Then, all of a sudden, there were stairs leading up the tree to where the first of the branches spread out to cast a shade that the seniors claimed as their own. The skeleton of a tree house had appeared almost as if through magic. It was nothing that Dave would dare to get into yet, but if he squinted at it he could see it coming to life, like a connect-the-dots drawing that was still a missing a few lines.
With each plank that was hammered into place, each branch sawed out of the way, a palpable sense of accomplishment built in the air, or maybe that was just happening in Dave’s head. Every now and then Julia’s arm would brush against his, bare despite the chilly night—they’d all started sweating early, and long sleeves were quickly rolled up, sweaters discarded into a small pile in the bed of the pickup truck, which early in the night held tons of supplies and now was mostly bare. It would be a lie to say he felt nothing at the touch of her skin—skin doesn’t forget so quickly—nor would it be honest to say it didn’t make him happy—hearts are even worse at learning new habits—but it didn’t feel momentous anymore. In fact, the shiver down his spine rather quickly led to thoughts of Gretchen, and it was with her face in mind that he put together the tree house.
When the sun started to bruise the sky with its approach, the three of them put their tools down and looked at the tree. Dave was sweating, and he could hear Julia and Brett breathing heavily beside him. While Brett made a run to a nearby deli for a huge thermos of coffee and a box of bagels, Julia and Dave added the finishing touches: applying a coat of varnish on the outside, sanding away the rough edges on the counter that faced out at the entire school, arranging an armory of pillows purchased at a Goodwill store and sprayed with disinfectant before being spread around the tree house floor. Everything was now ready for seniors in their last two languid months of school before freedom.
They broke it in together, spilling grains of sugar and drops of creamy coffee over their work and talking giddily, despite the accumulated exhaustion. Dave and Julia were an hour or so away from having to sit through class, but there was a sense that they’d done something lasting and meaningful.
“Hold this pen with me,” Julia said, pulling out the Nevers list from her back pocket.
“Have you seriously been carrying that with you every day?”
“Shut up and hold this pen,” she said. He wrapped his fingers around the pen and then Julia’s hand covered his own. She moved the pen across the page. “There. We have a lunch spot now.”
Brett swallowed down a bite of bagel. “Shit, I wish I would have gotten that on tape. That would have been perfect.” He wiped some cream cheese from the corner of his mouth and went to get the camera. “Say it again.”
Julia laughed and shook her head, folding the list away as if it were a treasure map. “Too late, man. It’s done.”
Brett folded up his camera, then turned on his stool to admire the work. “Not too shabby.”
They joined him, identical threefold smiles on their faces. “Thanks for doing this, Brett. This was really cool of you.”
Brett nodded, took a sip from his coffee. After a moment or two, he stood up, folding his gloves into his back pocket. “It was fun hanging out with you guys,” he said, and he extended his hand for Dave to shake, which he did. It struck him that Brett might have been one more person he’d mistakenly assumed he knew all about. He wondered how much he missed their mom, whether he, too, wished his dad were better at bringing her up. “Thanks,” he said, the word suddenly inadequate for what he was feeling.
Brett nodded, then offered his hand to Julia, who looked at it and chuckled. “A handshake? Please.” She put her coffee down on the counter and rose to give Brett a hug. “I underestimated how cool you are.”
“I think I did, too,” Brett said, pulling away from the hug somewhat awkwardly.
“But I still don’t think you know what ‘artsy’ means.”