An Education in Ruin

by Alexis Bass

  Without meaning to, I’ve scooted closer to him on the couch, and with my legs bent the way they are, our knees are nearly touching.

  “The only way out is to come clean,” he says. He glances down, and I think he, too, is noticing our proximity. “And I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to tell everyone I’ve let them down.” He rests his hand on his leg, right near mine. “It’s probably cowardly or selfish, but I can’t bring myself to do it.”

  “I understand.” I want to grab his hand. But I can’t find the courage. It seems perverse to feel this tenderness toward him growing even stronger now that I’ve learned all this about him—all about the worst parts of him, the most horrible mistake he’s ever made, and how he’s doing nothing to repent. I know what keeps him up at night, what he tries to beat out of his mind when we go to the gym with Theo. I should feel powerful. But instead, I feel protective. They feel like my secrets, too, now.

  “Do your parents know why you’ve been deposed?” I ask. “Do they know what it’s about?”

  “They’ve seen my name on the deposition list and think I’ve been included because I interned there. They’re nervous about the lawsuit, the way all the investors and board members are. But—” he says, shaking his head. “It gets complicated because of the money my parents have tied up in her company. They’ve been clear they do not want to talk about it with me, and actually, that’s been sort of a relief. I haven’t brought it up either.”

  “My father is very good at his job, and he’s not going to let anyone lose their investments,” I say before I really think about if this is the kind of thing I should be telling him right now.

  “I’ve heard that,” he says, a small smile on his face.

  My stomach makes an embarrassing gurgling noise, and Jasper raises his eyebrows.

  “You’re hungry.” He laughs. “Me, too.”

  We dig into the junk food. We rip into Cheetos and peanut M&Ms and salt-and-vinegar chips and gummy bears and Fritos. It’s unbelievably comfortable, sitting here in front of the fire with him like this, chowing down on my favorite snacks.

  “This might be better than filet mignon,” Jasper says.

  “We’re having our own gourmet dinner,” I say. “Cheetos confit.”

  Jasper laughs. “Hershey’s brûlée.”

  He seems more carefree, lounging next to me. I wonder if he feels like a weight’s been lifted since he doesn’t have to keep our parents’ relationship from me anymore. He’s also confessed all his regrets, and I’m still here, happily eating a junk food dinner with him.

  I thought Theo was the one with the secrets. But what Jasper’s hiding is more damning than I ever could’ve imagined. Keeping this quiet would be worth more to Mrs. Mahoney than my father. But Jasper smiles at me, and I wish we could stay forever like this. I wish there were a way to get his mother away from my father that didn’t involve him or the two of us, together.

  Forty

  Jasper stares at me, watching my every move, scanning my face, the way my hands break off a hunk of chocolate before putting it in my mouth. And then he zeroes in on my lips.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have chocolate on my face?”

  He smiles at me. “I think you’re really incredible,” he says. His arm is along the back of the couch, and his hand is near my head. There’s nothing I want more than to kiss him right now. He really is beautiful, and he wants to be kind, the way he thinks I am. It’s a mystery to me still, that I know all the bad things about Jasper but can only see all the reasons someone would want him. I can’t help but cherish this strange way he makes me feel. A bag of chips rustles as I move closer to him. This makes his smile get even bigger. But he moves closer, too, and places his hand on the back of my head. I rest my hand on his shoulder.

  As he leans toward me, the door opens with a bang. It makes us both jump. My hand retreats from his shoulder, and his drops from behind my head, sliding down my arm. We turn toward the door behind us and see Theo standing in the entrance with Stewart slumped against him.

  “A little help, please!” he calls.

  Jasper rushes over and takes Stewart’s other side.

  “Bathroom, now,” Theo instructs, and the two of them steer Stewart to the right, through the doors leading into the restroom.

  A moment later, they both come out, sans Stewart. But I can hear the very faint sounds of him vomiting.

  “How much did he drink?” Jasper asks.

  “He was having a very good time at the party,” Theo says. “Until suddenly he wasn’t.”

  “Did his parents see him like this?” Jasper asks.

  “Or Anastasia?” I blurt out.

  “I got him out of there before any serious damage was done,” Theo says. “But speaking of Anastasia, she’s been texting you like crazy, Collins—” He pauses as he looks us up and down like he’s finally registered that we’re no longer in our party clothes. “And not to interrupt whatever you two have going on in here that looks suspiciously like a boring night in, but I left her to fend for herself at that party while I took care of Stewart, and she’s been frantic trying to reach you. I’m sure she’s in dire need of rescuing.”

  “You should go.” Jasper nods at me.

  “You should both go,” Theo says.

  “It’s okay,” Jasper says.

  “No, no—Stewart’s already got throw-up on my suit jacket, and there isn’t anyone at that party I’d be caught dead kissing at midnight anyway. You two should go.” I think Theo winks at me, but it happens so quickly, that I can’t be sure.

  “You can go back to the party,” Jasper says to him. “I’ve helped Stewart out like this before. He’s my friend, and—”

  “He’s my friend, too,” Theo says sharply. “And so is Collins, and I’m not going to let you stay cooped up in here using Stewart as an excuse just because you want to avoid Rob James when you could take a fantastic girl to a sensationally overdone party. Stop hiding and enjoy the damn night!”

  Jasper glances at the ground, blushing. “Okay,” he finally says. “You’re right.”

  “I’m always right.”

  We decide not to change, since our party clothes are still wet, and arrive at the sensationally overdone New Year’s Eve party wearing pajamas and slippers. Jasper takes my hand as we walk through the silver streamers marking the entrance to the party in the sky lounge. It’s been transformed the way the restaurant was revamped for the dinner portion of the night, the tables sequestered in one side of the room with plenty of space to mingle around the bar and a stage with a band playing and a dance floor full of people on the other end. The ceiling is covered in silver. The rest of the décor is black. Everything is dark with muted purple lighting. It’s quite the contrast to the usual white and gold that makes up most Robames events.

  As we look for Anastasia, I see my dad. He’s standing with three other people near the tables, chatting casually. Mrs. Mahoney is on the dance floor, swaying to the music with her husband. We finally find Anastasia talking exuberantly with Kyle and Rick Singer. She does not seem in dire need of being rescued but throws her arms around me when we approach.

  “You and Jasper sure look comfortable,” she says into my ear. I smile instead of answering her. “Have you seen Rob James?” she says. “I thought she’d be in black to match the party, but I should’ve known better.”

  It’s not hard to find her. She’s dancing with a group of others who seem about her age, like maybe they’re her friends from Yale or her class at Rutherford that she invited to be here with her. She’s in a slinky dress, white and iridescent that almost looks silver when the lights from the stage hit it at certain angles. I know Jasper must’ve noticed her, too. But he keeps his gaze on me.

  “Let’s dance,” he says, stepping closer and tilting his head toward me to be heard over the music. He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. We move away from Rob James and the rest of the crowd and find a spot toward the side of the stage, out
of view from most of the party, including our parents, which is the point.

  “I’m a terrible dancer,” Jasper says as we start. But after a few seconds of him twirling me around and pulling me close as the band sings Elvis’s “Burning Love,” I have to respectfully disagree.

  The rest of the room melts away. All the songs are for us. We’re dancing like no one is watching and laughing even though we can’t hear ourselves above the music. We’re every cliché that’s ever existed about two people falling for each other, and I don’t care.

  I was so at ease with him sitting on the couch a short while ago, and yet, now, every time our hands are clasped and he pulls me toward him, for those brief seconds when we’re nose to nose, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, my heart starts to race and I feel this thrill that’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  The countdown starts without warning—an abrupt cut of the music, and a screen on the stage behind the band displays the numbers in the style of a flickering old film. The whole room chants the countdown, voices growing louder and more excited as the numbers get lower. Jasper and I face each other, and soon I’m not looking at the screen or the lively crowd; I’m only looking at him. His hands grip mine, his fingers tickling my palms. He shifts toward me, his hand moving to my waist. I pull him closer with my other hand, and his face moves so near mine that our foreheads are almost touching. Why is this countdown taking so long? He must be thinking the same thing, because on three, he leans down and kisses me. I can’t hear the crowd or the rest of the countdown. I can’t feel my feet on the floor or the flannel against my skin. I can only feel his lips on mine, his hands on my back, his heart drumming under my fingertips. We don’t notice the wild cheering around us or the poppers going off or when a burst of silver confetti rains down from the ceiling, until I don’t know how much time has passed and the lights start to flicker. A purple glow floods the room, and the band announces that the party is over. Jasper and I stare at each other, silver confetti stuck to our hair and clinging to the fabric of our pajamas. I think even if I fail at everything I’d promised Rosie I would do, it’d be worth it.

  Three Months Later

  He steps toward me, his hardened expression slipping.

  “Please take the trade, Collins.” There’s desperation in his voice. “Please. I don’t want to blow up my whole world. We can all go back to how it was before.”

  Back to when? Was it ever simple when all along, this is what we had lurking beneath the surface? Vials that we’d created ourselves that could be used to poison us.

  “If I do it,” I say. “Then I need your help with something else.”

  JANUARY

  Forty-one

  Anastasia stays with me after the party since Stewart’s passed out in the bed Theo and Anastasia were sharing. We spend the morning in bed snacking on muffins, and she peppers me with questions about Jasper.

  “Are you guys, like, a couple now?”

  “I don’t know,” I say over and over again to her inquiries.

  “Is he an amazing kisser?”—the only question I do have an answer to. A resounding yes.

  “You look drunk and happy and also a little sick,” she says. “That’s how I know you’re completely into him.”

  “I’m completely into him,” I tell her.

  She leaves to have brunch with the Mahoneys, and I stay in bed. I feel weird. A strange mix of delight and dread. It’s easy to conjure how it felt to kiss him, to be close to him. I keep replaying it in my head like an impulse I don’t have control over. I want to forget the reason I decided to make Jasper Mahoney fall for me in the first place. I shouldn’t want to forget.

  He told me everything he hates about himself, confessed the things he finds most shameful. And they’re things that people would happily crucify him for. They’re things Mrs. Mahoney would want to stay hidden. Wouldn’t she? Or would she cut me loose to hurt him myself, if it meant protecting what she has going with my father?

  Rosie told me their affair was illicit—but now I know it’s not. She told me my father was being manipulated because Mrs. Mahoney was using him for his money to settle the debt from her bad investments and reckless spending, and Theo confirmed they are indeed having money issues. Rosie claimed that his involvement with Mrs. Mahoney would tie up his money and that Mimi might not be able to rely on him financially anymore, which would explain why Mimi was selling the farm.

  I don’t know what to believe anymore. There seem to be pieces I’m missing, and I can’t decide if they’re things Rosie was missing, too, or if she didn’t tell me the whole story on purpose.

  When I come out of my bedroom, my dad is sitting in the living room reading the newspaper, a fire ablaze in the fireplace, all the curtains pulled open, showing off the damage of last night’s snow. Except today the clouds are gone, and the bright blue sky stares back at us.

  “I missed you at dinner last night,” he says. I make myself a cup of tea and fill a small plate with biscotti and scones. I notice his hot water is low and refill his mug.

  “So, Jasper Mahoney, huh?” he says as I sit down next to him.

  I pretend to concentrate on dipping my biscotto into my tea. “So, Marylyn Mahoney?”

  He coughs and sets down his mug.

  “Sorry it’s awkward now,” I say. “But I know about you and … Mrs. Mahoney. I know all about the arrangement and your trip to St. Barths with them.”

  “St. Barths was a business trip,” he says quickly. He rubs his face with his hands. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know about this since you’re friendly with the Mahoney boys … I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me first. But I didn’t think—”

  “Dad, I don’t care that you’re involved with her. As long as you’re happy.” He’d seemed like he was when I saw the two of them laughing at the bar before the New Year’s Eve dinner. “And you are, right? Happy, with her?”

  He has a few false starts as he tries to answer me. Finally, he shrugs. He smiles. “I’m happy, sure.”

  “Then I’m happy for you,” I say. “Do Mimi and Rosie know about you and Mrs. Mahoney?”

  “That isn’t really the kind of thing your Mimi and I discuss.”

  I nod, the image of Mimi shaking her head, saying, “Jake’s personal life is none of my business,” flashing through my mind.

  “What about Rosie?” Rosie made it sound like she watched his affair from afar—an accidental run-in in New York when she coincidentally chose to eat at the same restaurant as they did. But what if that’s not how it happened at all?

  He hesitates. That simple pause tells me the answer must be yes, and he doesn’t know how to explain the reasons Rosie knew and Mimi didn’t.

  “Rosie knows,” he says. “But don’t be upset with her for not telling you about it.” Not the thing I was expecting him to say. “Rosie was, well, she wasn’t happy about it, to say the least, so I asked her to please not say anything to you.”

  “Because Mrs. Mahoney is married?”

  “I explained the arrangement to her. But that wasn’t what concerned her, no.”

  “What concerned her?”

  He scratches his chin, his fingers rubbing the light stubble of his unshaven face. “Rosie is a naturally suspicious person, that’s all.”

  “Because Mrs. Mahoney needs your money?”

  He’s about to bite into a piece of biscotto, but he leans away in surprise. “What—why would you say that?”

  “I’m close with the Mahoney boys, remember?”

  He tosses the biscotto on the plate in front of him, his eyebrows raised. “They told you I’m with Marylyn because she needs my money?”

  “Okay, so they never said that. But Theo did tell me that their family isn’t exactly thriving financially. I just thought that maybe … money was a factor.”

  “Because otherwise why would she be interested in someone like me?”

  “Dad—no, that’s not what I meant at all.” This isn’t going quite the way I’d
hoped. “I’ve seen your most eligible New York bachelor write-up; I get that you are quite the catch.” He crosses his arms as I continue. “But she’s not. It’s an arrangement, not a relationship. You can’t do things with her that you’d be able to do with a regular girlfriend. You have to be careful when you’re out in public with her. You can’t take her out to dinner or to the movies or dancing. You couldn’t even kiss her on New Year’s Eve.”

  “That kind of stuff isn’t important to me.”

  “Dad.” I try to read his face, search for signs he’s lying. “Should I be worried about you?”

  He laughs. “There’s no reason for you to be worried. I’m perfectly happy. I like my life. I’m comfortable with the arrangement with Marylyn. I’m less comfortable with you dating one of her sons.” He holds up his hands. “But that shouldn’t stop you.”

  “What does Marylyn think about it?”

  “Believe it or not, that is not our favorite topic to discuss.”

  “She wouldn’t do anything rash like tell Jasper he has to stop seeing me, would she?”

  “Of course not. Why would you even ask that?”

  Rosie said Mrs. Mahoney put her sons’ happiness before her own. If she thought I genuinely made Jasper happy, she’d want me to be with him. Wouldn’t she? Part of Rosie’s plan counted on this.

  “Do you get to see her today?”

  He glances at his watch. “In a little while.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “You should shower first.”