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“Hey,” Avery says.
Ryan looks up from his plate and sees all three of them looking at him.
“If you’d rather have your egg sandwich on a croissant instead of a biscuit, that can be arranged,” Avery’s dad says.
“No, no. Sorry,” Ryan replies.
“No need to be sorry,” Avery’s mom says. “About anything. We’re happy to have you here, Ryan. We’re happy to feed you and give you a fold-out couch. It’s the least we can do for someone willing to brave a school play three separate times.”
“Mom!” Avery protests. But he’s smiling.
—
It’s only whenRyan is alone again with Avery’s parents, when they are driving to the matinee, that he rememberswhat he’s forgotten. His first impulse is to let it go, but his second, better impulse is to at least ask the question.
“Excuse me,” he says, leaning toward the front seats. “Do we have time for a stop?”
Avery’s father looks at him in the rearview mirror. “It’s only about five minutes to the school,” he says. “Can you hold it in?”
“Oh! No. Not that. I was, uh—is there somewhere to stop for flowers? For Avery? I wanted to get him flowers.”
Avery’s mom, in the passenger seat, turns her head and says, “What a lovely thought. We still have plenty of time.” Then she turns to her husband. “Honey, can you make a quick stop at the florist?”
“Sure, but…uh…”
Avery’s mom again turns to Ryan, this time making eye contact. “You are now my witness: He has no idea where the florist is. I’ve always suspected.”
“I get you flowers!”
“I know, dear. At the same place you get your cereal and your beer.”
Ryan can’t entirely tell if they’re joking with each other or not. He senses Avery’s dad might not know, either.
“Turn left,” Avery’s mom says, guiding them to a parking spot in front of a flower shop.
“I’ll be right back,” Ryan says.
“Would you like me to go in with you?” Avery’s mom offers.
“No, thank you.”
The inside of the shop is fancier than he’s expecting…but he’s not sure why he was expecting anything because he’s not sure he’s ever been in a flower shop before. A woman in a dress that’s practically triangular comes out from behind the counter and asks him if he needs any help.
“I need flowers,” he answers. Then, realizing this isn’t quite enough, he adds, “It’s for someone in the high school play. It’s their last show.”
The woman smiles. “Is this someone a someone special?”
“Yes.”
“Lucky girl!”
For a second, Ryan thinks about letting it slide. Life will be much easier if he lets it slide, if he just goes along with her assumption. Flowers are flowers, and whatever she suggests for the “lucky girl” is bound to be okay for Avery, too.
But…it’s also wrong. And it feels wrong to let this woman picture one thing when something else is true. If he doesn’t say something now, the flowers will be pointless, because even if Avery never knows, Ryan will know he let them both down because it was easier to do so.
“Lucky boy,” he corrects.
The woman’s smile falters for a second, and Ryan can’t tell if it’s from surprise or disapproval. He isn’t sure whether or not she’ll politely chase him out of the store, not until she says, “Well, do you know what kind of flowers he likes? You can’t go wrong with roses.”
