Song of Summer (17 page)

Finally rehearsal is over. Dodging Pastor Mark, I pull out my phone to find a text from Carter: “Double date Friday? Bring Jenni?” is on my phone.

“Double date?” I text as I wander over to my guitar case. “With Jenni and who?”

“Robin?” I hear Pastor Mark say. Didn't dodge well enough, I guess.

“Yeah?” I chirp. I toss the phone onto my closed case and walk up to him, Bender in hand.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course” I nod, conveying confidence I don't feel.

“You just seemed really distracted tonight. Are you sure everything's okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm just… with the job and everything… haven't had time to practice.” I shrug and try to look apologetic.”

“All right… just remember that we're counting on you. This whole song is you. That's it. You set the tone. Do you want me to give the solo to somebody else?”

“No!” I almost shout. “No, please, Pastor Mark. I can do it, I really can. Next week I'll sing, I promise.”

He sighs. “Okay. But remember. If you're not focused, nobody's going to be focused.”

“Sure. Absolutely. Focused,” I say, nodding too fast. Why the heck is Carter talking about a double date? The only person I can think of is Barry, since they had a lesson tonight, but would he really subject Jenni to that?

“Good then,” he says. “See you in two weeks! Last one before we perform. You're singing, the choir's called… it's the real deal.”

“Yeah! See you then. It'll be better. Promise.”

I wave, leaving Pastor Mark with an anxious smile on his face. I'll be ready next time. I will.

I turn to put Bender away and see Trent standing over my guitar case, staring at my phone.

“Double date?” he says.

“Trent!” I storm up and snatch the phone out of the case, shoving Bender in and slamming the lid.

“It makes so much more sense now. Why you won't hang out with me. Why you're all spacy in rehearsal. Are you still hanging out with that deaf kid?”

“What?” I say. “
Ana
, your favorite microphone-wielding one-girl fan club didn't tell you? We're not only hanging out. We're dating now. Like, in a relationship dating. Why the heck are you looking at my phone?”

Trent's lips tighten and he crosses his arms.

“Oh, right. ‘It makes so much more sense now.'” I copy his phrase, making him sound like a stoned surfer. “Ana ditched you. Now all of a sudden you miss hanging out with me.”

He rolls his eyes but his face softens for a second. “Come on, Robin. I really do miss you. You left a hole in my heart, you know?”

I snort. “A hole in your heart? Poor baby.”

“Fine,” he continues, voice harder. “If you've made your choice, you've made your choice.”

I kneel, snapping the locks on my case closed. “Thanks so much for your permission.”

“Can't wait till you come to your senses, though,” he says. “A relationship without music? For Robin Peters?” He shakes his head and laughs. “What'll your song be? Oh wait, you won't have one. No proms, no street buskers, no concerts, no duets, no slow dances, no making out to Neil Halstead… Seriously, Robin. Think about the songs I wrote for you. Or when I asked you to prom by busting out the guitar in English class and singing ‘The Luckiest.' Or when I got all the choir guys to sing you ‘Sweet Caroline' on our anniversary. Or when we were chosen for ‘The Parting Glass' duet last year. Or when we'd just skip study hall and hide out in the auditorium making shit up.”

I wave him off, but he's right. “Maybe those were the best things about our relationship, but maybe that's why it failed. Because that's all we had.”

He shakes his head. “And you have so much more in common with a rich Chautauqua New York City kid, deaf or not? Whatever, Robin. Let me know when you want to jam again sometime.” He turns up the church aisle.

“Hey,” I call after him. “Don't touch my phone again.”

“Sure thing,” he says over his shoulder, giving me a sarcastic thumbs-up.

I stand up, yanking the handle of my guitar case and Bender tumbles to the floor. “Shit!” I scream through clenched teeth and the word echoes through the sanctuary. I glance at the remaining folks. “Sorry,” I say, and my phone buzzes.

“With Barry,” is the reply from Carter. “Please? Please just do this for me? I owe him.”

I groan. This is going to be a hard sell.

I take a deep breath. “Jenni!” I start texting and then stop. It will take more than a text to convince her. Probably even more than the other half of my kingdom. I sigh, find her number, and raise the phone to my ear.

Carter

We bump over the grassy lot and park at the end of a long line of cars. “Where are we?” signs Barry from the driver's seat.

I turn to him and grin. “This is Midway Park,” I sign, spelling carefully so he doesn't miss it.

“I can see that,” he signs, pointing to the huge colorful sign. Even in a second language, sarcasm is the first thing he learns.

“It's an amusement park,” I sign slowly. “For little kids.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“It's going to be fun! It was Robin's idea!” I try for enthusiasm, but I have my doubts, too. The average age seems to be about five years old.

“We should've just gone to the Iron Stone,” Barry signs with a little help. He gives up and grabs a notebook. “I should have insisted on an evening date. There is nothing romantic about a little kids' amusement park at ten in the morning.”

“Too late now,” I sign. “Try to have fun. Here they are!”

Robin's old Subaru is slowly lurching toward us. After a second, she and Jenni get out. Robin's wearing shorts and a tank top with sandals on her feet. Both she and Jenni have big sunglasses on their heads and their hair pulled back in ponytails.

Barry elbows me in the arm and I look over at him.

“Hot!” he signs.

“I know!” I sign back. “I told you.”

“Sorry, man,” he signs. “Didn't trust you.”

We get out of the car and Robin gives me a good-natured scolding look. She'd seen the exchange between me and Barry. I grin. I'd almost forgotten what it's like to have people be able to understand my conversations. Not for long, though, 'cause next week Denise and Jolene are coming in from New York.

“You look beautiful,” I sign.

“Nice try. I saw what you said about Jenni,” she signs back, teasing. I hug her and kiss the top of her head. “Barry, this is Jenni,” she signs and says.

“Hey,” his mouth says, and he holds out a hand for her to shake.

Jenni laughs a little and takes it, shaking it. “Hi,” her mouth says. “I'm Jenni.”

Barry nods. “Yeah,” his mouth says. He looks toward the park. “Let's go!” he signs, and starts to walk away.

The minute he turns his back, Jenni gets Robin's attention. “Who shakes hands?” her mouth says, and the girls giggle.

“He's okay,” I sign. “Might just take a while.”

Robin translates quietly and Jenni looks up at me.

“Thank you,” she signs, her eyes still laughing.

We get to the little booth and buy some tickets from a bored-looking teenager. Robin waves at him, and he and the girls chat for a minute.

“Stumpy,” she spells to me as we leave the booth. “It's his summer job.”

“Stumpy?” I spell back, slowly, making sure I got it right.

She laughs and nods.

“So what do we do with these?” Barry says, and signs, pointing to the tickets in his hand. “Everything is for little kids.”

Jenni looks at him, impressed, and I do, too. His ASL has progressed much faster than I ever thought. He actually practices at home and tries to hold his own at our dinner table. I've come home more than once to find him signing with my mom or dad.

“Not everything,” Robin counters. She takes my hand and runs for the Tilt-A-Whirl line, which has about four people in it. “Come on!” she beckons over her shoulder, and the other two run to catch up.

The Tilt-A-Whirl gets us laughing, so we run next door to the giant slide. We grab mats and climb the many, many steps to get to the top, waiting patiently among the little kids. We must do that ride twenty times—all sliding down at once, me and Barry racing, Jenni and Robin racing, me and Robin racing… I take out the Nikon and snap a few pictures of my Robin girl—her mouth open in a smile and her hair blowing in the wind, with the metallic reds and blues of the slide behind her.

“Beautiful,” I sign as I show her the pictures.

She shakes her head and laughs, sweaty and pink from all the stair climbing. She takes my hand and beckons for me to follow her into the barnlike arcade, which, thankfully, is air-conditioned.

Barry spots the quarter machine and changes a twenty, giving each couple ten dollars to split. Robin and I head over to Whac-A-Mole, and I get a kick out of watching her stalk the little plastic creatures.

I look around for Barry and Jenni and see them playing pinball in the corner. They're talking as they play, and he keeps reaching his arm around her to hit one of the knobs. I poke Robin, who looks up and grins when she sees them.

We find Skee-Ball and strike up a tournament. Before long, we've collected quite a crowd of bystanders. It's pretty easy to feel like a pro when your audience averages about seven years old. Any time I win, my side raises their hands and yells, and when Robin wins, her side does the same. By the time she wins it all, we're practically celebrities. I shake my head in mock disappointment, smile at Robin, and hand my tickets to the closest kid. I get lots of sympathetic pats on the arm and the little kid with my tickets gets mobbed. I look over to see Robin leading her side in a little victory dance. I whip out the Nikon for a few shots before she passes off her tickets, too.

We buy a few bottles of water and I locate Barry and Jenni. He's unbuttoned a few more buttons of his shirt and there's a grease stain from the slide on his shorts. I pass him a bottle of water and he hands it off to Jenni, who opens it and takes a gulp.

“Mini golf?” I sign to him, and he nods.

We walk back across the park to the mini golf course.

“What do you think?” I sign to Barry.

“Great!” he signs back. He signs without speaking. “You think she's having fun?”

I look back at Jenni and Robin, who are laughing about something. “Yeah!” I sign. “I think she's having fun.”

“Good,” he says.

We arrive at the mini-golf booth and I buy everybody's admission. Barry looks through all the clubs, trying to find one that's straight. I laugh and tell him to give up but he goes through every one, sighting down the shaft and taking a few practice swings like he's about to go out to the country club.

I choose a bright-orange ball and grab a club, gesturing for the girls to follow and we start our game. The course is lumpy and worn in some places, which causes Barry's jaw to tighten.

At the third hole his ball keeps rolling off the little dimple in the green. I see his brow furrow and his mouth spit out some words. Robin and Jenni laugh and Barry shakes his head, finally getting the ball to stick. I tap Robin on the shoulder.

“What'd he say?” I ask.

She laughs and thinks for a second before shrugging. “It doesn't matter,” she says. “He's just… upset about the ball.”

I try to keep my smile and nod a few times. Right.

It sucks not being in on the jokes.

As the game continues, I get a few pictures of the girls posing with large wooden fairy-tale characters that are scattered around the course. We wave at the train full of little kids every single time it goes past. By the end of the game, the “conductor” looks a little sick of it, but the kids are still waving and hollering.

“You hungry?” I sign to Robin. She nods. “Where should we eat?” I ask. I don't see anything around except for the little stand where we got our drinks.

She holds up a finger and turns to Jenni, who laughs and nods, and they begin to walk away.

I jog a couple steps and tap her on the arm. “What are we eating?” I sign.

“Food,” she signs back. “We brought food. We'll be back.” She winks at Jenni, who follows her back to the Subaru. Barry and I take a seat on a bench and watch a little kid have a meltdown.

“One more
riiiiiiiide!
” the child's contorted little face is screaming. His patient dad lifts him and carries him bodily back to the car. By the time the drama's over, I see Robin and Jenni returning from the car, swinging what looks like a loaf of bread.

“Bread?” I sign, while they're still a fair distance.

“Old bread,” Robin signs back, grinning.

The look on Barry's face tells me that he was not planning on eating old bread for lunch. I raise my eyebrows in return. When in Rome…

“Good!” I sign. “Let's eat!”

Robin laughs. “This isn't for us!” she signs. “Come on!” She begins to walk down a wide path. I follow her and find that we're walking down to the lake. There are people on the beach, pavilions in the woods, and little booths that sell fair food—hot dogs and Italian sausages and cotton candy and caramel apples. A big canopy covers a huge wooden carousel.

Barry's whole face has relaxed. “This is more like it,” his mouth says as Jenni runs up behind him and catches his hand in her own. He shoots me a surprised look over his shoulder. The two of them run down to the food booths, leaving me and Robin walking hand-in-hand, the bread swinging in her other hand.

“What's that for?” I ask.

“You'll see,” she signs, and grins.

We meet up at a food booth and order hot dogs and fresh-cut curly fries, then walk out to a picnic table in the shade. We watch the water and the people playing. I pull out the Nikon again and take pictures of Robin, her cheeks pink from the sun. Little curls escape from her ponytail and frizz around her face, like always. I wish I could get every detail. I wish these pictures could show her how I see her, but they're only copies.