I find the cherry tree planted for Braden. I offer an apology for not understanding exactly how impactful his life and death would be when I took those awful photographs for the newspaper. Mallory still grieves for him and my heart aches for her.
Warhol and I walk some more and we come to Stephen’s tree. The leafy magnolia brings tears to my eyes and I can barely stand to look at it. Such promise. Such loss. Warhol gives the tree a respectful sniff and lies down underneath it. He did love Stephen so. We all did. I pledge to come back in the spring to see the tree in full flower.
After visiting each tree, I pull myself away and head back to the Center. I hate that there’s a whole damn forest out there. When Warhol and I leave the garden and return to where Mallory’s waiting for me, she simply gathers me in a hug, because there’s nothing left to say.
*
Mallory picks me up for the screening since my folks are driving separately a little later. They’re wiped out from their flight and need to nap. We’re under strict orders to save them prime seats, just in case Owen forgot to reserve them. I feel a spark of excitement as we approach the reception before the film. I wasn’t at NSHS long, but I feel an unbreakable bond with so many of the students, an undeniable closeness that can’t be tempered by distance or time.
I hear the throbbing beat of classic rap music emanating from the room where the reception’s being held and I have to laugh.
“Sounds like Kent’s already here,” I say.
It’s been eight months since we’ve been in the same place together as he couldn’t make it to dinner last night. We’ve spoken scads of times and have written a million emails and texts but we keep missing each other. He came to London in April for Easter on a family trip but I was in Tokyo for my dad’s latest exhibition, a McMansion built from rolls of paper towels and gallon jugs of Windex, called Disturbia and inspired by our time in North Shore.
At the mention of Kent’s name, Mallory shrugs noncommittally, looking away from me. I thought they were pals. They worked so hard to bring the Gatekeepers to fruition. Plus, they’ll be at Princeton together in a few weeks. I’d hoped they might hang out more.
“By the way, Mal, when are you telling your mum you’re not majoring in finance?” I ask. “You’re opting for psychology, right?”
“Yes, and I plan to tell her...when I receive my Princeton diploma.”
We both laugh. I knew she’d figure out a strategy for dealing with her mother eventually.
Owen runs up to me and practically hug-tackles me. I forgot what it’s like to be in the country of aggressive hugging. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.
“I am so very proud of you, my friend,” I exclaim. “You found your purpose.”
“‘Your purpose in life is to find your purpose and give your whole heart and soul to it.’ That’s a Gautama Buddha quote but I feel like I’m livin’ it.” His face is wreathed in smiles as we talk. We catch up briefly but there are so many people vying for his attention that he’s whisked away after a few minutes.
I can’t even get near Jasper. The media covering the event have swarmed him and it’s one flashbulb going off after the other. After financing Owen’s film, he figured out what he wanted to do for a living. He (and his dad) started a production company and he’s well on his way to becoming a movie mogul. He’s recently started splitting his time between here and Hollywood. His pants are covered with tiny embroidered film reels and the ladies are lined up a mile deep to talk to him. He spots me and gives me a small salute, calling, “Hey, Simian!”
Only Jasper can make a walking cane look sexy.
I’m on my way over to say hello to Owen’s parents when I’m swept off my feet and spun in a circle by some random tall guy who reminds me of the gent from Grey’s Anatomy.
Yet he’s a complete stranger, so I’m none too happy about the manhandling.
“What in the bloody hell?” I sputter.
Who does this person think he is?
“I can’t believe you’re here!” he exclaims, bouncing up and down. The voice is so familiar, but it takes me a second to connect the voice to body.
Holy shit.
I say, “Well, I guess I know who’s getting the Most Changed award at the class reunion, Kent. Christ on a bike, did you manipulate genetics as part of your senior project?”
“Growth spurt,” he explains. “I grew nine inches and gained sixty pounds since last summer. Mom always said I’d be a late bloomer.”
“Yet you didn’t say anything to me? Not a word?”
“Dude, you see me every week on FaceTime. You didn’t notice?”
“I thought the screen was distorted.” I turn to Mallory. “Are you totally blown away, too? Or have you two even seen each other since graduation?”
“You didn’t tell her yet,” Kent says. When he grins, I detect traces of the boy I met a year ago. I’m gob-smacked looking up at him now, instead of looking down, seeing a man instead of a child.
“I wanted that to be a surprise,” she replies all coquettishly, taking his hand.
The slowest horse to cross the finish line is...me.
“Whoa. Kent. Oh, my God! This is the guy you’ve been all squidgy and secretive about for the past few months.”
“Didn’t want to jinx it,” she says. “Was waiting to see if it was the real deal.”
“And?” I prod.
Kent shrugs. “Eh, we’ll see what happens in college.”
Mallory smacks him. “You tell her it’s the real deal.”
Kent says, “No,” while nodding his head yes.
We all circulate and catch up, yet I’m drawn to the interaction between Kent and Mallory. In so many ways, this pairing makes perfect sense. I wonder if they’ll make it after they leave North Shore?
And then I wonder what making it would even look like.
Because they’re together and happy in the present; the future really doesn’t matter; right now is enough.
A bit later, we’re called into the theater and we sit. Mallory’s in the middle between Kent and me. Theo’s on my left and Owen’s to Kent’s right. Mum blows me a kiss from the seats Owen reserved for them and my dad puts his arm around her. Returning to England was the right call and we’ve sorted ourselves out again as a family, which is such a relief.
I’m not meant to be a rebel.
The lights dim and the curtain rises. I take Theo’s hand as Mallory reaches for mine. Glancing back and forth, I see our whole row is connected, all of us holding on to each other, grasping hands or linking arms, not because we have to, but because we can.
The film begins with a long shot of the school, with white text scrolling over the green of the lawn and ivy-covered walls. I laugh when I realize that of course Owen would go for a Star Wars IV crawl-opening.
Of course he would.
The print on the screen reads:
To Whom It May Concern:
When you grow up in North Shore, there’s a sentiment that you’re not allowed to have problems, that you can’t be sad. That nothing can go wrong.
From the outside, you’d swear we lived charmed lives.