A Song in the Daylight

They did not shake hands, he didn’t extend his, as if he had read Emily Post and knew that a young man did not offer his hand to a married woman unless she offered hers first. And Larissa, who had read Emily Post, did not presume for a second to extend her hand to him. In fact, Emily Post said you’re supposed to just wave or say hi when you’re introduced to children.

“Do I?” What did a Larissa look like?

“Yes. There’s something elegant and feminine about that name. Straight-haired.”

She looked into her cart. His low-frequency voice kept fooling her. His was not a child’s voice with that timbre, that out-of-state elocution She didn’t know what to do next. The awkwardness!

She decided to pass him, the wheels of her cart screeching a bit, and as she was flush with him, her shoulder to his chest, distinctly and unmistakably she heard him inhale. As she passed by him, he drew in a soft breath; why?

“Is that you?” he asked. “Coconut and lime?”

She didn’t look up from her paper towels. “I guess. Vestige of summer.”

“Yeah. Like a drink. With a little umbrella.” He smiled, nodding. “Nice.”

Larissa didn’t want to make a crack, to ask if he was old enough to drink. “So what kind of business are you thinking about going into?”

He walked alongside her to the tissues. “I want to run sightseeing tours.”

“Where, in New York?”

“Nah. Right here.”

“In Jersey?”

“Sure.”

“In Summit?”

“Why not? I get one tour bus to start, one of those 1930s National Park open utility vehicles. I show the travelers the Short Hills Mall, a decent attraction. I show them Deserted Village. That’s a whole day right there. The Great Swamp. What an adventure, especially if it rains in the marshes. Then we move to the snowy valleys and the skiing slopes. The factories. The outlet shops. The Jersey Turnpike. The amusement park. The Atlantic. Lots to see. We finish in Atlantic City on a blackjack run. I make them pay me first, though.”

Larissa couldn’t help herself, she laughed. And he laughed too.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m dead serious.” His eyes were jovial, so merry.

“Well, I have to go. Excuse me.”

He moved his cart out of her way, let her pass this time for good. “See ya, Mrs. Larissa.”

And she, without looking at him again, forcefully pushed her cart forward, and in a business-like manner clopped toward the milk and honey.

7 (#ulink_5de79b26-c7b2-5214-9121-0951fcdd8a0f)

Ezra’s Boredom (#ulink_5de79b26-c7b2-5214-9121-0951fcdd8a0f)

Larissa, I told my mother.

You what?

I had to. I was losing my mind.

You told your mother? Why?

I needed help.

I told you I would help you.

I needed a different kind of help, Larissa. I needed counsel.

I gave you counsel.

I needed … different counsel. You’re my only friend. You’re like my sister. I love you. But you’re not hearing me.

Oh, for Pete’s sake. Why would you tell your mother?

Because there are things you don’t understand, Larissa.

What are you talking about? I understand everything.

No.

Che, you just don’t want to listen to me. That’s not the same as me not understanding.

It is. I don’t want to listen to you because you don’t understand.

Che, you’re sixteen years old and still in high school!

I know.

You think I don’t know how hard this is?

No, I don’t think you do. I think you would do what had tobe done and wouldn’t lose a minute’s sleep over it.

Because I knew it had to be done!

I also know this. But I just can’t do it. You can. Not me.

Holy cow. What did your mother say? Oh, I can’t even imagine.

She cried. Then she prayed. For, like, three hours. Then she cried some more. She refused to talk to me until we went to church. Then she still refused to talk to me. She just kept crying. I said I know how you feel, Ma.

Larissa was now the one with her head in her hands, curled over a desk in her room.

My mother said she couldn’t believe I would be so reckless.

I told you that, too.