What A Kiss Is

Chapter Sixteen

Sixteen

“What happened in your meeting?” Dad asks as we drive away from the airport.

“He told me to start writing. That it needs to be personal, real. He wants pictures no one else will have.” My talk with Mel still unnerves me. I held it together, though. I really did. I sat and we chatted as if we were discussing pros and cons of certain cars and not my mom.

“Are you ready to do this?” Dad asks.

I know what he’s asking. It’s not my writing skills he’s talking about. He’s talking about how Mom’s death still feels—something I don’t want to touch. Not yet. “Almost.” That’s easy enough, right?

“I ask because I’m guessing you still have a lot of loose ends to tie up.” His gaze is pointed at me.

My gaze is pointed out the window. Only thirty more minutes of drive time before Amber. “A few.” But hopefully he knows me well enough to drop it.

“How was the Waldorf?” Dad asks.

And that’s the sign that he’s going to let it go for now. I let myself relax into my seat for the final few minutes of our drive.

“Amazing,” I say. Because the way I feel just doesn’t have words right now, it’s all too mixed up.

- - -

Amber just took off for home, or boat, or whatever. I’ve been back for two weeks. Amber and I are together pretty much all the time. Our home school classes are similar, and we’re both trying to get as much done as we can. The hope is that the last bits of senior year will go a little more smoothly. Also, being around her means that she’s what I’m thinking about, and that beats the hell out of pretty much everything else that’s on my mind.

I’m trying to be careful, but kissing her makes me crazy. The other problem is one of the only places we have any privacy is in my room. Kissing a girl in my room makes me even more crazy.

I know I need to start Mom’s memoir, especially if we’re going to push it to print early, but I’ll get to it. Just not yet. I also know that my email is growing, not shrinking, but that, too, isn’t something my brain can wrap itself around. Instead I’m goofing on my computer, talking with David about nothing.

My insides still turn over with Mom, and with all that I need to do, all that I’m holding in, the hope is still there. The hope that the longer I push things away, the more likely it is that my body will dissolve it. Break it apart into pieces that won’t hurt so much. That all the pain will disappear the way I need it to.

“Antony.” Dad sits across from me at the table with his computer.

“Yeah?” I don’t glance up from my screen. Maybe he’ll take it as a sign that I’m too busy to talk. It’s funny how the tone even in a single word, lets me know that he’s about to start a topic that I don’t want to touch.

“Antony?”

I push out a sigh and flip my computer closed.

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “No need for attitude.”

“What do you want?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but probably fail.

“It’s great that you’re spending time with Amber, and that she seems so happy—”

“But?” I interrupt.

“But it’s all you’re doing. I’m sure you have deadlines with the book, and you haven’t said a word about email, and—”