"Your turn to... what?"
He smiled wider, flashing his gleaming teeth. "Exactly."
And then he was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before I could even say "wait!" or "I'll miss you!" or "keep in touch!" or "don't ever change!" I smiled as I walked to the house. It was clear he was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else.
That night Fredward-porn starred in my dreams, as usual. However, the climate of my unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the electricity that had been charged in the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, grabbing at the air which, in my dreams, was filled with Fredward. I woke often, surprised to find myself yelling his name. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
When I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on my brown turtleneck and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of spaghetti straps and shorts. Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I expected. Charlie fried eggs for himself; I had my bowl of cereal. I wondered if he had forgotten about our Seattle Saturday. He answered my unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.
"About this Saturday...," he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the faucet.
I cringed. "Yes, Dad?"
"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.
"That was the plan."
He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush, in obvious delight of the bubbles that he produced. "And you're sure you can't make it back in time for the dance?"
...was Charlie trying to ask me to the dance?

227

Chapter 11

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