The rest of the afternoon crawled by, with only two more customers, both of whom wanted hot beverages. When the hand on the clock above the microwave started hovering near five, I began the routine of shutting the snack bar down for the day—wiping down the counters, totaling the register and collecting the receipts, cleaning and turning off the coffeemaker. I was just about to pull down the grate and lock it when I heard, “Wait! Are you still open?”
A moment later, a red-faced (though not in Fred’s league) middle-aged man came running up to the counter, carrying a little boy piggyback. “Sorry about that,” he wheezed, as he set his son down and leaned on the counter for a moment, taking a breath. “We were trying to get here before five.” The kid, his head just clearing the top of the counter, regarded me solemnly. “Curtis is missing his shovel, and I think you keep the lost and found here?”
“Oh,” I said, a little surprised but nonetheless relieved that they didn’t want me to turn all the equipment back on and make a milk shake or some fries. “Sure.” I pulled the box out and set it on the counter.
The father and son sifted through the items, and, as I watched, the kid’s face broke into a huge smile as he triumphantly lifted a red plastic shovel from the box. “Thanks so much,” the dad said to me as he easily slung his son up on his back again. “I don’t know what he was going to do without it.”
I just nodded and smiled as they went, glancing into the box once more as I put it away. It struck me that each of these items, discarded and left behind, had once been special, important to the people that they belonged to. And even though I couldn’t see it, all it would take was for someone to find them again for them to be restored. I took off the Teachers Do It With Class! sweatshirt and folded it carefully before placing it back in the box and closing up for the night.
chapter fifteen
“I CAN’T DO THIS.” I STOOD OUTSIDE THE SNACK BAR, NEXT TO Elliot, staring at the crowds of people who had assembled on the beach, facing the screen at the water’s edge, spreading out blankets and towels in the fading light. Overhead, the stars were beginning to emerge, and the moon was almost full, hanging over the lake and doubling itself in the reflection. It would have been a perfect night to see a movie outdoors. But, instead, it appeared that I was going to have an aneurysm.
“You’ll be fine,” Elliot said, in what I’m sure he thought was a reassuring voice, but was actually just his regular voice, only deeper. He turned to Lucy, who was frowning at the popcorn machine we were using for the night. “Won’t she?”
“Okay, I have no idea how to work this,” Lucy said, poking at the metal contraption at the top. She looked at Elliot. “Do you?”
“Seriously,” I said, and I could hear that my voice was a little strangled. I leaned back against the counter for support, and even though I could practically feel Lucy rolling her eyes at me, I no longer cared. I was pretty sure I was about to pass out. Which didn’t seem like a bad idea, considering the circumstances. If I passed out, I wouldn’t have to introduce the movie.
“Are you okay?” Elliot asked, peering at me. “You look a little green.”
“Taylor!” I looked across the sand to see my mother waving at me. She had set up camp right in the center of the beach, on our enormous white beach blanket. Gelsey was talking to my dad, who was sprawled out on the blanket—he believed that beach chairs were for wimps and the elderly. Warren was next to him reading a book, aiming a flashlight at the text. They had all insisted on coming, even though I had tried to dissuade them. It was actually a little embarrassing to hear my mom going on about it, and it only served to highlight how few opportunities I’d given my parents to brag about me. We’d all been going to Gelsey’s dance recitals forever, and it seemed like we were always attending some mock trial competition or ceremony where Warren was winning yet another award for excellence. But aside from the mandatory stuff, like junior-high graduation, I’d never really had an event of my own.
I waved back, wondering how much it would cost to bribe Warren to do this for me. He had no problem speaking in front of people, and had given his valedictorian address without even breaking a sweat.
“Did it come with instructions?” Elliot asked, leaning over to examine the popper that Lucy was still looking at dubiously.
“Can you do this for me?” I asked him, now desperate. “Because I think I’m about to collapse.”
“No,” Lucy said quickly, shaking her head. “Fred doesn’t want him out there. In case, you know, people remember him from last summer and leave.”
Since Fred was on a fishing trip, I didn’t think he had to know about it, but I didn’t mention that. I wasn’t about to ask Lucy—I knew she would say no—so I just nodded and tried to swallow as I looked down at the note cards in my hands. I’d found out as much as I could about the movie online, but the neatly written, bullet-pointed list of facts no longer seemed very helpful.
Leland, our projectionist for the evening, ambled over. “So what’s the plan?” he asked. “We ready to do this?”
I looked at the snack bar clock in a panic. I thought I had more time to figure out what I was going to say, and also remember how to breathe. But it was almost eight thirty. I caught Lucy’s eye and she arched an eyebrow at me, her expression a challenge.
“Okay,” I said, and part of me was wondering why I was saying that, since I really felt like at any moment I might throw up.
“Sweet,” Leland said as he loped off to the makeshift projection booth at the other end of the beach.
“Good luck,” Elliot said. He came with me as I started my slow walk across the beach. “Don’t forget to tell people when the next one is. And that the concession stand will only be open for another half an hour. Oh, and that they should turn all cellular devices off.”
“Right,” I murmured, my head swimming, and my heart pounding so hard that I was sure the people in the front row would be able to hear it.
“Go for it,” Elliot prompted, giving me a small nudge when, a moment later, I still hadn’t moved.
“Right,” I repeated. I took a big breath and forced one foot in front of the other until I was standing in the center of the projection screen. “Hi,” I started. But not many people were looking at me. I would have thought this would be reassuring, but it wasn’t, because I knew it meant that I was going to have to keep talking, and more loudly. “Hi,” I repeated, louder this time, and I saw heads turn toward me, expectant. From the center of the crowd, I saw my brother switch off his flashlight. “Um, I’m Taylor. Edwards. And I work at the snack bar.” I looked down at the notes in my hands, which were shaking slightly, and I could feel panic start to rise, as I heard the silence stretch on. “Welcome to the movies. Under the stars,” I finally managed to say. I looked up and saw just a sea of eyes staring back at me, and my panic increased. I could feel beads of sweat start to form on my forehead. “It’s What About Bob, tonight. Which… Bill Murray,” I said, seeing some of my bullet points and grabbing onto them. “1991. Old school. Comedy. Classic.” I wanted nothing more than to flee, but for some horrible reason, I was also feeling like I was glued to the spot. From the direction of the snack bar, I could hear a faint pop-pop-pop and realized, somewhere in the part of my brain that was still functioning, that Lucy must have figured out the popcorn machine.
“So…” I looked at the crowd again, many of whom were now regarding me with skepticism, my family with alarm. And I saw, in the back near the projection booth, as clearly as if they had a spotlight shining on them, Henry and Davy. Henry was looking at me with an expression of pity that was somehow worse than Warren’s look of horror. I looked down at my notes again, my vision blurring. I couldn’t seem to make any words out, and I could feel the silence stretching on and on, and my panic growing, until I was pretty sure I was about to cry.
“So thanks so much for coming!” Miraculously, Elliot was by my side, smiling at the crowd like nothing was wrong. “Snack bar’s only open for another thirty minutes, so don’t forget
to stop by for popcorn. And please turn off your cell phones. Enjoy the show!”
There was a faint smattering of applause, and a moment later, the FBI warning was flashing blue on the screen. Elliot pulled me away, toward the snack bar, and my legs were shaking so hard, I felt like I was about to fall over.
“I guess I should have listened to you when you said you weren’t good at public speaking,” Elliot said, shooting me a sympathetic look that was meant to make me feel better but somehow made everything worse. I knew I should be able to move on, laugh it off, at least let him know how grateful I was for the rescue. But instead, I could feel the shame creeping over me, and his acknowledgement of how terrible I had been wasn’t helping.
“Thanks,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze. I knew I needed to get out of there, and as fast as possible. “I just have to… I’ll be right back.”
“Taylor?” I heard Elliot call after me, sounding puzzled, but I didn’t care. I speed-walked past the people who were now laughing at Bill Murray’s antics and headed straight for the parking lot. I’d just drive myself home, and in the morning, I would call Jillian and quit.
“Going somewhere?” I whipped around and saw Lucy standing by the Dumpsters, a garbage bag in her hand. She tossed the bag into the trash and then turned to face me, arms folded across her chest.
“No,” I stammered, wondering why I felt so caught out, since I was going to quit in the morning. “I just…”
“Because it would be a really shitty thing to do if you just left me and Elliot. Plus, isn’t your family here?” Lucy was staring right at me, as if daring me to deny any of this. I couldn’t help noticing that whenever she did decide to talk to me, it was generally to point out what a horrible person I was being. “But I’m sure that you were probably getting something from your car,” she continued, dropping the lid of the Dumpster and letting it fall with a bang. “Otherwise, it would be awful if you took off and left, with no explanation, when people were waiting for you.” Even in the dimness of the parking lot—it was almost totally dark now—I could see the hurt in Lucy’s expression, and I knew what she meant, and that she was no longer talking about what was happening now.
“I…” I started, and it was like every word was a challenge, like speaking them was going through an obstacle course. “I did a really bad job,” I finally managed to say. “I don’t know how I can go back there.”
Lucy let out a long breath, and shook her head. “Taylor, it’s okay,” she said, and her voice was gentler than I’d heard it yet this summer. “Nobody cares. Nobody will even remember.” She gave me a small smile, and then turned and strolled back to the concession stand. I looked at my car for a moment, but leaving no longer seemed like it would make me feel any better. In fact, I had the distinct impression that it would make me feel worse.
So I turned and walked back to the concession stand, ducking through the employee entrance. Elliot was ringing someone up for two sodas and a popcorn, and he smiled when he saw me. I busied myself straightening the cups, but it didn’t seem like the customers even noticed me—never mind remembered me as the girl who thoroughly messed up the movie’s introduction.
Lucy met my eye across the concession stand, where she was manning the popcorn machine, and she gave me a small nod, almost imperceptible unless you were watching for it.
Half an hour later, we were locking up the snack bar, and all the people on the beach seemed to be having a good time. The picture had only slid out of focus twice so far, which Elliot told me was much better than Leland’s track record the previous summer.
Lucy had disappeared a few minutes before, and now emerged from the bathroom wearing a jean miniskirt and even more eyeliner than usual. “Wow,” Elliot said, as I yanked on the padlock to make sure it was clicked into place. “I mean, you know. Where are you, um… going?”
“Hot date,” Lucy said, as her phone beeped. She pulled it out and smiled so wide at what she saw, she flashed the dimple in her cheek. “I’ll see you guys,” she said, meeting my eye for a moment before she turned and headed toward the parking lot, and I registered that I had been included, for the first time, in this farewell.
Elliot was still staring after Lucy, his expression wistful, and I yanked on the lock once again, even though it was clearly secured. “Are you going to stay and watch the rest of the movie?” I asked, and he turned back to me, adjusting his glasses hurriedly.
“No,” he said. “I like to see a movie from the beginning. And I think I’ve missed too much.”
I held up my note cards. “I have the plot here if you want to be filled in. Straight from Wikipedia.”
Elliot gave me a faint smile at that. “Thanks anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow, Taylor.”
I nodded, and as I watched him go, realized that I would. That I was staying, that maybe for the first time ever, I hadn’t gone running away when things got hard.
I held my flip-flops in my hand as I picked my way across the beach, ducking low to try and avoid blocking people’s views. I reached my family’s blanket and settled down into the spot next to my dad. My mom was sitting toward the front of the blanket, her back to me, next to Gelsey, who was stretching while she watched. Warren’s book was forgotten next to him and he appeared utterly absorbed, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes glued to the screen. I dropped my shoes on the sand, and then sat down, brushing my hand over the blanket to make sure I hadn’t tracked any sand onto it. When I had run out of stalling techniques, I looked over at my dad, his face illuminated by the moonlight and by the flickering light from the screen. But it wasn’t judgmental or disappointed or any of the things I’d been afraid that I would see.
“You’ll get ’em next time, kid,” he said as he reached out and ruffled my hair. He nodded at the screen and smiled. “Have you seen this before? It’s pretty funny.” He turned back to the movie, laughing at the sight of Bill Murray strapped to the mast of a ship.
I leaned back against my hands and stretched out my legs in front of me, and turned my attention to the film. And by the time things were winding down, I was laughing out loud, along with everybody else.
chapter sixteen
“TAYLOR. RISE AND SHINE. UP AND ADAM.”
I groaned, not only at my father’s bad joke—when I was younger I’d misunderstood the phrase “up and at ’em” and had asked my father who this “Adam” character was, to his lasting enjoyment—but because it was a Sunday morning, it was my day off, and I wanted to spend it sleeping in. “No,” I mumbled into my pillow.
“Come on,” my father said, and I heard the rasp of metal on metal as he pushed open my curtains, the decorative rings sliding on the iron bar, and it suddenly got a lot brighter in my room. “Time to get up.”
“What?” I asked, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, not understanding what was happening. “No. Why?”
“Surprise,” he said, and then he tickled the bottoms of my feet, which were sticking out from under the sheet. I felt myself giggling uncontrollably—that had always been my most ticklish spot. I yanked my feet under the covers as I heard my father leave the room. “Meet you outside,” he called. “Five minutes.”
I tried to keep my eyes shut, and attempted to return to the dream that now seemed very far away—but I knew it was futile. Between the light streaming into the room and the tickling, I was now wide awake. I opened my eyes, sat up, and checked my watch. It was nine a.m. So much for a day off.
I had gone back to work yesterday following the movie debacle, and it had been fine—Lucy continued to be slightly more cordial to me, and nobody brought up how terrible I had been. But I was still happy to have a day away from the site of my most recent humiliation, and had planned on spending it sleeping until noon, and then maybe sunbathing out on the dock while reading a magazine. But that was clearly not going to happen.
Ten minutes later, I walked through the kitchen, glancing briefly at the calendar as I went, looking at the days that had been crossed off, a little unable to believe that
it was June already. My dad was on the porch, pacing around, and he appeared entirely too awake for how early it was, especially considering that he’d been sleeping in lately, and usually hadn’t been up when I’d left for work.
“What’s the surprise?” I asked, as I joined him on the porch and looked around. I saw nothing except my father and the cars in the driveway. I was slowly getting the feeling that I’d been duped.
“Well,” my dad said, rubbing his hands together and smiling. I noticed that his clothing had relaxed very slightly—rather than a button-down shirt, he was wearing a polo shirt with his khakis, and ancient boat shoes. “It’s not so much of a surprise, per se. It’s more of an outing.”
I looked at him. “An outing.”
“You got it,” he said. “We’re going to get breakfast.” He looked at me, clearly waiting for a reaction, but all I was thinking was that it was very early, and I was awake when I didn’t want to be, and had been promised a surprise. “You need a good breakfast,” he said in his best persuade-the-jury voice. “It might be a big day.” When I still didn’t move, he smiled at me. “My treat,” he added.
Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting across from my father at the Pocono Coffee Shop, aka the diner, at a table by the window. The diner did not seem to have changed at all in the time I’d been gone. It was wood-paneled, with red booths covered with cracked leather. The cream on the tables was in squeezy syrup bottles, something that had provided endless entertainment for me and Warren when we were younger. There were framed pictures of Lake Phoenix though the ages covering the walls, and the one next to us showed a beauty pageant of some sort, girls with forties hair and sashes across their bathing suits, smiling at the camera as they lined up along the beach, all in high, stacked heels.
“What looks good?” my father said as he opened his large, plastic-covered menu. I opened mine as well, and saw that nothing on the menu seemed different since I’d last seen it, even though I was pretty sure that in the past five years, there had been some important discoveries about cholesterol and saturated fats. But maybe the management figured that adding healthier options would hurt their reputation—after all, the sign by the door read WALK IN. ROLL OUT.