Nothing Like the Movies

Liz

“Hey, guys.”

I looked up from my screen and there was Lilith, standing beside our cubicles with a big smile on her face.

“Hey,” I said, surprised to see her.

“Hey, Lil,” Clark said, and I quickly shot a glance at her to see if she was going to kill him for that.

She looked like she hadn’t even noticed.

“I am here to ask a favor, and I’m a little nervous.” She looked anything but nervous in her black leather jacket, jeans, and Mary Janes with three-inch heels.

“We are your humble servants,” Clark said. “Ask away.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Want to go to Omaha tomorrow?”

“What?” I looked from Lilith to Clark, wondering if I’d heard her right. “Omaha?”

“Consider me already packing,” Clark said.

“I mean, of course I’m down,” I said, trying to keep up with Clark’s enthusiasm, “but why? I mean, Omaha isn’t usually anywhere that people go.”

I would love a free trip home, especially when I knew Wes wouldn’t be next door, but why on earth would Lilith want to send us there? It had to do with him, though, right? That was the only thing that made sense, maybe…?

“Here’s the thing,” she said. “Wes Bennett is headed home because his mother sold their house and he’s helping move everything out. I would like for us to get footage of the house and his high school field to accompany your interview.”

“Oh.” I tried keeping my face calm when every part of me was flinching at the thought.

I mean, I wasn’t even sure what I was freaking out about more. The fact that Lilith wanted me to go back home and follow Wes to all the old places I’d avoided for years, or the fact that the Bennetts weren’t going to be living next door anymore.

“Are we sure about this?” Clark asked, running his hand over his chin as he looked at Lilith like he was unhappy. “I imagine this isn’t going to be easy for him, so it feels a little ghoulish for us to show up with cameras. No offense, of course.”

Good point, Clark.

Listen to him, Lilith.

“None taken,” she said, nodding. “He said it’s fine.”

“He did?” Clark asked.

“He did?” I said at the same time.

“Yes,” she repeated, looking amused by our matching reactions. “I fully expected a no, but he said okay.”

I stared at her, shocked.

“I’d like to see if his sister or mother will consider an interview,” she said. “I know it’s obviously a tricky issue, but it’s been a couple years, so they might be ready to talk.”

“I’m sure Sarah will,” Clark said, nodding. “From what Bennett told me, they’re close and she’s kind of a smart-ass. The mom, though—I’m not so sure about her.”

The mom. It was beyond weird that we were discussing Mrs. Bennett from next door.

“Yeah, me either,” Lilith said. “But we might as well try. Listen, the closing is Friday afternoon, so I was thinking if we fly out tomorrow after classes, we can all get a good night’s sleep and then walk through the house with Wes first thing the following morning. Before the closing. Hopefully afterward, Wes will let us get some footage around town and at the ball fields.”

“I don’t have any classes on Fridays, so that’s perfect,” Clark said.

Was it me, or was he being a kiss-up? I’d apologized for snapping at him the other night, and he’d apologized for trying to get me to forgive Wes, but his Wes love still rubbed me the wrong way.

“What about you, Liz? Do you think you can make it work?” Lilith put her hands in her pockets and said, “We only go if you go.”

“I mean, my parents would love it,” I said as I tried to mentally work through what the weekend would entail. “And I’m sure I can talk to my teachers about missing my classes.”

“But what about you?” she asked, looking concerned. “I want to make sure you’re comfortable with this. If you’re not, we scrap it.”

I could tell by her face that she was genuinely asking, and I felt a rush of gratitude that she was willing to abandon this idea if I wasn’t okay with it. That tiny bit of understanding was probably what allowed me to take a step away from my own feelings to recognize that if Wes was willing, the imagery would definitely add to his story.

“I think it’s a great idea.”

After that, we went into brainstorming mode, talking through the content she hoped for. It would be a nice supplement to see the inside of the house he grew up in and juxtapose it with locking the door for the very last time.

God.

It’d also be gorgeous to get some early-morning sunlight shots of Emerson Field, the place where he’d become a superstar pitcher.

Is this really happening?

It was surreal that the project we were talking through and the plans we were making would send us to Teal Street and my old high school. I loved that place, but I’d purposely taken summer classes and suggested family holiday getaways with my parents because I wasn’t sure how to handle being there, next door to him.

I’d never intended to stay away for nearly two years, but I always just kind of found something else to do every time there was a break.

But now I was going home.

To his house.

With him.

Is this really happening?

Apparently it was, because twenty-four hours later, I was disembarking from a plane at the Omaha airport.

“This is the airport?” Clark said, looking around the small terminal like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Where are the stores? Where is the Starbucks?”

“You can get a mini Godfather’s Pizza over there,” I said, heading for the baggage-claim area while pointing to the right. It felt good being there, walking into a place I’d known my entire life and where I knew exactly which direction I was going. “And there’s a Scooter’s right under that sign.”

“What in God’s name is a Scooter’s?” Clark looked disgusted as he walked beside me, dragging his carry-on behind him.

“It’s coffee,” I said, surprised he didn’t know. Was that only a Midwestern thing? I loved Scooter’s.

“Just say ‘okay,’ Clark,” Lilith said, smiling. “I’m sure we can find decent coffee by the hotel. Wait—they do have decent coffee here, right, Liz?”

“Of course we have decent coffee,” I said defensively, walking toward the hall that led to the baggage-claim area. “I think Omaha has close to a million people—it’s not in the prairie, for God’s sake.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Clark said.

I was walking faster as I led them through the terminal, so excited to see my parents. “I texted my dad when we landed, so he should be waiting.”

My dad and Helena (my stepmom) freaked out when I called last night. As much as they’d been happy to come to California to visit me during breaks, apparently me coming home was much better. Helena screamed through the phone when I shared the news, and my dad sounded suspiciously like someone who was weepy.

I couldn’t wait to see them.

But when we came down the escalator and there they were, standing beside the baggage-claim carousel, I was hit with all the emotion. No matter how fast I blinked, I couldn’t keep in the tears. Something about being here and seeing them felt different.

I was coming home after what felt like a very long time away.

I tried keeping it together, but when I stepped off the escalator and my dad jogged over and wrapped me in a hug, I was done. The smell of him, the laundry detergent on his shirt and the lotion he used for his dry skin and the cologne from the eighties that he still thought smelled good even though it was crazy-strong, took me back to every loving hug from my childhood.

“It’s about damn time,” Helena said, smiling at us with tears in her eyes. “You little shit.”

That made me laugh—even as I cried, and I pulled away from my dad to get my emotions in check. I introduced everyone, and Lilith and Clark both seemed (rightly so) to fall in love with my parents instantly.

“If you’re too tired and just want to go to your hotel, we understand,” Helena said as we pulled away from the airport. “But we’d love to have you guys over to the house for dinner. It’s warm for October, so we picked up some T-bones to throw on the grill.”

“This is warm?” Clark laughed, shaking his head. He was a California boy through and through, and his reaction to forty-eight degrees with a stiff north wind was akin to someone being set loose, naked, in Antarctica.

“Fall is my favorite time to grill,” my dad said, smiling at us in the rearview mirror. “I’d loan you a sweater, Clark, but I think it’ll be a crop top.”

“That sounds lovely,” Lilith said, looking charmed by my nerdy dad. “The steak dinner, that is—not the crop top.”

The four of them chatted nonstop on the way home, but I couldn’t keep myself from just staring out the window. I felt hungry to see it all, to lay my eyes upon every single place I hadn’t seen in nearly two years. I was smiling like it was my first time in a car as the freeway took us past Charles Schwab Field, the downtown skyline, Dinker’s Hamburgers, the Denny’s on Eighty-Fourth where Joss and I used to get pancakes on Friday nights, and the Sapp Brothers coffeepot sign that I thought was a rocket until I was ten years old.

And the leaves—I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the colors.

The cottonwoods were bright yellow, the sugar maples that perfect shade of pinkish-orange, and the oaks were currently doing all the hues in that continuously-changing-until-the-last-leaf-falls way they had about them.

Damn, it’s good to be back.

I avoided looking at the house next door when we got home, even though I knew I was going to have to go inside it tomorrow, because I just wanted to relax and enjoy being home with my dad and Helena before everything else happened.

“Hand me your bag, sweetie,” my dad said, and as I walked up the steps with him on my left, and Helena on my right, I wanted to soak up every second of this homecoming.

I regretted not doing it sooner.

Clark kept my dad company out on the deck while he grilled, and I stayed inside with Lilith and Helena and showered poor Mr. Fitzpervert with attention that he absolutely did not want.

Helena bought Fitz a blue-and-yellow bow tie for our visit, which reminded me of just how perfect of a stepmom she actually was, and as I sat between my dad and Lilith at dinner, I realized that my face was getting tired from all the happy smiling.

“This pasta salad is amazing,” Clark said, wolfing down bite after bite like he was racing someone. He was chewing when he said, “I think I’m in love with you now, Helena.”

“Actually, it’s Bert Langenfarker you’re in love with,” she corrected, picking up her wineglass. “He’s the guy at the deli who makes the sides.”

“Is he single?” he asked, not even pausing in his food inhalation.

“He is not,” Helena replied with a grin. “But I heard his wife’s Facebook profile says ‘it’s complicated,’ so there’s a chance.”

“Plot twist,” Lilith said before finishing her glass of rosé.

“Hell yes,” Clark said, nodding while still chewing a giant mouthful of food. “I’ll take complicated if it means ingesting this twirly goodness every night.”

Helena and Clark were two peas in a pod, like a his-and-her comedy team that kept the rest of us laughing the entire time. Lilith just kind of took it all in, seeming completely comfortable hanging out at my house in her stockinged feet, and it felt like a perfect night.

So I was a little disappointed when it was time for Clark and Lilith to go back to the hotel. Apparently he wanted to swim, and she still needed to put in some time on the treadmill, so they said their goodbyes, we made a plan to meet at nine the next morning, and then they drove off in the minivan my dad was letting them borrow while in town.

“I love them,” Helena said, closing the door behind Lilith and Clark. “It makes me so happy you have good people around you out there.”

“Right?” I said, leaning down to scoop up Fitz. He made a mreow noise, like he was unhappy, but I knew he’d been waiting for me. “They’re the best.”

We went into the kitchen and cleaned up with the TV on, so we were moving at half speed, really into the old episode of Monk that we’d seen multiple times. It felt like the old days, when Helena used to get takeout and the three of us would sit hunched over our food, at the center island, watching mindless reruns, and the entire evening had somehow made me homesick while I was home (nonsensical much?).

Which of course made me want to go see my mom.

“I think I’m going to go for a quick run,” I said, wiping down the counter as my dad started the dishwasher. “I know it’s dark, but I’ve got my pepper spray and I know the route by heart.”

“Keep the music quiet, then,” he said with an eyebrow raise, “so you’re aware of your surroundings.”

“I know,” I said. “I will.”

And for once, I actually ran with no music.

Usually I hated that, but I didn’t want to miss out on the sounds of my neighborhood. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed them, or even that they were a thing at all, but I was all warm fuzzies as my ears drank in the cacophony of suburban instruments.

The random leaf blower, the Thursday Night Football game playing in the garage of the old guy down the street, the barking of a big dog in an unseen backyard; it was the soundtrack of my wonder years, the comforting white noise that’d lulled me to sleep on countless warm nights.

And when I got to my mom’s headstone, where bright yellow mums were in their full autumnal glory (yes, I used my phone light to check on them in the dark), I wondered how I’d ever stayed away for so long.