Always and Forever, Lara Jean
Page 33
“I’m really not.”
“You’re going to regret not going,” I warn her. “When you’re working on the farm in Costa Rica, you’ll suddenly remember how you didn’t go to prom, and you will feel abject regret, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
With a laugh, she says, “I highly doubt it!”
After Chris leaves for work, I’m on my computer in the kitchen looking for bridesmaid dresses and/or prom dresses, and Daddy and Trina walk in from being outside with the movers. I try to look busy, like I’m studying, in case they ask for help. Shrewd little Kitty has made herself scarce these past couple of days, and I’m regretting not following her lead.
Daddy pours himself a glass of water, wiping sweat from his brow. “Do you really need to bring that treadmill?” he asks Trina. “It doesn’t even work properly.”
“It works fine.”
Gulping the rest of his water, he says, “I’ve never seen you use it.”
She frowns at him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t use it. It means I don’t use it in front of you.”
“All right. When’s the last time you used it?”
Her eyes narrow. “None of your business.”
“Trina!”
“Dan!”
This is a new side to Daddy—bickering, losing his patience just barely. Trina brings it out of him, and I know it sounds strange, but I’m glad for it. It’s something I never realized was gone in him. There’s making do, living a pleasant life, no big ups or downs, and there’s all the friction and fire that come with being in love with someone. She takes forever to get ready, which drives him crazy, and she makes fun of his hobbies, like bird-watching and documentaries. But they just fit.
19
THERE’S A LACROSSE GAME TONIGHT, and Pammy can’t go because she has to work, and of course Chris would never deign to go to a lacrosse game, so I bring Kitty with me. She pretends to mull it over, musing aloud that it might be boring, but when I say, “Never mind, then,” she quickly agrees to come. In the stands we run into Peter’s mom and his younger brother, Owen, so we sit with them. He and Kitty proceed to each pretend the other doesn’t exist—he plays games on his phone and she plays games on hers. Owen is tall, but he sits hunched, with his hair in his eyes.
We chat about my dad and Trina’s engagement for a bit and I tell her some of my ideas for the wedding. She’s nodding along and then she suddenly says, “I hear congratulations are in order for you, too.”
Confused, I say, “What for?”
“William and Mary!”
“Oh! Thank you.”
“I know you were hoping to go to UVA, but this might be for the best anyway.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.
I smile back, unsure. Unsure of what, exactly, “for the best” means. Is she glad I’m not going to UVA with Peter? Does she think this means we’re breaking up now? So all I say is, “Williamsburg isn’t really that far from Charlottesville anyway.”
Her response is, “Hmm, yes, that’s true.” Then Peter scores a point, and we both stand up and cheer.
When I sit back down again, Kitty asks me, “Can we get popcorn?”
“Sure,” I say, glad to have an excuse to get up. To Peter’s mom and brother I ask, “Do you guys want anything?”
Without looking up, Owen says, “Popcorn.”
“You guys can share,” Peter’s mom says.
I make my way down the bleachers, and I’m heading for the snack bar when I notice a man, standing off to the side, his arms crossed, watching the game. He is tall; he has nut-brown hair. Handsome. When he turns his head and I see his profile, I know who he is, because I know that face. I know that chin, those eyes. He’s Peter’s dad. It’s like seeing the Ghost of Christmas Future, and I’m frozen in place, transfixed.
He catches me staring at him, and offers a friendly smile. I feel like I have no choice but to take a step forward and ask, “Excuse me . . . but are you Peter’s dad?”
Surprised, he nods. “Are you a friend of his?”
“I’m Lara Jean Covey. His, um, girlfriend.” He looks startled, but then he recovers and extends his hand. I shake it firmly, to give a good impression. “Wow, you look just like him.”
He laughs, and I’m struck anew by how much of him is in Peter. “He looks just like me, you mean.”
I laugh too. “Right. You were here first.”
There is an awkward silence, and then he clears his throat and asks me, “How is he?”
“Oh, he’s good. He’s great. Did you hear he’s going to UVA on a lacrosse scholarship?”
He nods, smiling. “I heard that from his mom. I’m proud of him. Not that I can take any credit for it—but still. I’m really proud of the kid.” His eyes flicker back to the field, to Peter. “I just wanted to see him play again. I’ve missed it.” He hesitates before saying, “Please don’t mention to Peter that I was here.”
I’m so taken by surprise, all I can say is, “Oh . . . okay.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it. It was nice to meet you, Lara Jean.”
“It was nice to meet you, too, Mr. Kavinsky.”
With that, I go back to the bleachers, and only when I’m halfway up there do I remember I forgot the popcorn, so I have to go back down. When I get back to the snack bar, Peter’s dad is gone.
Our team ends up losing, but Peter scores three points and it’s a good game for him. I’m glad his dad got to see him play, but I really wish I didn’t agree to keeping it a secret from Peter. The thought makes my stomach hurt.
In the car I’m still thinking about his dad, but then Kitty says, “That was weird what Peter’s mom said about it being a good thing you weren’t going to UVA.”
“I know, right! You took it that way too?”
“There really wasn’t any other way to take it,” Kitty says.
I check my side-view mirrors before turning left out of the school parking lot. “I don’t think she meant it in a mean way, exactly. She just doesn’t want to see Peter get hurt, that’s all.” And neither do I, so maybe it’s for the best that I don’t say anything to Peter about seeing his dad tonight. What if he gets excited about his dad coming, and then his dad hurts him again? Abruptly I say, “Do you wanna stop and get frozen yogurts?” and of course Kitty says yes.
“You’re going to regret not going,” I warn her. “When you’re working on the farm in Costa Rica, you’ll suddenly remember how you didn’t go to prom, and you will feel abject regret, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
With a laugh, she says, “I highly doubt it!”
After Chris leaves for work, I’m on my computer in the kitchen looking for bridesmaid dresses and/or prom dresses, and Daddy and Trina walk in from being outside with the movers. I try to look busy, like I’m studying, in case they ask for help. Shrewd little Kitty has made herself scarce these past couple of days, and I’m regretting not following her lead.
Daddy pours himself a glass of water, wiping sweat from his brow. “Do you really need to bring that treadmill?” he asks Trina. “It doesn’t even work properly.”
“It works fine.”
Gulping the rest of his water, he says, “I’ve never seen you use it.”
She frowns at him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t use it. It means I don’t use it in front of you.”
“All right. When’s the last time you used it?”
Her eyes narrow. “None of your business.”
“Trina!”
“Dan!”
This is a new side to Daddy—bickering, losing his patience just barely. Trina brings it out of him, and I know it sounds strange, but I’m glad for it. It’s something I never realized was gone in him. There’s making do, living a pleasant life, no big ups or downs, and there’s all the friction and fire that come with being in love with someone. She takes forever to get ready, which drives him crazy, and she makes fun of his hobbies, like bird-watching and documentaries. But they just fit.
19
THERE’S A LACROSSE GAME TONIGHT, and Pammy can’t go because she has to work, and of course Chris would never deign to go to a lacrosse game, so I bring Kitty with me. She pretends to mull it over, musing aloud that it might be boring, but when I say, “Never mind, then,” she quickly agrees to come. In the stands we run into Peter’s mom and his younger brother, Owen, so we sit with them. He and Kitty proceed to each pretend the other doesn’t exist—he plays games on his phone and she plays games on hers. Owen is tall, but he sits hunched, with his hair in his eyes.
We chat about my dad and Trina’s engagement for a bit and I tell her some of my ideas for the wedding. She’s nodding along and then she suddenly says, “I hear congratulations are in order for you, too.”
Confused, I say, “What for?”
“William and Mary!”
“Oh! Thank you.”
“I know you were hoping to go to UVA, but this might be for the best anyway.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.
I smile back, unsure. Unsure of what, exactly, “for the best” means. Is she glad I’m not going to UVA with Peter? Does she think this means we’re breaking up now? So all I say is, “Williamsburg isn’t really that far from Charlottesville anyway.”
Her response is, “Hmm, yes, that’s true.” Then Peter scores a point, and we both stand up and cheer.
When I sit back down again, Kitty asks me, “Can we get popcorn?”
“Sure,” I say, glad to have an excuse to get up. To Peter’s mom and brother I ask, “Do you guys want anything?”
Without looking up, Owen says, “Popcorn.”
“You guys can share,” Peter’s mom says.
I make my way down the bleachers, and I’m heading for the snack bar when I notice a man, standing off to the side, his arms crossed, watching the game. He is tall; he has nut-brown hair. Handsome. When he turns his head and I see his profile, I know who he is, because I know that face. I know that chin, those eyes. He’s Peter’s dad. It’s like seeing the Ghost of Christmas Future, and I’m frozen in place, transfixed.
He catches me staring at him, and offers a friendly smile. I feel like I have no choice but to take a step forward and ask, “Excuse me . . . but are you Peter’s dad?”
Surprised, he nods. “Are you a friend of his?”
“I’m Lara Jean Covey. His, um, girlfriend.” He looks startled, but then he recovers and extends his hand. I shake it firmly, to give a good impression. “Wow, you look just like him.”
He laughs, and I’m struck anew by how much of him is in Peter. “He looks just like me, you mean.”
I laugh too. “Right. You were here first.”
There is an awkward silence, and then he clears his throat and asks me, “How is he?”
“Oh, he’s good. He’s great. Did you hear he’s going to UVA on a lacrosse scholarship?”
He nods, smiling. “I heard that from his mom. I’m proud of him. Not that I can take any credit for it—but still. I’m really proud of the kid.” His eyes flicker back to the field, to Peter. “I just wanted to see him play again. I’ve missed it.” He hesitates before saying, “Please don’t mention to Peter that I was here.”
I’m so taken by surprise, all I can say is, “Oh . . . okay.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it. It was nice to meet you, Lara Jean.”
“It was nice to meet you, too, Mr. Kavinsky.”
With that, I go back to the bleachers, and only when I’m halfway up there do I remember I forgot the popcorn, so I have to go back down. When I get back to the snack bar, Peter’s dad is gone.
Our team ends up losing, but Peter scores three points and it’s a good game for him. I’m glad his dad got to see him play, but I really wish I didn’t agree to keeping it a secret from Peter. The thought makes my stomach hurt.
In the car I’m still thinking about his dad, but then Kitty says, “That was weird what Peter’s mom said about it being a good thing you weren’t going to UVA.”
“I know, right! You took it that way too?”
“There really wasn’t any other way to take it,” Kitty says.
I check my side-view mirrors before turning left out of the school parking lot. “I don’t think she meant it in a mean way, exactly. She just doesn’t want to see Peter get hurt, that’s all.” And neither do I, so maybe it’s for the best that I don’t say anything to Peter about seeing his dad tonight. What if he gets excited about his dad coming, and then his dad hurts him again? Abruptly I say, “Do you wanna stop and get frozen yogurts?” and of course Kitty says yes.
