she clarified, erupting into a fit of giggles.
“ And he uses the smoke detector as his timer,” Andy said.
“ One time,” Dylan said, shaking his head. “I burned cookies one time.”
I watched them banter back and forth, arguing about his lack of baking skills, and felt a flicker of something. I didn’t have brothers or sisters, didn’t have cousins who were close in age or in location. This was what I imagined my life would have been like with siblings. Well, siblings who spoke the same language and were not 16 years my junior, like Baby Es would have been.
By Sunday night, I felt like I’d always lived there. Or at least that I’d lived there for longer than 48 hours. Meg spent the afternoon helping me paint my bedroom. We’d rummaged in the garage, hauling out cans of paint, testing colors on an old piece of scrap wood before settling on a dusky blue. Andy unearthed paint rollers and a drop cloth and we were good to go.
Dylan surveyed our work later that night. “Looks awesome.”
I had the bedroom window open to help clear the paint fumes. The breeze was cool, almost cold. We were under a frost warning that night. It was hard to believe I’d submerged myself in a lake just a few days earlier. But that was Minnesota for you.
“ Thanks.” I glanced up from my books. I motioned him inside and he sat on my bed, the edge of it this time, like he wasn’t preparing to stay. “What are you up to tonight?”
“ Eh. Working on a paper.”
I remembered Meg saying he was a grad student at the U. “Masters degree, right? What for?”
“ Social work,” he said.
“ Really?” I’d thought that was a female-dominated field.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I was curious. “How’d you settle on that?”
“ I spent some time volunteering downtown. Social service stuff. Fell in love with the kids, with the families who came through the door. There are people who abuse the system for sure, but the number of people who are genuinely in need?” He shook his head. “It would blow your mind.”
The most volunteer work I’d ever done was run a bake sale at my high school.
“ And the social workers,” he continued. “Hardest working people I’ve ever met. Period.”
“ And that’s what you want to do?” I asked. “Work hard?”
“ No,” he said. “I mean, I don’t mind hard work but that’s not why I chose that field. I want a job that makes a difference. I want to help people.”
I thought about that. I’d chosen my major because I was good at English. Period. And I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.
“ What about you?” he asked me.
Hmm. Did I admit to him what I’d just said to myself?
“ English,” I said. “Because I didn’t know what else to do.”
Dylan grinned. “Hey, that was my undergrad degree.”
“ It was?”
He nodded. “Yep. Got my BA at St. Cloud State.”
I smiled. For some goofy reason, I liked that we shared that.
“ So, how did you end up at The Ale House?”
“ Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said, a sly smile on his face. “But the U is kinda expensive.”
“ Uh. Yeah.” My parents had no qualms about groaning over my tuition bills.
“ And bar tending pays well. Really well.”
Too bad I hadn’t thought to get into bar tending. I was pretty sure it paid more than my gig at the bookstore.
My phone buzzed then. A text from Dani.
CALL ME!!
“ My friend,” I said, picking up the phone.
He stood up. “Call her. I need to hit the books. Let me know if you need a study partner. I’ll be up.”
I waited until he left before I called her.
“ Hey,” I said. “How’s the festival?”
“ Oh my God!” she squealed, her voice bursting with excitement. “You’ll never guess! Not in a million years!”
“ What?” Ron repaired a record number of midget bikes that night? He’d gone more than three hours without visiting the bathroom?
“ I’m getting married!!”
ELEVEN
I met Dani on Monday, between my
“ And he uses the smoke detector as his timer,” Andy said.
“ One time,” Dylan said, shaking his head. “I burned cookies one time.”
I watched them banter back and forth, arguing about his lack of baking skills, and felt a flicker of something. I didn’t have brothers or sisters, didn’t have cousins who were close in age or in location. This was what I imagined my life would have been like with siblings. Well, siblings who spoke the same language and were not 16 years my junior, like Baby Es would have been.
By Sunday night, I felt like I’d always lived there. Or at least that I’d lived there for longer than 48 hours. Meg spent the afternoon helping me paint my bedroom. We’d rummaged in the garage, hauling out cans of paint, testing colors on an old piece of scrap wood before settling on a dusky blue. Andy unearthed paint rollers and a drop cloth and we were good to go.
Dylan surveyed our work later that night. “Looks awesome.”
I had the bedroom window open to help clear the paint fumes. The breeze was cool, almost cold. We were under a frost warning that night. It was hard to believe I’d submerged myself in a lake just a few days earlier. But that was Minnesota for you.
“ Thanks.” I glanced up from my books. I motioned him inside and he sat on my bed, the edge of it this time, like he wasn’t preparing to stay. “What are you up to tonight?”
“ Eh. Working on a paper.”
I remembered Meg saying he was a grad student at the U. “Masters degree, right? What for?”
“ Social work,” he said.
“ Really?” I’d thought that was a female-dominated field.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I was curious. “How’d you settle on that?”
“ I spent some time volunteering downtown. Social service stuff. Fell in love with the kids, with the families who came through the door. There are people who abuse the system for sure, but the number of people who are genuinely in need?” He shook his head. “It would blow your mind.”
The most volunteer work I’d ever done was run a bake sale at my high school.
“ And the social workers,” he continued. “Hardest working people I’ve ever met. Period.”
“ And that’s what you want to do?” I asked. “Work hard?”
“ No,” he said. “I mean, I don’t mind hard work but that’s not why I chose that field. I want a job that makes a difference. I want to help people.”
I thought about that. I’d chosen my major because I was good at English. Period. And I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.
“ What about you?” he asked me.
Hmm. Did I admit to him what I’d just said to myself?
“ English,” I said. “Because I didn’t know what else to do.”
Dylan grinned. “Hey, that was my undergrad degree.”
“ It was?”
He nodded. “Yep. Got my BA at St. Cloud State.”
I smiled. For some goofy reason, I liked that we shared that.
“ So, how did you end up at The Ale House?”
“ Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said, a sly smile on his face. “But the U is kinda expensive.”
“ Uh. Yeah.” My parents had no qualms about groaning over my tuition bills.
“ And bar tending pays well. Really well.”
Too bad I hadn’t thought to get into bar tending. I was pretty sure it paid more than my gig at the bookstore.
My phone buzzed then. A text from Dani.
CALL ME!!
“ My friend,” I said, picking up the phone.
He stood up. “Call her. I need to hit the books. Let me know if you need a study partner. I’ll be up.”
I waited until he left before I called her.
“ Hey,” I said. “How’s the festival?”
“ Oh my God!” she squealed, her voice bursting with excitement. “You’ll never guess! Not in a million years!”
“ What?” Ron repaired a record number of midget bikes that night? He’d gone more than three hours without visiting the bathroom?
“ I’m getting married!!”
ELEVEN
I met Dani on Monday, between my
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