Page 10 of A Night to Remember

Dad shakes his head ruefully. “Gabe, do you know the strings I had to pull to get you even aparalegalposition in the city attorney’s office? You should be a lawyer by now. You should at least be able to getyourselfa decent job. I shouldn’t have to be calling in favors with one of my fishing buddies to get you a position that pays just over minimum wage. What sensible girl would want a man who couldn’t provide for her?”

“Well, not every girl expects diamonds for every special occasion. Outside the fifteen?—”

“Don’t be silly. There are no eligible women in this town outside the fifteen. And there are precious few of them your age who are still unattached. If you want to get married, your best bet is to pass the bar, leave Kentwood, and find a suitable woman elsewhere. It’s not what your mother and I want. But it’s the situation you’ve created.”

With that, the conversation is basically over. We eat our steak mostly in silence, exchanging a few awkward comments about other family members, sports, and weather. Why did I even bring up the possibility of dating outside the fifteen? Do I really think that Kayla will give me the time of day?

I ought to be angrier with her about our confrontation, but instead I’m buzzing with adrenaline. An overexcited bumblebee is ricocheting around my rib cage, humminganger is better than indifference.Anger is better than indifference. She clearly hasn’t forgotten me. She clearly hasfeelingsfor me, albeit negative ones. The bumblebee and I sense an opportunity.

I just wish she had ever told me what she’s angry about. I can understand why she would be annoyed because of the close call with the car, but clearly something else is going on. While I was on my post-graduation trip to Italy, she’d been pretty much all I could think about. As soon as I got back, I’d repeatedly tried to get in touch with her, with no success. Either she changed her phone number, or she was ignoring me.

And why is she working at the café? Surely, if she finished college (and I happen to know she finished college), she could find a better job thanthat. I feel a stab of worry that she might be experiencing the same kind of setback I am. Is she married? Divorced? Does she have a kid?

I’d never told my family about our friendship in high school, though both my parents seemed to think it odd that I didn’t date anyone my senior year. They’d tried to push eligible girls into my path—Madison Olson, whose mother is the queen of the Kentwood real estate market; Chloe Gernsheimer, whose parents operate the largest dairy farm in the county; and, of course, Gretchen Meier—but I’d resisted any attempts to set me up. Kayla didn’t have a boyfriend either, which I’d learned after a lot of not-so-subtle beating around the bush.

“No,” she’d replied, doodling concentric circles on the calculus worksheet she’d just finished. “I’m not very interested in dating. High school boys seem pretty worthless, honestly. Present company included.” And she’d flashed me her mischievous grin.

“Worthless?! I’m an Eagle Scout, I’ll have you know.”

“What on earth is that?”

“It’s the highest rank in Boy Scouts! I can build a fire. Prevent hypothermia. Make a flotation device out of my own pants! Doyouknow how to make a flotation device out ofyourpants?”

“Um… no? How… and why…?”

“Like instead of a life preserver. You tie the ends of the legs in knots, then kind of swing them over your head to catch air inside.”

“After you’ve taken them off, I presume.”

“Um, well, yeah.”

She’d eyed me skeptically, clearly trying not to laugh, whether from the supposed ridiculousness of the life-saving measure,which totally works, or from the image of me, floating pantsless next to an upturned canoe. I tried to save face.

“And in case you forgot, I’m also the guy who pulled you out of a ditch.”

“After you ran me off the road!” She was grinning broadly now.

“Not on purpose! Trust me, Johnson, in a Cormac McCarthy-style post-apocalyptic world, you’d definitely want me on your side.”

“Assuming you wouldn’t eat me,” she’d quipped, poking me with the eraser end of her pencil. “I’ve seen how you inhale your lunch.”

“You’re far too cute to eat,” I’d blurted out, recognizing immediately that I’ve given her both too much and too strange of a compliment. She’d laughed out loud while blushing furiously. Mrs. Bergman glared at us, and Kayla, still shaking with laughter, buried her burning face in her arms.

“That doesn’t seem like much of a survival strategy,” she said when she was finally able to talk. She raised her head from her desk, cheeks still flushed. “I’d better learn how to, like, build a primitive shelter or something.”

“I know how to do that too.”

“Out of your own pants, I’m sure.”

Dad returnsto the office after lunch and I drive a few miles out of town to the house I grew up in. Not much has changed since I moved out. Following the long drive that curves gracefully from the main road, I notice that several of our old ash trees—victims, no doubt, of the ubiquitous emerald ash borer—have been replaced by sycamore and bald cypress saplings. In summer, the flower beds would probably be blooming with native coneflower and coreopsis, cosmos and poppies. But our gardener has cut back all our bushes and perennials for winter, which makes the brick facade look cold and unwelcoming. To make matters worse, my brother’s black Mercedes S500 is parked in the driveway, looming like a dark rain cloud. Shouldn’t he be at work?

I don’t dislike my brother, but he’s the most competitive person I know, and I’m sure that right now he feels like he’s winning. Adam is a vice president at the bank where Dad is managing director, and given that he also has a wealthy wife and adorable kids, his position as Wilson Family Golden Child is unquestionably secure.Secure, however, is not a word that anyone would ever apply to my brother.

“Little bro!” He opens the door just as I put my hand on the handle, like he’s been watching for me. Before I can cross the threshold, he pulls me into a bear hug, taking advantage of the fact that he’s momentarily taller while I’m still stuck on the stoop. “How was lunch with the old man?”

“Fine,” I lie.

“Like hell.” Adam grins at me. “You’re the only thing he’s able to talk about for weeks. He on your case about law school?”

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