“It’s been a tough day,” he said. “You should come to dinner with us.”
There was a dog park several blocks away named Wiggly Field, and Lily had been begging Pam all afternoon to take her. Eventually Pam had given in and they’d walked over. Just as Eric had issued the invitation, here came Lily and Pam returning from their walk. They appeared around the same corner where Seth had departed, two girls, one big and one small, their elbows swinging, their heads bent at the same angle. Even from here, Hilary could hear them laughing.
“Thanks, but no. I’ve got to go in and work a shift,” Hilary told him. “The hospital’s understaffed as usual. And I wanted to spend time with Mother.”
“You’re sure? Alva could come, too. You’d both be welcome.” But Hilary knew they wouldn’t really be welcome, at least not as far as Pam was concerned.
“I’m sure.” Still, it felt nice to be invited. “Thanks, Eric. Really.”
Hilary and Alva had gone to one of those neighborhood places instead, one with poster-board signs and plastic checkered tablecloths that felt greasy even after they’d been wiped. They had Chicago-style pizza, with a layer of seasoned crushed tomatoes double-decked with Italian sausage. They sat across from each other, their elbows on the table and their cupped hands propped beneath their chins. As they talked, Hilary realized how much she’d been missing her mother. The mother Alva had been when Hilary had been, say, eleven. When whatever had been wrong, Alva had known how to fix it.
The two of them leaned toward each other over the table, sopping up olive oil with hunks of focaccia and discussing what young girls saw in Rob Pattinson. That had been one of the most terrifying things about becoming a mother herself, Hilary admitted — finally understanding that the wise, perfect mother, the person on whom everyone relied, hadn’t really existed. Alva, too, must have sorted it out as she went, muddling through the process with the help of gut instinct and prayer, self-help books and teacher conferences.
“I’m exhausted,” Hilary admitted. “What a day. It’s impossible, trying to make everybody happy.”
“You think that’s what you’re supposed to do?” Alva pushed the bread in swirls, mixing together the oil and vinegar. “Make everyone happy?”
Hilary thought about it. “Yes.” Then, “No, I guess not.”
“Hilary? Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Mom. What?”
Alva had plopped the bread in her mouth. “How long has it been since you’ve listened?”
“What?”
“Sometimes you get so busy trying to do what you think is right, you don’t give yourself a chance to hear. Christians stay so busy trying to think what they should say, what they should do. But they don’t always think how they should listen.”
“Are you talking about this weekend? With Pam?”
Alva put a hand on her daughter’s knee.“God’s plan is often different from what you think. I don’t know what it is, Hil. But that girl is hurting about something.”
“Who?”
“Eric’s wife.”
“Pamela?”
“Yes.”
“You called her that girl?”
The television overhead was playing a Chicago Cubs baseball game. Hilary stared at the screen as a ball sailed toward the scoreboard at Wrigley Field and the crowd went nuts. “Do you remember the morning of the wedding?” Hilary asked, and suddenly all she needed was to laugh uproariously at something. “When the choir director called and Eric’s best friend had brought a horse to the church? So I’d see it tied up outside the door and think he was going to ride in and rescue Eric from me?”
“Where did they get that horse, anyway?” Alva started chuckling, too. “It was such a swaybacked nag, it wouldn’t have made it more than a half block before it gave out.”
As fast as that, they began one-upping each other about the wedding that didn’t even matter anymore. The little lady who stood up and talked about riding the train to her own wedding and no one could figure out who she was. The flower girl who kept hiking up her dress to keep her tights from falling down. Alva’s father ad-libbing the tango.
“And Eric’s hair!” Alva said. “He looked like a bowling ball, remember? He had it cut way too short. Do you remember Eric’s hair?”
“Of course I remember Eric’s hair. He sunburned his whole head on our trip to Mexico.” Maybe it was the mention of Mexico that made Hilary stop laughing and turn somber. It brought to mind Seth’s English essay.
Alva’s humor subsided, too. She took a deep breath.
“It was all supposed to be perfect, wasn’t it?”
Alva didn’t reply.
“Eric and I were young together,” Hilary said. “There can never be a substitute for that, can there?”
Alva said, “I don’t think so, sweetie.”
“I can’t help it,” Hilary admitted. “Pam brings out the worst in me. I don’t even think I want the things she has now. But I don’t want to give any more ground, either.”
“What does that mean?”
“She took my husband once. She took the children I wanted to have. And now it’s like she’s trying to take Seth, too. She walks in the room and she’s just so competitive. Why is my son so important to her? Seth is all that I have.”
“Ah. Are you angry at her still? I thought you’d been doing so well.”
“I don’t know what she makes me want, Mom. Maybe it’s the life Seth could have had if I had done things differently. If Eric had been a better father. If I hadn’t shut myself off from my husband. If I’d been thinking of him instead of myself. If I had known he needed me.”
By this time Alva had paid the bill and they were headed outside. “Or maybe it’s the life you could have had when you were Seth’s age, Hilary. If your dad and I had stayed together. Is that what you’re still wanting?”
“Oh, Mother.” Hilary touched Alva’s arm. “I have no idea.”
Chapter 9
Seth hadn’t meant to be drinking at the campsite, not really. He’d slapped the money in Remy’s hand for one reason alone, to compensate for his friends’ having to wait for him so long. He’d promised his mom he wouldn’t screw up, especially now with his dad around.
But someone had set up a plywood bar beneath the trees and his friends were the bartenders. They kept mixing different concoctions and everyone wanted him to taste them. There was cranberry juice and something green and something mixed with Red Bull.
Finally Seth decided he was being stupid. He couldn’t make either of his parents happy anyway. These days, it seemed like he was always wondering what he would do wrong next. But then, what didn’t he do wrong?
What did it matter, after all? No one was driving until morning.
He’d started out with a paper cup full of soda with some shot of something dropped inside. He’d followed up with a swig of something that tasted like cough syrup. Next he’d downed a few beers and left the cans stacked on the hood of someone’s car for some drinking game they were playing.
Even the stars were spinning now. Seth lay with his head on a rock, squinting at the sky, trying to bring the night into focus. He’d thought if he drank enough booze, he’d get to the point where he didn’t feel anymore. Seth didn’t remember much, just something vague about punching T.J.’s lights out. Something T.J. had said, taking Remy’s side about something. He remembered Emily standing behind him, that small jolt of electricity that hit his body every time she came near, trying to convince him to give it up. He remembered her ducking beneath his arm, bearing his full weight on her shoulders. Had she made him walk away?
The flames of the bonfire looked like dancing arms reaching for the darkness. That’s the way Seth felt, too. Like he was trying to grab something he never could reach.
Seth had lost his sleeping bag. Which didn’t matter, not really, because who planned on sleeping tonight anyway? Once the drinks had started coming, he’d lost all sense of time. He had smoked a few cigarettes. The night’s r
efreshments had accomplished exactly what he’d intended. They’d taken the edge off.
He remembered Michael and Chase shouting and racing through the trees. Someone had brought a football and had been passing it back and forth as it got dark. Somebody else had brought out some sick speakers and had plugged in an iPod. The girls had danced.
The social groups, which had formed and morphed like amoebas from Mr. Fraser’s Biology class, had been less predictable tonight. Tonight everyone had belonged, a moment in time without hangout boundaries. For a long time, Seth had chilled out by the fire, alternately growling sharp answers to those who asked about his new wheels, talking about nothing, or nodding off into a stupor. Someone had pressed another whiskey into his hand. He’d lost count of the times Emily’s face loomed at him like a moon in the firelight. “You okay?” “You going to make it?” Several times she’d settled down beside him to rub his shoulders. “You still mad at T.J.?” “I’m worried about you, all right?”
That’s when he’d pulled her down. She sort of fell against him, and he’d kissed her. She’d smelled so good, like wood smoke, shampoo, and peppermint. He loved that she tasted like peppermint.
“You got any gum? I’ve got booze breath, don’t I?”
“Yeah.” She’d laughed. “That and nicotine. But so does everybody else, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, so you’ve been going around kissing everybody?”
“You’ll never know, I guess. Too bad you’re too drunk to try and keep up with me.”
“Oh, I’d find out, all right. You know how they all talk in high school. Word gets around faster than fire.”
“Yeah,” she’d egged him on. “But we’re not in high school anymore, remember?”
Seth was vaguely aware he kept slurring his words. But his guard was down and this was something he kept thinking they should talk about. “Are you breaking up with me? When we go off to college?”
If she’d answered him, he couldn’t remember what she’d said.
Emily had disappeared for a while after that. When the Jim Beam ran out, they’d moved on to tequila, and after that gave out they tapped the keg. By now the party had mellowed, which was nice. Pockets of conversation surged and waned beside Michael’s car. Earlier someone had been stomping Dixie cups. The ground was littered with smashed knots of paper. In the trees beside Seth, a random couple had started making out. Seth wondered if they were steadies everyone knew or if this was something that had started up tonight.
“Hey,” he said when he saw Emily coming toward him again. Maybe he was starting to sober up. “Where did you go? I was looking for you.” He sat up and picked dead leaves off his sweater.
She was rubbing her hands against her arms to keep warm. She looked a little worried. “Hey. Laura sent me to find you. Do you think you could get a ride home with someone else? I think we’re going to take off.”
“What?”
“Laura wants to go.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“You guys can’t go. It’s…” He tried to see his watch in the dark, but he couldn’t. “I’ll bet it’s three in the morning. And you guys have been drinking, too.”
“Not as much as you have.”
“So let Laura go by herself. She’ll be okay.”
“I can’t do that. She’s my best friend.”
“Can’t girls ever do anything by themselves? You can’t even go to the girls’ room without each other.”
She smiled, but it was a worried one. “You’re right. Got to have a buddy.”
He finally got around to trying to unfold his legs and stand up. He felt a little wobbly. “I don’t get it. Why the quick decision to vamos?”
She offered him a hand. “Don’t want to talk about it. Because it’s one of your friends and he was a jerk and she doesn’t want to be anywhere near him right now.” When Seth finally got upright, he sort of stumbled into her again. “And I’m not telling you who it is because I don’t want you swinging at anybody else tonight. The sound of fists hitting flesh makes me cringe.”
“Tell her to get tough, Emily. She can’t let guys get to her like that.”
She steadied him with a hand on his chest. “Look, she’s got her period. She’s got cramps and she’s cold. And she just doesn’t want to stick around and deal with it right now, Seth. Okay?”
Which was enough to sober Seth up and make him give his full consent immediately. Too much information. Don’t start talking about the girl stuff. That stuff was just too intense. “I’ll walk you to the car.”
“If you think you can make it.”
“I’m fine.”
It wasn’t the sort of night where you bid people good-bye. Seth helped Emily find her purse. When he spotted Laura coming toward them, she was lugging her sleeping bag like it weighed a ton. “Here. Let me get that.” He took it from her.
Laura handed the sleeping bag over just as Emily stubbed her toe on a tree root. Of all the camping supplies they’d thrown together, how come no one had thought to bring a flashlight?
“Here.” Seth powered up his phone and directed the pale green light in the vicinity of their feet. “This works.” But now that Seth had stood up, his head was spinning. He wasn’t feeling so hot. They staggered across the dark parking area with the girls’ phones open, too, casting a ghostly glow in front of them.
Halfway to the car Emily glanced at her phone to see the time. “That’s weird. We’re not that far from home and I don’t have any signal.”
Laura checked hers. “Me, neither.”
“That’s what we can do, Laura.” Seth’s mind was an X-wing fighter, darting between stars, unable to land anywhere. “You need to call your mom. You’ve both been drinking. You’ve got to get a sober parent to come pick you up. You can’t drive drunk.”
“But there isn’t any signal.”
The idea had cemented in Seth’s head. He’d promised his mom he’d be responsible tonight. What if he let the two of them go off alone and something happened? He took care of women who needed him; that’s just what he did. Thanks to his dad, he’d been training to be a hero for six years running. “Either you call her or I don’t let you drive.”
“We’ve both sobered up enough to drive by now, Seth.” Laura poked her hands in her sweater.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then I’ll go with you.”
Laura shook her head. “No. You’re the one that’s messed up. You don’t want to show up at your house like this. Your mom would go ballistic.”
“My mom’s cool about stuff. She trusts me.”
“Stay here and have fun,” Emily told Seth. “You’ll want to hang out with your boys in the morning.”
“Will I?”
“Yeah.”
“Besides,” Laura agreed, “Emily sleeps over all the time. She’s just going to crash at my house. I’d have to take you home and that would take an extra half hour.”
But Seth was pointing to the rock promontory that rose above the parking lot. “There’s cell signal. All you have to do is just get to the top of that rock.”
“Right.” Laura followed his gaze up the limestone cliff.
He took Laura’s hand and started pulling her. High overhead, the broad crown of a tree gleamed in the moonlight. Earlier during the night, Chase had scrambled to the top of the butte and had pounded his chest, bellowing like Tarzan. Several of their other classmates had scaled the wall, too, even a group of girls, because they needed to go up and make a call.
“I don’t think I can do that,” Laura said, shaking her head. “I really don’t.”
“You can,” Seth reminded her. “You’re a track star.”
“Yeah, but track stars do their thing on flat ground. This is perpendicular.”
“It’s not that high. Everything always seems higher when you look up at it from below.”
“Not true,” Emily said, trailing them. “That’s backward. Every
thing seems higher when you’re at the top looking down. Seth, are you up to this?”
“Of course.” He offered his hand to Laura. “Come on. Humor me. Let me once more be the knight in shining armor, make sure you get home safe.”
The three of them stood at the base of the outcropping, eyeing the hollows and ridges, picking places where a hand could grasp, a foot could rest, a body could lean against a plane and stay balanced. Through the leaves that rustled in the night breeze above them, the moon cast a glow that fell over them like a lace doily.
“I don’t want to climb all the way, Seth. I just want to go until I get one bar. Or maybe two.”
“That’ll work,” Emily said.
“You start,” Seth said. “I’ll stay right behind you.”
“Aren’t you going up?” Laura asked Emily.
“He’s okay,” Emily said. “He’s okay. He won’t let anything happen to you.”
They ascended with little effort at first, even though he stumbled a couple of times. He balanced on Laura’s shoulder. They’d gotten two-thirds to the top before things got scary. He held her arm stable each time she hoisted herself to the next ledge.
“You’re almost there,” he said. “You can’t stop now.”
“Yeah,” she said, “but then I have to climb back down.”
The limestone felt cold and sharp beneath his grip. Even Seth had started to shiver. “Why don’t you check your phone from here? See if it works. Maybe there’s signal now.”
A light burst from her screen. “I’ve got signal. A couple bars.”
“Oh, great.”
“I think it’s enough. I think it’ll do.”
With both hands gripping a root above him, he swung and listened to the faint song as she dialed. The party voices had faded to nothing. The only sounds besides her cell were the trill of frogs and the scurrying of a raccoon maybe, or a fox, something above them. The animal must have gotten close to the edge, because a storm of small, sharp stones rained around them. Suddenly Laura squeaked an expletive, her voice thin as wire. Her phone spiraled into space after it bounced off the outcropping at Seth’s feet.
His Other Wife Page 9