little bit of space between us, and usually I’d sit in the space so there was nothing, and he’d drive with one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh. But I couldn’t sit there now, so I sat with the few feet between us where his hand rested on the seat, outstretched, and in my head he was waiting for me take it.

  When the song ended, he moved his hand and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, and I wondered if he liked this song or if he was nervous. Maybe he was both. I know I was.

  I’d tried not to think about it while I was getting dressed. Not to worry about being cute or how my hair was or debate mascara, because mascara could mean something more than a day with a friend. But I’d kept hearing his voice on the phone: “Do you want to hang out today?” He was all jittery, a way I hadn’t seen him since middle school, and two hours later I still hadn’t been dressed. Graham was my friend. We were friends. That was all I would get, so it had to be enough. I wanted it to be enough because I knew how lucky I was to get that chance. How lucky I was to be sitting in his truck listening to not-too-horrible music. That’s why I’d put on mascara.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked over the music.

  Graham jumped a little, almost like he forgotten I was sitting there. I hoped that wasn’t what it was. “It’s actually a sur—”

  “Don’t you dare say, ‘surprise,’ Graham Tucker, or I will smack you.”

  He chuckled, and turned down the music. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me. Say it.”

  Graham stopped at a red light. “I would never; I know you hate surprises.” Right. Graham knew everything I liked, and everything I didn’t. “I was going to say: it’s actually a surprising story.” He exaggerated the ending and paused for dramatic effect. I’d give him drama. I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Graham sh
ook his head and started driving. “Fine. I won’t tell you.”

  “What’s the story?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he said, his eyes sparkling. When he let go he was more and more like that little kid at Christmas. His eyes made him seem that way when he was really happy. It allowed me to forget that I’d walked away from us. I felt like myself, and the only reason was because of him. That was all he’d ever expected me to be. “Frankly, darling, you’ve lost the privilege.”

  I pressed a hand to my chest, and grabbed Graham’s arm with the other. Touching him, even my hand on his arm, felt natural. It was where I was supposed to be. With my best Scarlett O’Hara voice—which I had perfected because our ninth grade teacher made us read the book, watch the movie and then perform scenes from it in front of the class the last week of school before summer and we hated it since it was worth like 20 percent of our final grade—I said: “Tell me, Graham Tucker, or I will just die!”

  Graham was smiling when he looked back at me and I felt myself smiling. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else or hide any part of myself. He looked at me with the sparkle and some fire, and I felt like I was flying. He did that to me, made me drop all the pretenses and the masks and just be his Cass. Where was he taking me? Maybe it was a date-date place. Maybe it was a friend place, but it could be a date-date place.

  “I’m taking you to Rinkydinks.”

  Rinkydinks? Nothing said “friends” like ugly, plastic bowling shoes. My heart sank, but I tried to keep my smile up. I leaned back against the seat. What was I expecting? We’d had a moment, but Graham made himself clear. We’re friends. That was all this was supposed to be, anyway. Get it together, Cassie.

  “Rinkydink Ted’s Fun Plaza is still around?”

  “No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Not Ted’s anymore. It’s Barb’s,” he said. I laughed a little. They finally divorced. Ted and Barb Dinkleman were the worst couple ever. We used to go to their bowling alley in high school because they served underage beer, let us use the gutter guards, and entertained us when Barb and Ted would have fights on the floor. They used to yell across the alleys and over the loudspeaker and once they even rolled balls at each other to see who would trip or yell or walk away first. We had this friend named Lila who used to find ways to make them start fighting.

  “It’s just ‘Rinkydink’s’ now.”

  “Why is this a surprising story? They were destined for divorce.”

  “That’s not the surprising part. They got divorced because Ted fell in love with George.”

  I gasped. “The creepy maintenance guy?”

  Graham nodded. “Right? Anyway, Barb got ownership and rebuilt the whole thing. It has lasers and black lights, a decent snack bar, an arcade—” Graham paused and he had this sly side smile on his face and his eyes were wide. “—and Bobo the clown.”

  “A clown?” I asked. She always wanted a clown.

  “No kidding,” he said.

  “That’s crazy,” I said with a smile. This town was weird. I turned so I could see Graham better and curled my legs up into the seat. His face was a little scraggly today and I liked him with some scruff. It always made him look more rugged. Not that I was thinking about that.

  “What?” he asked, voice rough.

  “I can’t wait to kick your ass in bowling,” I said instead.

  “You won’t kick my ass,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Do you remember the Summer of the Reckoning?” That was the summer before junior year. We called it that because Lila and Adam broke up and we could only be friends with one of them at a time. “I believe I won that competition trophy.”

  “Maybe I let you win,” he said, his eyes wide and mischievous.

  I stared at him. “You didn’t.”

  “Seriously?” he raises an eyebrow at me. “You think I really didn’t see that sleeper pin in the last frame?”

  “The ball wasn’t even near it.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said with a half-cocked smile.

  I slapped his arm. “You let me win?”

  “You were my girlfriend.”

  “So?”

  “I wanted to get laid,” he said. I slapped his arm again. “Hey! I was sixteen. You can’t blame me for that.”

  “I can’t believe you,” I said as he put the car in park.

  “I knew what I wanted.”

  I looked at Graham and he was studying me too, his eyes burning into mine. I tried to look away, but they captured me. I didn’t know what to say, and I tried to find the right words but that only made me more nervous.

  My head spun as all the moments played back for me. Him kissing me for the first time near that fence. The look on my mom’s face when he came over for dinner and kissed me at the door. The first time we had sex in his bedroom. The night of the bowling challenge, after I won that trophy and we spent the whole night in the room above the garage.

  “We should go in,” Graham said, finally breaking our gaze. I nodded and followed him out of the truck, but I was pretty sure my heart was left on the floor.

  The outside was covered in some sort of metal, almost like a tin can, and there were bright circles all over the walls, like polka dots. The old place was a boring shade of brown, but this was fun. The building twisted and turned. It almost felt like Wonderland.

  “This place is cool,” I said, getting out of the car.

  “I know,” Graham said. We walked side by side into Rinkydinks, and he bumped my hip as we moved. My whole body flushed, but I knew it didn’t mean anything for him. I had to get it together. My mind needed to be put on a leash.

  “No letting me win,” I said.

  Graham opened the door for me. “We’re friends now; no pretending this time for bonus points.”

  Right. No pretending. We were just friends now, even though I was pretty sure people who were just friends didn’t have all these sparks. All of these questions and feelings and thoughts. Friends didn’t have to pretend they were just that.

  “No worries,” I said.

  Except if I didn’t pretend, I’d never be able to stand near him without wanting to kiss him.

  20.

  Graham

  BARB DINKLEMAN COOED when I walked up to the desk. Cassie waited beside me, oddly quiet. It didn’t matter. Not talking was better. Bowling was a bad idea. I thought it was better than a dark movie theater, but there was too much downtime in bowling, too much talking. But in the car, it was easy. She was Cass and I was Graham and it was fine. We could do this. We could hang out.

  “Mikey, honey! You’re here!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. I hoped she wouldn’t make a scene, but she glanced between me and Cass, flailing her bright bracelet-covered arms, and I could tell a scene was coming. “We’re here to bowl, Mrs. Dinkleman.”

  She waved me off. “Call me, Barb, Mikey. You know you can do that.” She glanced past me to Cass. I could tell she recognized her from the scrutinizing expression on her face—or at least thought she did. I cleared my throat to get her attention.

  “Barb, one lane please, ma’am,” I said with a smile.

  Mrs. Dinkleman chomped some gum and smiled at me. “Of course, honey.” She pushed some buttons on the computer, and printed me out a ticket. I really wanted to get out of her way. “Lane Twelve. Need some shoes?”

  “Size eleven,” I said. I looked over my shoulder at Cassie.

  “Eight please,” Cass said. She stood beside me, shoulder-to-shoulder, and smiled. This was normal for friends. Completely. Mrs. Dinkleman handed us the shoes and I thanked her.

  “Anything for you, Mikey,” she said with a smile. Before the divorce, she never smiled. Cass’s eyes bored into me as we walked to our lane. I could see the wheels turning. How long would it take her to ask me about it?

  We turned into the lane, and put on our shoes. We didn’t really speak to each other, and I kept thinking that this was the dumbest idea I could’ve had. I shouldn’t have brought her here or even agreed to tr
y this friend thing. Now what would we do?

  “I’m going to get a ball,” Cass said.

  I nodded in her direction, lost in my thoughts, and then put our names in the computer. We did this once before, back when it was Rinkydink Ted’s, and our friends always gave us couple names. Brad and Angelina. Bonnie and Clyde. Peanut Butter and Jelly. Whatever they could think of. I stared at the blinking cursor. I wanted to do that again, to be those famous couples, but we weren’t. Were there famous friends? I typed her name instead, and it was wrong, so I backspaced.

  Cassie poked me on the shoulder.

  “Did you poke me?”

  She smiled and shrugged. “What was up with Mrs. Dinkleman?”

  Five minutes. A record for sure. “I helped out around here when it was first renovated.”

  “You worked here?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What’d you do?”

  I took a breath. “Designed it.”

  Her eyes widened. “You designed this?”

  I nodded. “She came to me after Mr. Mykiam—remember him? He taught art and was one of her leaders for the Wednesday night bowling league—he wrote me a letter for school and he got me involved with the designing and the building plans.”

  “Wow! You did all this?” She looked around the room, and I could see the pride in her face. It was not what I expected to see. Cassie’s eyes were as bright as her smile. It imprinted this moment into my brain. I never thought that I’d get to share this with her, and to have her love it like this made me feel like I had a purpose. Like my dream was something we could share again. I stood next to her. It really was amazing looking at something I designed and watching other people get joy from it. Especially her.

  I poked her and she laughed. “I didn’t do the polka dots.”

  “Too bad. That’s the most inventive part,” she said before she turned around to put a silver bowling ball on the return. I grinned because I knew she was kidding. She always got this tone when she was kidding.

  God, that girl. Crazy how she still sent me spiraling, and after all that time, I thought it would’ve passed. If I was sane I’d step away, put space between us but that was the last thing I wanted.