The Moon and More(42)
Author: Sarah Dessen

“Emaline?”

To say I was surprised that Clyde had spoken to me was an understatement: he wasn’t exactly known for his outgoing nature. I glanced at Theo, who was reading the fine print on the oven’s box, with no clue whatsoever to who was standing right in front of him. “Hi,” I said, as casually as I could, “how are you?”

“I’d be better if that storm the other night hadn’t busted a hole in the ceiling of the Washroom,” he said. “Place is soaked. Your dad still doing some contracting?”

“Um, yeah,” I replied, as Theo slid his hands in his pockets and stepped back to stand by politely. “He’s framing a job over on Summerhill right now, I think.”

“Sound or ocean end?”

“Sound.”

“Maybe I can convince him to stop by, take a look. Can I get his number?”

“Sure,” I said. He flipped his list over to the blank other side, grabbing a pen from behind his ear, then held both out to me. I wrote the number quickly, wondering if it was actually possible that we’d be able to part ways with no one the wiser. Then, though, just as I handed it back, Clyde gave Theo a polite nod. Next thing I knew, Theo was sticking out his hand.

“Theo Burns,” he said.

“Clyde Conaway.”

The shock that went through Theo as he heard this was like a gunshot: I literally felt it hit him, then reverberate all around us. “You’re . . . ” he said, then stopped. I could suddenly hear him breathing. “You’re Clyde Conaway?”

“Well, we better go,” I said quickly. “It was good to—”

“We’re doing a film about you,” Theo blurted out, a bit of spit flying along with it. Oh, dear. “A documentary. Ivy Mendelson is the director, she did Cooper’s Way? We’ve been trying to reach you for months.” He started digging in his pockets, for God knows what, still talking. “You have no idea how hard it’s been to track you down. And now, here you are, with the toaster ovens. I mean, it’s unbelievable, I can’t even . . .”

He was still talking, still breathing, still searching for something on his person. Just a hot, sputtering mess, and I wanted to die, right there in Big Club. I looked at Clyde, trying to convey my deepest apology, but he was just studying Theo, his face impassive. Then, in a voice as casual as Theo’s was on the verge of hysteria, he said, “Oh, right. The documentary. How’s that going?”

“Oh, it’s amazing! Just fantastic. I mean, we’ve hit some local opposition in terms of willingness for interviews and providing information. But apparently that’s typical when a subject is, um, as private as, well . . . you are. Really, though, that’s exactly why we came down here, to get a sense of the community, you know, immerse ourselves in your world, your people, and—”

I was beginning to think he was never going to stop talking, even though—judging by the raspiness of his voice and dropping volume—he desperately needed to take a breath. “Theo’s very, um, passionate about the project,” I said, hoping to give him a chance to do just that. “He’s working really hard.”

“And Emaline’s been amazing!” Theo added, once bolstered by a quick shot of oxygen. “She took me some places I never would have found otherwise.”

Clyde glanced at me, and I tried not to cringe. “Really.”

“Oh, yeah,” Theo went on. “The fish house, for starters, and also this local market, where we found this milk crate that was, like, huge in terms of your history.”

“A milk crate,” Clyde repeated. I kept waiting for him to get visibly annoyed, but instead he seemed almost amused. “Huh. How so?”

“Well, it was from Craint Farms,” Theo explained. “And, of course, it’s well known the word craint was prevalent in some of the collages in the Metal/Paper series of 1997. All the writing on the subject has assumed this was a reference to the French word for fear, denoting your feelings about how agriculture felt in the face of industry.”

Clyde was just looking at him. It occurred to me that this had to be beyond bizarre, having your own work interpreted and analyzed by a total stranger. In Big Club.

“But then when I bought the crate,” Theo was saying now, “the owner of the store said the Craints used to farm around here. So it’s possible it was based on a real name, not a translation. Which is just—”

“Wait,” Clyde said, holding a hand to stop him. “You actually bought a Craint Farms milk crate?”

“From Gert’s,” I explained.

“It’s a huge find for the film,” Theo added, “not to mention to the collection of your papers and interviews. Ivy said it really singularly confirms everything that brought us here. The sense that this town did shape you and your work, more than anyone realized.”

Clyde looked at me again. “Old Gert must have thought you guys were nuts.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But he got fifty bucks out of it, so he wasn’t exactly complaining.”

“He does love a dollar,” he agreed.

“You have to let us interview you,” Theo told him, his voice suddenly grave, serious.

“Theo,” I said, “I don’t think—”

“What you could add to this film, with your input and cooperation,” he continued, “would take it to a whole other level. I know you haven’t exactly had good experiences with journalists in the past. I mean, we all remember that piece in the magazine of the Times in 1999.”

“We do?” I said.

“But if you would just give us a chance,” he went on, ignoring me, “we could in turn give you, and your legacy of work, the respect it deserves. Just meet with Ivy, give her a chance to explain her vision for the film. Please. I am begging you.”

I could literally see him sweating now, he was so excited. Good Lord, I thought. No wonder he got beat up in high school. If a locker had been around right then, I would have pushed him into it, if only for his own good.

For a moment, we all just stood there, no one saying anything. In the silence, I found myself thinking of the other toaster oven, back at Sand Dollars. Perfectly fine, in good working order. If only it had that adjustable dial. It takes so little to change everything. If you really thought about it, it would scare you to death.

“All right,” Clyde said finally, so casually you would have thought he was agreeing to a cup of coffee. “Set it up with your boss, name your place and time.”