Lisa Schroeder - The Bridge from You to Me

Lauren’s quiet.

Is she nervous? Worried about the turnout? Or wondering if everything will go all right? I don’t want her to worry.

“You know, this is a good thing you’re doing. Benny’s family appreciates it a lot.”

“Thanks,” she says. “It’s been fun, working on this. I’m glad I’ve had something else to think about besides . . .” She stops. Smiles. “I think it’s going to be a great day. I’m excited.”

I wonder what she was going to say. I almost ask her but decide now’s not the time. “Yeah. Me too. So which pie should I buy?”

She turns and looks at me. “Well, I think the question is, what do you like?”

I raise my eyebrows. “You mean, as far as a pie goes?”

As soon as I say it, I realize my mistake. I shouldn’t have said that. But it’s hard to stay away from flirting territory all the time. I mean, it’s pretty fun there. Especially with Lauren.

I want her to reply with something like, “No, not as far as a pie goes, as far as a girl goes.”

And then I would say something like, “Well, you should know better than anyone right now.”

Then she would get all flustered and not know how to respond. And I could reach over for her hand, and take it in mine.

But Lauren, she’s good. She keeps things right where they are supposed to be. She replies, “Of course, as far as pie goes. That’s what we’re talking about, right?”

“I guess I like berry or apple,” I say, pretty unenthusiastically, because what I really want to say is, I like you.

“Well, you’ll get first choice,” she says.

I want to say, I choose you.

Clearly, this being friends thing has become a challenge for me. But that’s okay. I thrive on challenges (or at least, this is what I tell myself).

When we get to the location of the bake sale, the tables and canopies are all set up and the place looks fantastic. Mr. Curtiss, Lauren’s boss, is setting up a couple of cash registers with change, which he offered to do.

Lauren goes over to talk to him and I simply stand back and watch her for a minute. I could watch her all day, actually, but I have pies to carry over.

Very carefully, one at a time, I take the pies to a table. Lauren comes over a little while later with colorful doilies, the ingredients lists, and the price tags. Each of the pies made with pudding are in boxes with a couple of ice packs on the bottom. The other pies, she puts on little stands she made. When she’s done, I have to say, the table looks amazing.

“I’m gonna buy the berry one and put it in my truck, if that’s okay?” I tell her.

“Yeah. Absolutely. Mr. Curtiss can take your money.”

“Do you have something set up for donations too?” I ask.

“He brought a couple of huge jars for that. They’re perfect.”

“Okay, good.”

“The volunteers are starting to arrive,” she says. “I should go give them their directions.” She looks nervous as she bites her lip.

“You want me to go with you?”

She considers it for a moment. “Actually, could you hang around and help people carry stuff to the tables, if they need it?”

“Sure. I can do that.” I pick up the berry pie, along with the ingredients list. “Let me buy this one first.”

“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

She starts to leave when I call out, “I can give you a ride home later. If you want. Since, you know, you don’t have your bike.”

She turns around. Smiles. “You love rubbing that silly bike in my face, don’t you?”

“No. No! I love your bike. It’s a two-for-one, remember? Like this pie. It’ll be delicious and it’s for a good cause. I’m all about the two-for-ones, I promise.”

“Like, you give me a ride home and you get my charming company for ten minutes?”

I nod. Maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Exactly!”

“Okay,” she says. “You’re on.”

I practically skip as I make my way over to pay for the pie. Until I realize that after the bake sale today, we won’t really have an excuse to hang out anymore.

I wonder if she’s a good student? Maybe she could help me with some homework.

Holy double chocolate brownies, Batman.

It’s insane. How much money we raised. How many people came. How empty the tables are now that it’s over.

Benny’s family stopped by and were blown away by what they saw. It felt like the whole town came out to buy baked goods and donate money. Russ bought a big triple-layer chocolate fudge cake and said they’d take it to Benny to celebrate. He was moved to a rehab center in Lansford last week, but Mrs. Lewis said this extra money will allow her to take a leave of absence so they can go to Atlanta for at least a couple of months.

I’m thankful he’ll be going. And yet, when I think of him getting on that plane and leaving here for an unknown length of time, it hurts like hell.

I want him to go.

But, God, I don’t want him to go.

Lauren’s aunt and uncle volunteer to get the money in order and take it to the bank so they can give Benny’s family a big, fat check.

When Lauren gets in my truck, she leans back in the seat, closes her eyes, and says, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” I concur.

She rolls her head toward me and opens her eyes. “It was awesome, huh? I’m so proud of us.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe now people will stop thinking the worst about me,” she says. “About why I’m here, you know?”

“I’m sure they will but try not to worry about what people think.” I swallow hard, trying to get the nerve to do what I want to do next. “Do you, um, have to get home right away? I thought maybe we could make a stop first.”

She shrugs. “Okay. Can I borrow your phone and let my aunt know?”