A Stitch in Time Pt. 07

The applause for that was thunderous. Nobody had done that before. The faculty stood up, the student body stood up, and I looked over at a stunned Cammie Rowe, who had stopped bouncing pretty much right when she heard her name. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her up after me.

"Why?" she whispered.

"It's kind of like baseball," I whispered back as we sat back down after acknowledging the applause with a few waves. "We're a team. It was your star, your stupid grid, and you were the one who borrowed the telescope. I certainly couldn't have done it without you."

"But what about the rules? You were the first one to see it."

"Rules?" I grinned. "Rules don't apply to girlfriends."

"I'm not your —"

"Hush," I said.

Mr. Carruthers had started speaking again, and it was my turn to put my hand on Cammie's arm.

"I have a former college friend of mine employed at the IAU, so I e-mailed him back to confirm it. And when I got that, I e-mailed another friend of mine at a college in New York State that had had the utter gall to put Ms. Rowe on its wait list, despite my recommendation."

He got a nervous laugh from the audience for that. He pulled a second e-mail out of his pocket.

"I told him that I was sure that Caltech would love to number the discoverer of a comet among its incoming freshman class," he continued. "I got his return e-mail today, and he informs me that the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute would also love to number Ms. Rowe among its freshman class, and is willing to offer her the Cushing Scholarship, for a student who has performed unparalleled original work in the physical sciences. Ms. Rowe?"

He turned around to hand the e-mail to Cammie in the midst of the renewed applause, but found her chair empty. Ms. Rowe had already knocked me to the ground.

In between kissing my face, she spoke those twelve words that any suitor longs to hear.

"It may take Daddy a little while to come around, you asshole."

I shrugged, as best I could in a prostrate position.

"But I love you, Patrick Sterling," she said, burying her head in my shoulder.

"I love you, too, Cammie Rowe," I said.

****************

Sammy Houghtaling was a great trumpet player, but as a public speaker he left a little to be desired. His valedictory address at Saturday's graduation was a halting speech, filled with platitudes about growing older. Jeanne wasn't the only one in the audience cringing in sympathy.

Then Tommy Narburg got up and gave a hysterical speech in which he pointed out that a valedictory was simply a farewell address — vale being Latin for farewell and dictory meaning address. Then he pulled out a watch and said that he intended to speak for a minute longer than Sammy, which made him the real valedictorian of the class.

Sammy reclaimed the microphone, and we all held our breath, waiting for a fresh disaster. But he had his trumpet with him, and leaned forward into the microphone. I had forgotten that Sammy was also scheduled to do a trumpet solo at the ceremony.

"This is Perpetual Motion," he said.

He launched into a five-minute solo. I swear he never took a breath for the entire time, and when he was done, the rest of us just exhaled, as if we had all been trying to hold our breaths until he finished.

He took advantage of the silence to lean forward to the microphone one more time.

"Valedictorian," he pointed to himself with a smile as he looked out at Tommy.

Tommy was the first one to jump to his feet and start applauding. Well, the first one after Jeanne.

****************

I drove Jeanne and Jill to church the following day, and naturally sat in the front row next to my girlfriend. After church, I was stunned at the size of the crowd waiting for us outside the church, even if I was responsible for them being there. It included, I was very happy to see, not only Dave and Liane, but also Dad and Tiffany, with little Sarah sleeping peacefully in Tiffany's arms. Aunt Ruth and Uncle Bill were standing right next to them.

"What's going on?" Jeanne gripped my arm as she saw the assemblage.

"Come on," I motioned her and Jill over to where the minister was waiting.

"Patrick," he said. "Would you like to say a few words?"

"Thank you, sir. This week will be the second anniversary of our mom's death, and I want to thank the Vestry for giving us permission to plant this tree here in her memory. It's a weeping willow, her favorite."

Jeanne and Jill were already in tears, and I was going to be joining them really soon.

"It will have a plaque on it that says, In loving memory of Sarah Anne Sterling. 1965-2005. May — may, I'm sorry..."

I handed it to Jeanne, who handed it to Jill, who gave it to Dave, who got about as far as I did. It came back to me, and I gave it to Cammie, who couldn't do any better. Finally, my best friend, Tanya Szerchenko, reached for it. She was crying, too, and I couldn't help but wish, as I heard her read it, that my mother had been able to meet her.

"In loving memory of Sarah Anne Sterling, 1965-2005. May God bless us all with her ability to love her neighbor as she loved herself."

****************

August, 2007

"Wake up," she hissed.

"What time is it?" I groaned.

"Two o'clock."

"In the morning?"

"Of course in the morning, Patrick. Look."

We looked up into the sky, and there it was. Comet Rowe-Sterling, blazing in the eastern sky.

"Wow!" we both said at the same time.

We were lying naked on two sleeping bags in Lemmon's Park.

"Oh, look, Patrick, a shooting star!"

"Who cares about a shooting star? There's a frickin' comet up there."

"But it's a shooting star. You have to make a wish."

"Oh, no. I'm not making any wishes."

"Why not?"

"I already did that once this year, and look what happened."

"What?"

I ticked the reasons off on my fingers in the darkness.

"I almost got thrown out of school. My face is scarred for life. I almost got arrested. I almost turned back into an asshole."

"You threw a no-hitter and a perfect game," she countered. "And you managed to wiggle your way into UVA. I still haven't figured that one out."

"Hey, you think after Tommy posted that video of my little speech on YouTube that they were going to turn me away, even with a 2.7434 average? I did get a 1970 on my SAT, you know."

"Yeah, no fooling," she laughed. "Anyway, your brother is happily dating your ex-girlfriend, your sister is happily dating the valedictorian, your little sister is happily dating your catcher, and you got to have the two hottest girls in the senior class."

"Well, when you put it that way..."

I did have a wish, though, come to think of it. I was really hoping that this wouldn't be like one of those movies, where a guy's guardian angel, or the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, shows the guy what his future would be like if he doesn't change, and then returns him to where he started. Because I really didn't want to go back.

I didn't think it would happen, not now anyway. The time to return me would have been after the assembly, or after the church ceremony. And that had been two months ago. On the whole, I found that I didn't mind losing the three years between my freshman and senior years of high school. I didn't think I could do any better than I had done now. And I knew for damn sure that Tommy Narburg couldn't have done any better.

"Why so quiet?" she asked.

"Sorry," I smiled in the darkness. "Just thinking. So what did you wish for?"

"I can't tell you. It's bad luck."

"So how will I know if it comes true?"

I felt a soft hand bump my thigh and then wrap itself around my cock.

"Ooh, look," she said as she felt it grow and stiffen. "It's already coming true."

"You didn't need a star for that. I'm gonna make that wish come true for the rest of your life."

She moved up to straddle me.

"You know, I'm naked and wet. You're naked and hard. What do you say we just skip the foreplay and get down to the real play?"

She held me in place and sank down on top of me, making both of us groan with pleasure. She was tight, and wonderful, and perfect. Ten years from now, when we had a couple of little Rowe-Sterlings running around underfoot instead of one big one shining overhead, she probably wouldn't be quite as tight. But she would still be wonderful. She would still be perfect. She would still be my Cammie.

THE END (thanks for reading)