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Charles says nothing and merely stares. I nervously smooth out my blouse. I wonder what he sees, what about me is different to him.
"Nice to see you," he grunts before stalking off to his bedroom.
"Oh dear," Mrs. Kaznyck sighs. "Go talk to him."
"I should be getting back," I say, and Mrs. Kaznyck shakes her head.
"What's your father's work number, dear?" Since I know that he'd find out sooner or later, I tell her, and enter Charles's bedroom.
At one point, he shared the room with Benji, but he now has the place to himself. One half of the room is filled with tearouts from movie magazines, while the other half is filled with various Lillian High School Fighting Cardinals memorabilia.
"I really wish I could say I was happy to see you, Alice, but you've been kind of a royal bitch for the past four years," Charles says by way of greeting. I flinch. I wasn't expecting him to still be angry.
"The Case got third place at the film festival that summer," he continues. "Not that you'd care. My other films went farther." I take note of the little gold trophies on his dresser.
"I didn't choose this," I explain. "I came home one day and my dad already had the house packed up. He threw out the phone books. He yelled at me whenever I tried to call information. I'm sorry; I gave up. But I promise you, I never forgot."
Charles lets out a heavy sigh, and finally looks up at me. "I always knew you wouldn't. That's why I had Mom send you the Carnation thing. We thought—we knew you missed us."
I smile, and sit down on the bed next to him. It seems only natural that I take his hand, and I hold it for a long time, neither of us saying anything.
From the kitchen, we hear Mrs. Kaznyck's raised voice. "Louis, she put down the deposit with her own money. I have already reserved her a spot in the program and she's been assigned an escort. If you all try to back out of this now, then you owe me four hundred dollars." Charles squeezes my hand, and I keep listening. "That's what I thought. She will be staying the night here and I will drive her back to Lima in the morning. Thank you."
I quickly drop Charles's hand as Mrs. Kaznyck enters the room.
"I don't trust you going back on that Greyhound bus this late, so you're more than welcome to stay the night in Jen's old room," she says. "I think Peg's pajamas will fit you."
I get up and hug Mrs. Kaznyck hard.
"Thank you," I whisper, and she gently pats my back.
-x-
I spend the rest of the evening wondering when I'll get to see the rest of them—Cary, Preston, Martin, and Joe. Charles receives half a dozen phone calls before and after dinner, but no matter who's on the other line, he tells them no, they cannot come over tonight.
Mr. Kaznyck is as friendly as ever, asking me if I'm excited for the Carnation Festival and where I'm going to college in the fall. He proudly states that Charles is headed off to Ohio State at Columbus on a football scholarship. I congratulate him over dessert, which his parents decline in favor of Dan Rather.
"Yeah, my academics aren't that great, so I knew it was the only way I could get in," Charles explains. "I'll have to play football all four years, I think, but I'm going to major in film. It's not California, but I'll get out there eventually."
"Did you see E.T.?" I ask.
"Is that even a question?" Charles says through a mouthful of chocolate pie. "Joe and Cary and I saw it about eight times. Joe cried like a little bitch every time, too."
Of course Joe did. So did I. Half my paychecks went towards that movie. The way Elliot was connected to E.T. is the way Joe and I were connected to the alien.
"How is Joe?" I ask. I'm not sure if I really want the answer.
Charles shrugs. "He's fine. He paints and sculpts all the time. I had him start doing backdrops for some of my films. All he talks about is RISD. Oh, and he's got some redhead sophomore hanging after him, but I don't think he's interested."
I scowl despite myself. It's not like I've spent the past four years being pure and chaste, but I just can't picture Joe with anyone that way. Charles chuckles.
"What about you?" I ask. "Girlfriend?"
Charles smirks and leans back in his chair. "Yeah, Sarah Morgan. She'll be in the Carnation too. I'm her escort."
I nod and then blush, thinking about how I held his hand earlier. Charles gives me a sympathetic smile, and I know that he doesn't think anything of it.
"What do escorts do?"
"We're glorified dancing partners," Charles sighs. "We stand by you supportively while you curtsey to the audience."
I shudder delicately. "I don't curtsey."
"We'll have to practice, then," Mrs. Kaznyck speaks up from the couch. Charles and I roll our eyes simultaneously.
"Sorry, but it's 7:30, and I promised Sarah I'd meet her at Olsen's," Charles says, scraping his chair back and reaching for his car keys. I open my mouth to volunteer to come along, but I then realize that this is one of those couple things. I'm not invited.
I retire to the sewing room with one of Charles's old yearbooks. I look up Sarah first. Even when she was thirteen, she looked like Jean Shrimpton, and now the resemblance is even more pronounced. Preston's still ghostly pale with a mop of black hair. Martin looks older than anyone in their grade, and he's outgrown his glasses. Cary's braces are gone, but his buck teeth are still pronounced. The few girls I hung around have lost their baby fat and their atrocious 1970s feathered haircuts.
And then there's Joe. His hair still falls in his eyes, but his smile is as wide and white as ever.
He's gained some confidence since I left.
-x-
Mrs. Kaznyck wakes me up about a half-hour after Charles and the boys leave for school. The whole drive back to Lima she outlines the Carnation Festival for me while occasionally throwing in a safety lecture.
"The Festival is during the last weekend in April, which is a little over two months away," Mrs. Kaznyck says. "Like I said, I'll pick you up and take you to Lillian. I shudder to think of the people you met on that Greyhound bus."
I shrug and stare out the window. The farther I move away from Lillian, the worse I feel. I can't stand the thought of returning to my boring school and lackluster job. If I packed up and left today, my friends wouldn't miss me—and I wouldn't miss them.
However, it's Louis's reaction when I get home that makes me the most nervous.
"Thank you so, so much, Mrs. Kaznyck," I say as she drops me off in front of our one-story. "I'm so sorry you had to drive all the way out here."
"It's no problem," she says. "I needed to go to Sears anyway. The twins need some new shorts." She waves goodbye and I stay rooted to the sidewalk, wanting to run after her.
When I finally enter the house, Louis is waiting for me with a scowl on his face.
I think that Louis always thought that getting out of Lillian would bring us closer together. For me, it widened the rift between us. He doesn't drink as much, but we're still as estranged now as we were in 1979.
He staggers over to me, and I think he's going to hit me, but instead he sighs, and all the fight goes out of him.
"You're eighteen," he says. "I knew that it'd happen someday."
We stare at each other for a long time, and then I retreat to my room.
