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.