Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between

The dog trots into the dining room with a squeaky toy in his mouth. It used to be a duck, but the head has long since been chewed off, and there’s only one wing still dangling by its side.

“And this guy,” Aidan says, bending to give him a pat. “I’m going to miss him like crazy.”

“I’m starting to get a complex,” Clare says. “I think you might actually like Bingo more than me.”

“I like you both,” he says. “But you I can always call.”

“You can call Bingo, too. My mom leaves him messages on our answering machine all the time. Or you can just wait for Thanksgiving.”

Aidan straightens again, fixing her with a solemn look. “So I can still come visit at Thanksgiving?”

“Of course,” Clare says, about to reach out for him, but then she remembers the state of things, and decides instead on a friendly punch to the shoulder, which is far more awkward than the hug would have been. “My parents would be really sad if you didn’t. So would Bingo.”

“And you?”

“And me,” she says. “Obviously.”

He leans against the table, his arms folded. “Yeah, but what if you have a new boyfriend? What if there’s some nerdy kid with glasses and loafers who reads Shakespeare in his spare time sitting in my spot?”

“It would be nice to have someone who could recite Shakespeare before dinner,” she says, tapping her chin thoughtfully, but Aidan is still watching her with a worried expression.

“Seriously,” he says, and Clare falls back against the table beside him, so that they’re shoulder to shoulder.

“Seriously? I guess it’s possible. You could have a new girlfriend by then, too. I don’t know if you realize this, but you’re kind of a catch.”

“Even though you’re throwing me back,” he says with a half smile. “Like a guppy.”

“I’d say you’re more of a clown fish,” Clare says. “And I’m not throwing you back. I’m setting you free.”

Aidan doesn’t seem satisfied with this. “But it could happen,” he insists. “You and Will Shakespeare. Sitting right here at this table. Eating turkey with your parents. Talking about… I don’t know. The plague?”

“I can’t think of a single thing I’d rather discuss over dinner,” she jokes, but Aidan doesn’t smile, and so she shrugs. “Fine. Yeah, I guess it could happen. For you, too. I mean, it’s California. Every girl out there is supposed to be blond and tan and ridiculously cool, right? You’ll probably meet some model-slash-surfer who plays beach volleyball in her spare time.”

Aidan laughs. “Does she skateboard, too?”

“Totally,” Clare says. “And she probably designed the skateboard herself.”

“She seems talented,” he teases. “Sounds like we did pretty well for ourselves.”

Clare shakes her head. “See? This is why I really don’t want to be thinking about this tonight. Because now I’m getting jealous of some girl who doesn’t even exist. Whatever else happens later, tonight is still about us. So I think we should just cross all those other bridges when we come to them.”

“Easy breezy,” Aidan says with a grin, and Clare nods.

“Easy breezy.”

He studies her for a few seconds without saying anything, then hitches up one shoulder in a sort of half shrug. “Okay, then,” he says finally. “What now?”

They head back into the kitchen to grab a couple of cans of pop from the refrigerator, then slip through the foyer, whispering so they don’t wake her parents. At the door to the basement, they make their way downstairs, leaving Bingo—who is afraid of stairs—to stand guard at the top.

“I’m gonna miss this place, too,” Aidan says as they emerge into the coolness of the basement, and Clare laughs, though she knows he’s serious. It’s just that it’s not much to look at: orange carpeting they’ve always meant to replace, a maze of pipes across the ceiling, pocked concrete walls, and a random collection of mismatched old furniture.