“Oh yes. My parents decorated their golf cart. They’ll be along any minute.”
They stood in companionable silence for a bit as girls on horses and a man in a huge old convertible made their way past. People cheered and clapped and screamed, more for the sheer excuse to do so than because the entries were anything spectacular. Children ran up and down the parade route, shrieking their excitement and waving their arms so the people in the parade would throw them candy. She tried to imagine this sort of spectacle in her old neighborhood, but she might as well have been trying to envision a parade of elephants or spaceships traversing down the main drag of her former residence. For one thing, aliens and pachyderms would never make it past the gatehouse. For another, her old neighbors only did things with elegance, distinction, class—a hodgepodge, anything-goes parade like the one she was watching would have caused horror and dismay among the people she’d once called friends.
She felt a little foot nudge her in the back of the leg and looked down to see Christopher kicking absentmindedly as he took in the sights, his brow knit together, his face serious. She tried not to think too much about whether he looked like Everett. He was all decked out in red, white, and blue, as were most of the other kids. Her own girls had cobbled together white T-shirts and denim shorts at the last minute, and her mother had come to the rescue with red-and-white polka-dot ribbons for their ponytails, completing their patriotic ensembles. In her old neighborhood, she’d have planned weeks in advance, ordered special coordinated—heaven forbid they matched!—outfits for them to wear. This year she hadn’t given it a second thought.
A man on a unicycle rolled by them, throwing candy out of a fanny pack as he went. Bryte caught a piece of gum, unwrapped it, and handed it to Christopher, who looked like he’d hit the jackpot as he greedily stuffed it into his mouth. “Do you remember doing this as kids?” Bryte asked when she turned back toward the action. Everett still hadn’t been by.
“Oh, sure,” Jencey said, as if it was old hat, unwilling to admit all the memories the event was stirring in her. So many memories she faced each day, all coming at her like a mental assault.
Her parents came by in the golf cart with Pilar and Zara waving shyly from the backseat as they passed. Jencey attempted to wolf-whistle and saw Pilar duck her head in embarrassment, her face taking on a rosy blush. Zara hollered, “Mom! Hey, Mom!” and waved more furiously. Jencey laughed and waved back just as furiously. Zara’s ribbon had come untied on one pigtail, but the other was hanging in there, giving her a lopsided look.
She spotted the man—the one who’d saved the little boy—heading toward them, a meek and uncertain smile on his face. The unlikely hero who’d teased her about being named after a legendary one. She gave him a little wave. He looked momentarily surprised, then waved back and headed their way with a little more confidence in his step. He stopped when he got to them. “Hello,” he greeted them. “I was hoping I’d see you guys here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it!” Bryte said.
He waited until he caught Jencey’s eye. “Hi,” he said, and it felt like a special greeting just for her.
She blushed in spite of herself. “How are you?” she asked. She hadn’t seen him since the incident and hoped he was doing OK after what had happened. She hadn’t been able to get it too far from her mind, and she hadn’t been the one to pull the child out of that pool. She’d heard Cutter was not out of the woods.
He shrugged. “Hanging in there.” He gestured at the paraders going by. “Just celebrating our nation’s birth.”
She grinned in response. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” She knew all their minds had to be on what they’d witnessed, in spite of the forced celebration. It was the only reason she wanted to go to the pool today, to be around the people who’d been there that day. “Do you come every year?” she asked, just to keep the conversation going.
“Yeah, my wife—Debra—she loved all this stuff. So the kids think it’s a requirement to come.” He rolled his eyes, and she could sympathize with his reticence to be somewhere people were having a good time. It took a lot out of you: celebrating when you wanted to do anything but.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.
He looked at her and squinted his eyes in confusion. “Loss?”
“Your wife? She’s um . . . deceased?” She winced at her words. First she brought up the little boy, then his wife’s death. Way to keep things positive. She was definitely rusty at conversing with the opposite sex.
Thankfully he didn’t look upset. Instead, he surprised her by laughing. “Debra? Dead?” He shook his head. “I might’ve wished her dead sometimes, but no, she’s very much alive. We’re just living apart while she ‘figures out what she wants out of life.’” He made air quotes with his fingers as he said the last part, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He gave her a meaningful look. “Turns out she’s not so sure she ever wanted any of this life, after all.” He gave her a “what are you gonna do?” shrug just as Bryte broke into whoops and applause, startling them both.
Jencey turned in time to see Everett ride by on a mountain bike bedecked in streamers and paper flags. He was wearing an Uncle Sam top hat, which he tipped in Bryte and Christopher’s direction.
“See, Daddy?” Bryte yelled and pointed, as if Christopher could miss him. From his stroller, his somber expression changed, and he also began waving and hollering. When he smiled, dimples creased his cheeks and his eyes danced. He clapped his hands together, marveling at the sight of his dad.
Jencey clapped as well. When her eyes locked with Everett’s, she smiled at him. He didn’t tip his hat to her, and she didn’t expect him to. He belonged to someone else now. He rode past her, but she didn’t watch him go.
CAILEY
I didn’t want to go back to the pool ever again, but Zell said I had to. She said the Fourth of July was going to be fun and told me all about the stuff they do, which I thought sounded lame. But I wasn’t going to tell her that, seeing as how she was giving me a place to stay. She gave me a pep talk about conquering my fears, and how I couldn’t avoid water for the rest of my life. She said that the longer I waited, the harder it was going to be, and the more I was going to let the fear own me. She said that part of growing up is facing your fears and doing the things you didn’t want to do. Then she got a funny look on her face, like maybe her knee was bothering her. It bothered her a lot, but whenever I told her she should go to the doctor, she just shook her head.
“Are you OK?” I asked her.
“Oh, sure,” she said, and made her face look right again. “Now go get your bathing suit on.”
Before I went upstairs, I said, “Zell?”
And she said, “Hmm?” but she sounded like she was thinking about something else.
And I said, “You don’t make growing up sound like all that much fun.”
Then she laughed and said, “Well, honey, sometimes it’s not.” Then she shooed me upstairs.