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Isaiah walks away from me and fades into the darkness.
“I won’t,” I whisper as I close my eyes and wish that one day, he’ll change his.
Ryan
BETH ASKED FOR TIME. How long does she need? A day? A week? Hours? Any amount is too long when the girl I’m falling for had tears in her eyes. Any amount is too long when I wonder if she cares for me. I won’t see her until Tuesday. Tomorrow is parent–teacher conferences. Today is Sunday and my parents are hosting a barbecue for the mayor, the town council, and a few other friends of our family.
I’m dressed up and playing the perfect part.
Perfect.
It’s what Lacy called me when she explained why she would never fit into Groveton.
Perfect.
It’s what Beth spat at me when she refused the trust fall.
Perfect.
It’s the word Gwen just used when discussing how she wants the two of us to walk onto the football field together for homecoming.
Perfect.
Looking out on our back patio, I see nothing but boring perfection. The grass trimmed perfectly to three inches. The shrubs perfectly edged in the shape of round balls. The pots of fall chrysanthemums lining the edging of the patio perfectly placed one foot apart. Perfect people who grew up in this town and perfectly filled their parents’ shoes.
At the other end of the table, my mother inclines her head toward Gwen. I take the nonverbal cue and turn my attention to my “dinner partner. ” Gwen gives me a smile that’s one more perfect thing in the backyard.
“Wouldn’t that be awesome, Ryan?”
No, walking onto the field with her on my arm at homecoming wouldn’t be awesome. I want to share that moment with Beth. “I’m not sure we get to decide who we walk with. ”
Gwen ignores my comment. “Could you pour me some more water?”
I reach for the pitcher in front of me and do as she asks. This is my obligation to my parents. My job is to fill Gwen’s drink when it’s empty, remove her dishes when she’s done, and to entertain her. Déjà vu sets in and my head swims with a sinking revelation. This same exact moment is how Gwen and I started dating.
Gwen’s mother sips her wine. Her face is tighter than it was last fall. “We need to make a decision regarding Allison Risk and the event committee at church. ”
Mom fidgets with her pearl necklace. She hates uncomfortable decisions. “Allison is a sweet young woman. ”
“Are you in favor of her joining, Miriam?”
Gwen’s mother asks.
Uncharacteristically, my mother pours wine into her empty water glass. “I don’t know. The Risks were dreadful people. Do you remember Scott’s parents? The man was a mean drunk and the woman wasn’t much better. ”
“But Scott’s not his parents,” I say and everyone at the table glances at me. My mother shoots me a warning glare, but my father puts a hand on my mother’s arm to back her off.
Mom removes her arm from under his touch. I continue, “He became the best baseball player the Yankees have seen in twenty years.
Why should his wife be punished for his parents’ mistakes?”
Dad’s eyes narrow on the last sentence. His own private warning to me that I may have gone too far.
“I have to be honest,” says Gwen’s mother.
“I am fond of Allison, but it’s the niece I’m concerned with. ”
“How so?” asks my mother as I stiffen.
