A breeze off the water is chasing the mosquitoes inland. A little night music, as Dad always jokes. I give the pole back. With a maestro’s flourish I pop open the lid on the salsa jar and set it on the dock. After Mack digs out the licorice, he takes the package and a giggling Juliann out to the end of the dock. But he doesn’t come back for salsa, so he couldn’t be that hungry. For salsa.
When Meredith and I sit down to eat, her knee touches mine. Now I know those magazines in the doctor’s office are true. Women do shave their legs every day. Even though I hardly know Juliann and she’s being like every other girl with that thing about moonlight, I have to agree with her. It’s as close to perfect an evening as I’ve had in my lifetime.
“Have you finished the summer reading?” Meredith asks between chips.
“Uh-huh.”
“What did you think of Atlas Shrugged?”
I’m thinking fast. I could lose the whole shooting match here if I come off sounding like a pseudointellectual coffeehouse type of guy, the kind Holden accuses of being fake just to impress a girl.
Meredith flaps at her ear. “Kamikaze mosquito.” She giggles. “You must have thought something?”
Choking back panic, I look right in her eyes, kind of a dare to show her I’m not hesitating for lack of an opinion but because I want to be precise. “The characters are so sure of themselves. That’s not very realistic. I mean, I don’t think it’s very believable.”
“But I know people exactly like that. They’re scary.”
“Scary how?”
“What makes them think they’re right? There’s a ton of things you can’t know. Like, I mean, you only live your life with your own family. In your own town. You can’t know how it is to be someone else in another place. But when they do that, it makes other people feel small, less. It’s not fair.”
If she has moved five times and feels that way, who am I to argue? Essex County’s the only place I’ve ever lived. Farmers and fishermen, that’s all I know. To have to depend on the weather isn’t a huge confidence builder.
“Did you finish it?” She’s licking salsa off her fingers and I lose my train of thought. “Atlas?” she reminds me.
“Uh…I read ahead some.” As soon as I say it I hear how really geeky that sounds. “Since I’m not sure what my schedule will be this fall.”
“Because of the…”
“Leukemia. It’s okay to say it. It’s no big secret.”
“Mack said you just found out.”
“Two months ago.”
“So you’re doing the chemo now?”
I wonder how much she knows about chemotherapy, whether there is someone close to her who’s had cancer if she uses the lingo so handily. That may explain why her father doesn’t live with them.
You’ll have to get used to this. My imagination’s always been hard to control. One time last year when I’d written something wild that didn’t exactly fit the assignment, Stepford-Hanes said my imagination would stand me in good stead later in life. When she said it, it made me feel better about the B minus she gave me for not following instructions. Not only did she recognize some part of me as particular to me, but it was something I could depend on. It would always be there. Later in life implies you’ll be an adult someday doing worthwhile things instead of the way it is as a kid, just feeling ignorant and having to be learning stuff all the time. Her comment felt especially good because I don’t have the kind of talent that Nick and Joe have.
Since The Disease struck though, the imagination thing is actually more ironic than anything else. Stepford-Hanes taught us about irony, too. My mind projects into the future, I just don’t have much of one.
Meredith stops eating and waits for my answer, another point in her favor.
“My parents are investigating all the options.”
“The way Mack described it, fourth stage and all, I would have thought the doctors would want to move fast.”
“Yeah, well, my parents aren’t sure about chemo, radiation. Putting all those poisons into one body. They know this herbalist, Miss T. Undertaker, and she says there are less invasive ways to stop the cancer.”
“She should change her name.”
I laugh right out loud. “Well, it’s actually Underwood. Yowell came up with the nickname.”
“Yowell?”
“Another guy at school, Leonard Yowell. He’s in tenth too.”
I can’t quite figure out why I don’t describe him as a friend. Although he’s smart and that makes him a little arrogant, which is annoying since we did rec camp together for a bunch of summers. That’s where you get to be blood brothers. No kidding. For life. Seriously, I’m just explaining to you what we did back then. Like background. None of us really believe that blood-brother junk anymore. Except maybe Nick, and I won’t spoil it for him.
As I watch Meredith sweep that great hair off her shoulders, it comes to me why the distancing with Leonard. He could be competition. Apart from the temporary acne issues, he’s the old-fashioned kind of handsome. His family has money. His dad’s a powerful senator—at least everyone treats him as though he is. I mean, they always talk like politicians are the movers and the shakers. Maybe that’s why I’m not keen to claim Leonard as a friend.
Plus I don’t want Meredith to get the wrong idea about me. Name-dropping is not a virtue. I don’t even need Dad to lecture me on that. No one likes the guy who acts like he’s got the seat next to the king; he’s a suck-up, all hot air.
She sticks another chip in the jar and holds it out to me with her hand under it to catch any dripping salsa. “Have you talked to the doctors yourself?”
“My mom handles all that. She’s read a ton of stuff about AML.”
“You can still ask. You’re the patient.”
A debate over my physical condition isn’t exactly what I had in mind for the evening. “Can we talk about something else?”
She lets her shoulder bump mine. “Sorry. That was pretty rude. You’re all set to teach me about Virginia wildlife and I’m being nosy.”
“It’s okay, really. I’m just not used to talking about it with anyone except my parents. Or talking about it at all, actually.”
When the pier starts to shake, we watch Mack lumber toward us, a white cape of moonlight on his shoulders. He slumps down next to me on the dock and whispers, “Juliann has a boyfriend at Albemarle.”
“Has that ever stopped you before?”
“He’s captain of the debate team.”
“So…you’re here and he’s there.”
Mack starts chomping on the chips like a machine. It’s a little gross. I can hear Juliann singing at the end of the dock. Any girl who can sing in front of people she hardly knows is a romantic, like right out of those grocery store books where the muscled man drags the big-chested woman into his arms. Why can’t Mack see that she’s probably dying for a kiss in the moonlight?
When Meredith disappears into the sweatshirt, her arms wiggling in the air as she pulls it over her head, I signal Mack to go back to Juliann.
“Get lost, buddy,” I mouth. Uncharacteristic of me, but I told you I was short on time.
It takes him two minutes to talk Juliann into walking over to the 7-Eleven for ice cream and two more minutes to pack up their half of the fishing gear. He’s a quick study. A great guy, willing to sacrifice everything for a friend.
CHAPTER SIX
“Did you want ice cream?” Meredith asks after they’re gone, though she doesn’t stand.
“I’m actually on restriction from public places like convenience stores. But I’ll walk you up there. If you want to go.”
She looks confused. “What did you do to deserve that?”
“Me? Nothing. It’s just… too many germs,” I explain.