This Year is My Year

That Thing You Do

I think that Eddie Munson might be the cutest boy I've ever met.

Well, man, I guess. Still, the cutest one.

He was stammering as he left, face flushed with red. I couldn't help but smile – I don't think I have seen him without a red face since I met him.

"Hope to see you tonight, Eddie," I made sure to emphasize his name. He grinned, flashing those dimples, and nodded in agreement. I closed the door, leaning against it, beaming at the thought of him.

But if I was laying it on any thicker, I think it would slap him in the face.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the embarrassment of remembering my quips to him. "Do you want me to want you to go?" made me cringe so deeply. I hated that I felt I had to always win the repartee.

I headed to my bedroom to try to do something with my new hair. I stared into the mirror. Why did I decide to cut my hair? Why can't I just let things be?

I felt a flash of anger with myself, embarrassed by my impulsive haircut and my responses to Eddie. I glared at myself, hating everything in the mirror for a minute. I closed my eyes, shaking my head, trying to brush off the thoughts.

"Dusty? You home?" My eyes opened quickly.

It was mom.

I felt a wave of nerves come over me. She didn't know I came home, and we hadn't spoken in two years. She was so angry with me for leaving school. Even angrier when I didn't come home. She refused to speak to me when I called home, only wanting to know that I was alive and not hurt. I don't know how she would receive my sudden appearance.

"Dusty? Where are you?" she called from the hallway. I took in a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway.

"Hey, mom," I said quietly, almost hoping she wouldn't hear me. She turned, like she had seen a ghost. She was stunned to see me.

We sat in silence, staring at each other, waiting for something to happen. The tension grew.

"I, um, I got back about—" Before I could explain myself, she came right to me and embraced me. I felt her start to cry and attempted to hold my own tears back.

She pulled back, looking at me, trying to glean any changes that may have happened in my face. She looked the same, more or less, just with some new wrinkles.

"Your hair," she commented. I was caught off guard. I went to touch it.

"Oh, yeah, it's new, do you like it?" She touched it as well.

"It's cute," she finally said, smiling. I hugged her again. She squeezed me, then pulled away. "I'm happy your home. I'm still angry that you left for two years. We will talk about this later."

She walked away, back to her bedroom. I could tell she left quickly because she didn't want to cry again.

I understood her anger, and I was relieved with how she welcomed me. It wasn't fixed, but I didn't feel so hopeless.

---

I stared in the mirror, hating how I looked. I reapplied mascara, hoping any additional volume would change how I felt about my face. I grimaced when it didn't.

I walked over to my closet – it was nice having access to all my clothes again. I went through the clothes, smiling at different outfits that brought back memories. My old Scoops Ahoy uniform, where I met Robin and learned how to appropriately torture Steve. The sweater from the party where Steve and I won every game of beer pong, formally cementing our friendship. My homecoming dress, where Robin and I went stag and followed Steve and Nancy around all night.