Book Available -- Site Changes coming

Downtown Dandelions is now available in print. Read all about it here.

This site will be changing very shortly, so if you're in the process of reading the novel, please let me know. I'm not sure if I'll keep the entire text of the book online or not, so if you want it online, speak now or you'll have to buy it. Thanks.

Final Word Count (Day 20)

51,776/50,000

It is finished.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 4 (continued)
Chapter 4 (continued some more)
Chapter 5
Chapter 5 (continued)
Chapter 6
Chapter 6 (continued)
Chapter 7
Chapter 7 (continued)
Chapter 8
Chapter 8 (continued)
Chapter 8 (continued some more)
Chapter 8 (continued once more)
Chapter 9
Chapter 9 (continued)
Chapter 10
Chapter 10 (continued)
Chapter 11
Chapter 11 (continued)
Chapter 12
Chapter 12 (continued)
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 16 (continued)
Chapter 17
Chapter 17 (continued)
Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Allison's voice was full of cheer and laughter and a tinge of embarrassment. Sedgewick had been leading her by the hand, her eyes covered with a blindfold, since they got off the bus.

"Nope." Sedgewick had her standing in the side yard of the Baptist church, in front of the small section of mural that he'd painted. Charles was working on another section, but he kept looking over to watch the two.

The bus ride home had been entertaining, with Allison embarrassed and overwhelmed. She'd never taken public transportation, and it was a new experience for her. Sedgewick had insisted and she relented.

Charles had ribbed the two the whole ride home, though more Sedgewick than Allison. She took his ribbing in stride and fired back.

"I like this girl—quite a pearl."

Sedgewick stepped back from her, savoring the moment. She could take the blindfold off, but Sedgewick wasn't quite ready. He looked at the mural once more, exhaled and said she could take it off.

She raised the blindfold with both hands and slowly peered out, then her eyes widened as she took in the scene. The blindfold stayed perched on top of her head, forgotten. She hadn't been expecting this. Maybe balloons, maybe a park with a dramatic view, but not this.

The fence stretched before her, but she didn't see the fence. She saw a slate-grey river, rushing, surging forward, a pale blue sky and a green bank and a sandy shore. There were rocks scattered about and shafts of sunlight beaming down, though she couldn't tell if they were real or in the painting.

There was a large stone painted off-center, a bit to the left. Allison stepped forward, drawn to the large stone. The sand around the stone, looked different somehow, like there were footprints. Then she realized. She flashed an amazed smile towards Sedgewick, her green eyes brimming with joy. She stepped forward again and reached out to run her fingers over the painted surface.

It was the rock where Allison sat crying when Sedgewick found her that very first day when he learned about her mom, there by the side of the Mississippi River. Above the river, off to the right, were the towers of downtown Minneapolis. A bridge crossed the river at one point, and a lone, tiny bird crossed the sky. In the corner, not far from the large stone, just poking out of the grass, was a yellow, October dandelion.

The very next day Sedgewick and Allison took the bus downtown. It had been her idea, the public transportation. In fact, the whole idea had been hers. She wouldn't tell Sedgewick where they were going, payback for walking six blocks with a blindfold. But she broke down and told him on the bus. They were going to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts.

Sedgewick smiled. A week ago he would have been dumbfounded, captivated by the artwork maybe, but unsure why he should be there. But things were different now. They walked into the museum hand in hand, and Sedgewick wanted to take in each work, wondering if the artist pictured the end result when they started, or if it had been a surprise.

"Did you like it?" Allison asked outside, later, as they were meandering along the sidewalk, pretending to head back towards the bus stop but really just enjoying another autumn day and each other's company.

Sedgewick nodded, unsure of the words.

"I thought you might." She beamed. They kept walking in silence, but you could almost hear words in the electricity between their clasped hands.

The air felt warm on their skin, the sun shining high and bright. Ahead of them a family walked down the sidewalk, pushing a stroller and another child walking. They heard only snippets of the conversation.

Just as they were turning to cross the street the child broke away from its mother and hollered with child-like angst, "No, I hate you mommy!"

Sedgewick watched as the little boy pulled away and ran ahead. The words were spiteful, and they came out in a moment of passion and defiance. But they meant nothing. The father chased down the boy and lead him by the hand back to the mom and the stroller. An exchange took place, but they were too far away. The mom and child embraced and the family continued on, fences mended and life well again.

A tear rolled down Allison's cheek. A sob escaped and she shuddered, moving for a nearby bench. Sedgewick sat next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, it just—it just came on me all of a sudden." Tears dotted her khaki cargo pants.

"I know."

"It doesn't get any easier, does it?"

"Nope, it never—it never seems to." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but they kept coming. She wondered if a person could ever run dry.

"I just wish, I wish…" her words failed her and she buried her head in Sedgewick's chest. He wrapped his arms around her again, and held her in his arms.

The downtown buildings towered over this broken couple as Sedgewick rubbed her shoulder and started to sing softly in her ear. His voice was quiet and soft and not particularly good, but it didn't bother Allison. Though it was a song she'd never heard before, she somehow knew it had been sung to Sedgewick by his grandfather at a time very much like this. And it filled her with hope—not peace or joy or even love—just hope, and that was all she needed.


the end

Chapter 17 (continued)

Later that night Sedgewick had a short four-hour shift at work. His mind was distant and quiet. He stood in front of the time clock thinking. Some days the time clock confused him, not that he couldn't remember his code or which buttons to push, it was just that the machine had no mercy. If you screwed it up there was no going back again, you couldn't undo it or reset it.

You had to interrupt the customer service manager and fess up to your mistake. She'd sigh—first when you interrupted her, but again, longer and deeper when you told her what you'd done. All she had to do was make a note on the schedule and tell you to punch in again. It really wasn't the end of the world, though she'd act like it. And Sedgewick hated to put her through the end of the world. Enough customers did that with their own ends of the world.

Sedgewick punched in his code and the appropriate buttons, gave a weak smile to the customer service manager who had raised her eyes when Sedgewick paused in front of the time clock, and continued on to the back room.

He had hoped for aisle five. He wanted aisle five. That would have been such a help on a day like today. He even considered asking for it, though that would have been a bit much.

"Hey Sedgewick, glad you're here." It wasn't Jimmie, it was Dwayne, the grocery manager, the height of authority among those who still had to do actual work. Another step up required at least a tie and the caveat that you could walk around the store and tell everyone else what to do. Dwayne usually worked the day shift and Sedgewick didn't see him. But he still gave the orders and made sure everything was finished.

"I've got Jimmie unloading the truck tonight, it's a smaller order, shouldn't be too bad. But Ike in dairy called in sick today. I need someone to fill in. Can you handle that?"

"Sure." Sedgewick hated dairy.

"Just remember that everything must be rotated and you need to check the dates. You'll also need to stock the milk every few hours—it probably needs to be done now. Thanks, buddy."

Dwayne had just summarized the downside of working dairy. Rotating everything meant it took forever. There wasn't the same sense of accomplishment. You also had to keep refilling the milk or customers would interrupt you and send you to the backroom looking for a half-gallon of skim. On top of it all, it was a refrigerated section, obviously, which meant your fingers would be cold all night. It wasn't like the frozen foods section where you could put on a jacket and gloves and no one would think anything of it. But dairy wasn't quite cold enough to warrant it, and the manager would often wrinkle his brow if he saw you wearing a jacket in dairy. He had some strange fascination with customers being able to spot your red uniform from all the way down the aisle.

Sedgewick shrugged his shoulders and headed through the backroom towards the dairy section. He nodded at Jimmie and Alex as he passed, who both looked grumpy at the prospect of working minus one, even if it was a smaller truck than usual. Jimmie nodded back. Alex cursed for no reason.

The dairy section looked like no one had worked there all day. The milk case was more than half empty, starting to get the ugly point where the empty bottom shelf was showing. This store was old fashioned. Newer stores had back loading dairy cases where you could stock the milk from behind, automatically rotating it and avoiding getting in the customers way at the same time. It was a good system. But they didn't have that in Sedgewick's store. They just had regular shelves with a cooling unit on the bottom that had to be loaded from the front and rotated by hand.

On the plus side Sedgewick was working a new section, one he wasn't used to, and he had to pay attention more than normal. Not that it requires deep thought to stock milk, but he couldn't lose himself in his thoughts quite as easily. He couldn't dwell on Allison and his tender lip and where to go from here.

Sedgewick went back to the dairy fridge, loaded up a square dolly with milk crates, and got to work. He loaded the 2%, the best selling, then the 1%, the skim, the vitamin D milk, which he didn't understand what it really was, and the single row of chocolate.

Working dairy also gave you a workout. Each milk crate held four gallons of milk, which was fairly heavy to lift. You'd have to lift one crate at a time, moving then from stack to dolly and then push the dolly out to the floor.

He came back to the floor with another dolly of milk, restocking the half-gallons this time. They were easier. You could get 12 half gallons in a crate, which actually made the crates heavier, but you didn't have to bring out as many. 4-gallons per crate meant a lot of loads.

He stopped the dolly at the corner to the dairy case, where it wouldn't be in the way. He waited while a woman and her daughter picked out milk and moved on to the yogurt. The little girl had pigtails and reminded Sedgewick of someone.

A long time ago he'd gone sledding with a friend. His grandparents and her parents were inside staying warm and drinking coffee and Sedgewick and Taylor, the little girl he remembered, took off for the sledding hill pulling a single sled between them. It was just after Thanksgiving, an early snowfall, and they were so happy and eager to be out playing.

They went down the hill and dragged the sled back up and went down again. They slid down the hill until they were exhausted and both collapsed into the snow, eyes starring up at the dark winter sky. The sun had gone down while they were sledding, and the darkness took over. But out of the darkness came white puffs of snow, enormous snow flakes falling from on high.

As they lay on their backs and watched the snow flakes rush towards them and rush past, or occasionally land on them and make them shudder at the cold, they realized that it looked like stars rushing past, like the Millennium Falcon jumping to hyperspace.

They giggled and rushed home, dragging the sled behind, Taylor eager to tell her parents, and Segdgewick his grandparents, about the snow flakes turned stars.

The little girl pulled on her mom's sleeve and asked if she could get purple yogurt. The mom told her daughter purple wasn't a fruit, and picked out a flavor with real fruit on the bottom, even though the little girl would just scowl and eat around it. She never liked the mushy fruit and would have preferred the real thing in purple yogurt.

Sedgewick watched them continue down the aisle, and then turned back to his dolly.

"Oh, sorry. Ex-excuse me." His eyes met the soft brown eyes of a college girl, long blond hair framing her smile. Sedgewick stepped back, letting her continue reaching for her milk, a half-gallon of 1%. Sedgewick's eyes fell to the floor. She wore high heels and jeans, black heals with a toe that narrowed to a sharp point. Sedgewick wondered if they were painful to wear. They certainly looked like it.

"Thanks," she said in a cheerful voice, her eyes flashing at Sedgewick. She moved on towards the yogurt, carrying a basket in one arm.

Sedgewick grabbed another crate of half-gallons and rotated the older ones to the front, pulling off one that expired that day. He turned to look at the college girl, and saw her looking back at him. Their eyes met for a moment, and she looked away. He thought he saw her smile as she picked out her yogurt and moved on towards the cheese and butter.

But Sedgewick didn't smile. He wondered how long a pretty girl like that would catch his eye, how often his mind would take in every detail and ponder her good nature and if she had really smiled at him and why their eyes kept locking. There were just so many pretty girls. Hardly a girl walked by that wouldn't catch Sedgewick's eye. She might not be drop-dead gorgeous, she might not elicit a long, drawn out, "Fuck" from Alex, but she would have that smile, or that look in her eyes, or whatever it was that made Sedgewick wonder.

He didn't smile at this latest college girl in a line of thousands, but he did think about that fourth college girl, he did think about Allison.

He turned for another crate of half-gallons and she was standing there, next to the pop display. Her arms were crossed, embracing herself, her face looked tired and worn, and her eyes were still red—but filled with sorrow and tenderness and love and hope.

Word Count Day 20

49,301/50,000

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Is that the way it's supposed to be?"

"What do you think?" Charles asked, turning from the mural to Sedgewick.

"I don't know. Does it—does it look right?"

"It's all in the eye of the beholder, a weight for your shoulder."

Sedgewick looked to the ground and bit his lip. He winced. That's what he expected Charles to say. Thursday after the funeral, after the scene with Allison, he stopped by Charles' office near campus, an unexpected visit for sure, and asked if he could work on the mural by himself that afternoon. They made arrangements and Sedgewick spent the rest of that day painting.

Before leaving campus he looked up Allison's dorm room. He found the building and followed another group of students in. He climbed the stairs to her floor and looked both directions down the hall. He chose one hallway and wondered down it looking for her room number. A few students came down the hall, but passed by ignoring him.

Room 229. Here it was. The names Allison and Kallie were written in magic marker on the message board hanging in the middle of the door. Sedgewick swallowed and knocked on the door. He guessed she wouldn't be here, and he honestly hoped she wasn't.

The door opened and Sedgewick took a tentative step back. It was Kallie. She had short blonde hair and a sweet smile. She looked like she'd just been laughing at something. Sedgewick could feel the contrast between his day.

"You must—must be Kallie. I'm—I'm—"

"Sedgewick?" A smile spread across her face. It faded when she saw his swollen lip. He'd washed away the blood, but he couldn't hide everything.

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"I wanted to—to return Allison's keys." He held out the keys and turned to go. He wanted to go. He didn't want to explain.

But then he stopped.

"Allison could use somebody, I think. Maybe not right now, but—but I imagine later today she'll want somebody. Not me, obviously, but…"

"Okay."

"Tell her I'm sorry."

"Sedgewick—" He stopped and turned. "It's not your fault."

He nodded and kept going.

Painting had felt so good. The world seemed to fade away while he created, but it also slipped into sharp focus. Every stroke felt like the most important thing in the world, but when his eyes fell to the blanket of green grass or the wisps of clouds above, he noticed so much more and felt them deep within his soul.

At first it seemed like he was breaking into the church, unlocking the fence and the shed by himself in the quiet mid-day calm of the neighborhood. But soon he was lost in thought and paint, adding to the slate grey river a green bank and pale blue sky.

The afternoon disappeared and Charles walked behind Sedgewick to check in on his progress. Sedgewick was standing there taking it in, unsure of what it was, unsure of if it worked, unsure of himself. That's when he asked if that's the way it was supposed to be.

"I guess I see—I see something there. It's not exactly what I pictured, but it's what I feel. It's about all these hands can create." Sedgewick looked to his hands, which were smeared with a rainbow.

"And that's all it needs to be: all that you can do." Charles put an arm around Sedgewick and the two stood there, taking in the fence and the church's side yard. It was starting to get late, the sun was fading and the unseasonably warm afternoon air was finding its usual crispness. The mural still had a long way to go. There were unfinished stretches here and there, and the entire side along the front hadn't been started. Charles would be working on it for a while, and though Sedgewick didn't know it yet, he would, too. But for now, this one section of river, this one stretch of fence, this opening fumbling chapter in Sedgewick's life—it was finished.

He walked home in silence, the sun setting behind him. The air was colder now, and he pushed his hands deeper into his jacket. He wondered about Allison. Wondered how she was doing in the midst of it all. Today had been hard, a day you wish you could leave behind.

Sedgewick expected to her stay at her place again tonight, expected to sleep in his own bed again. Everything had seemed so extreme, so lofty and soaring, and now it felt like they might actually return to earth. It may have been a day to leave behind, but like every day, it would be one to carry with you forever.

He crossed a street and stepped back on to the sidewalk, noticing a child's chalk drawing. He paused to take it in, a flower in a pot with lots of colorful squiggles all around. Sedgewick looked up the street one direction, and then the other. It was quiet and empty. Despite being a city neighborhood the city side streets managed to stay so quiet, maybe thanks to the towering trees planted a generation ago.

He didn't see the artist, though he did see a name scrawled beneath the sidewalk chalk drawing: Grace. He smiled. It's the name of a girl, but it's a thought that changed the world. It stuck him as an observation Charles might make, or at least someone wiser than him.

He smiled, humbly, at the thought, and stepped into the grass to walk on without stepping on the chalk creation.

That night he sat at the table with his Gram while they ate supper together.

"You seem quiet tonight, more so than usual."

Sedgewick shrugged his shoulders, then realized he was doing it again.

"Sorry, Gram. It's just been—today's been one of a kind."

"A kind you'd rather forget?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Well, they can't all be sugar and roses. How's Allison doing? Today was the funeral, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was. I just felt—I feltso useless. It was so much easier when it was just—just me and her, throwing rocks."

"And you can't do that in a funeral home, can you?"

"Nope." Sedgewick put his fork down with a sigh. He hadn't eaten much, and there was no point in pushing it around on his plate.

"Oh honey, you know these days will come." She reached across the old, worn table for Sedgewick's hand and he looked into her face, full of love and tenderness and age. He nodded and squeezed her hand.

"But you do know tomorrow can be a new day, a beautiful day?"

"Yeah, I just wish she were here. I wish we could go to Perkins again."

"I know. We wish a lot of things. But we can't spend every day walking on the water." Sedgewick smiled at the image.

"No, I guess we can't. I suppose—I suppose eventually we'd get used to it, and it wouldn't be so—so miraculous."

"No, child, it wouldn’t." She stood up to clear the dishes, but then bent over to give her grandson a hug.

"Thanks, Gram."

From the kitchen sink she looked back to Sedgewick. His eyes were lost in thought, his hand on his chin. His grandmother stood there for a moment and just watched the boy, like she'd done all her life.

Chapter 16 (continued)

But she wasn't sure where she was. She sat in the passenger seat of the car, but felt like she was just a passenger in her own life. The distance in her family had been a fleeting feeling before, random thoughts late at night after her parents had been fighting when she asked herself who she'd stay with if her parents divorced. Those are the quiet questions you ask in the dark, they're not supposed to come to light. Her answer had always been, unequivocally, her mother. It wasn’t based so much on her closeness to her mother, or her lack of proximity to her father.

The way he used the funeral planning to keep her and Mitch away was systematic of everything he did. She couldn't imagine being Mitch, having to live in that environment now. It made her want to lash out. Made her want to cry. Made her want to scream. Such a terrible accident shouldn't fill her with feelings of hate for her own father, the only parent she had left, but that's what was happening. She couldn't help it, and it also filled her with an equally awful guilt.

Sedgewick sat in the driver's seat, quietly steering the car down the highway, back towards the downtown campus. He didn't know what to do or say. He could see Allison slipping in the seat next to him. Her internal struggle was visible in her face, in her distant green eyes. But Sedgewick had his own hurts, his own palpable feelings that came rushing back to him at the funeral, full of sadness yearning to overcome any possible sense of joy. It left him speechless.

The car finally pulled into the campus parking lot and Sedgewick shifted to park and shut the car off. As if the silence couldn't get any louder, it did. Neither of them moved.

Sedgewick sat there biting his lip, glancing around and taking a peek at Allison every few moments. She stared mindlessly out the window, her eyes red and bloodshot, a tear occasionally dripping down her cheek.

"Do you—do you want to go throw—throw rocks, down at the river?"

A moan escaped her lips, a painful sob that faded as quickly as it came. She squeezed her eyes shut and the tears flowed. She dropped her head into her hands and cried and cried.

Sedgewick's mouth hung open. He ran a hand through his hair and reached the other hand out to Allison, reaching first for her hand, then for her shoulder, then stopping midair and retreating, then reaching out again for her shoulder.

"Allison… I just… I don't… I…" He couldn't find the words, anywhere.

Allison's hands fell to her pants and she wiped the salty tears away. She looked out the window, away from Sedgewick, her eyes closed.

"I can't do this." Her voice didn't waver. It was filled with an incredible strength, a strength backed with anger and grief. In one movement she unbuckled her seatbelt, opened the door and got out of the car.

The door slammed shut, shaking the whole car and leaving Sedgewick sitting there with his mouth gaping open. He sat there in a daze, still watching her go, walking down the sidewalk away from him. It took him a moment to shake the shock away, and then he grabbed the keys, unbuckled his own seat belt and took off after her.

It was midday on a college campus, the sidewalks crowded with people, heading this way and that, off to class and work and back again. Allison walked resolutely through the crowd, her fists clenched and arms wrapped around herself.

Sedgewick ran, trying to catch up, through the crowds. The crowd thinned out a bit as Allison followed the path between two dorms, a grassy stretch extending on either side of the path between the buildings with a few trees and students scattered about.

"Allison!" She didn't stop. He closed the final few paces and grabbed her shoulder. She finally stopped. Her teeth were clenched, her fists were tight, and her eyes were hard.

Sedgewick still didn't have words to say. His eyes were filled with them, filled with love and beginning to well with tears of his own.

"What?" she demanded. Her voice trembled with the same anger, but the grief rang out as well.

"I know," was all Sedgewick could say, in his own quiet, hurt voice.

"You know? You know!" Allison's eyes overflowed. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "How can you know? How can you possibly know? You're some tragic hero with all the answers, and what am I?"

"I don't have—don't have all the answers, I…"

"No, you don't have my answers." She turned to go, overwhelmed at the depth of her feelings, at the sharpness of her own words. In the smallest way lashing out sparked something inside.

Sedgewick stood there a moment, his mind and heart reeling, then he reached out again. He took Allison by the shoulder and turned her around. She didn't resist. He looked in her eyes, then wrapped his arms around her. Then she exploded. Her clenched fists flew, lashing out at the air and Sedgewick. She landed three, four, five punches in his chest and stomach. He gasped for breath and started buckling over, but he kept his arms around her, holding her, hugging her. These weren't weak punches, lessened by emotion and grief, but were full force, fueled by anger and sadness and every bitter emotion that filled Allison's wounded heart.

People started looking up and watching the scene, heads turning and conversations dwindling to a stop.

Another punch and Sedgewick's arms fell from Allison, freeing her from the awkward embrace. He looked into those green eyes, and though he didn't have her answers, didn't have the words to say to make anything okay, he recognized what he saw in those eyes. And he loved her.

She threw one last punch, hard and direct with her right hand that landed squarely on Sedgewick's jaw. His head whipped to his right and he staggered back. Pain seared through Allison's fist and she walked away, tears streaming down her face. Students watched with eyes wide and mouths open.

Sedgewick watched her go, reaching up tenderly to feel his swelling lip. He could taste the blood.

Word Count Day 19

47,219/50,000

Chapter 16

The funeral had been a bit much for both of them. It was like taking a boyfriend home to meet the entire family, but in all the wrong ways. Sedgewick sat in the back wearing a pressed shirt, a tie and dark pants. Allison was up front surrounded by her family, protected and isolated.

Though she walked in with Sedgewick, holding his hand for strength, she didn't see him again until he came through the line, a custom he would have avoided but for her. When she saw him in the line she stepped ahead of her brother and hugged him, burying her head and lingering on his shoulder for a moment or two while her family wondered who this was. There were awkward introductions and Sedgewick shook hands and expressed condolences.

He moved away from the line as quickly as he could, feeling like every eye in the place were on him. He didn't know anyone, save for Allison—and now her dad and brother—and he wasn't sure what to do.

He had been so young for his grandfather's funeral. Too young to expect him to go through the lines and shake hands and accept hugs from wrinkled relatives he didn't know. They let him play in his dress clothes, though he didn't feel like it.

Allison, though, had to hug the wrinkled relatives and exchange nods and dab her eyes. It was all so much, more pomp and formality than she could handle. It was a forced sadness, a forced, outward grief, and that's what made it so hard for her. She felt like she couldn't smile, like she wasn't supposed to, even if a happy memory came.

When it was finally over, when the family commitments were complete, and Sedgewick had stood around by himself for long enough, and then stood at Allison's side feeling just as awkward for long enough, they left.

Allison asked Sedgewick if he minded driving back to campus. He took the keys and they drove home in silence. Sedgewick flicked off the radio as soon as he started the car.

The grief and sadness that Sedgewick remembered from Monday, when he first learned about Allison's mom and saw her sitting on the river's edge came back to him. She was back here again. It wasn't surprising or wrong or bad. It just was. That's the place she found herself.

Word Count Day 18

46,606/50,000

Chapter 15

“How’s my boy? Something tells me he’s filled with joy!” Charles walked up to the bus stop in the middle of campus with a big smile on his face. Sedgewick grinned and reached out to shake Charles’ hand.

“Hi Charles.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“How are you? Is that some joy I see poking through?” Sedgewick looked the ground.

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“Another good day?”

“Yeah, I guess. She spent the night again last night.” Charles feigned shock.

“Does your grandmother know about this,” he said, reaching out to take Sedgewick by the arm, as if confronting him about some heinous act.

“Yeah, I made breakfast for them both this morning.”

“My oh my, that’s a step up from leaving ‘em high and dry.” Sedgewick smiled weakly, wondering if he’d ever live that down.

“So things are going well then?”

“Yeah, I think we’re doing okay. She seems to be doing a lot better—“

“And let me guess, you have something to do with that?”

“Well, I don’t know if I do, but she’s doing better.”

Charles smiled and stepped forward to join the forming line as the bus pulled up.

“So are you treasuring her?”

“Am I treasuring her?”

“Yeah, do you listen to me, boy? Did you take my advice? Did you do something for the girl. You can’t just let her cry on your shoulder and sleepover at your house. I know that’s how some folks do it nowadays, but I don’t reckon it works very well.” Sedgwick smiled and nodded his head. They sat down and Sedgewick explained the night before at work how he’d fashioned a card for her and drew a picture. Charles listened quietly, nodding his head as Sedgewick finished.

“You made her a card with some corporate ad man? Out of a piece of ratty cardboard?” He laughed out loud, and slapped Sedgewick on the knee. “Oh boy, that’s good,” he continued in seriousness, “I bet she loved it.”

“I think she liked it.”

“Boy, so modest! She thought it the best!”

“And you drew a picture? Tell me about it.” Charles leaned forward intently as Sedgewick described the picture he scrawled on the cardboard with a thick black marker.

“That sounds good, my boy, that sounds good. You didn’t know you had it in you, did you?”

“No, I didn’t think I did. But it—it just came out like that.”

“Now you’re getting it. I shouldn’t have to ask, but you’re coming over today, right? That section of the mural is yours now, and you’ve got to see it through.”

Sedgewick nodded and his thoughts returned to that stretch of gray-blue water he’d been working on the day before. It wasn’t long before Charles’ stop came and the two of them got off and walked the few blocks to Charles’ house. They said hi to Rita and Sedgewick knelt to pet Dobbie. They continued on to the church and got to work.

The tiny section Sedgewick had done the day before seemed so small and insignificant. It was smaller than the piece of cardboard he’d given to Allison, but he could still see the larger picture in his mind, stretching to the rest of the fence.

He mixed colors and pushed the paint around on his palette, biting his lip as he worked. He took up a brush and applied paint to the wood, letting it soak into the cracks. He looked closely and squinted, then stepped back and reached in for a stroke or two. He kept closing his eyes and looking down to his palette and mixing more paint. The water stretched out before him and started to look like a real river. He added the shore, putting in browns and dirty whites and hints of yellow for the sand. He added a rose colored stone or two and bits of green as weeds poked through.

As darkness descended the picture was starting to take shape. Charles whistled when he walked up and saw it.

“I think you’ve got it my boy.”

“Got what?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“You’ve got all the tones, right there in your bones.” Charles tapped Sedgewick’s chest with two fingers and turned for the shed to clean brushes. Sedgewick looked down to the smear of reddish brown Charles had left on his shirt, probably intentionally.

Sedgewick looked up to the sky, to the grayish clouds, tinted with reds and purples as the sun was going down. Frost had covered the ground that morning, but the sun had brought warmth and comfort to the day. He could feel the cold returning with the sun’s departure.

His father. Sedgewick realized it suddenly. Charles was talking about his father. Sedgewick thought he should have known it himself. But then he thought he probably did know it, probably always did, it was just he’d never been able to figure it out for himself. He needed a little help along the way. Needed the prodding to put a brush in his hands and see what would his stroke would leave behind.

It was all he needed that day. He stopped in the shed before heading home.

“Thanks, Charles.”

“What are you thanking me for, boy?”

“You don’t know?”

Charles smiled and Sedgewick turned to go. The walk home was quiet and sure, and Sedgewick appreciated every step. He didn’t have to work tonight, which was part of why he worked so late on the mural. He’d be able to spend tonight at home, with his Gram. Unless of course Allison called, which wouldn’t be so bad. He was looking forward to a bit of normal, though it all somehow felt normal.

He ate supper with his grandmother that night, and later in the evening Allison called. They talked for a while. Allison was in her dorm, and planned to stay there for the night.

“Do you think you can manage?”

“I’ll be okay. I’ve still got your shirt to wear for pajamas.”

Sedgewick smiled as he sat on his bed, thinking to himself how Allison had been there the two previous nights.

“Do I—do I get that back?”

“Nope. It’s mine now.”

The funeral was the next day, and they arranged details, figuring out when and where. Allison had considered staying at her house that night, but she really didn’t want to, and needing to give Sedgewick a ride to the funeral the next day was a convenient excuse.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, it’s okay. I’d like to limit the weepy family time as much as possible. There’s only so much of that anyone should be forced to go through.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“And you don’t mind coming to the funeral?”

“No, not at all. I want to be there.”

“Thanks. I just thought it might be too much.”

“Why would you think that? I want to be there for you.”

“Just with all you’ve gone through…” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s—it’s okay. I’ve learned you can’t spend your life avoiding these things. Sometimes you have to embrace it. Sometimes you need a push, but you just have to embrace it.”

“Am I your push?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose you are. I haven’t been to a funeral since, not that I’ve been avoiding them. But it was so—it was so long ago. I don’t know if I understood it all.”

“Okay, as long as you’re not doing it because you think you have to.”

“Well, it is something I have to do, but not for those reasons.”

They were silent for a moment, both amazed at their ability to understand one another.

“I should probably let you go. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Yeah, I guess it will.” They were quiet again.

“It’s kind of hard.”

“What is?”

“Well, saying—saying goodbye.”

“Yeah, it was easier when I knew you were downstairs and it was only ‘goodnight’.”

“Well maybe—maybe you can sleep over again soon and we’ll take care of that problem.”

Allison laughed and they finally said goodnight and goodbye and hung up. If any other guy had said that Allison would have rolled her eyes and been tempted to smack him. But when Sedgewick said it, it was something completely different. Something so pure and innocent and loving. She appreciated that. She loved that.

Kallie was smiling at her, from her bed across the room.

“What?”

“You two. I never would have guessed you’d get so dreamy eyed over the stock boy.”

“Me neither, Kallie, me neither.”

“Though I am glad you’re not sleeping with him again tonight.”

“Kallie! I wasn’t sleeping with him.” She tossed a pillow across the room, and her roomie laughed, loving the wide open opportunity she had.

“I know, I know. You just make it so easy.”

“It is good to be back here, home again, in a sense, with you.”

“I’m glad I rank.”

Allison shut the lamp off and rolled over to sleep. She wrapped her arms around herself, around Sedgewick’s work shirt, and she could faintly catch the scent of boy.

Across the river and across the city Sedgewick had turned the lights off downstairs, checked the locks, and returned to his room after hanging up the phone. He shut the door and turned on his bedside lamp. He sat down on the bed again, happy to be sleeping in his own bed again. As normal as it was, it seemed a bit odd as well. The strange schedule and late night meetings had been different, had been good. He liked them. He liked doing something different. And he liked doing something different with Allison.

He liked knowing that her and his grandmother had talked. He didn’t know what the morning hug had been for, why Allison felt compelled to walk across the kitchen and embrace him that morning. He didn’t know what his Gram had told her that would cause that reaction, but he didn’t mind. He especially loved that his Gram came across and joined them. It felt complete.

Chapter 14

“So you’re here again,” Sedgewick’s grandmother said when she came downstairs and saw Allison sitting at the kitchen table.

“I hope that’s okay.”

“Child, there couldn’t be anything better. Unless of course that boy of mine is still here.”

“Hi, Gram,” Sedgewick called from the stove, which was just out of his grandmother’s line of sight. “Have a seat, I’m making breakfast.”

“Now this is more like it,” she said, hobbling into the kitchen, her body still stiff and tired. “Breakfast time with my boy and this wonderful girl—and I don’t have to cook.”

She sat down across from Allison, who was cheerful and bright, despite being up earlier than normal. Her hair was in the same ponytail and she was still wearing Sedgewick’s work shirt, but she had managed to find a pair of his pants. Sedgewick stood at the stove, whipping up omelets.

“So were you two out again last night, bothering the local restaurateurs?”

“Yeah, Allison stopped by just before my shift ended and we met at Perkins. It was easier for her to stay here again.”

“Well, we should open a hotel. I didn’t know there were so many college kids looking for a place to stay.” She laughed at her own joke and then turned to apologize to Allison.

“You know I’m kidding, child. We’re happy to have you any time.” She grew quiet and then spoke again more softly, “That kind of kidding is the sort of thing my late husband used to do. I suppose I’m making up for his absence.”

“Gram, I think if grandfather were here he’d be giving you a hard time for your meager kidding. He’d taunt you and ask if that was the best you could do.”

“Yes, I suppose he would.”

“I guess we both make up for him.”

“But you’re so much better at it, child.”

Sedgewick smiled from the stove, remembering his grandfather sitting in the corner where Allison sat now.

“He sounds like an amazing person,” Allison said from her corner, not realizing that she was sitting in his seat.

“He was, dear, he was.”

Sedgewick finished the omelets and brought two plates to the table. He dumped the pot and dirty dishes in the sink.

“I’m going to head upstairs and shower, if you ladies don’t mind. Despite the sleepover, I still—some of us still need to get to class.”

When Sedgewick left his grandmother leaned over and motioned with her head towards where Sedgewick had been standing.

“I think he’s feeling a bit out-numbered, what do you think?” Allison smiled.

“I’m just glad he’s still here.”

“Yes, that is something. Though I’d be a little worried if he managed to sneak away twice.”

“Well, I did catch him in the bathroom this morning, so he could have been plotting something.”

“That would explain the omelets—guilt cooking.” Gertrude smiled, feeling like she was making up for her husband again. “No, I think I see something different in the boy this morning. I think he’s getting used to the idea.”

“The idea? The idea of what?”

“Well, you. I can’t say that he’s brought that many pretty young women home before. I think he’s been trying to figure out what he’s doing, and he might be getting closer.”

Allison didn’t say anything, just took another bite and enjoyed the chance to eat a real, home cooked breakfast. Especially one that Sedgewick had made for her.

“And what about you? How are you doing?”

“What? With Sedgewick? Oh, I don’t know.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking about him, child, but if that’s what you’re thinking about it certainly means something.” Gertrude smiled warmly. “I meant about your mother.”

“Oh, yes.” Allison felt embarrassed.

“I can gather the reasons you spent the night last night were different than they were the night before?”

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that,” Allison said, putting down her fork to think. How was it that she could have this intimate of a conversation with someone else’s grandmother, someone she just me the day before?

“I’m doing better, with my mom. There are still moments…”

“There will always be moments.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But they’re not as—I don’t know, not as overwhelming as they were at first.” Gertrude flashed her warm smile.

“That’s good, child. That means you’re seeing the good in them, not just the sadness.”

Allison leaned forward, her mind spinning.

“Is that okay, to see goodness?”

“Why yes, it is. If you loved your mother, which I can tell you did—and still do, then those memories should eventually bring you happiness. There will always be sadness at her loss, but at some point you come to a place where the joy of knowing your mother overcomes the pain of losing her.”

Allison nodded, trying to understand it all. It was a lot for her to process, especially after only a few days.

“It’s just so hard to believe. If I hadn’t woken up in this house the past two days, I think I would have forgotten.”

“Oh child, waking up is the worst. We’re so often caught between the waking and the dreaming world that we can hardly remember which is which, and you can’t blame yourself for that. I don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of my husband and rolled over expecting to see him. Or Sedgewick’s father, or my grandchild, or even my daughter—and think how much I’d like to see them that day. And then something, the sun, the cold floor, or a sudden dawning in my head makes me realize that I won’t see them that day, or any day.” She paused for a moment, a tender silence descended on the kitchen.

“The sadness comes back then. Always does.”

“And what do you do? When the sadness comes back?”

“I suppose you want me to say I think happy thoughts and it all goes away? Or I click my heals three times? Oh, I wish it were that easy.”

“I don’t suppose it is, is it?”

“No, it never is. On those days when the sadness comes I embrace it. I let it fill me, let it flood my soul and I wallow in it. Sometimes I cry and wet my pillow with the sadness. But whatever I do I let it run its course, and I’m stronger for it. It’s not weakness to cry or be sad. But it will make you weak to deny those feelings.”

“Those sound like wise words.”

“Well, honey, when you live as long as I do you tend to learn a thing or two. But it only happens from falling down, lest you think I’ve got a big head.”

The two women smiled at each other, sitting there in the warmth of the kitchen, finished with breakfast.

“You said your daughter—was Sedgewick’s mother, was she your daughter?” Sadness entered the room again. Sedgewick’s grandmother didn’t answer at once. Her eyes focused on the distance, far off from the kitchen and that house and that very city.

“Yes, she was. She was my daughter.” Allison didn’t say anything. “I wish I could say she wasn’t, I wish I could say Jackson—Sedgewick’s father—had been my son. He practically was.” She paused again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No, it’s okay, child. There’s no sense hiding from any of it.” Allison’s brow wrinkled, and she looked down.

“I suppose if Jackson were my son it would be too easy to be filled with hate. I’d be the over protective mother, extending that feeling to Sedgewick, and I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you, another woman with the potential to hurt my boys.”

Allison smiled at the image, but her smile faded as she realized the greater reality of the situation.

“But no, she was my daughter—is my daughter,” she corrected herself. “And that probably hurts more than anything else, knowing that some of the blame, a portion of the blame might possibly rest with me.”

“No, you can’t possibly blame yourself.”

“But I do child, in some small ways I can’t help but think something I did or didn’t do could have stopped this, could have kept her from leaving. But it’s done now.” She paused again, taking a moment to take drink of orange juice from her mug.

“Her name was Allison, too, you know.”

Allison nodded slowly.

“That doesn’t mean anything, of course, it’s just a fact.” The silence lingered again, and Sedgewick’s grandmother continued filling in the story.

“Sedgewick was just a little boy, 16—18 months old. His brother was just a babe. Allison—their mother, said she had to go the store and she asked me to watch them. It was no problem, nothing out of the ordinary. They lived fairly close and we watched the boys a lot. But that was the day she left.

“Jackson called later that day, asking if we’d seen her. He’d been at his studio and came home to find the place empty. She was gone. I told him she dropped Sedgewick and his brother off and went to run some errands. I told him he could come get the boys if he liked—he was my son-in-law and I often felt like there was that unspoken friction between us. I always tried to defuse it in those early days.

“But he waved me off, told me he’d finish up his work and if Allison hadn’t picked the boys up by supper time he’d come by. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but I heard something in his voice, a hint of worry and fear. And he was right, though he didn’t know it then. I often wondered what he painted in those hours of unknowing—he was an artist you know. I wondered what the canvas would look like when he had such doubts and questions in his mind. But if there was a piece that captured that he never told anyone.

“He came over at supper time and neither of us had heard anything. We were starting to get worried at this point. We called the police and called everyone we knew. We went back to their place to look around, and Jackson went to their bedroom. I had Sedgewick in my arms when I heard his cries. My husband and I rushed into the room to find him sitting on the bed, his face buried in his hands. He was crying, tears just streaming down his face.

“We didn’t understand until we looked at the closet. It was wide open, with half the hangers swinging empty and free. The drawers on the dresser in the corner had been pulled open and emptied. She had packed in a hurry and left. Jackson just cried and Sedgewick started to fidget in my arms.

“I always thought that he could hear his daddy and he knew it wasn’t good. And it certainly wasn’t. I never heard from my daughter again after that day.”

She finally stopped, unable to continue. Allison had tears welling in her eyes, completely overwhelmed at the story.

“I don’t know why she left, I’ve never understood that, but I’ve always wished she’d just come home. I’d want to throttle her good, but I’d just take her in my arms.”

She stopped again and Allison reached over to put a hand on Gertrude’s. She smiled, weakly, and reached her other hand over to pat Allison’s hand. Allison looked up to see Sedgewick standing in the doorway. His hair was still wet, a bit tussled, but just as messy as it usually was—just wetter. He had an odd expression on his face, like he hadn’t been listening but somehow knew what they were talking about anyway.

Allison stood up and crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Sedgewick without a word. He hugged her back and looked to his grandmother. She smiled, slow and proud, and then slowly stood and hobbled over to join the hug.

After all of this, Allison took a quick shower and borrowed another one of Sedgewick’s shirts. She was beginning to feel at home in his clothes. The two left for class, turning to wave goodbye to Sedgewick’s grandmother, who stood at the door and watched them go, as if for the last time.

Word Count Day 17

42,855/50,000

Chapter 13

It wasn't nearly as late as the night before when they finally left Perkins, leaving a generous tip for the cranky waitress and paying the cashier. Sedgewick followed Allison to her car.

They stood there in the dark, unsure if they should hold hands or hug goodnight. Sedgewick bit his lip and kicked at a wayward stone. Allison kept swallowing and opening her mouth to speak but then closing it again. She gripped her cardboard card under one arm.

"I think my problem is I don't want to say goodbye."

Sedgewick nodded, feeling squirmy and nervous.

"I don't want to make this a habit, but do I have to say goodbye?"

Sedgewick's eyebrows furled.

"Can I stay at your place again?"

His face relaxed into a smile.

"Yeah, any time."

She motioned for Sedgewick to get in and she started the car and drove the two of them home.

As the car pulled out of the parking lot and up to the red light, she turned down the radio.

"It's not that I don't want to go home tonight. I think I'd be okay. It's just that I—I don't know. There's something safe and familiar about it—about staying at your place."

Sedgewick's hands toyed with the seatbelt absentmindedly. He nodded slowly, thinking that's how home always felt for him, but unsure of how that could transfer to someone else.

"Well, as long as it's not every night. Because if it is we're switching and you can sleep on the couch."

Allison laughed and reached over to poke him with her finger.

"You don't mind giving up your bed, do you?"

"Of course not."

"Because I could sleep on the couch."

"No, it's okay. I'm just being dumb."

The car rumbled through a stoplight and turned down Sedgewick's street.

"But I might start charging you rent." Allison tried to poke him, but he deflected the attack. The car stopped in front of the house and Allison shut it off. They sat there for a moment listening to the motor settle.

"You are okay with this right? I could go back to the dorm if you want."

"I don't want to say goodbye, either," Sedgewick said as he opened the door. Allison sat there a second longer, letting his words and her smile linger, and she opened the door and followed him.

The house was dark and quiet, as it usually was when Sedgewick came home late from work. His grandmother was already asleep upstairs, her steady breathing and slight wheeze could be heard downstairs if you were still.

Sedgewick followed her upstairs to get the blankets and pillow from the night before that his grandmother had put away during the day. Allison went straight to Sedgewick's bedroom, turning the light on and laying her jacket over a chair. She kicked her shoes off and sat down on the bed.

Sedgewick came back to his room, standing in the doorway with a blanket and pillow in his arms. He meant to say goodnight, to turn around and walk downstairs. But instead he stood there, rocking back and forth as if trying to build up momentum. Then he finally stepped forward and sat down next to her on his bed.

"You know we still have to say goodbye."

"No," she answered. "Now it's just goodnight."

And they kissed. If it were the movies that's what would have happened. But it wasn't the movies, and that's exactly what Allison was thinking. She could imagine them turning to each other, hands wrapping around one another and a tender hand coming up to caress her cheek. They both lean forward and their lips touch (in the background the music swells). It would have been a slow, soft kiss, first just one, but then a second, longer, tender kiss. Sedgewick would have said goodnight and she'd be left to melt.

But they didn't kiss. And Allison wasn't disappointed. She didn't want the predictable Hollywood moment. Not that anything else there were doing was predictable.

Instead they just sat there awkwardly, close enough on the bed that they touched, but not close enough to be intimate.

Sedgewick hadn't thought of kissing. He was still trying to figure out how the girl of his dreams had gone from shopping at Cub to sleeping in his bed—not once but two nights in a row—in a matter of a few days. And all the while he didn't know what it meant, if he was establishing a deep friendship of mutual grace in helping her through this time, or if the tears would give way to something more and the hand holding they'd done at Perkins that sent tingles up and down his arm would become a common occurrence. He couldn't imagine such a feeling ever becoming common.

"I should—I should probably go. We could both use some sleep." He stood up, still clutching the spare blanket and pillow and headed for the door.

"Sedgewick?" He paused at the door. "Thank you." He just shook his head.

"Goodnight, Allison."

"Goodnight, Sedgewick." He stood in his own doorway for a moment longer, an innocent smile on his face, looking at Allison, sitting there in his bed with a tender warm look on her face. He took one last look and then closed the door. He stood outside the door another moment, unsure of why he wasn't heading downstairs.

Inside the Sedgewick's bedroom Allison lingered on the bed, clasping her hands and hugging herself, still feeling the electricity of Sedgewick's touch and that last look from the doorway.

At the same moment they both realized they wished they had kissed.

Sedgewick went downstairs and crashed on the couch. It had been a long day and early day, and he could feel sleep coming quickly. As he drifted off he realized for the first time that he felt something deeply for Allison. She wasn't just another passing college girl.

Upstairs Allison went to Sedgewick's closet and found another work shirt to sleep in. She changed in the warm light of the lamp and then crawled into Sedgewick's bed. She wanted to wander around his room again, read the spines of the books on his shelf and look at the photos of his family again, but she also felt like she knew what was there. She knew all she needed to know, and so she just pulled the covers tighter and settled into the pillow that smelled faintly of boy.

Allison didn't drift off to sleep as quickly as Sedgewick did. She could hear Gertrude's steady breathing in the next room. And her mind wandered. The overwhelming sadness that had consumed her the night before seemed to be lifting. Going home that day had been tough, but she'd done it. She walked through it and had come out on the other side stronger. While sadness lingered that evening, coming in little memories and wisps, it wasn't crushing. It could suddenly be crushing again, but for once she knew a sadness she could accept and embrace.

It seemed odd to her that she should be having these moments with Sedgewick, these potentially romantic encounters, the same week her mother died. But it also seemed like it wouldn't work any other way. She couldn't imagine embracing her own sadness without knowing Sedgewick's story.

She thought of the card he had made, the careful drawing of a dandelion in black marker. It wasn't just a touching and sentimental gesture. The drawing was actually quite good. She thought of the words on the other side and smiled.

"v, Sedgewick" he had signed. It was all the love that could make it that day, and Allison realized it was all the love she needed.

The next morning Allison woke in the half dark, half light of dawn. The warmth of the blanket and the closeness of the room reminded her that she had spent the night at Sedgewick's place again. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up in bed. She stretched and ran a hand through her hair, which was still pulled into a ponytail. She pushed the covers back and her feet touched the cold floor. It sent goose bumps up her bare legs and she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. She was still wearing one of Sedgewick's work shirts, which was oversized on her. But they made good makeshift pajamas.

She stood up and walked to the window, looking out on her car on the street and the frost that clung to the grass and the shingles and the car windows. It was the first frost of the year, a coldness that held everything tight, cold and stiff, but at the same time warm and safe.

That's how she felt. She didn't know exactly why she asked to spend the night again. She easily could have gone home and slept in her dorm, told Kallie about the card Sedgewick had made for her and readjusted to a normal life. But nothing seemed quite normal anymore. She knew normal would never be normal again.

It wasn't that she needed the escape like she did the night before. It was trying something new, something different, something hopeful.

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs. It was Sedgewick. She listened to him climb the stairs, walk down the hall and enter the bathroom. She could hear water in the sink and she crossed the bedroom to the door and reached for the knob. The morning before he'd taken off, and she wouldn't let him do it again. Not because she needed him, but because she knew he needed her.

She turned the knob slowly and quietly and opened the door, sneaking out and down the hall. She peeked in the open door and saw Sedgewick standing there, still wearing the same clothes from the night before, his face half under the faucet. She stood in the doorway and watched.

"Taking off early again?" He grinned and shook his head.

"Not today." His eyes were embarrassed, as if caught in the act or suddenly realizing what it looked like. Allison smiled.

"Well that's good. I don't think I'd be able to take a runaway twice in a row. It's a little disconcerting."

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"I know." She stepped into the bathroom with Sedgewick and put her arms around him. She leaned her face against his chest and he slowly wrapped his arms around her, a little surprised and shocked. Then she realized she wasn't wearing any pants.

But it didn't bother her. As much as it could have been a sexual moment, two college kids spending the night together and embracing in the morning, it wasn't. They were two people who needed each other, two people who had just woken up, whose mouths were thick with stale breath and eyes crusted over. As sexy as she may have looked standing there with Sedgewick's shirt falling just below her underwear and nothing else, it wasn't sexiness or lust or any kind of physical attraction that either of them felt.

It was something more. It was something deeper. It was something better.

Word Count Day 16

41,008/50,000

Chapter 12 (continued)

He stood there awkwardly, hiding something behind his back. Something big that he really couldn't hide behind his back.

"What do you got there?" she asked.

"What this? It's a little—a little something for you." He handed her the giant cardboard card and sat down after realizing he couldn't exactly hide it. The thing was bigger than a menu, and Allison took it gingerly.

The front side was thick with black marker, and the scent still wafted from the card, not exactly the aroma Sedgewick was hoping for. But Allison didn't notice. Her eyes were taking in the drawing, the scrawled black edges and drawing in the middle of a flower, colored with negative space. But it wasn't just a flower. It was ragged and weak, yet strong—an upstart.

Allison realized what it was and squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. Sedgewick sat there quietly, biting his lip, his hands fiddling with a stray straw wrapper. He didn't know what to expect, and seeing as Allison's face was hidden behind the enormous card, he couldn't gauge the reaction.

Allison remembered picking dandelions when she was a little girl, maybe only 5 years old, to give to her mother. She never really faulted her mom for it, for they were just weeds that lined the driveway, but her mom didn't graciously accept the bouquet and put them in water in a crystal vase on the table. It hadn't crushed Allison, it wasn't a traumatic childhood experience come back to haunt her. It was just a quiet moment, an early memory.

"I would have picked a real one for you, but they're kind of rare in October."

She lowered the card, and he watched a lone tear fall from her green eyes and drip down her pretty face. She let it fall, then closed her eyes and another followed, and another. She opened them again and reached across the table to grab Sedgewick's hand, to anchor herself. She mouthed the words 'thank you,' and Sedgewick nodded and squeezed her hand.

The cranky waitress from the previous night hustled up to the table in the middle of the scene, not exactly oblivious to what was happening, but not really caring either. Sedgewick ordered a hot chocolate and Allison waved off anything else, still speechless.

Her eyes were soft and round, a bit red and wet around the edges from crying, but they were full of love and tenderness and yearning. It seemed to Sedgewick they were yearning for the pain to go away, yearning for a better feeling to overcome, but also resigned to it. Sedgewick knew that feeling.

Finally she pulled her hand away from Sedgewick's and reached for a napkin to dab her tear-stained face. She set the crumpled napkin aside and looked at the card again with it's thick cardboard and ragged edges. She turned it over to look at the back and smiled that there was more, and laughed that there was Bran Man beaming and flexing at her.

She read Sedgewick's words--gentle, careful, kind words—and his sign off. She had to read it again. It wasn't the brave and self-assured "Love, Sedgewick." But it wasn't the cold and distant "Sincerely, Sedgewick." It wasn't even a casual "See ya, Sedgewick" or a stiff "Sorry for your loss, Sedgewick."

Instead, in Sedgewick's careful hand, it said "v, Sedgewick." Allison studied it, wondering what the 'v' could possibly stand for. She looked up at Sedgewick, and she could tell he'd been waiting for this, expecting this.

"It's from a poem I remember," Sedgewick started, picking up the discarded straw wrapper to turn it over in his hands again. "Little kids were holding signs with letters on them, but none of them could make it. There was just one little girl holding a sign with a 'v'. She was—she was all of love that could make it that day."

A quiet joy filled Allison's face. She broke her gaze with Sedgewick and her eyes fell on the book she hadn't been reading before. Sedgewick looked at the book, then looked again. His eyes lit up and he reached across the table for the book. Allison started laughing and he smiled a huge smile and shook his head in disbelief.

He looked up and opened his mouth to ask a question, but he could only shake his head in wonder. The book was Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends. It wasn't exactly romantic poetry, but that's precisely why it seemed so appropriate.

"I brought it from home," Allison said, setting the card aside and running her finger over the words one last time. "I was going to do some reading for class but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. So I pulled this out. My mom… my mom used to read this book to me and my brother when we were little. I haven't read it in so long—years. But I thought that poem sounded familiar."

Sedgewick couldn't believe it either. His Gram and his grandfather used to read the book, and if he remembered he still had a copy on the shelf in his room.

The waitress came and set Sedgewick's hot chocolate down with a clank, coming dangerously close to spilling, and hustled off again without a word.

Allison and Sedgewick sipped their drinks and picked at the half-eaten cinnamon roll ("This is becoming a tradition—an odd, half-eaten tradition," Allison said) while talking about their favorite poems from the book, occasionally flipping through and reading them again, out loud, together. Sedgewick loved the one about the man being swallowed by the boa constrictor and Allison the one about the dancing pants. They both liked the sister for sale, though neither of them ever had a sister.

They laughed and talked and remembered, moving on from that book to others, remembering old tales and stories that used to capture their imagination, perhaps back when it seemed so much easier to get lost in a good story. The cranky waitress returned and left again, leaving the bill and the strong hint that she wouldn't come back. Sedgewick finishes his hot chocolate and the half-eaten cinnamon roll became three-quarters-eaten.

"I needed this," Allison said during a rare lull when they both stopped laughing and had finished telling their stories. "Thank you."

"Any time."

"Will you bring a giant card made out of cardboard every time?"

"I'll see what I can do. But don’t expect a scribbled picture every time."

"But I love the scribble."

"You do?"

"Very much." Their eyes met, and Sedgewick lowered his first. When he decided to do something for Allison he was thinking more along the lines of a bouquet of flowers or maybe a chocolate bar—sometimes his Gram liked chocolate when she was having a bad day. He hadn't expected to sit down and draw something. He never expected Allison to truly like it, perhaps fake it, maybe put on a good show of being touched, but she did like it.

"The memories have been coming so quickly today. It's good to just laugh, to do something besides cry and ache."

"They'll never stop coming."

"I know. But a reprieve is nice. That's all I need once in a while."

Silence overcame the booth, and Sedgewick swirled the glops of hot chocolate in the bottom of his mug that never completely dissolved.

"Do your memories still come?"

"All the time," Sedgewick set his mug down. "Some days it's a little tiny thing, an image, maybe a scent. Other days it's just a passing thought you welcome and beckon towards you. After a while it doesn't hurt so much."

She started telling Sedgewick bits and pieces of stories about her mom that had come to her during the day, some welcomed and some not.

"I remember riding my big wheel in the driveway," she had to pause and explain what a big wheel was, the molded plastic tricycles that sat low to the ground and had huge front wheels and streamers coming off the handlebars. Allison's was pink and the back wheels clicked as they turned, louder and faster the faster you pedaled. "My mom would stand there and watch, holding my baby brother in her arms."

"I remember books, like the Shel Silverstein, and others, like Dr. Seuss and that little worm guy—Richard Scarry—and one about lots and lots of cats. I remember a brontosaurus a little boy kept as a pet—I always asked my mom if I could get one. I remember wild things and older books, books I read myself, but my mom would take me to the library to check them out. Books with annoying little brothers who were somehow cuter than my own brother. Books about soccer teams and mice that drover cars and strange schools and a great lion."

She stopped, realizing she'd been rambling.


"I like books," was all Sedgewick said.

"And I remember my first sleepover, when I borrowed my dad's old sleeping bag and my mom dropped me off and I was so scared." Some stories she finished, and others she didn't, letting them just hang there.

"I remember birthday presents I picked out for her, and other years when I copped out and just gave her a card from the store. I remember trips to visit our grandparents and summers on vacation and little league games with my mom sitting on the sidelines with a folding chair and a travel mug of ice tea."

Sedgewick didn't say much, instead letting her roll with the flowing memories. He noticed that she wasn't breaking down, that she was able embrace each memory. He realized what strength she had, how far she'd already come.

"And I remember dandelions…" this story trailed off and Sedgewick realized she'd gone as far as she could go with out being overcome. He reached out and took her hand, just like she'd taken his earlier, and they held hands across the table in Perkins late on a Tuesday night.

"Do you remember anything of your mom?" Allison asked after a pause.

Sedgewick shook his head slowly from side to side.

"She left when I was really young. Sometimes—sometimes I think I have memories, I think I remember something, but I'm never sure if it's a story Gram told me or something I'm reconstructing from a picture or if it's an actual memory."

"And you still miss her?"

"Some days, yeah. I wonder why she left, I wonder what it would be like if she came back. She's still my mom, but it's not quite the same," Sedgewick looked her in the eye, and she nodded, understanding. Sedgewick didn’t have a life time of memories to rattle off, didn't have as much to miss or as much to grieve over. It didn't mean it was something to dismiss, it just didn't compare.

"What about your dad?"

"Do I remember him? Yeah. It's still hard to tell what's firsthand and what's secondhand, but I remember a lot more of him." They were still holding hands, leaning across the table towards each other and speaking in quiet tones.

"He was an artist."

"Your dad?" Sedgewick nodded. Allison squeezed his hand and gave a knowing smile.

"I remember his studio. I remember I'd lay on the floor and color pictures with crayons while my dad would paint." Sedgewick looked down and grew quiet.

"I’m sorry, I didn't mean to ask you so much all at once."

"No, it's okay. There's a few of his paintings hanging up around the house."

"Really? That's cool."

"Yeah. I remember Gram saying that some friends had told her and my grandfather that they should take down the paintings, after my dad—after my dad died. But Gram refused."

"I can see that."

"She always said that life had denied me my father, but she wouldn't do it, too. She couldn't bear to do it." Allison admired her strength, and could see her standing up for little Sedgewick despite her own loss. She wondered at Sedgewick's grandmother.

Finally they both quieted, their stories told and their questions asked, for now. They were still holding hands across the table, and they just sat like this in the late night semi-quiet of the restaurant. There eyes would shift from the remains of the cinnamon roll, to the other tables throughout the restaurant, to the quick pace of the always cranky waitress, and then back to each other—somehow always at the same moment, always that same feeling of surprise and wonder and warmth.

Word Count Day 15

38,909/50,000

Chapter 12

Allison sat stretched out in the booth, a second cup of coffee and a half-eaten cinnamon roll in front of her. She half-buried her face in the book she held in her hands, blocking out the other customers and the cranky waitress who had served them the night before. The waitress dropped off a pot of coffee and hadn't come back since.

Burying her face in a book meant she wouldn't keep looking at her watch or glancing at the entrance to see where Sedgewick was. He was late, she knew that much for sure.

Being back home wasn't easy, and she was glad she had an escape. She wished she could take her brother with her. She imagined she'd be taking lots of walks if she were still living at home. She also imagined she wouldn't be holding up as well if she hadn't met Sedgewick.

Her dad was getting through all of it as best he could. She could hardly believe his reluctance to let others help with the arrangements, his odd need to do it all himself, to be there for every excruciating detail. It was a strong and brave thing to do, to stare down pain like that. It was also a methodical, ordered thing to do. It was very much something her dad would do.

She remembered a story her mom had told her years ago. She smiled sitting there by herself in Perkins.

She had been somewhere in the midst of the emotional turmoil that was junior high. Something had happened—she could hardly remember now if it was an awkward first kiss or a 24-hour relationship followed by a harsh break up—though it really didn't matter what the precipitating act had been. Her mom sat down with Allison in her bedroom and had what could only be described as "the talk."

It wasn't purely a sex talk. They never really had that official talk and somehow managed to avoid it, thanks to playground talk and sex education. But there was still room for talk about dating and the expectations of her parents and simple advice that a teenager might actually accept if delivered with humility and care and tenderness.

This had been one such tender moment, not meant so much to teach or instruct Allison, but simply to share.

Allison's mom had been a teenager. She was young and excited and happy and wildly in love with a boy. The boy's name was Wayne and one day he would be Allison's father. Allison's mom told the story softly and gently, reminiscing of her husband and their early dating years in high school. Allison was both mystified and slightly horrified at the thought of her parents dating, but she was also intensely curious. She sat quietly on her bed, half wrapped in a blanket, listening to her mother.

"It was a summer night after a local softball game. I don't even remember who played. Your father drove me home and we were taking a late night walk around the neighborhood like we often did. We held hands and the air was warm and the night clear and beautiful. I was giddy with energy. I don't know how your father could stand it."

Allison settled in for the story, picturing her younger, happier parents in this romantic, idealized past where the future was already sure.

"I had a wild idea that night and it seemed like the perfect time to talk your father into it. I whispered in his ear and his eyes widened and he a mortified expression filled his face. But I pushed and he consented. We dashed back to my house, half running, and I snuck inside for a few things and slipped out again. We set off through the neighborhood, a new electricity tingling between our grasped hands.

"There was a lake and a neighborhood beach a short walk from my house, and that's where we headed. The beach officially closed at sundown and by the time we arrived it was pitch black. There weren't any lights, not even in the sandy parking lot outside the fence. A few houses stood nearby, but trees and the darkness blocked out any view, giving me the boldness I needed.

"I hopped the fence before your father could protest, grabbing the chain link after I landed to keep it from rattling. Your father reluctantly followed and we crossed the grassy park and went down to the beach. Out by the sand there wasn't as much protection from the trees, with the water opening around us. We hid on the far side of a tree, thinking that surely the neighbors kept a watchful eye on the beach all night long.

"I told your father to turn around, and I stripped to my underwear and dipped a toe in the warm summer lake water. It felt cold and exhilarating, and I took a few steps in and then a few more and then went completely under, trying not to splash and disturb the surface of the water. Your father watched from the tree. For the longest time I thought he wouldn't join me, but then he motioned for me to turn around and he stripped down and joined me in the water, shaking his head and muttering to himself the whole time.

"I couldn't believe I'd talked your father into swimming in the lake with me at night. It was such a sneaky thing to do, something so reckless for the two of us. And it was wonderful. The moon rose and your father put his arms around me and we kissed softly and tenderly."

Allison could hardly believe it. The thought of her parents almost skinny-dipping—and she wondered to herself if her mom was editing the story for her sake—was wildly romantic for her stable parents.

"But we were cold and mosquitoes were swarming and our little swim didn't last long. We crept out of the water and toweled off behind the tree, dressed again and walked back home as if we'd been on a walk the entire time. I was horrified my wet underwear would soak through my clothes, but no one ever noticed.

"I don't know what this story has to do with anything, Allison, but I guess I want you to know that love can be wild and exciting and the most exhilarating thing. You need to be careful not to lose your head—I imagine late night skinny-dipping wasn't a brilliant idea, but it was really rather harmless. And I guess I want you to know that your father and I were once young and reckless like you, though it was a very long time ago. I want you to be able to talk to me, because believe it or not I do actually understand."

Allison reached out and hugged her mom, thankful for the words that somehow healed her early romantic embarrassment.

"Thanks mom."

"But don't you dare tell your father." They both laughed and Allison's mom left her to ponder the idea of her parents swimming under the moonlight.

Even now Allison could hardly believe her father had done it. Though thinking back, she realized the questionable detail about them swimming in their underwear that had seemed like such an obvious edit was actually positive proof for the veracity of the story. There probably was an edit, an omission of the argument they had over whether or not to swim completely nude and Allison could be sure her conservative father had suggested swimming in their underwear as a compromise. She couldn't imagine him being willing to swim naked, and frankly she found this line of thinking disturbing and quickly moved on to something else.

In reality, Allison was partially right. The underwear was no family-friendly edit; it actually happened. But the compromise had been suggested by Allison's mother, not her father.

She smiled at the memory of her mother, her heart swelling, and she tried to dwell on details so as not to drown in it all. Not that she wanted to follow her parents' example, but she could almost imagine stripping and stepping into the dark water on a cloudless night. It would be exhilarating, and the boy would have been an added element of giddiness and woozy romance. The exposure, the almost-but-not-quite nakedness of the idea didn't bother her. A bathing suit would be just as revealing, just as exposed. Her parents had simply been practical. She could understand that. The nakedness wasn't the thrill (though things may have been different if actual nudity were the case), it was the reckless pursuit of an experience.

All this time Allison had her face half-buried in a book she wasn't reading, but it did cause her to miss Sedgewick, and when she finally looked up he was standing there with a grin on his face.