Three long months ago.
Sometimes I’m sad our fling didn’t last a little longer. Other times, I’m relieved, because the hole he left in my heart feels like it might close up eventually.
This year, I got through the prom season with very few tears shed.
One of the boys who came in asked for blue flowers, to match his date’s dress. I told him how I once wore a blue rose to my own prom. I told him about the pale blue dress, and how everyone said I looked like a bride. I told him how my friends all got drunk in the bathroom, but I wouldn’t drink their smuggled booze.
The alcohol was actually someone’s father’s moonshine, brewed in the bathtub from who knows what. Two of my friends threw up right on the dance floor. Everyone ran outside because of the smell. Then the DJ pointed the speakers at the open gym doors, and we all danced the last songs of the night outside, under the stars.
I’d almost forgotten about those last songs.
Time rearranges itself sometimes, like a road map that’s folded like a paper fan. With the folds, two cities miles apart come together and touch, just like how anniversaries pull us back through time and link with previous ones, until everything’s happening at once.
In the flower shop, the boy who ordered the blue corsage just looked at me like I was a weird older lady and he couldn’t understand why I was even talking to him, much less talking about the philosophy of time.
When he left, I realized I was smiling.
My memories of Jonathan seemed to hold more joy than previous years. It was as though time had bleached out the sorrow, the way the sun faded the blue dye in my rose.
Chapter 21
Megan leans over me, putting the finishing touches on my hair.
It’s August now.
I hardly think about Luca at all. But I haven’t been on any other dates.
Tonight is the annual Baker Street Block Party. We barricade the street at either end of a five-block span, and people from all over the city come to enjoy a party that goes until midnight.
Lots of people dress up for the party in summer-themed costumes, or at least get their faces painted—adults alongside kids.
Megan and I have been going as “flower girls” every year, and tonight is no exception. I already braided her hair and twisted the braids around her head in a crown, and she did the same for me. Now we’re decorating our heads, adding more fresh-cut flowers than most people would think is reasonable.
“It’s getting heavy,” I say, complaining.
“I think we could get a few more flowers on your head,” Megan says.
We’re in the flower shop, and Rory is sitting nearby, reading gossip magazines that are several months old.
Without even looking up from the magazine, Rory says, “You two look perfect. Let’s go eat.”
Rory has put some flowers in her hair, but just a few daisies stuffed into a bun. She would never let us touch her hair, much less braid it into a crown and stuff in an unreasonable number of flowers.
We finish up with our hair, switch off the lights, lock up, and walk out into the crowd.
For the next few hours, the three of us shop for beaded jewelry and tie-dyed clothing at the usual assortment of street vendors that appear at all open-air festivals. Then we sample the many delicious deep-fried foods, including a battered, deep-fried Mars bar.
Rory says she’s tired, and anxious from people jostling her in the dark, so she goes home not long after sunset.
My sister and I make our way over to the band stage and stake out a prime spot for our blanket.
We’re just sitting down when a familiar figure tosses a gray wool blanket next to ours and takes a seat.
Luca Lowell is sitting right beside me. The sun has set, and his features are only lit by the street lamps, but every cell in my body knows it’s him.
I’ve glimpsed Luca around from time to time over the last few months, but I always run in the opposite direction to avoid him.
I turn to Megan, keeping my back to him, and whisper, “Meenie. Don’t look now, but you-know-who is behind me. Roll up the blanket and let’s go.”
“Just talk to him,” she says, her voice at regular volume. “You can’t avoid Luca forever.”
I hear him say, “Is that Teenie and Meenie under all those flowers?”
I slowly turn around, a smile hardening on my face.
“Hi, Luca. How are you?”
One look into his pale blue eyes, and my breath is taken away.
“That really is you,” he says. “Nice flowers. Hey, Megan. You guys look… cute.”
I reply, “Cute? That means a lot, coming from a manly guy who doesn’t usually say words like that.”
He chuckles, looking down at his long legs as he stretches them out in front of himself on the gray blanket.