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“I just think I’ll feel less jittery when I see him again. You know?”
He shuts his laptop and turns in his swiveling recliner. I once asked him if he ever wanted a desk. But he said he’s written six best sellers from this TV tray, so why would he trade it in now?
“Are you finished?” I ask. He never shuts the laptop, not even at night.
“I am.”
“And?”
“And—after edits, it’s going to be good.”
“Good?”
“Great.” He isn’t proud. He knows his craft, and he knows when something has heart and grit and is going to work.
He isn’t wrong. About much. And he isn’t wrong now. Iamnervous. I stride over to the couch and sit down, facing him in his chair. “Will Levi and I be great?”
“I can’t answer that, Meredith.”
“Sure you can. You know people. You see right through them. You get them. You’ve lived.”
“I have lived a dozen lives.”
“And I’ve lived zero.” I lie back, wishing I were back out on that porch, smooching Levi. Everything seemed to make sense then. “What if I’m a bad kisser, Bob?”
My uncle clears his throat. “That boy didn’t look as if he were having a bad… experience.”
“He didn’t?” I look over at him, searching his face, hoping I’ll find truth there.
But Bob has found something on the floor to examine. “Quite the opposite.”
My stomach tingles.Quite the opposite.“So you think we could be great?”
“That’s up to you, Meredith. You get to decide whether you’re great or not. With or without Levi. If you want to be great with Levi, then go for it.”
“I’m happy when I’m with him.”
“You could be happy without him.”
“You’re right. I could. But I like being happy with him.”
Uncle Bob’s eyes water and he smiles at me, closed lip and earnest. “I liked being happy with Cindy too.” He reaches out and pats my knee. “You haven’t lived zero lives Meredith. You’re living one right now. I watch you grow every day. You’re doing something to smile every day. Your mother would love that smile.”
Well, this is a turn. My chest blooms with warmth at the thought of her. “You think?”
“Yes, I do. Your dad too.”
I warm, thinking of my parents. I talk to Dad on Fridays. He’s glad I’m here. He’s happy I’m happy.
I know it isn’t our visiting day. But I want to talk to him. I want to tell my dad about Levi. I can call just because–can’t I?
I leave Bob and curl my legs up beneath me on my bed. I hold my phone out, looking at Dad’s name on my smartphone: Isaac Porter (Dad).
“M-Meredith? Is everything o-o-okay?” The stutter started after I left. His therapist says it’s normal and it’ll go away with time. “B-bob? Y-you?”
I hadn’t meant to startle him.
“Hi, Dad. Yes. Everything is lovely.”
