The Wake Trilogy: Gone Part 21

8:31 p.m.

They tool around the U of M campus, first by car, then on foot, wandering through the parks and around the various buildings, Cabel pointing out what he knows about where things are and how to get there. It feels weird, and fun, and daunting, like a strange adventure, wandering the campus of such a huge school. Soon, they'll be a part of it all.

They stop for ice cream at Stucchi's and laugh for what feels like the first time in a long time.

When Cabel drops Janie off, she kisses him sweetly, holds him close. "I'm really happy about our agreement," she says.

"Me too." Cabe says. "So . . . tomorrow . . ." He sounds reluctant.

"Yes?"

"I need some junk for school. I suppose, against my better judgment, we should go shopping."

Janie grins. "Sweet," she says. "I'll bring a fork in case it all gets to be too much for you and you need to stab your eyeb.a.l.l.s out."

He laughs. "It would be ironic if I went blind before you did, wouldn't it?"

They share a wry smile. A lingering, soulful kiss.

11:05 p.m.

When Cabe pulls out of the driveway, Janie walks slowly to the house and sits down on the step. Just thinks about things, and things, and things.

Like the time Cabel brought her to this step on his skateboard.

And she thinks about Miss Stubin, and how she never actually had a chance to say good-bye. She's glad for the note on the chair.

She thinks about Captain, and her eyes get misty. Family, she'd said.

It's good to have family like that.

Janie turns Henry's ring so it catches the glow from the streetlamp. The ruby sparkles. She makes a fist. Presses the ring to her lips. Holds it there. Then lifts it up to the sky. Says, "Hey, Henry . . ." and stops, because her throat hurts too much to go on.

Janie listens to the crickets and tree frogsa"or wiresa"buzzing in their last days of summer, before the sounds of crunchy leaves take over once again.

She thinks about her mother in a different way. A new way, tonight. Plans on going back to another Al-Anon meeting. Might even share her own story sometime. If she feels like it. Or not. No rash decisions. No big commitments. Each day as it comes.

Janie takes a deep breath and feels the briskness of the night filling her lungs. She sits a moment more on the step, and then eases to her feet and peers into the house through the kitchen window, pus.h.i.+ng her face against the dusty old screen, wrapping her hands around her gla.s.ses to s.h.i.+eld against the glare from the streetlights. Streams of soft light from the window cut diagonally across the kitchen.

The box of memories is gone.

So is the cake.

Janie laughs quietly, but inside, she aches a little. For a moment, she left all this trouble behind. And now here she is again, and will be, for a while at least.

It's hard to get excited about that.

But life goes on.

Everything progresses in one direction or another. Relations.h.i.+ps, abilities, illnesses, disabilities. Knowledge.

School. A new life where few will know her. Where few will call her narc girl. But where many will dream.

She sighs.

One day at a time. One dream at a time.

Her choice is made. For now. For today.

"This is it," she whispers to the buzzing wires. "This is really it."

The chill of the evening, the preamble to autumn, has arrived, and Janie rubs her bare arms, covered in goose b.u.mps.

It's exhausting to think about it all. Quietly, she goes inside. Locks the door behind her. Slips off her shoes and tosses her backpack on the couch. But before Janie says a last good night tonight, she has just one more task in mind.

She pads on bare feet down the short hallway in the quiet night.

And pauses at the portal to another world.

There's just one more sorrow's dream to change.

ALSO BY.

LISA MCMANN.

Wake.

Fade.