Read Online The Last Place on Earth by Carol Snow - Free Book Online

type. She just reacted to whatever type came before, assuming that different was always better. Like, there was this one guy who wouldn’t stop talking, followed by another who was so quiet that I was never entirely sure he spoke English.
    The Man-Fran who came before Randy was about as far from a regular, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing Joe as you can get: a poet and performance artist. I’d be cool with that, but this guy was a bad poet and performance artist. About a month into the relationship, my mother bribed me with promises of éclairs and lattes to accompany her to a performance in an arty little café downtown, where her Man-Fran read a poem called “Crows” while gluing black feathers to his black unitard.
    Not even kidding.
    And then one day Crow Boy just … flew away.
    All things considered, Randy wasn’t that bad. But no way was I going to get attached.
    â€œNo wild parties while I’m gone!” my mother chirped as Randy carried her suitcase out to his truck. My mother is not normally a chirpy sort, but she doesn’t know how to talk to us when her Man-Frans are around. Which is too bad. For all her faults, she’s pretty fun to talk to when she’s alone.
    â€œWho would I invite to a party?” Peter said. “My friends are all away at college.”
    Peter was out of bed at nine thirty in the morning. If Mom had been paying attention, she would have known something was up.
    I said, “I only have one friend, and he’s missing.”
    Mom opened her mouth to say … something. That Peter should enroll in community college? That I could make more friends? That Henry was not missing, he had simply gone away without telling me?
    But any of those discussions would have taken more time than she had to spare, so she closed her mouth. And she smiled a little smile, though her eyes looked kind of nervous.
    She crossed the kitchen and threw her arms around me. She smelled like coffee and baby powder.
    â€œI’ll stay if you want me to,” she said, her voice low and right next to my ear.
    â€œNo. You should go.”
    She took a step back and checked my face.
    â€œI want you to,” I said. When she still looked uncertain, I added, “You deserve this.”
    â€œRandy’s a nice man.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than me.
    â€œGood.”
    â€œDo I look all right?” She had on an Indian print sundress and one of her hundreds of pairs of dangling mosaic earrings.
    â€œYou look great.”
    â€œI don’t really know what people wear on cruises.…”
    I shrugged. “From what I’ve heard about the buffets, elastic-waist pants mostly. But that dress is loose, so you should be good.”
    She gave my arm a squeeze, put on a bright smile, and then she was off.
    From the kitchen table where he sat slumped over a bowl of Cocoa Puffs (I said he was awake; I didn’t say he was alert), Peter watched out the window as Randy opened the passenger door. Mom climbed up to the seat. As soon as Randy shut the door, she let the smile drop.
    I thought, She is starting to look old.
    And then I chased the thought from my brain.
    â€œSeven days,” Peter said.
    â€œSmall cabin,” I added.
    â€œPoor guy.” Peter slurped his cereal.
    â€œHow long till you’re ready to leave?” I asked, my thoughts already back on Henry.
    Peter shrugged and slurped some more cereal. “I’m ready now.”
    â€œYou’re not wearing pants.” His boxers were blue, faded, and a little tight.
    â€œOh. Yeah. I guess I should put something on.”
    *   *   *
    An hour later, we were on the road, headed for Big Bear. At the last minute, Peter had decided to take a shower, and since I was scheduled to spend about five hours in a car with him, I wasn’t going to argue.
    The Hawkings probably weren’t at the Shooting Star Society’s headquarters, but