“Don’t take too long,” I told her. “We’re only going to be together for another few weeks, at most.”
“Emaline!” She looked dismayed. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“You don’t know that.” She turned back to the dress, sliding a pin into the hem.
“I think I do,” I said. “I don’t really see us in a long-distance relationship.”
“Why not?”
“Because they never work?” I asked.
“Some do.”
“Who? My mom and father? Or just about anyone else we know who’s had one?”
“Still, they don’t all fail,” she said, her back still to me.
“The odds aren’t good.”
To this, she said nothing. So it was in total, awkward silence that I finally became aware of how fully and completely I had just stuck my foot in my own big, stupid mouth. Whoops.
“Daisy,” I said. “I was talking about me and Theo, not—”
“It’s fine,” she replied, but the stiffness in her voice erased any doubt I’d struck a nerve.
I got up and walked over to her to stand next to the other dummy. “It’s not. I’m sorry. Look, Theo and I have been together, like, four weeks. You and Morris are long-term.”
She bit her lip, focusing on folding back a piece of the neckline. “No, you’re right. Nobody ever stays together long-distance. And having a boyfriend when you go off to school . . . it’s a terrible idea.”
“Everyone’s different,” I offered. Lamely.
“I’m going to school over seven hours away,” she pointed out. “He’s staying here and taking classes at Coastal Tech. And that’s if he can get his act together. Which is a big if. I love Morris, but I can’t fix him. Especially from Georgia.”
This was the first time, ever, I’d heard her use the L Word. I had a flash of Morris, walking down the side of the main road, lumbering along. Who was going to take care of him when we were both gone?
“Anyway, my point is that I need to take a lesson from you. Just enjoy things while they last, then be done with it.”
“It’s a bit easier to do when you’ve only been dating twenty-nine days,” I said. “Also, I’m dealing with someone Not From Here. Who wants to wear a tuxedo to the Beach Bash.”
This made her smile, thank God. “It is kind of ridiculous.”
“I know.”
She moved around to the other side of the dress and bent down to the hem again. I looked at the pink version, stretched out across the bed, then around the room itself. I had spent so many hours in this same place, watching her sew while the sound of the Weather Channel (always on, her mom and dad were obsessed with it) wafted in from the living room. It felt like I’d taken everything for granted up until just right now, when suddenly my entire world and all in it became precious and fleeting. I should have paid more attention, soaked it in more. Which you always realize once it’s getting too late to do just that.
“So,” she said, in the voice that made it clear she was ready to switch topics, “what are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have big plans tonight, or something?”
I did. As big a plan as I got these days, which was hanging out at the Washroom or one of Clyde’s other haunts, waiting for Theo to be done with work. After Benji left the office with my dad, I’d been en route to do just that when I passed the entrance to Daisy’s neighborhood and stopped in, on impulse. I was glad I had.
“Not really,” I said, taking my seat by the window again. “You?”
“You’re looking at it.” She turned back to me. “Can you hand me those scissors? The small pair, not the big.”
I bent over her sewing box, finding the ones she wanted, then handed them off to her. She thanked me, then went to her work. In no time, she’d get into that place where she’d forget I was there, but no matter. I knew we were together, at least for now. And right then, while I still could, it was exactly where I wanted to be.
16
“SO THE PLAN,” my father said, gesturing to the living room, “is to keep only the basic furnishings here until mid-August, when we go back home. Of course, if we’re very lucky, we might get an offer by—”
“Dollar!” Benji called out, interrupting him. “You owe me a dollar!”
My father looked at him. “Benji. I’m talking.”
“You mentioned the end of the summer, so you have to pay the tax. It’s the rule! Right, Emaline?”
Now, everyone looked at me. “Um, I think that just applies to us two only. Not everyone else.”
Benji made a face. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear about it. I’m going outside.”
And with that, he left, letting the front screen door fall shut with a bang behind him. We all watched him stomp down the front walk, wildly swatting at the no-see-’ems that hung around the bushes out front as they descended upon him.
My father cleared his throat. “Obviously, he’s not taking the separation well.”
“It’s hard on kids,” Margo murmured, in her realtor voice.
“Anyway, as I was saying . . .” he continued, starting to walk again. She fell in behind him, scribbling on her ever-present notepad, but I hung back, looking out at Benji. He was now sitting on the steps by the mailbox, looking down the empty street as if waiting on something that should be showing up soon, any minute now. The no-see-’ems had returned to the bushes, swirling around each other in a big, buzzing cloud.