was a dream that had survived intact, a relic from a future Mel assumed she would never get to live.
Her father disappeared to the basement and returned with a bottle of champagne, opaque black with a gold foil label. Mel had drunk this kind only once before, a single golden glass poured for her on her sixteenth birthday. She knew it was very expensive, so she forced herself to swallow every last drop, though she was disappointed it didn’t taste sweeter. Thankfully, this celebration was closer to brunch, so once the crest of bubbles subsided, her mother topped the champagne off with a float of orange juice. One sip and Mel’s eyes bulged hearts.
They’d go to Park & Orchard for dinner, of course. It was where the Gingriches celebrated every milestone. An elegant, dimly lit restaurant with oversize windows, black tables that were so shiny with lacquer they looked wet, flickering tea-light candles, and enormous glass vases of lush greenery, willow branches, and mandarin oranges in the white-tiled foyer. Park & Orchard was always included on “best of” lists. Though West Essex was forty miles outside the city, they all said it was worth a trek to the suburbs. Mel loved their cheesy scalloped potatoes, served crusted and bubbling in a white ramekin. Oh, and their homemade steak sauce, thick as molasses. She always ordered a Shirley Temple, extra cherries.
Her father called for a reservation, asked for his favorite table to be held for them, the one in the back left corner that overlooked the whole room, and bragged about Mel’s full-ride scholarship to the girl who answered the phone. It made her warm, how proud he was of her, grinning ear to ear. Her mother gently pushed away some of the hair around Mel’s temples and kissed her tenderly.
This felt like the beginning of a long, loving goodbye.
She was the luckiest girl.
Her father said, “Why don’t you invite Phoebe? Tell her we’re ordering every dessert on the menu.” A joke, from one of the first times Phoebe came with them to dinner.
“She’s out of town,” Mel lied, still working over in her head how best to break her Truman news. Obviously Phoebe would be happy for her. But it felt weird, maybe even a little gross, to be so showy, especially when she knew Phoebe was still going to PT several times a week. She would tell Phoebe some other time. Maybe closer to school, when they’d hear who would take over from Coach. She could deliver the news to her teammates all at once.
Mel thought about asking Gordy. Her parents had been bugging her to meet her mystery man. But before she had a chance to ask, her mother said, “What about inviting Coach?”
Right. Mel would need to tell Coach.
After her texting freak-out during Truman tryouts, Mel refused to let herself even think about reaching out to Coach for the rest of the summer. It was too easy to imagine him rolling his blue eyes and tossing his phone aside seeing her name pop up.
“Mom. I doubt Coach wants to go out to dinner with us. He’s not even my coach anymore.”
“Did you hear for certain that he’s leaving West Essex?”
“No. Not officially.”
“Well … your success is still his success!”
It was. Absolutely.
Mel’s father had already whipped out his phone. Mel took a quiet sip from her champagne flute. It was like when your friends approached a cute older guy, and you hung back in their wake, trying to play it cool. It was a relief to have someone else, even if it was her father, absorb the brunt of the embarrassment.
Her father left a voice mail. “Hey, Coach, it’s Rick Gingrich. Our sweet baby Mel got some fantastic news today about Truman. The best news possible. And we couldn’t be prouder of her.” To Mel’s horror, her father began to tear up, his voice cracking. “We’re planning to celebrate tonight at Park and Orchard and I know she’d love nothing more if you would join us.”
Cheeks hot as fire, Mel sprinted upstairs and texted Coach.
MEL: You don’t have to say yes.
Though in her heart, a small part of her hoped he would. This was an accomplishment she knew he would respect.
She waited for Coach to text back.
And waited. And poured another mimosa.
With the initial shock having worn off, Mel dutifully went through the paperwork. There was the official Truman offer of intent, which she immediately signed, some financial disclosure paperwork that Mel set aside for her mother, medical