Always and Forever, Lara Jean
Page 34
* * *
Peter comes to the house after he showers up, and as soon as I see how happy he is, my mind is made up not to say anything.
We’re lying on the living room floor doing face sheet masks. If the kids at school could see him now! Through gritted teeth he asks, “What’s this one supposed to do?”
“Brighten dull skin.”
He twists toward me and croaks, “Hello, Clarice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s from Silence of the Lambs!”
“Oh, I never saw that. It looked too scary.”
Peter sits upright. He’s terrible at sitting still. “We have to watch it right now. This is ridiculous. I can’t be with someone who’s never seen Silence of the Lambs.”
“Um, I’m pretty sure it’s my turn to pick.”
“Covey, come on! It’s a classic,” Peter says, just as his phone buzzes. He answers it, and I hear his mom’s voice on the other line. “Hey Mom . . . I’m at Lara Jean’s. I’ll be home soon. . . . I love you too.”
When he gets off the phone, I say, “Hey, I forgot to tell you this earlier, but at the game tonight, your mom said that maybe it was for the best that I didn’t get into UVA.”
“What?” He sits up and pulls off his face mask.
“Well, she didn’t say it exactly like that, but I think that’s how she meant it.”
“What were her exact words?”
I peel off my mask too. “She congratulated me on getting into William and Mary, and then I think she said, ‘I know you were hoping to go to UVA, but this might be for the best anyway.’”
Peter relaxes. “Oh, she always talks like that. She looks for the bright side in things. She’s like you.”
It didn’t seem that way to me, but I don’t push it, because Peter’s very protective of his mom. I guess he’s had to be, since it’s just the three of them. But what if it didn’t have to be? What if Peter has a real chance of having a relationship with his dad? What if tonight is proof? Casually, I ask him, “Hey, how many graduation announcements did you sign up for?”
“Ten. My family’s small. Why?”
“Just wondering. I signed up for fifty, so my grandma could send some to family in Korea.” I hesitate before asking, “Do you think you’ll send your dad one?”
He frowns. “No. Why would I?” He picks up his phone. “Let’s see what movies we have left. If Silence of the Lambs is off the table, we could watch Trainspotting, or Die Hard.”
I don’t say anything for a moment, and then I snatch his phone out of his hands. “It’s my turn to pick! And I pick . . . Amélie!”
* * *
For someone who once put up such a fuss about not watching rom coms or foreign films, Peter sure loves Amélie. It’s about a French girl who is afraid to live in the world, so she concocts these whimsical fantasies in her head, with lamps that talk and paintings that move, and crepes that look like records. It makes me want to live in Paris.
“I wonder what you’d look like with bangs,” Peter muses. “Cute, I bet.” At the end of the movie, when she bakes a plum cake, he turns to me and says, “Do you know how to bake a plum cake? That sounds delicious.”
“You know, mini plum cakes could be good for the dessert table.” I start researching recipes on my phone.
“Just make sure you call me when you do your trial run,” Peter says, yawning.
20
TRINA AND I ARE ON the couch drinking tea. I’m showing her pictures of floral arrangements when Daddy walks through the front door and collapses on the couch with us. “Long day?” Trina asks him. “The longest,” he says, closing his eyes.
“Question,” I say.
His eyes flutter open. “Yes, my middle-born?”
“What are you guys thinking for the first dance?”
He groans. “I’m too tired to think about dancing right now.”
“Please. It’s your wedding! Be present, Daddy.”
Trina laughs and pokes him in the side with her foot. “Be present, Dan!”
“Okay, okay. Well, Trina’s a big Shania Twain fan.” They grin at each other. “So—what about ‘From This Moment On’?”
“Aww,” she says. “You really do know me.”
“Shania Twain?” I repeat. “Doesn’t she sing that song ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman’?”
Trina holds her mug like it’s a microphone and tilts her head. “From this moment, I will love you,” she sings, off-key.
“I don’t think I know that song,” I say, trying to sound neutral.
“Play it for her on your phone,” she says to Daddy.
“Don’t judge,” he warns me, and then he plays it.
It’s the most un-him song I’ve ever heard. But he’s got a goofy smile on his face the entire time, and it only gets bigger when Trina puts her arm around his shoulder and makes him sway with her to the beat. “It’s perfect,” I say, and suddenly I feel like crying. I clear my throat. “So now that the song is picked out, we can start ticking other stuff off the list. I’ve been going back and forth with Tilly’s Treats about doing mini banana puddings in little canning jars, and they say they can’t do them for less than seven dollars apiece.”
Worry lines cross Daddy’s forehead. “That seems pricy, no?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a call in to a bakery in Richmond, and if the delivery price isn’t too bad, that might be the way to go.” I flip through my binder. “I’ve been so busy with desserts, I haven’t had a chance to go meet with the band I’ve been in touch with. They’re playing in Keswick this weekend, so I might try and go see them play.”
Daddy looks at me with concern in his eyes. “Honey, it seems like maybe you’ve replaced baking with wedding planning as your stress relief. This is all a little much.”
“The band isn’t exactly a band,” I quickly say. “It’s a singer and a guy with a guitar. They’re just starting out, so it’s all very reasonable. I’ll know more when I see them in person.”
“Don’t they have videos you can watch?” Trina asks.
Peter comes to the house after he showers up, and as soon as I see how happy he is, my mind is made up not to say anything.
We’re lying on the living room floor doing face sheet masks. If the kids at school could see him now! Through gritted teeth he asks, “What’s this one supposed to do?”
“Brighten dull skin.”
He twists toward me and croaks, “Hello, Clarice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s from Silence of the Lambs!”
“Oh, I never saw that. It looked too scary.”
Peter sits upright. He’s terrible at sitting still. “We have to watch it right now. This is ridiculous. I can’t be with someone who’s never seen Silence of the Lambs.”
“Um, I’m pretty sure it’s my turn to pick.”
“Covey, come on! It’s a classic,” Peter says, just as his phone buzzes. He answers it, and I hear his mom’s voice on the other line. “Hey Mom . . . I’m at Lara Jean’s. I’ll be home soon. . . . I love you too.”
When he gets off the phone, I say, “Hey, I forgot to tell you this earlier, but at the game tonight, your mom said that maybe it was for the best that I didn’t get into UVA.”
“What?” He sits up and pulls off his face mask.
“Well, she didn’t say it exactly like that, but I think that’s how she meant it.”
“What were her exact words?”
I peel off my mask too. “She congratulated me on getting into William and Mary, and then I think she said, ‘I know you were hoping to go to UVA, but this might be for the best anyway.’”
Peter relaxes. “Oh, she always talks like that. She looks for the bright side in things. She’s like you.”
It didn’t seem that way to me, but I don’t push it, because Peter’s very protective of his mom. I guess he’s had to be, since it’s just the three of them. But what if it didn’t have to be? What if Peter has a real chance of having a relationship with his dad? What if tonight is proof? Casually, I ask him, “Hey, how many graduation announcements did you sign up for?”
“Ten. My family’s small. Why?”
“Just wondering. I signed up for fifty, so my grandma could send some to family in Korea.” I hesitate before asking, “Do you think you’ll send your dad one?”
He frowns. “No. Why would I?” He picks up his phone. “Let’s see what movies we have left. If Silence of the Lambs is off the table, we could watch Trainspotting, or Die Hard.”
I don’t say anything for a moment, and then I snatch his phone out of his hands. “It’s my turn to pick! And I pick . . . Amélie!”
* * *
For someone who once put up such a fuss about not watching rom coms or foreign films, Peter sure loves Amélie. It’s about a French girl who is afraid to live in the world, so she concocts these whimsical fantasies in her head, with lamps that talk and paintings that move, and crepes that look like records. It makes me want to live in Paris.
“I wonder what you’d look like with bangs,” Peter muses. “Cute, I bet.” At the end of the movie, when she bakes a plum cake, he turns to me and says, “Do you know how to bake a plum cake? That sounds delicious.”
“You know, mini plum cakes could be good for the dessert table.” I start researching recipes on my phone.
“Just make sure you call me when you do your trial run,” Peter says, yawning.
20
TRINA AND I ARE ON the couch drinking tea. I’m showing her pictures of floral arrangements when Daddy walks through the front door and collapses on the couch with us. “Long day?” Trina asks him. “The longest,” he says, closing his eyes.
“Question,” I say.
His eyes flutter open. “Yes, my middle-born?”
“What are you guys thinking for the first dance?”
He groans. “I’m too tired to think about dancing right now.”
“Please. It’s your wedding! Be present, Daddy.”
Trina laughs and pokes him in the side with her foot. “Be present, Dan!”
“Okay, okay. Well, Trina’s a big Shania Twain fan.” They grin at each other. “So—what about ‘From This Moment On’?”
“Aww,” she says. “You really do know me.”
“Shania Twain?” I repeat. “Doesn’t she sing that song ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman’?”
Trina holds her mug like it’s a microphone and tilts her head. “From this moment, I will love you,” she sings, off-key.
“I don’t think I know that song,” I say, trying to sound neutral.
“Play it for her on your phone,” she says to Daddy.
“Don’t judge,” he warns me, and then he plays it.
It’s the most un-him song I’ve ever heard. But he’s got a goofy smile on his face the entire time, and it only gets bigger when Trina puts her arm around his shoulder and makes him sway with her to the beat. “It’s perfect,” I say, and suddenly I feel like crying. I clear my throat. “So now that the song is picked out, we can start ticking other stuff off the list. I’ve been going back and forth with Tilly’s Treats about doing mini banana puddings in little canning jars, and they say they can’t do them for less than seven dollars apiece.”
Worry lines cross Daddy’s forehead. “That seems pricy, no?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a call in to a bakery in Richmond, and if the delivery price isn’t too bad, that might be the way to go.” I flip through my binder. “I’ve been so busy with desserts, I haven’t had a chance to go meet with the band I’ve been in touch with. They’re playing in Keswick this weekend, so I might try and go see them play.”
Daddy looks at me with concern in his eyes. “Honey, it seems like maybe you’ve replaced baking with wedding planning as your stress relief. This is all a little much.”
“The band isn’t exactly a band,” I quickly say. “It’s a singer and a guy with a guitar. They’re just starting out, so it’s all very reasonable. I’ll know more when I see them in person.”
“Don’t they have videos you can watch?” Trina asks.
