by Meg Leder
“Jean,” Mom reminds him.
Dad comes back in, the music starting to fill the room, and Finn nods appreciatively.
“It’s pretty good, right?” Dad asks.
“It is, sir,” Finn replies as Dad nods and grabs his paper, settling down across from Finn.
And just like that, I know it’s okay, that Mom and Dad are going to let this go.
I realize then what all my years of being the good daughter have earned me: my family’s willingness to trust me, to let Finn in despite all their better instincts.
I shift uncomfortably in the seat, making myself smile, trying not to think too hard what this moment would be like if they knew how much their good daughter was keeping from them.
Forty-Eight
“DO YOU SEE THEM?” Ruby asks, balancing four hot dogs in her hands as she stands on her toes.
I stop and stand on mine, too, trying to find Charlie and Finn in the crowd of parade-goers. “Charlie’s text said they were right around here. Let’s check the other side of the street.”
Ruby nods and I follow her to the crosswalk, weaving between the families with screaming kids in strollers, tattooed hipsters, and swarthy old men who populate Northside, trying not to drop our tray of drinks.
I’ve never gone to the Northside Fourth of July parade, but Ruby insisted we should all go. Her exact words: “It’s my only day off from the Float for the whole week. I guess I’d understand if you hated awesome things, but since you all seem to like awesome things, you have no reason not to come.”
We split up after Finn squeezed his truck into a spot that defied normal people’s parallel-parking skills. Ruby and I went to get food, while Charlie and Finn went to stake out space along the parade route.
“Do you have everything ready for the art fair on Sunday?” she asks.
“Yeah, we do. There was a lot of painting there at the end, but we did it. The rest home is letting us borrow a folding table, and Carla’s helping me get the crew down to Hyde Park Square to work the booth. We ended up with about fifty vases to sell and a few dozen mugs.”
I hear the rumblings of a band down the street, and Ruby and I both rush to cross before they close the street to the parade.
“That’s awesome,” Ruby says over her shoulder.
I feel a little burst of pride. “It turns out Henry’s daughter is a florist. She was able to get her store to donate daisies and sunflowers the day of, so anyone who goes home with a vase will go home with flowers, too.”
“Do you think you’re going to have enough for Alice’s niece’s and grandnephew’s tickets?”
I nod happily. “Yeah, and the rest home activities director is so excited about the way the summer sessions have been going, she’s booked Carla for two new groups of seniors during the fall. That made Carla so happy, she offered me a bonus, but I told her to put it toward the tickets. We’re going to be in good shape.”
“That’s so badass.” Ruby stops for a second, debating. “Have you told your parents about the internship yet? Everything that you’re doing with Carla is so cool. I bet they’d be really proud of you.”
“Ha, as if.”
“I’m serious, Parker.”
“You’ve met our parents, right? Mom would be epically disappointed, and Dad might literally keel over from a rage heart attack.” I shudder. “No way. Maybe when I’m fifty. Maybe.”
“But don’t you think they’d come around? People are good at surprising us. I mean look at me—when you first met me, you thought I was the most irritating person on the planet.”
“No I didn’t!”
“Oh, please. You totally did. I come on pretty strong. I know that.”
I stop and gently pull at her shoulder. “Ruby. I don’t think you should say that anymore.”
“But it’s true.”
“So? There’s nothing wrong with being enthusiastic. And I’m sorry I ever made you feel like there was. It’s really amazing how you immediately let everyone in, how open you are. I’m so happy you’re my friend.”
Ruby shakes her head. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I know. But I want to. You’re fearless and bright, and you should own it. And anyone who doesn’t like it is a . . . a . . .” I struggle to find a good description. “A jerk.”
Ruby tries not to smile. “You can do better than that.”
“A . . .” I cringe. “A jerkface?”
“Better,” she says, chewing on her lip for a second. “How about this: I’ll try to own it if you think about telling your parents.”
“Ruby—”
“I’m serious. Just think about it.”
“Okay, okay,” I say.
“Good.” She chucks me on the arm. “Let’s go find your brother.”
When we finally locate Finn and Charlie—a good three and a half blocks from where they said they’d be—the parade’s already started.
“Hey,” Finn says, his face brightening as he sees me. His bruises from the boxing contest have hit the deep red and purple stage, but he seems to be moving a bit easier in his body today.
I hand him the hot dog. “Relish and sauerkraut. Disgusting.”
“Only way to eat it,” he replies.
From the corner of my eye, I see Charlie pull Ruby close, and she nestles against his chest, giggling. Embarrassed, Finn and I immediately turn our heads to the street.
“Want to sit on the curb?” I ask.
He takes his red sweatshirt from his bag and spreads it out so we can both sit on it. It’s close, but I don’t mind. We pull our knees up and eat the grilled hot dogs, watching the people start to stream by.
There’s a marching band of teenagers playing a somewhat recognizable version of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song,” followed by a group of scantily clad women wearing red, white, and blue, gyrating enthusiastically.
“Sexy,” Charlie says, dropping next to Finn.
Ruby leans into his arm, sending him a gentle elbow in the ribs. “Watch it.”
Finn raises an eyebrow at me, and I laugh, shaking my head.
“Oooh, good job!” Ruby calls out as a bunch of ladies and a few guys Hula-Hoop their way past us. “I love Hula-Hooping,” she says to us.
We watch the vice mayor go by, his aides throwing out hard candy and Dum Dum lollipops. Finn raises his hand and snaps one of the lollipops midthrow, then hands it to me.
“Yes! Cream soda!” I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth. “My hero,” I say.
Finn snorts and turns his attention to a bunch of kids in front of us, each one balancing precariously on a unicycle.
My favorite is the group of ladies holding a banner that says LAWN CHAIR LADIES BRIGADE. The dozen or so middle-aged women that follow are all holding up foldable lawn chairs, clicking them open and clacking them shut, whirling them in elaborate synchronized patterns.
“Sweet!” Charlie yells.
“Seconded,” Finn says.
The parade continues, but I keep sneaking glances at Charlie and Ruby and Finn.
Ruby is clapping in time to the music of another plucky high school band. Of course they’re playing a Taylor Swift song, and of course Finn is humming along, I’m sure without realizing what the song is.
I meet Charlie’s eyes. He’s got his arm slung around Ruby’s shoulders, and for the first time I can remember, his skin doesn’t look translucent anymore. I can’t see the shadowy river of blue veins up his arm where they poked IVs. I can’t see the soft skin of his scalp under his hair. I just see my brother, whole.
As if he can feel the weight of my stare, Charlie turns my way. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say.
But that’s not exactly true.
I can’t stop looking at him.
He’s not making terrible choices. He’s not hiding cancer bruises or holding back a bloody nose. He’s not faking a good mood with Erin or lashing out at Matty or me.
Instead, he’s taking care of himself. He’s taking care of Ruby.
He’s healthy. He’s happy.
His future could be anything.
It could be everything.
Right then I realize something, and I have to look away, the weight of it making me suddenly dizzy.
Charlie isn’t going to be okay.
Charlie already is.
Forty-Nine
“DO YOU REMEMBER THE year we went to Lake Michigan and watched the Fourth of July fireworks from the lake?” Charlie asks as we follow Ruby and Finn. The two of them are in a heated discussion about something Float-related, and after trying to make sense of it, Charlie and I fell back, letting them lead the way.
“Yeah. You kept insisting each one was the best,” I say, remembering the look of sheer glee on my brother’s face as his neck craned up, watching the lights.
“Yeah, and you kept saying, ‘This one must be the finale,’ ” Charlie says.
I realize I don’t even remember the finale now, only the feeling of dread each time, not wanting it to be over.
“That was the last summer before I got sick,” he continues. “Though I guess I was probably already sick—I just didn’t know it.”
Ahead of us, Ruby punches Finn in the arm. “You are being the Emperor of Assholes right now.”
Finn stops and looks over his shoulder at us, rubbing his arm. “Did you see that? She’s a menace.”
“Watch it, Casper,” Charlie says. “You’re talking about my girl there.”
Ruby grins happily at “my girl” and marches forward.
Charlie catches me watching him and immediately stiffens.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing. It’s just that Ruby seems happy,” I offer.
“Oh,” he says, clearly surprised. Then his shoulders soften. “Thanks.”
We walk awkwardly next to each other, but it’s not angry. It’s just been a long time since we’ve talked without hurting each other.
“You know what else I remember about that year at Michigan?” I ask.
“Let me guess: your refusal to hike the trail to the lighthouse?”
“No! And besides, that trail was too long for nine-year-old kids; sand dunes are hard to walk on!”
“I did just fine,” Charlie brags.
“What I wanted to say was that I loved that house we stayed at on Hamlin Lake,” I say. “Do you remember it?”
“Yeah, I do.”
He and I slept on twin beds on the screened-in porch. “Twins on the twin beds,” Dad kept joking, and every night we’d whisper to each other until there were longer and longer pauses between our conversation, and we’d fall asleep with the sound of the lake lapping at the shore below us, the crickets and tree frogs going mad with summer in the trees around us.
One night it stormed, and the entire room lit up with lightning, my heart clamoring with each thunderclap. I sat up, clutching my sheet around me, looking over. Charlie was awake too, but his eyes were wide with wonder, like they had been during the fireworks. Seeing him like that quieted my pulse, let me sink back to the bed, to fall asleep amid the noise.
We stopped going to Michigan after he got sick. I think my parents were worried about Charlie’s immune system, and soon enough, there were the mounds of hospital bills they had to catch up on.
And then we just never went again.
“When I got chemo for the first time, they told me to think of the last time I was happy, and so I closed my eyes and pretended we were back on that porch,” Charlie says.
I stop for a second, surprised our memories of it are the same. “You did?”
But before he can answer, Ruby’s voice jolts us back into the present.
“Parker! Charlie! You gotta see this!”
She and Finn are stopped in front of us, at the side of a building on Hamilton.
Charlie starts walking forward, turning to see if I’m following him, almost like he’s making sure he hasn’t left me behind.
When we reach them, Finn points to the brightly colored image painted on the wall: a yellow figure riding a horse, holding up what looks like a puppet, small white birds patterned all around and behind them. The horse has small flutters near its feet, like it’s flying, lifting off from the street into a luminous blue-purple space.
It’s gorgeous, a fairy tale come to life in the middle of Cincinnati.
“This is by Brazilian street artists. Os Gemeos,” Finn says.
“They’re twins, like you two,” Ruby adds. Charlie looks at her, impressed. “Finn just told me,” she admits.
“It’s really cool,” I say, getting up close to lightly trace one of the small birds. “Maybe we should become a street-art duo, Charlie.” I turn to him to gauge his reaction, but the expression on his face is frozen.
Erin’s standing there next to us, her brown hair pulled back in a pert ponytail with a red-white-and-blue ribbon, her skin tanned and even, her Xavier University tee bright blue and white. The only thing not perfect on her is the uncomfortable expression on her face, the one currently mirroring Charlie’s.
She steps forward, reaching an arm out to Charlie and then stopping herself. “It’s really good to see you.”
Charlie lets out an exhale. “You too,” he says.
Next to me, Ruby stiffens.
No one says anything then until Erin breaks the awkward silence. “How are you feeling?”
Charlie shoves his hands in his pockets. “Good. Really good, actually. My blood cell count is looking normal again.”
Her face lights up, her shoulders falling in relief. “Oh my God, I’m so happy to hear that! You must be really happy to hear that too. Your whole family must be, right?”
Erin looks hopefully at me, and I offer her a small smile. “Yeah, it’s good.”
Ruby rubs the bridge of her nose under her glasses.
Charlie’s still got this stricken look on his face, like a deer in headlights, so I clear my throat. “Hey, Erin. These are our friends Finn and Ruby. Guys, this is . . .” I don’t know how to describe her.
“Erin,” she says, smiling and shaking Finn’s hand before turning to Ruby, taking in her proximity to Charlie.
“Hi. I’m Ruby Collie,” Ruby offers, extending her hand. “Charlie’s told me a lot about you. I heard you’re going to Xavier next year to major in communication? That’s awesome. I thought about double minoring in that, because I think it’s good when doctors have good bedside manners, and I figure it can’t hurt to have a lot of skills at my fingertips, you know? Oh, yeah, I’m going to be a doctor, too, maybe cardiology or neurology, but definitely some time with Doctors Without Borders. . . .” She stops, catching herself midstream, and I can see her mom’s words echoing through her head.
“Um, so that’s cool. Nice to meet you,” Erin says, returning the handshake, clearly unsure how to respond.
I shoot Ruby a reassuring smile, but she looks vaguely sick to her stomach.
Erin turns back to Charlie. “So, I’ve been wanting to call you. It would be really good to hang out before I start freshman orientation at Xavier. Maybe we can catch up this week?”
“Maybe,” Charlie echoes.
Ruby’s shoulders fall and she lets out an audible sigh.
“Come on, Roo.” Finn guides her away from us. “We’re going to get some ice cream at the truck over there,” he says to me.
I nod.
“So, do you think you’ll do baseball again when you’re back at school?” Erin asks Charlie. “You know, Xavier’s got a team, if you ever want to come check it out.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening a month from now, let alone next year.”
“Oh, okay,” Erin says, surprised and clearly a little hurt by Charlie’s tone.
I see myself in her now, in how she wants to make sure he’s okay. After worrying about him for so long, it’s hard to stop.
“I just have to figure some stuff out still,” he explains.
“Sure, I get that.”
Charlie starts rubbing h
is hand over his scalp, like he’s trying to figure out what to talk about, and Erin folds her arms, chewing on her lip.
The awkwardness is making my eyelid twitch just by proximity. “Sooo, I guess I’ll get some ice cream too,” I say. “It was good seeing you, Erin.”
But she’s scanning Charlie’s face. “Babe, your cheeks are getting pretty red. Do you need some sunscreen? I know I have some in my bag. You know, skin cancer and all.”
He jerks back. “No.”
“You don’t need sunscreen?” Erin asks.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I have it on already. I meant no, I can’t meet up with you later this week.”
She falters. “What?”
Charlie hikes a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the ice cream truck. “Her. I’m seeing Ruby.” His response is lacking eloquence, for sure, but his tone is gentle.
“Oh,” Erin replies, her voice small, and even though Erin and I have never been super close, my heart hurts for her.
“I should probably get back to Ruby.” Charlie leans down, gives Erin a hug. “Good luck at Xavier next year, Erin. I mean it. I wish you nothing but good things. You ready, Parker?”
He doesn’t wait for me as he breaks into a jog, then an all-out run toward Ruby and Finn, calling out, “Wait up, guys. Roo!”
From where I’m standing, I can see the way Ruby’s face breaks into a smile when Charlie reaches her, one that gives the July sun a run for its money, and I wish not for the first time I were as brave as my brother.
I turn back to Erin.
She’s got a lost look on her face, and as soon as she sees me notice, she begins digging through her bag. “I know my phone’s in here somewhere,” she mutters, and I realize she’s trying not to cry in front of me.
“Thanks for watching out for my brother for all those years,” I say to her.
Erin looks up, surprised, but then she gives me a small smile. “You’re welcome, Parker.”
I’m sure it won’t be easy for her to figure out who she is without Charlie, the same way it’s been tough for Charlie to figure out who he is without cancer, for me to figure out who I am period. But Erin is unstoppable and devoted—a fierce star for the people she loves. I know she’ll be okay.
