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“Well, who wants to go to the prom alone?”
“Not my Journey,” he said, holding me tighter. “And I felt so bad—”
“You swallowed half the bottle of antihistamine the doctor gave your mama!”
“Almost died. Mama had to rush me to the hospital,” he said, and we both laughed. “But then I got better ... and the next day, by the time they sent me home from the hospital—”
“The rash was gone.”
“That’s right.”
Evan kissed me on the forehead, and we danced slower for a few minutes until the next song came on.
“I always try to think what in the world would make me do that,” Evan said. “And then I remember your smile ... the way you looked when I got to your house and you came outside in your dress.”
“After my father lectured you for half an hour.”
“That’s right. And it was worth it. Because you just had this look on your face, this brightness, that made everything okay—even getting my stomach pumped.”
“Tell
your mother that. I still don’t think she’s forgiven—”
“I’m sorry, Journey,” he said suddenly.
“Sorry for what?” I asked, looking up at him.
“I stopped doing stuff like that for you after we got married. I let my work take over, going to all these meetings, and working nonstop. I thought I was doing all of it for you, but maybe you’ve been lonely.”
“Don’t do that, Evan,” I said. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“If we’re going to move on, to really move on, then something has to change. We have to work harder to understand each other. Maybe I need to be home more.”
“And give up your dream? It’s not like you’re out there meeting with a bowling team. You’re getting ready to run for office,” I said. “I support you.”
“But what about you? What about your dreams?”
“I ... I don’t know.”
“When are you going to start singing again?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said and I realized I hadn’t even thought of singing in weeks.
“We have to get you back to singing,” Evan declared. “Maybe we could find a studio where you can write your own songs and everything. You could do a CD.”
“Really? You think that would be a good idea?”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll look into it Monday. The summer’s starting. You have nothing but free time on your hands.”
“Wow,” I said. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“Well, you’ll be hearing a lot of stuff like that from me from now on. I really want this to work.”
We kissed on the lips. Evan closed his eyes, but I kept mine open. I had to see him. To see who he was and remind myself of who I was with him. I loved Evan dearly and if he was willing to work so hard to make me happy, I was signing up, too.
“I was about to come over there to throw some of this punch on you two,” Billie said. We were standing at the punch bowl, watching the students dance. Evan had gone to our table and was chatting with Principal Williams and his wife.
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s come over Evan. He’s all Mr. Nice Guy right now.”
