Page 71 of Wish I Were Here
It reminds me of someone else I know.
“My dad is here to talk to you about performing at the fundraiser,” I explain to Mrs. Goodwin. “And he has some friends willing to help out, too.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Mrs. Goodwin claps her hands together.
“I can do my clown show—juggling, unicycle, maybe the slackline if we can rig it up.” Dad pulls out his phone. “And let me show you some videos of the dance troupes. They’ll knock your socks off.”
Mrs. Goodwin giggles. “I’m really interested in seeingyourroutine, Andy. Especially if it will knock off more than my socks.”
Dad chuckles. “You’re going to make me blush.”
“Catherine.” Luca leans in, his mouth inches from my ear. “Can I see you for a second?” He hitches his head in the direction of a door against the wall. “I need your help with something over here.”
I leave Dad to flirt with Mrs. Goodwin and follow Luca across the gym into the supply closet. He closes the door, and we’re plunged into darkness. I reach out and grab for him to steady myself, and he pulls me up against his chest.
“How do we keep ending up in dark closets together?” I ask, slightly breathless.
“Excellent planning on my part.” Luca slides his arm around my waist.
“So, all of a sudden, you’re a planner.”
“Like I said, you’re rubbing off on me,” he murmurs, right before his lips find mine.
And he must be rubbing off on me, too, because never in a million years did I expect to find myself sneaking off tomake out in a supply closet. Or that it would leave me feeling so exhilarated.
“I’ve wanted to do that since you walked in today.”
I reluctantly pull away. “I should probably get back to my dad before he notices I’m gone.”
Luca kisses me one more time, and I head back out into the gym. Dad has gotten out his bag, handed out the balls, and is demonstrating a basic three-ball cascade for Mrs. Goodwin, the book club, and—yep—even Uncle Vito and his guys. Balls are flying everywhere, bouncing off the shiny hardwood floor, but nobody seems to mind. Dad is a good teacher, leaning over to demonstrate an alternative position for Ginny and calling out encouragement to Uncle Vito, who looks frustrated but determined.
Fabrizio and Angelo both show the most natural talent, and Mrs. Goodwin has the most flair. But I spot one of the book club members dropping balls left and right, so I can’t help but head over to pitch in. Within about fifteen minutes, everyone in the group has juggled at least two balls, and several of them have managed three.
“Really nice work, everyone,” Dad says, clapping his hands as we collect the balls in a pile.
“Now, let’s see what you can do, Andy,” Mrs. Goodwin calls.
With a smile, Dad grabs a handful of the juggling balls and shows off his skills, tossing seven into the air and keeping them aloft while he does a series of footwork that’s reminiscent of Mrs. Goodwin’s Carolina shag. The balls speed up as his arms move faster and faster until they’re nothing more than a colorful blur. The community center crowd goeswild. He switches to a single-hand throw, then back to double, all the while moving his hips to the music piped through the speakers. Finally, in one graceful motion, he lets the balls drop one by one into his outstretched hands and ends his show with a bow.
“My goodness,” Mrs. Goodwin says breathlessly, after the applause has died down. “You have amazing talent, Andy. Have you ever worked for the circus?”
Dad shrugs. “Nah. I work locally, mostly.”
“Well, you’re wonderful at this. Did you ever think about trying out when you were younger?”
“Sure, I thought about it.” Dad bends over to tuck the balls back into his tote bag. “But when I was younger, I had a daughter to raise.” He hesitates for a beat, and then straightens, giving me a grin. “That was better than any circus job.”
“Catherine is a lucky girl,” Mrs. Goodwin gushes, taking Dad’s arm and drawing him over to the stage to talk about the sound system for his performance.
I stand in the middle of the gym watching them go. For the first time, it occurs to me that Dad might have actually made a real career of this clown thing.
If it hadn’t been for me.
Could he have joined the circus, traveled the country, and had a chance to show off all his best tricks for an appreciative crowd every night if he hadn’t had a daughter begging him to get a real job?
I don’t have time to think more about it because my phone starts buzzing. I pull it from my pocket, and my body goes cold at the sight of Dr. Gupta’s name scrolling across thescreen. I haven’t actually thought very much about my new job these past few days. I’ve been too busy breaking and entering, and going on stakeouts, and meeting my mom.
And I’ve been busy spending time with Luca.
