Page 42 of Dear Adam
Aly cocks an eyebrow and looks between the two of us. “Levi wouldn’t touch a hot dog if he was paid,” Dad explains. “Never could get him to eat them when he was a kid.”
I shrug. “Guilty as charged.”
“It’s good to see you, Aly,” Dad adds with a wink.
After munching on hot dogs and chatting with some family and Dad’s work crew, the sun begins to sink, and everyone scatters around, trying to find the best seat to watch the fireworks. Aly points to a spot by the water, but I shake my head. “I have somewhere else in mind. Follow me.”
I offer my hand and she hesitates only a second before taking it. I wrap my large fingers around her soft, small ones, and I can’t help but think they meld perfectly together. I lead her toward the gazebo at the end of the dock that juts out into the marsh. It’s quieter out here, and although we’re still able to hear Tom Petty crooning from the speakers, it’s much softer now. My eyes travel to Aly, who’s taking in the setting with obvious appreciation. Her eyes glitter with the reflection of the sunset sinking below the water, and they’re so blue, so dark and cool that I wish I could jump into them and float around weightlessly for a small eternity.
“Did you do all this?” she breathes.
I nod, my ears heating with embarrassment. Under the gazebo—which has been strung with more lights—there’s a blanket for us and a dog bed at the foot, large enough for both Hank and Pretzel. The dogs have already found it and curled up together, Pretzel being the big spoon. I flip on the light and that’s when everything comes to life, more vibrant now with the glow of the lights against the darkness settling around us. I nod, my ears heating with embarrassment.
“This is beautiful,” she tells me and sits on the worn blanket, patting the spot next to her. We’re sitting so close, our shoulders brush, and if the fireworks don’t start soon, I’m going to be the one putting on a show after combusting from the nearness of Aly Bloomington.
When the sun fully sets, the first hint of a firework cuts through the sky with its noisy whine. For a split second, everything is silent until a vivid red explodes across the night, followed by blue and white streaks. I glance over at Aly, whose eyes are wide with excitement and, instead of watching the sky, I enjoy the show from the reflection in her eyes. Slowly, our hands drift closer and closer until our pinkies touch, too. Quietly, she hooks her pinky with mine and dips her head low enough to rest on my shoulder.
She sighs and says, “I love the Fourth of July. I think it’s my favorite holiday.”
“I would have pegged you for someone who’s more obsessed with Christmas,” I say.
“Idolove Christmas. But the Fourth of July…there’s just nothing like it.”
“What makes it so special?” I ask.
She watches the next few fireworks dance across the sky before saying, “It’s summertime, everyone’s happy from spending the day out in the sunshine, and everyone seems so carefree, if only just for the day.”
Aly’s joy is so palpable it’s almost enough for me to ignore the ache in my chest. This morning, I received a phone call about a job I had bid on a few months back. It’s a complete kitchen and bathroom remodel for a television producer and could be exactly what I need to finally breakthrough in California. It’s going to mean heading back soon, and I know I need to tell Aly. Right now, though, she’s so happy I can’t break the news to her. I promise myself I’ll tell her tomorrow. I unhook my pinky from hers and lean back to rest on my elbows.
When the show is over and the outdoor lights at the house have all been flipped back on, Aly gets to her feet, the sparkle in her eyes from earlier gone. She quickly swipes at them then replaces her glasses, and we silently walk back up to the party.
People are packing up and heading home, and Aly says, “Do you care if we swing by Bloomie’s? I need to make a deposit before work tomorrow, and I forgot to grab the bank bag earlier.”
“Sure,” I tell her, my heart still at the gazebo. It’s obvious she’s disappointed, but I don’t know why. For me, watching the show with her was magical, so I can’t figure out why she’s upset.
Glenda finds me standing in the middle of the yard while Aly says goodbye to my parents, and stares at me uncomfortably before I finally acknowledge her with a raised eyebrow.
“Looks like you two were pretty cozy.” She gives me a goofy smile and makes googly eyes behind her glasses. I roll mine in return. “What did she say when you gave her back the phone?” My eyes dart around frantically in search of Aly and my heart thumps loud enough, I’m sure she can hear it, wherever she is. At my reaction, Glenda’s eyes narrow and her hands settle on her ample hips. “You haven’t, have you?”
“Shh,” I whisper through gritted teeth. “There just hasn’t been a good time.” It’s a flimsy excuse at best, but it’s all I’ve got.
“Boy,” she warns. “You’re in too deep now to go and screw this up.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m going to fix this. I just don’t know how yet.”
“Better figure it out soon,” she says.
Before I can respond, Aly walks up and stands beside me.
“Everything okay?” she asks, glancing from Glenda to me.
“Yep. Just typical Glenda stuff,” I mutter through my clenched jaw.
“It was so good to meet you, Aly, and Pretzel.” Glenda gets on all fours and gives Pretzel a kiss on the head. “I hope to see lots of both of you in the future. He’s typically way less grouchy when he’s got you around. When we’re in California and he’s not seeing anyone, he’s practically intolerable if you know what I mean…”
“GLENDA! For the love,” I say, exasperated. Aly stifles a giggle and attempts to give Glenda a quick side hug. Undeterred, Glenda envelops her in a full frontal body hug and gives her a sloppy kiss on the cheek to match.
We finally make our escape and minutes later, we pull up outside of Bloomie’s.
