“Aaagh!” she screamed.
As much as she kicked and flailed, she couldn’t right herself, and in what seemed like a split second, she crashed into Kate and Griff at the bottom. They toppled over into the snowbank, limbs tangling, voices crying out, hoarse in the wind. Aubrey hit her head on someone’s boot hard enough to see stars. Griff’s pants were down around his ankles. Kate got to her feet, laughing.
“Gimme that, you spaz, I’ll show you how it’s done,” she said in her luscious voice, made deeper by smoke and cold. Kate grabbed the tray from under Aubrey’s thighs, and ran off toward the hill.
Griff picked himself up and turned away quickly. Aubrey saw a flash of smooth white butt as he yanked up his pants and rearranged himself. She stood up abruptly and staggered, reaching out for the nearest evergreen for support, rubbing her forehead.
“You okay?” Griff asked, turning back to her.
“I guess,” Aubrey said. She was high enough that even though she knew intellectually that she’d really cracked her head, she couldn’t feel it, and she wasn’t alarmed. “What about you?”
“Fine.”
“You didn’t get frostbite in a sensitive place, did you?” she asked, and giggled.
Marijuana had amazing sedative properties. She was bitterly jealous of Kate, of the way Griff adored Kate, of how cavalierly Kate squandered his attentions. The resentment hibernated somewhere deep in Aubrey’s chest, but at this moment, she couldn’t access it, and it didn’t matter. It just seemed funny, how their signals were so crossed. Kate would never love Griff, and Griff would never love Aubrey. Sad, sad, sad.
Griff laughed, but then stopped short. “She only has sex with me when she’s high,” he said, suddenly maudlin. “Do you think that’s a bad sign? Sometimes I’m not sure if she really cares about me, or if she’s using me for my money.”
You’re the only one who isn’t sure about that, Aubrey thought to herself. Griff looked at her with such profound sadness that Aubrey worried she’d mistakenly spoken aloud.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault. I’m the idiot who lets her.”
“Everyone thinks it’s a privilege to get abused by Kate,” Aubrey said. She thought she was trying to make him feel better. But as the words came out and hung in the icy air, Aubrey felt their truth in her own case.
The wind gusted, and Griff swayed on his feet, listing in Aubrey’s direction. For one mesmerizing second, she thought he would kiss her. Then she realized: They were both totally baked, that was all. His balance was off. She was imagining things. Why would Griff kiss her? The guy was utterly crushed, he was so obsessed with Kate, who didn’t give two shits about him. He wouldn’t kiss Aubrey.
She could kiss him.
Aubrey was experiencing a strange disconnect between thoughts and actions, and didn’t realize she’d acted on her desire until their lips met. His mouth was warm and firm. Her lips parted, and so did his. They were French kissing. He smelled of pot, but tasted like peppermints and snow.
Griff pulled away, rubbing his eyes. “Whoa. Did that just happen?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Aubrey said. But she was sure. She had the memory now, and he couldn’t take it away from her.
At the top of the hill, Kate turned around and settled onto the tray, calling out to them to watch.
“Please don’t tell her we did that,” Griff said.
Like she cares who you kiss, Aubrey almost said, but she wouldn’t hurt Griff out of spite. He was like her, pining for a person he couldn’t have. Maybe one day he would see how alike they were. In the meantime, Aubrey felt no guilt over that kiss. Normally, girl rules would apply here. Aubrey and Kate were best friends and suitemates. Until such time as Kate officially declared her lack of interest in Griff and designated him fair game, Aubrey should keep her hands off. But Kate had such bounty when it came to men, and didn’t follow the rules herself. Kate was sleeping with more guys than poor Griff, and he had no clue. Or who knew, maybe he did and he let her walk on him anyway. One of Kate’s hookups was that Lucas kid who Jenny was obviously still crazy for. Fair’s fair. Why should Kate get everything, and the rest of the world go begging?
Kate skidded toward them on the tray, whooping, and came to a stop ten feet short of where they stood.
“Agh, that sucked. What a dud! I’m going again,” Kate called. She stood up, stamping the cold from her feet, and looked past them down the path. “Jenny? You came!”
Aubrey and Griff turned in unison. Jenny hurried toward them, white clouds of breath streaming behind her. Aubrey instantly saw that something was off, something bad had happened, then told herself it was the weed talking. Pot made her paranoid. She ought to write that down on a piece of paper and carry it around so she could look at it when she was wasted, and remind herself not to fret.
But Kate looked worried, too. She strode over to meet Jenny.
“What is it?” Kate said. “Is everything okay?”
“Aubrey, your sister left a message on the room phone. Your mother’s in the hospital. She says it’s serious enough that you should go home.”
Aubrey’s brain was pleasantly foggy from the pot and the kiss. She had no sense of impending doom. How could anything bad happen on the same night that she kissed Griff?
“I talked to my mom a few weeks ago, and she sounded okay. Amanda’s just being dramatic,” Aubrey said.
But in the back of her mind, she knew that wasn’t the case. Her mother had mentioned doctors’ appointments a couple of times recently, and tests. Aubrey, with her college kid’s blinders on, hadn’t followed up. Besides, she knew her sister well enough to suspect that Amanda wouldn’t bother to call without good reason.
“I hope you’re right,” Jenny said. “She didn’t give any details. But she did say it was urgent and you should plan to go home right away. I think you should at least call her.”
“I can’t go home, not with finals coming up. Besides, I can’t afford the plane ticket.”
“Let’s go back to the room, sweetie,” Jenny said. “You can call Amanda and get the whole story. If it’s really bad—I hate to say it, but if it is—the school has emergency funds for that sort of thing. We’ll figure it out.”
Aubrey looked from Jenny to Kate and back again, her face slowly crumpling as the news sank in. Leave it to her mother to go and get sick. Life had been too much for Brenda Miller to handle ever since Aubrey’s dad walked out when Aubrey was three years old. Could you give yourself cancer? The yoga-sutras spoke of the connection between mind and body. Who knew, maybe you could. Maybe her mother had wished herself dead, because she was tired of the struggle, and managed to make it happen. At least now I won’t have to send her any more cash, Aubrey thought. Then she started to cry, out of guilt more than grief. Like her father and sister before her, Aubrey had left her mother in the lurch. Brenda came to the airport to say good-bye when Aubrey went east. She pretended to be happy, but as Aubrey was about to disappear through security, Brenda hugged her tight as a vise and whispered over and over again, Don’t leave me, stay with me, please stay, I can’t get by without you. Aubrey gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek, then pried her arms away and ran. That was the last time they saw each other, and now her mother was going to die.
* * *
“She can’t go alone. We can’t let her. She’s a mess,” Jenny whispered.
Jenny and Kate sat together on Jenny’s bed in the double. Aubrey had called her sister only to learn the worst. Her mother’s cancer was advanced. The doctors gave her mere weeks to live, days maybe. Now Aubrey was huddled under the covers in her bed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, her eyes shut tight. They assumed she was sleeping but in reality she was wasted out of her mind. Her head hurt from when she whacked it traying, or else from the drugs. They’d slipped her a couple of Valiums from Griff’s stash to calm her down. On top of the pot she’d smoked, the Valium wrapped her in a fluffy cocoon where she could see the bad feel
ings, but not feel them. Her head pounded and vibrated, but it was happening to someone else. She listened to her friends discuss her welfare as if from miles away. The sounds reverberated strangely in her ears and dug into her brain. She would remember their words the next day, and for a long time after, but in the moment, nothing they said could cause her pain.
“She’ll be fine tomorrow,” Kate said.
“Her mother’s dying. She won’t be fine. She needs our help.”
“Who’s gonna pay for the tickets for one of us to go? She can’t even afford one ticket.”
“I told you, the college has an emergency fund. I’ll do the paperwork in the morning.”
“Maybe they’ll pay for her. They’re not gonna pay for two tickets. Sorry to inform you, but I’m flat-out broke. Besides, we have exams coming up, too.”
“Like you give a rip about exams. What kind of friend are you, Kate?”
“How dare you, Jenny? I’m a good friend, thank you very much. Aubrey wouldn’t have a social life if not for me.”
“Congratulations, but I’m afraid another drunken frat party is not what Aubrey needs right now. We can come up with the money for an extra plane ticket if we put our minds to it. She has to deal with the doctors, and from the way it sounded—” Jenny paused and drew a breath. “—funeral arrangements, too. It’s a lot for her.”
“Why should that be our problem? She has an older sister, doesn’t she?”
“The sister’s useless, and a total bitch on top of it. I’m telling you, we can’t let Aubrey go through this alone. One of us should go with her.”
“Well, I can’t go,” Kate said petulantly.
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
Deep inside her drug-happy cocoon, Aubrey felt a jolt of worry. Jenny should back off before Kate agreed to come to Vegas. The last thing Aubrey wanted was for Kate to come home with her, and get a firsthand view of her pathetic trashy family. Kate would never look at her the same way again.
“You owe me an explanation, don’t you think?” Jenny said.
“I don’t owe shit to anybody, especially not to someone who just accused me of being a bad friend. After everything I’ve done for you, Jenny. I constantly invite you to stuff you could never get into on your own, and you never even say thank you.”
Her mother was sick, and now her best friends were arguing because of her. She wanted to speak, to beg them to stop, to tell them how much it hurt to see them angry with each other. But the drugs were in the way, and she couldn’t form words.
“Nobody ever helps me,” Kate said.
“Helps you with what? I want to help Aubrey because her mother is dying. What’s your problem?” Jenny said.
“My mother died, too, when I was only ten, and all I got was blame.”
“From Keniston,” Jenny said, skeptically.
“Exactly.”
“Oh, come on, Kate. You always harp on that but we both know that’s not true.”
“How do you know? You weren’t there. He blamed me because I wouldn’t visit her. I couldn’t. She’d been so beautiful, and then she was skin and bones. Tubes in her, and there was this bag attached to her, full of shit and God knows what. It smelled.”
Aubrey heard sniffling. Kate was crying.
“I understand,” Jenny said.
“No, you don’t! Nobody does. Keniston forced me to visit her anyway. He never cared what it felt like to me. He just said I was a bad daughter. People always think the worst of me.”
“This is not the time for self-pity.”
“Oh, first I’m a bad friend, now I’m having a pity party. Admit it, you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. This is about Aubrey. We should try to help Aubrey, that’s all.”
“I would be no help. I freak in hospitals. I said so. Shut up about it and stop forcing your goody-goody ideas on me.”
“Can you please lower your voice?” Jenny whispered urgently.
“God, she can’t hear us. She’s wasted out of her mind. I’m tired of trying to measure up to your ridiculous standards.”
“You’re taking this way too personally.”
“It is personal. Everything with us is personal. You do things to show me up, Jenny, to prove to everyone you’re better than me. Well, two can play that game. I had sex with Lucas, you know.”
Jenny made a strangled noise. “But … you said nothing happened. You said you had to pack.”
“Not then. Not at Thanksgiving. Just the other day. And don’t act like you don’t care. I know he was the guy you talked about, the one you lost your virginity to. I knew and I did it anyway.”
There was another long silence. Aubrey held her breath, listening hard, glad she had the drugs to make her feel nothing, or she would’ve hated Kate right then. She didn’t ever want to hate Kate. Kate was her dearest friend.
“Why?” Jenny said finally, in a small voice.
“Because I felt like it. Because he wanted to. Because I am not constrained by your uptight, narrow-minded definition of friendship.”
The silence stretched out.
“I was right,” Jenny said, her voice harsh. “You are a bad friend. You’re a bad person.”
Jenny got up without another word and left the room. Aubrey peeked at Kate through her lowered eyelashes, which were wet with tears, and saw that Kate was smiling. A sick, ghoulish smile, like she’d been punched in the stomach, but a smile nonetheless.
11
Shecky’s Burger Shack was the only place on College Street open twenty-four hours. Like generations of Carlisle students before her, when Kate got the midnight munchies, she went for a Sheckyburger. It was at Shecky’s, at 2 A.M. on the Tuesday before her awful fight with Jenny, that Kate ran across Lucas Arsenault after not having seen him for a couple of months.
Kate was wasted at the time, although unlike her usual drug binges, this one had a purpose. She was working on a group project with Griff and the Three Rs (Rose Mackie, Rebecca Levine, and Renee Foster-Jones, who lived downstairs from the Whipple Triplets in mirror-image suite 302) for their Beat poets class. They planned to replicate known drug experiences of the Beats, document the spiritual and artistic insights they gleaned from the drug use by recording themselves saying profound things while stoned, and juxtapose their remarks to lines of Beat poetry in a slide show. Everybody agreed the idea was brilliant, but unfortunately the execution left something to be desired. It must’ve been the strain of weed. Every time one of them tried to say something profound, they said ridiculously pretentious stuff instead and gave each other the giggles something awful. When Kate’s turn came, she intoned, “God created the earth. The earth created the Sheckyburger,” and all hope of productivity was lost. They shut off the tape recorder, grabbed their coats en masse, and stampeded down the stairs for a Shecky’s run.
The plate-glass window was steamed up when they arrived, and bright white light spilled through onto the icy pavement. Shecky’s never slept—it was like a little slice of New York in Belle River. Kate walked in and smelled the charring meat and grilling onions and accumulated years of grease from the French fries and laughed out loud.
“Shecky’s proves that God exists,” she said to her companions as she got in line at the counter.
The scarred wooden booths, the cracked linoleum under the garish fluorescent lights—her home away from home. Her father’s initials were carved on the table of the third booth from the door, the souvenir of a Shecky’s run Keniston Eastman pulled thirty years before. When Kate did her admitted-student visit last spring, she’d carved hers right next to his (though she would never tell him this).
They placed their orders with the skinny kid behind the counter. Either all townies looked alike or the same exact kid also worked slinging crap from the steam tables in Eastman Commons. When Renee greeted the kid by name, Kate figured it was the latter.
“Look at you, Miss Socialist, making friends with the proles,” Kate said.
She though
t she’d said it in a nice way, but Renee gave her some righteous side-eye. “My brother works at McDonald’s, and he’s a human being. Timmy’s a human being also.”
“You’ll have to excuse me. I am profligate, because I’m a blonde.”
“And I’m a socialist because I’m black, is that it?”
“Do your homework. That’s Frank O’Hara, Beat poet.”
“That’s stupidity, is what it is,” Renee said, and turned her back on Kate.
The townie kid must’ve overheard their exchange, because Kate’s order was the only one that was delayed. By the time she got her bacon cheeseburger with fries, extra mayo, and double pickles, the others had finished eating and were nodding off at the table.
“Get it to go,” Griff said, yawning. “I’m crashing.”
“Me, too,” Rebecca said.
“I’m outta here,” said Rose.
Renee hadn’t acknowledged Kate since she made that socialist remark, but she was leaning against Rebecca with her eyes closed and mouth open, quasi-passed-out.
“Go without me if you’re so exhausted, but I’m eating my burger while it’s hot,” Kate said.
Griff sighed in annoyance. “If you get kidnapped walking home alone, I’ll blame myself.”
“I don’t give a crap about your white liberal guilt.”
“How can I be a liberal when my father has a hedge fund?”
Just then, the door opened, and Lucas walked in on a rush of cold air. He wore a lumberjack coat, and his ears were pink from the cold. Something in the fine tilt of his head, the athletic way he carried himself—bulky and graceful at once—caught her eye and reminded her why she’d taken him to her bed last fall. They’d never finished what they started, had they?
“Yo, what up, Timmy?” she heard him say to the kid behind the counter. The kid smiled so hard his whole face stretched, and Kate saw that Lucas must be some kind of hometown hero. Figures.
Kate turned to Griff. “You’re off the hook, buddy. The guy who just walked in goes to Carlisle. I’ll get him to walk me back to Whipple.”
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