“I was. But I’m not anymore.”
“Good. That’s good to hear.” Neither of us says anything for a few moments and then Mom begins talking again.
“You know, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I went to see that band teacher of yours.”
The air rushes out of my lungs. “What? When?”
“Right after you left for the shore. I wanted him to know that the blame for what happened fell squarely on him. I also told him to stay away from you—and all his future students if he knows what’s good for him. I may have called him a pervert.”
I can tell she’s proud of herself for that last part. It makes me smile a little.
“What’d he say?”
“He got snotty with me. Told me I’d be happy to hear the incident cost him a job in our school district.”
“It did? What’d you say?”
“I told him I wasn’t happy, I was over the moon!”
The way she says it makes me laugh out loud. I am so relieved.
“Oh, Mom. That’s the best. You’re the best.”
“I’m happy to hear you laughing. I’ve been afraid to tell you. I thought you’d be angry with me.”
Angry? I might have been after it all went down, but now?
“Thanks for telling me, Mom. Your timing is perfect.”
We talk for a long time after that. I tell her about the conversation with Mrs. Sullivan and about what Ricky said about my natural talent for music producing. I tell her about Reggie and the college tours, and when I ask her if I can keep living at the Jersey shore in the fall, she says okay.
“I’ll miss you, honey. But you’re in good hands, and you’re only an hour away.”
The conversation is going so well that I fear telling her the next bit of information.
“I want you to know, Mom. I’m working hard on my life plan, I really am. But there’s still a possibility that Malcolm will be part of it. I know you said you didn’t want me to go on tour in the fall. But…I might be going on tour in the fall.”
There are a few moments of uncomfortable silence.
“I can’t wait to hear your song. Mrs. Sullivan couldn’t stop raving about it.” Mom seems to ignore what I’ve said, making me wonder if she heard me. I’m about to repeat myself when she continues. “I wish I’d known how you felt about Lynn’s accident sooner, baby. I could have helped you. I feel like you and I have wasted so much time. I love you more than anything. You know that, right? Things will be better.”
My mother’s voice is uncharacteristically tender and without its usual matter-of-factness. It fills me with a certainty I’ve either never known or must have forgotten. After all, Mom’s was the first voice I’d ever heard. Intuitively, I trusted its timbre before I could speak, and I trust it now. She heard me just fine. This is her way of saying that whatever I decide, it’s going to be all right.
It’s the second best thing to happen to me today.
THIRTY-EIGHT
“Quinny!” Kiki startles me as I’m stocking shelves, and I wind up tossing two fistfuls of Smarties into the air like confetti.
I turn to find her standing in the candy aisle of the Ben Franklin with Liam’s sister, Lucy. We’ve never officially met, but I’ve seen her at Keegan’s with her boyfriend, Connor.
“Quinny, you know Lucy, right?”
I nod and smile as I bend to pick up the scattered Smarties. Lucy and Kiki crouch down to help.
“So you’re the good twin?” I say. “He talks about you all the time. Almost as much as he talks about Andrew.”
Lucy laughs. “I don’t think he talks about anyone as much as he talks about Andrew.”
Kiki frowns. “Hey!”
“I mean except for you, Keeks,” Lucy wisely clarifies.
“He must be a great guy.”
“He is. He’s a best friend to both of us.”
When we stand up, I get a better look at her. I know girl/boy twins can never be identical, but Lucy and Liam look nothing alike. He’s dark-haired and light-eyed. She’s the exact opposite. Side by side, they’d be a human yin-yang symbol.
“What are you doing Saturday night?” Kiki asks.
Waiting for Malcolm to call, I want to say. That’s what I do every night. Even after all that’s happened, I’m desperate to see him. I want to know where he and I stand, to hear that he’s going to be all right and tell him that I will be too. I want to tell him I talked to Lynn’s mom. It kills me that I haven’t told him about the phone call yet. So much of what’s happened is because of him. He’s changed me. We’ve changed each other. Our paths collided and we propelled each other in the right direction. I’m willing to accept that it might not be the same direction, but I need to hear it from him.
“Nothing. I’m doing nothing.”
Kiki squawks like a buzzer. “Wrong! It’s girls’ night out, and you’re coming with us.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are! It’s Lucy’s last weekend home, and we’re sending her off to Princeton with a bang.”
Lucy shakes her head. “I keep telling Kiki, there will be no bang.”
Kiki rolls her eyes playfully. “Lucy is 150 percent straight-edge. Prepare yourself for a night of G-rated entertainment.”
I point at Kiki. “G-rated is fine with me. I could use a few more Bambi moments in my life.” I’m actually excited. Aside from my sister, no one’s ever invited me to a girls’ night before. This almost makes up for not getting asked to prom.
“We’ll pick you up at four thirty,” Kiki says.
Four thirty? It seems a tad early for a girls’ night out, but what the hell do I know? This is all new to me.
“See you then.”
They arrive at my house late in the afternoon on Saturday, and from there, we walk to the Crab’s Claw Inn for dinner. For the past two days, it’s been nice having this diversion to look forward to. This is my seventh day of not seeing or talking to Malcolm, and I’m beginning to wonder if I ever will again.
Because it’s so early, we pass lots of moms returning from the beach with Wonder Wheelers and small kids in tow, while bigger kids and adults head toward the ocean with surfboards and boogie boards. The waves must be good today.
The Crab’s Claw Inn looks like the quintessential shore house, big and white with black shutters and a large wooden porch out front. Inside, there are two separate bars and seating areas: one downstairs where the living room and kitchen used to be, and one upstairs, where the bedrooms once were.
“Since we’re here before five, dessert’s included,” Lucy says when the waitress is done taking our drink orders. “The early bird special also comes with soup or salad.”
Ah. The four-thirty start time makes more sense now.
“Awesome!” I say. Lucy’s geekdom is adorable, and I want to support her enthusiasm for free soup and dessert, even if we are dining with mostly senior citizens.
“Easy now,” Kiki teases. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us. Pace yourselves.”
I look at her over the menu. “You can pace yourself if you want. I plan on getting whipped cream and a cherry on top of my ice cream.”
“And the lobster bisque,” Lucy says. “You’ve got to try the lobster bisque.”
After dinner, we walk back to Kiki’s car and head to our next stop on Lucy’s party train—Creativity Uncorked. It’s one of those picture painting places, where middle-aged women get drunk on wine and paint sloppy acrylic landscapes to hang on their walls.
“We’re doing seascapes tonight,” Lucy says as we settle in behind our easels. “I thought it would be nice to have when I’m landlocked at Princeton. I can hang the painting in my dorm room.”
Kiki opens the small cooler bag she brought in from the car and hands us each an orange mango iced tea. We place our bottles in the easel slots where the other wom
en in the class are keeping their Pinots and Cabernets.
“You might want to hang my painting in your dorm room,” Kiki says. “We all know I’m the artsy one.”
Lucy looks at me. “She’s right. I can’t even draw an earthworm. The sketches I did for my bio labs looked like the work of a first grader.”
“Yeah, but her lab notes are better than Marie Curie’s,” Kiki says.
Even though I don’t say much as we paint, it’s amusing to listen to the comfortable banter between two old friends as they work. They talk in shorthand, completing each other’s sentences while reminiscing. I can’t remember if Lynn and I were ever that way. For the past three years, keeping my anxiety at bay has meant suppressing all memories, good and bad. Even now, I’m reluctant to go there. Not when I’m having the nicest, most normal night I’ve had in, well, ever.
We’re painting sunrises over the ocean, but I decide to go rogue and make mine over the bay, more specifically, the view from Malcolm’s back deck. If it turns out okay, maybe I’ll give it to him.
Because nothing says Sorry we couldn’t be friends like an amateur seascape.
Kiki leans closer to her canvas and carefully dabs white paint on the waves to create whitecaps that look like they’re rolling. She’s got skills.
“So, apparently my boyfriend is going on tour this fall,” she says.
I let out an involuntary gasp. “Keeks, no! Liam decided to go?”
She nods. “I won’t say this to him, but it’s a total nightmare. I have to trust him. I do trust him. But thinking about him playing all those bars, in front of all those girls, while I’m here practicing dying hair and waxing eyebrows? It’s going to be hard.”
I turn to Lucy. “Your parents are okay with it?”
“He told them he’ll defer his Rutgers’ acceptance for a semester and start college this spring. Surprisingly, they agreed. I think they recognize he has talent and want to give him room to pursue his dream.”
Kiki pouts as she rinses her brush. “Why couldn’t they have done me a solid and forbade it? No pressure, Quinny, but I’d feel a whole lot better if I knew you were going too.”
“Are you considering it?” Lucy asks.
“I was. But it may no longer be an option.”
“You mean because they’re auditioning drummers? Pfft. Liam says Malcolm wants to have a backup plan,” Kiki says.
“I can understand that.” After all, I did tell Malcolm to find another drummer. “Why hasn’t Malcolm told me any of this? I haven’t heard from him since our fight last weekend.”
Kiki winces. “I think he’s afraid to talk to you.”
“You think or you know?” I ask.
“When I told him you needed time alone, he looked crushed. I wanted to hug the sadness right out of him. Plus, you did kind of quit the band.”
She’s right. He offered an olive branch, and I shut him down. “I messed up. So much was going on that night and I didn’t handle it the way I should have.”
“We’ve all been there. Text him. Make him think of you while he’s auditioning those yahoos,” Kiki says.
“What should I say?”
“How about ‘hi’ with an emoji,” Keeks suggests.
“We’ve had zero contact in seven days and I should hit him with an emoji?”
Lucy jumps in. “From a communication standpoint, guys are far less complex than us. They don’t need as many words.”
“Listen to her—she’s smart. Don’t even say ‘hi.’ One good emoji is enough,” Keeks says.
“Which one?” I ask.
“Quinny, Quinny, Quinny. You have much to learn. The cat wearing glasses, of course.”
“There’s a cat wearing glasses?”
Kiki holds out her hand. “Gimme your phone.”
Once the emoji is located, I do what she says—and get an immediate reply.
“Well? What’d he say?” Kiki asks when she hears the ping.
I read my phone. “Call you later.” My heart thuds in my chest.
“My work here is done,” she says.
I think about my connection with Malcolm. He’s the one person I’ve felt comfortable with telling my secrets to. I’ve missed having moments like this one. It feels good to have girlfriends again.
THIRTY-NINE
Malcolm doesn’t call—he shows up. I should have expected it. It’s kind of his thing.
Keeks pulls in Auntsie’s driveway after our night of good, clean fun. I can’t believe it’s only 9:00 p.m. Malcolm is parked outside Auntsie’s house in a gray van I don’t recognize.
“Well, well, well. Look who the cat emoji dragged in. And you doubted its power,” Keeks says.
“I never will again,” I say.
Lucy exits the car to let me out of the back seat. Kiki exits the car to be nosey. She shades her eyes from the streetlight, where moths flutter in the yellow glow, and peers toward Malcolm’s new ride. Guess he’s getting ready for the tour.
“He looks different. Don’t you think he looks different? And what’s he doing sitting in that van like that?”
“Waiting for Quinn?” Lucy offers.
“Listen, Princeton, I don’t need you to point out the obvious. I’m simply wondering if Quinn’s aunt wouldn’t let him in the house. He looks like a stalker.”
I hadn’t thought of that, but now I’m wondering the same thing. Did Auntsie kick him to the curb?
I open my arms to give Keeks a hug. “Thanks for inviting me to girls’ night.”
“You’re welcome, Quinny. Next time, we’ll road trip to Princeton and mingle with the smarties,” Keeks jokes.
Lucy hugs me next. “Yes! Please visit!”
“Good luck at college,” I say, though something tells me she’s not the type who needs it.
Lucy whispers in my ear. “Good luck with Malcolm, but remember to do what’s right for you.”
“Thanks, I will.” My voice cracks a little. Why am I choking up? I’ve known Lucy for about ten seconds. I guess I’m sensing the beginning of all the upcoming endings, and I don’t like it. Or maybe it’s bittersweet knowing that if things had turned out differently, I’d also be sending my best friend off to Princeton.
My chest tightens as I watch them drive away. If I skip the gig next weekend, who knows when I’ll see them again? I meander down the crushed seashell driveway, still holding my painting, and into the street where Malcolm is parked. The driver’s door window is open.
When I poke my head in to say “Hey,” I get a good look at him. Keeks was right. He does look different.
“You shaved your beard!”
He runs a hand along his smooth chin.
“Yeah, I decided if I’m serious about becoming the guy I used to be, I should start by looking like him.”
“What did that guy have that you don’t?”
“A clean conscience, control, presence of mind, a band, a future…hubris and giant ego too, so I guess he wasn’t perfect.”
“Maybe the happy medium lies in a goatee or soul patch.”
Malcolm bursts out laughing, and my shoulders relax.
“I missed you, Cat’s Eye.”
“Missed you too.”
“Wanna go for ride? I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
I nod. “Let me check in with my aunt.”
I jog back up the driveway and open the screen door. Auntsie and Reggie are watching TV on the couch.
“For the record, I told him he was welcome to join me and Reg here while he waited,” she says.
“That’s a relief. I thought maybe he was denied entry.”
“His choice. I told him he looked like a creeper in that van.”
I laugh. “Kiki said the same thing. I’ll be home by midnight.”
“Okay, but call if that changes. None of this I forgot to t
ext or I’m having an impromptu pajama party.”
Her firm tone makes Reggie yip.
“Okay, okay. I will.”
When I return to his truck and slip into the passenger side, I’m still holding my canvas.
“What’s that?” Malcolm asks.
I hold it up. “A bad painting of one of my favorite views.”
Malcolm studies it seriously, no mocking in his expression. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Weird that you should ask. I planned on giving it to you. That is, if I saw you again, which I am now, so here.”
I hand it to him and he gently rests it on the bench seat behind us.
“Trade ya. It’s the same view,” he says and hands me an album. At first I think it’s another vintage vinyl purchase for my aunt, but then my eyes finally comprehend what I’m seeing. My glasses are on the cover! They’re perched on the dock at Malcolm’s borrowed house, backed by the bay waters and a sunrise sky. The lenses reflect the images of Malcolm’s guitar and my drumsticks. “Malcolm Trent” is scrawled across the top of the album cover in his handwriting and the title, Cat’s Eye, is underneath.
“When did you do this?”
“I took the picture one morning before you woke up. A graphic artist has been helping me with the rest.”
“You’ve been busy since I last saw you.”
“Yep. It helped having something to do.”
I turn the album over in my hands. The bay scene continues onto the back cover with the song titles written in Malcolm’s hand across the waves.
“Hmph. So that’s what the other songs are called!”
I run my fingers down the column of titles and see a sixth song has been added.
“Cat’s Eye?”
“I needed a title track.”
“Can I hear?”
“Wait until you’re alone. Play it on your aunt’s stereo.”
“Should I ask what it’s about?”
August and Everything After Page 16
