Page 60 of Second Chance Summer

“Well,” Henry said, looking a little shell-shocked. “Anything else?”

“And I was wondering if you could put this up in your window,” I said, as I placed the stack of posters on the counter and slid one over to him. I kept my eyes on his face, trying to see what he thought about what I’d just said, incoherent as it had been.

“That I can do,” he said, taking the poster and looking at it. “Casablanca,” he said thoughtfully. “Nice pick.”

“My pick,” I interjected quickly.

He looked up from the poster and gave me a surprised smile. “You like it?” he asked.

I could feel my face start to get hot, though by now I was finally tan enough to hide it. I found myself wishing I hadn’t said anything, feeling like this was joining the long list of things that had gone wrong during the conversation. “No,” I said. “I’ve never seen it. I’ve just… heard good things.”

Henry looked down at the poster, like it might have the answer he was looking for. “I don’t know, Taylor,” he finally said. “A lot’s happened in the last five years.”

“I know,” I said, feeling all at once just how embarrassed I was, like there had been a time delay on it until that moment. “Sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have… I mean…” Whole sentences did not appear to be forthcoming, and I had an almost palpable sense of relief that I would finally be able to give in to what my instincts had been screaming at me to do since I first stepped inside the store—that is, leave immediately. “Sorry,” I muttered again, turning away and heading quickly for the door. I had just reached for the handle when Henry spoke.

“Taylor,” he called. I turned, feeling a tiny flutter of hope in my chest. But he was just holding up my stack of posters. “You forgot these.”

I hadn’t known it would be possible to be more embarrassed than I had been, but apparently new and unseen depths were still being uncovered. “Ah,” I murmured. “Right.” I crossed toward him quickly, and grabbed the stack, trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible. But to my surprise, Henry didn’t let go of the posters right away, making me look up at him, into those eyes that still startled me every time with their greenness. He took a breath, as though he was going to say something, looking back into my eyes. But after a moment, he broke our eye contact and looked away, releasing his hold on the posters.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, and somewhere in my mind, I registered that this was what I’d said to him the first time we’d met again, on the dock.

“I think that’s inevitable,” I said, echoing his words back to him. I made myself smile as I said it, to take some of the sting out. I turned and walked, fast, to the door, and this time he didn’t say anything to call me back.

My pulse was racing as I crossed the street and walked toward the pet store. I yanked open the door with probably more force than I needed to. I had a feeling that it would probably be best for everyone if I could just be by myself until I shook off this jumpy, reckless feeling. But because of my brother’s social awkwardness, I had to collect the dog, and there was no way around it.

“Hey there!” Wendy said, smiling at me, even though I hadn’t seen her since I’d brought Murphy for microchip identification. But she saw my dog enough that she probably felt like she knew me really well too. “I’ve got your little guy here for you.” She reached under the counter, and I heard the faint click of metal. A moment later, she emerged with Murphy, whose tail started wagging when he saw me.

“Great,” I said, dropping the fliers on the counter and taking the dog. I placed him on the ground, looping his leash over my wrist, which turned out to be a good thing, since he immediately lunged in the direction of the kittens. I glanced down at the posters on the counter, and suddenly felt a surge of sympathy for my brother, having just experienced how humiliating it was to walk up to someone and get shot down. “So. Wendy,” I said, and she looked up from the computer, where she had been no doubt adding this latest service to our bill, “are you dating anyone?”

She blinked at me. “No,” she said, looking maybe a little concerned. “Um, why?”

“Just wondering,” I said. I pushed one of the posters across the counter at her. “Want to go on a date with my brother?”

The whole interaction had gone much more smoothly than I’d been expecting it to. Wendy had agreed almost immediately, and she knew exactly who Warren was—she hadn’t even needed a photo reminder, which was a good thing, since the only picture of him that I had on my phone was a terrible one I’d taken while he was in the midst of telling me how potato chips were invented. I’d taken the picture to try and get him to stop talking and the result was Warren looking both annoyed and out of focus.

As I walked Murphy over to my bike after picking up the corn and some licorice for my father, I was feeling a tiny bit better. Even if I hadn’t been able to make things right with Henry, I had gotten my brother a date and, hopefully, saved the dog from any more excessive grooming.

It wasn’t until I faced the reality of getting home, with the dog, that I realized I’d hit a snag. Presumably, Warren had dropped him off in the car. It turned out that Murphy did not like the concept of my bike basket, and kept trying to get out of it, his nails scraping for purchase. When one of his paws got stuck between the metal slats, he started whimpering in a way that hurt my heart, so I dropped the kickstand and lifted the dog out immediately. “It’s okay,” I said, pulling him close to me for a minute. I could feel that he was trembling. “We don’t have to go in the basket. It’s okay.” I ran my hand over his wiry head for a moment, and felt him settle down a bit.

But even though I’d made this blithe promise, I wasn’t sure exactly how we were going to get home. I tried riding the bike, holding the dog’s leash to the side, but it kept getting tangled in the wheel and Murphy proved himself to not be the world’s fastest learner in avoiding this. And the same thing happened when I tried to walk the bike and the dog at the same time. So finally, I decided we were just going to have to go on foot. I locked my bike up by the diner, tucked the posters under my arm, and started walking Murphy home, probably undoing all the grooming work that had just been done. I was pulling out my phone to call home and let my mother know that the corn—not to mention me and the dog—were going to be a little late, when a car slowed to a stop next to me.

o;Well,” Henry said, looking a little shell-shocked. “Anything else?”

“And I was wondering if you could put this up in your window,” I said, as I placed the stack of posters on the counter and slid one over to him. I kept my eyes on his face, trying to see what he thought about what I’d just said, incoherent as it had been.

“That I can do,” he said, taking the poster and looking at it. “Casablanca,” he said thoughtfully. “Nice pick.”

“My pick,” I interjected quickly.

He looked up from the poster and gave me a surprised smile. “You like it?” he asked.

I could feel my face start to get hot, though by now I was finally tan enough to hide it. I found myself wishing I hadn’t said anything, feeling like this was joining the long list of things that had gone wrong during the conversation. “No,” I said. “I’ve never seen it. I’ve just… heard good things.”

Henry looked down at the poster, like it might have the answer he was looking for. “I don’t know, Taylor,” he finally said. “A lot’s happened in the last five years.”

“I know,” I said, feeling all at once just how embarrassed I was, like there had been a time delay on it until that moment. “Sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have… I mean…” Whole sentences did not appear to be forthcoming, and I had an almost palpable sense of relief that I would finally be able to give in to what my instincts had been screaming at me to do since I first stepped inside the store—that is, leave immediately. “Sorry,” I muttered again, turning away and heading quickly for the door. I had just reached for the handle when Henry spoke.

“Taylor,” he called. I turned, feeling a tiny flutter of hope in my chest. But he was just holding up my stack of posters. “You forgot these.”

I hadn’t known it would be possible to be more embarrassed than I had been, but apparently new and unseen depths were still being uncovered. “Ah,” I murmured. “Right.” I crossed toward him quickly, and grabbed the stack, trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible. But to my surprise, Henry didn’t let go of the posters right away, making me look up at him, into those eyes that still startled me every time with their greenness. He took a breath, as though he was going to say something, looking back into my eyes. But after a moment, he broke our eye contact and looked away, releasing his hold on the posters.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, and somewhere in my mind, I registered that this was what I’d said to him the first time we’d met again, on the dock.

“I think that’s inevitable,” I said, echoing his words back to him. I made myself smile as I said it, to take some of the sting out. I turned and walked, fast, to the door, and this time he didn’t say anything to call me back.

My pulse was racing as I crossed the street and walked toward the pet store. I yanked open the door with probably more force than I needed to. I had a feeling that it would probably be best for everyone if I could just be by myself until I shook off this jumpy, reckless feeling. But because of my brother’s social awkwardness, I had to collect the dog, and there was no way around it.

“Hey there!” Wendy said, smiling at me, even though I hadn’t seen her since I’d brought Murphy for microchip identification. But she saw my dog enough that she probably felt like she knew me really well too. “I’ve got your little guy here for you.” She reached under the counter, and I heard the faint click of metal. A moment later, she emerged with Murphy, whose tail started wagging when he saw me.

“Great,” I said, dropping the fliers on the counter and taking the dog. I placed him on the ground, looping his leash over my wrist, which turned out to be a good thing, since he immediately lunged in the direction of the kittens. I glanced down at the posters on the counter, and suddenly felt a surge of sympathy for my brother, having just experienced how humiliating it was to walk up to someone and get shot down. “So. Wendy,” I said, and she looked up from the computer, where she had been no doubt adding this latest service to our bill, “are you dating anyone?”

She blinked at me. “No,” she said, looking maybe a little concerned. “Um, why?”

“Just wondering,” I said. I pushed one of the posters across the counter at her. “Want to go on a date with my brother?”

The whole interaction had gone much more smoothly than I’d been expecting it to. Wendy had agreed almost immediately, and she knew exactly who Warren was—she hadn’t even needed a photo reminder, which was a good thing, since the only picture of him that I had on my phone was a terrible one I’d taken while he was in the midst of telling me how potato chips were invented. I’d taken the picture to try and get him to stop talking and the result was Warren looking both annoyed and out of focus.

As I walked Murphy over to my bike after picking up the corn and some licorice for my father, I was feeling a tiny bit better. Even if I hadn’t been able to make things right with Henry, I had gotten my brother a date and, hopefully, saved the dog from any more excessive grooming.

It wasn’t until I faced the reality of getting home, with the dog, that I realized I’d hit a snag. Presumably, Warren had dropped him off in the car. It turned out that Murphy did not like the concept of my bike basket, and kept trying to get out of it, his nails scraping for purchase. When one of his paws got stuck between the metal slats, he started whimpering in a way that hurt my heart, so I dropped the kickstand and lifted the dog out immediately. “It’s okay,” I said, pulling him close to me for a minute. I could feel that he was trembling. “We don’t have to go in the basket. It’s okay.” I ran my hand over his wiry head for a moment, and felt him settle down a bit.

But even though I’d made this blithe promise, I wasn’t sure exactly how we were going to get home. I tried riding the bike, holding the dog’s leash to the side, but it kept getting tangled in the wheel and Murphy proved himself to not be the world’s fastest learner in avoiding this. And the same thing happened when I tried to walk the bike and the dog at the same time. So finally, I decided we were just going to have to go on foot. I locked my bike up by the diner, tucked the posters under my arm, and started walking Murphy home, probably undoing all the grooming work that had just been done. I was pulling out my phone to call home and let my mother know that the corn—not to mention me and the dog—were going to be a little late, when a car slowed to a stop next to me.

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