Page 8 of What August Heard
I got out of the car.
From the driveway, I could see the whole family on the patio. They were all gathered around the big table, mid-brunch. Jennifer was laughing at something. Douglas was leaning back in his chair the way he did when he was relaxed and in charge at the same time. Poppy was bent over something on the table, both hands busy, completely absorbed.
And then there was Fletcher.
He was sitting upright at the far end of the table, saying something. I couldn’t hear him from here. But I could see the person sitting right next to him.
She was tall, even sitting down. Slender. The kind of put-together that takes real effort and looks like it doesn’t. She had on a wide-brimmed hat and a peach dress that caught the light, and she was sitting like the patio, the ocean, and everything around it had always belonged to her and she was simply allowing the rest of us to use it.
Callie came around the front of the car and stood next to me.
We both looked at the patio.
“Oh no,” Callie said.
“Oh no indeed.” I said.
I caught myself. “I mean— well. He’s single. He was single. He can date whoever he wants.”
“Not when he’s hopelessly in love with you.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, okay.” Callie held her hands up. “You want me to say he doesn’t love you, I’ll say it. He doesn’t love you.” She paused. “But his eyes are going to say something completely different the second he sees you. And you’re going to see it. And then you’re going to look at me and pretend you didn’t.”
“That is the cheesiest thing you have ever said.”
“That look he gets,” Callie said, ignoring me completely. “Like he is two seconds away from grabbing you and kissing you like a soldier who just got home after a year away. Everyone has seenthat look, August. You have seen that look. So don’t stand here in this driveway and pretend you haven’t.”
I looked back at the patio.
Fletcher had picked up a pitcher and was filling the girl’s glass with an orangy drink. She tilted her head toward him when he poured, and said something, and he nodded.
“Do you think that’s just orange juice?” I said.
Callie squinted. “Maybe.”
“I hope it’s a mimosa. I need a mimosa, Callie. I need at least one mimosa if I’m going to sit at that table and act like a normal person.”
Callie put her hand on my shoulder. She didn’t say anything.
Then Jennifer looked up from the table.
She saw us in the driveway and said something to the group. Every head turned. Jennifer raised her hand and waved. Fletcher was the second person to wave. I lifted my hand and waved back, and I kept my eyes on the girl in the hat.
She was looking right at me.
I couldn’t make out her expression from here. I just knew she was looking.
By the time we got to the patio, everyone was standing. Everyone, except Fletcher’s girlfriend.
Jennifer reached me first. She pulled me in and held on, both arms wrapped all the way around, the kind of hug that doesn’t leave any room for you to feel like an outsider. She smelled like sunscreen and coffee, and like a mom.
I felt my whole body unclench by about thirty percent.
“You brought flowers,” Jennifer said, pulling back and looking at the bundle in my arms.
“And donut pillows.” I held out the tin. “Still warm.”
