Page 53 of Spectacular Things
Winter Break
Snow falls in fat, packable flakes the morning Oliver and Mia pick up Cricket and Yaz from their red-eye flight.
It’s the sticky kind of snow that children deem perfect for forts and snowball fights, and the type adults curse while hunched over their shovels.
This had not been in the day’s forecast.
For Cricket and Yaz, the unexpected precipitation only enhances their dramatic entrance into the winter wonderland of Maine in December.
Amid the wool-and-flannel crowd, it could not be more obvious that these two have arrived fresh from Southern California.
Suntanned and stylish, they vacuum up every set of eyeballs at Portland Jetport.
Cricket looks notably fashionable in an outfit that, given the clear lack of elastic, Mia highly doubts her sister assembled herself.
“Wow,” Oliver says, peering over his sunglasses.
“Double wow,” Mia agrees, taking in the self-possessed, full-lipped bombshell next to Cricket. “Soccer Barbie has met her match.”
When Cricket spots Mia across the parking lot, she runs toward her screaming, “I didn’t even think I missed you!”
“I knew I missed you,” Mia says, hugging Cricket tight and noting the new muscular thickness of her sister’s neck before holding out her hand to Yaz.
Staring at Mia’s hand like it’s some local dish no one in their right mind would eat this early in the morning, Yaz takes a step toward her. “Mia,” she says calmly, “you may not know this, but we are most definitely on a hugging level.”
When they pile into the car, Cricket demands they take the scenic route back to Victory, stopping by Portland Headlight, the iconic lighthouse at Fort Williams where tourists binge on buttery lobster rolls and breathtaking views of the ocean.
“Do you guys want a photo together?” Mia offers from the passenger seat.
Yaz and Cricket shake their heads in unison. They’re too cold to get out of the car.
“California has made my toughest keeper soft,” Oliver teases.
“Excuse me, did you see UCLA’s record?” Cricket protests from the back. “We only lost one game in the regular season.”
Turning around in her seat, Mia asks the new arrivals if they want to nap or stay awake.
“Stay awake,” says Yaz.
“Nap,” Cricket counters.
“Becky’s it is,” announces Oliver, breaking the tie by steering them toward the famous diner on Commercial Street in downtown Portland.
Cricket grins her consent and explains to Yaz, “My mom’s favorite place.”
Like Liz, the owner of Becky’s Diner single-handedly supported her kids while balancing hot plates up her forearms and still managed to greet each stranger as a friend.
On the special occasions when the Lowes would go to the diner—birthdays and snow days—Liz and Becky would paw at each other like bear cubs, celebrating the fact that they’d both defied the odds stacked against them.
Now, Liz’s grown daughters and their significant others follow the hostess to a booth and pile in while inhaling the promise of a hot breakfast and bottomless caffeine.
“I’m so happy,” Mia says, distributing menus.
“I’m so tired,” Cricket yawns, staring at her sister to see what she thinks of Yaz. To anyone else at the table, even Oliver, Mia’s expression remains the same, but Cricket translates her held gaze as a seal of approval.
“Waffles for the table?” Mia suggests, shooting Cricket a knowing smile, who fires it right back. It’s the classic Liz move.
“I like your style,” Yaz says, examining the laminated menu with the discerning eye of a forensic scientist. Cricket watches her, mesmerized, as Yaz puts her hair up in a ponytail and the strands of hot pink reappear as that middle stripe.
Even as she witnesses it from point-blank range, Mia can’t believe how smitten her sister is. She stares at Cricket, who stargazes at Yaz, who takes a sip of her coffee and then says to Oliver, eyes shining bright at a joke only they seem to know, “That was me.”
“Oops!” Oliver smiles, embarrassed. “My bad—I wanted to kick one of these clowns so they snapped out of it.”
“Sorry,” Mia says, shaking her head and sitting up straight. “Yaz, tell us everything about you—I’ve been looking forward to this for months.”
“I have, too,” Yaz says, putting her hand on the table and reaching for Mia, seated diagonally from her. “There’s not much to tell—I guess the most relevant thing is that I’m in love with your sister. Is that weird to say? But it’s true, and school is way more fun with her there.”
“Have you seen her play?” Coach asks, unable to hide his desire to talk soccer.
“Hell yes!” Yaz says, slamming down her coffee mug.
“And, oh my God, you guys missed some killer games! That first playoff game against Irvine was such a bummer but still amazing—the atmosphere was like nothing I’ve ever seen—not that I’d been to a lot of sporty things before Cricket, but still. Unbelievable.”
“We streamed all of them—all the games,” Oliver says, massaging Mia’s shoulder to remind her that flying out to California for Cricket’s matches would have obliterated their budget.
They’d been strategic in their decision-making, and between the mortgage and paying for Cricket’s living expenses, including her flight home for this visit, and everything they envision in their five-year plan, a bunch of quick trips to the other side of the country was too hard to justify.
“Yeah, but could you really get a sense of the crowd through the screen?” Yaz asks before her eyes skate past Mia’s to their server fast approaching with five huge plates. “Amazing timing—I’m starving.”
For a solid two minutes, no one speaks as fork tines plunge into omelets, waffles, pancakes, bacon, and English muffins fresh off the griddle and loaded with butter. Eventually, Yaz picks up where she left off. “So could you hear everyone doing that chant for Cricket? When you streamed the games?”
Mia nearly spit-takes her coffee. “No! Cricket, what? Seriously?”
Cricket blushes and takes a huge bite of toast to avoid answering.
“It’s incredible,” Yaz says. “Everyone knows her and it’s like dating a celebrity, but in the best possible way—like every time they won, which was all the time this year, people came up to congratulate me in class, as if I had something to do with it.”
“Because you did,” Cricket beams, leaning into Yaz and openly swooning.
With full stomachs and jittery coffee legs, they leave Becky’s and head for the woods, where the narrow path forces them to pair up. Yaz takes off with Mia.
“What do you think they’re talking about?
” Cricket asks Oliver as they move at a significantly slower clip.
She worries about tripping over a snow-buried root in her Birkenstocks and Oliver indulges her.
They both know that, all too often, an embarrassing story from the offseason can lead to a career-ending injury.
“They’re talking about you,” Oliver says matter-of-factly. “Just like I want to talk to you about Mia.”
“What about her?” Cricket asks, with no small amount of little-sister safeguarding.
Oliver lowers his voice. “We want to get married,” he says, eyes darting over to catch Cricket’s. “But before I propose, I was hoping to get your blessing?”
“She’s right there!” Cricket hisses, pointing to her sister, who is still visible through the trees but certainly out of earshot. “And she’s so young!”
“True and true,” Oliver acknowledges, bending down to scoop up a handful of snow he now molds into a ball.
“But I’m not that young, and I know she’s my person, and my health insurance through USM is so much better than what she’s got through Oceanside, and we really want to save as much money as we can. ”
“How romantic.” Cricket looks up at the white-capped pine trees, the gray sky beyond the boughs. The snow keeps coming. How did Mia let her get out of the car in Birks? The woods were a bad idea and now Oliver is talking nonsense, unless—
“Is she pregnant?” Cricket asks, feeling her pulse quicken.
“No,” Oliver says, tossing his snowball into the air and catching it while clearly mulling something over in his head.
“Tell me.”
“She’s not pregnant, I swear,” Oliver insists, “but she does—she’s pretty set on having a baby, and it seems like she wants one sooner rather than later.”
“MIA!” Cricket shouts. Breaking into a run, screw the shoes, she needs to talk to her sister. Oliver reaches out, grabs her arm, catches Cricket mid-step.
“Hold up,” he says. “I’m serious about proposing.” Cricket shrugs off his grip but doesn’t run ahead. “So do I have it?” Oliver asks. “Your blessing?”
Cricket looks at this man, her coach, Mia’s Oliver, the closest guy she’s ever had to family—some weird blend between a father and a brother.
He makes Mia happy, that much is obvious, and he’s proven his loyalty time and again.
Now that Cricket is really thinking about it, she has to acknowledge that Coach’s presence helped anchor them during the worst time of their lives. And ever since.
“Of course you do,” she says, pulling Oliver in for a hug.
Thanks to Yaz, Cricket can appreciate the healing power of love, the freedom that comes with fully trusting another person, bearing witness to the struggles and triumphs of their existence.
“You have my blessing and, more importantly, you also have my permission.”
“Oh, thank God,” Oliver says dryly, keeping his arm around her shoulder as they trudge forward, “because we want to do it soon.”
“How soon?”
“I guess it depends on your schedule,” Oliver says, winding up and pitching his snowball against a white pine. Through the stand of looming trees, Cricket watches Mia’s red coat bob out of sight. She deserves happiness more than anyone—of this Cricket is certain.
“Would tomorrow work?” Oliver asks. Registering Cricket’s stricken eyes and hanging jaw, Oliver backpedals. He offers a far more rational date. “Okay, fine, the day after tomorrow.”