Page 81 of Late Fees

Wyatt

1996

The house was dark when I got home from Pete’s house. It was nice to see my high school friends whenever I could. Despite my being gone for two years, they welcomed me back into the fold, and we picked up exactly where we left off. Since Pete was leaving early in the morning to go to Florida with his family, we had called it a night a little earlier than normal.

My parents were asleep when I walked in, and with Brad still in Europe, it was only natural for me to retreat to my room rather than risk waking Mom and Dad with the television, even though I wanted to watch Saturday Night Live. Dave Matthews Band was the musical guest, and I’d forgotten to set the VCR.

Instead, I opted to put in their cd for the hundredth time and chill in my room. Grabbing the Gameboy that my parents gave me for Christmas, I plopped onto my bed and started a game of Mario Bros. as Dave softly sang “What Would You Say”. After I’d finished level three, I was startled by the tiniest of noises coming from outside. I froze, listening to see if I might hear it again.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

There it was again. I paused for a second before rolling out of bed and peeling back my navy-blue curtains. My world lit up when I saw Tilly standing in the darkness outside my room, a pensive smile on her face as she stood in the grass, peering into the window, her hand still resting on the glass. Without hesitation, I threw open the window, and we stared at one another for a second before speaking.

Tilly was here.

Outside my window.

Just like she’d been years ago.

I tried not to get ahead of myself, but I was feeling happier than I had in years.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, feeling the skin of my forehead pinching in genuine curiosity. “I mean…you know what I mean.”

“I was just in the neighborhood and, uh…I have a major taste for a Slurpee,” she said, tilting her head to one side and biting down on her lower lip. “The 7-Eleven is open twenty-four hours, and I thought that maybe you might want one, too?”

Elated, I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to let out a celebratory battle cry. Instead, I simply said, “Yeah, sure. I am a little thirsty. I’ll be right out.”

“Meet me at the corner,” she said, referencing our first trip to the 7-Eleven.

“It’s more fun that way, huh?” I asked her, and she nodded. “But here’s the thing. It’s late, it’s dark, and I don’t want you out there alone. Even if just for a minute.”

“Wyatt, we live in, like, the most boring suburb that’s ever existed. I’ll be fine.”

“Tilly, just humor me, okay? Meet me out front.”

She huffed but conceded. “Fine, okay, whatever.”

“Thank you,” I said with a chuckle as I closed and locked my window. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I had to take a second to breathe, relax, and soak in the fact that she was here. And of her own volition.

And we were going for Slurpees at midnight.

As quietly as humanly possible, I walked outside, closing and locking the front door behind me, hoping I wouldn’t wake my folks. Tilly had cooperated with my request and was standing at the edge of the driveway, wearing navy blue corduroy overalls, brown Mary Jane Doc Martens, and an oversized wool sweater. Her gorgeous red hair, pulled back into cute, little flower clips, was highlighted by the light of the moon as she stuck her hands in her pockets and leaned to one side.

“This is a surprise,” I said as I approached her. “I didn’t hear from you last week, so I thought, maybe…you weren’t happy about, you know, what I did.”

Dude, get it together.

“I know. I wanted to reach out, but…I don’t know exactly how I feel. About anything. I couldn’t pretend that everything was sunshine and roses when it’s not.”

“I get that,” I said, and we started to walk.

“But I did appreciate the gesture. And the memories.”

“Damn good memories.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re thirsty,” I said, turning to look at her. Her eyes stayed focused on the road ahead of us, but her lips curled into a smile.

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