“Kevin!”
“I know all the lyrics. I can sing it from the beginning.”
She shook her head. “Not necessary.”
“You want me to stop now?” Dad asked.
She nodded.
“You believe I’m your real live boyfriend?”
She nodded again.
Dad walked over and gave her a hug. Polka-dot made a dash for the door and galloped the length of our dock, which he loves to do at every opportunity.
“Ruby, go collect the dog,” Dad said, his face buried in Mom’s hair.
When I got back the two of them were kissing.
Ag.
I am sure it’s obvious why I need therapy.
A week after Dad serenaded the neighborhood, Noel DuBoise suddenly baked me chocolate croissants and wrote me a letter.
An apology.
An explanation.
Not a love letter, really. But a perfect letter.
All the badness between us washed away, and what I had been insane to wish for—insane to even think about—became a reality.
Noel and I were together.
He kissed me and sat with me at lunch and listened to me without checking his texts. Wrote me e-mails and called me and made me laugh.
Noel DuBoise was my real, live boyfriend.
An e-mail from early in the summer:
Hi Roo.
Tomorrow, your presence is requested at a meeting of the Mutual Admiration Society. Time: 4 p.m. Location: the Harvard Exit movie theater.
Do not go online and check what they are playing. Show up with faith in the Society’s good intentions and taste in cinematic entertainment.
Also: bring Fruit Roll-Ups and Toblerone. The Society’s only other member will bring drinks and spring for popcorn and movie tickets.
Confirm your attendance at your earliest convenience.
Noel
Another e-mail:
Roo,
I just dropped you off and came home to find the house dark. Parents asleep, little girls asleep, everyone in bed before my curfew.
I banged on Mom’s door so she knew I was home, then climbed out on the porch roof outside my bedroom window. Tried to stealth it down the rose trellis. Figured I’d sneak back out and see you again because: all of a sudden I missed you like a complete sap. Even though I just saw you.
Planned the grand romantic gesture.
Nearly died trying to climb down rose trellis.
Really. Nearly died.
Seriously.
Okay, didn’t nearly die. But did scrape my arm on some thorns.
The need for Band-Aids trumped my plan to sneak up to your bedroom window and throw pebbles until you saw me standing there in the moonlight.
Grand romantic gesture crashes and burns.
Bright side: I did use the bacon Band-Aids you got me. There are three on my arm with actual blood soaking through.
In the moonlight,
Noel
Even though I know there is no such thing as a happy ending7, a little part of me thought I had found one.
Even though some people hated Noel and me being together.
Even though having a real live boyfriend didn’t solve my mental problems or fix my family.
Even though life wasn’t a movie.
