by Molly Ringle
“And it all started when I was here last time?”
“Yeah. We don’t know whether your supercharged Catholic aura has anything to do with it, but please don’t go ghost hunting with her. We want to keep her calm.” For surely she would be upset enough when she learned Laurence had in fact favored me over her this whole time. The days when she considered us her friends were probably about over.
Amber strolled down just then, said hello, and embraced Tony. She looked beautiful--slender in her long tight sweater, her skin still aglow from the Jerusalem sun, her black hair glossy against it. I wondered if maybe Laurence had made a mistake about who he preferred. I glanced at him, but of course his thoughts were impenetrable. He stood with folded arms and a polite smile, every wavy-copper hair in place, the last person you would expect untoward behavior from. A few weeks ago I might have taken his statue-like formality as a sign that he didn’t care, but tonight I admired him for not doing anything to incriminate us.
It occurred to me I was being selfish, brooding over my affair with Laurence when Tony had traveled five thousand miles to make sure Amber would live through the next three days. I turned my attention to them.
“Yeah,” Amber was saying, “I’m getting nervous.”
“I’ll be around,” Tony said. “I’m not afraid.”
“Thanks. I dig the moral support.”
“Hey, imagine how Laurence feels,” Tony said. “He’s turning nineteen that day. Talk about ancient.”
On our walk to the restaurant and all through dinner, Amber and Tony carried the conversation. I tried to stay involved, but my mind drifted.
Laurence kept his gaze on Tony and Amber too, but said little. At dinner he drank three glasses of red wine, which was about how much he usually drank in an average month. Both of us ate plenty; I was dissatisfied rather than nervous, and found it easy to stuff my face when dissatisfied. Laurence was the same. We had talked about it on one of our walks last month. The things I knew about him now were probably more numerous than the things I knew about Tony.
As for Amber and Tony’s conversation, it was everything I expected. Amber said she had felt peaceful lately, despite her ghost-of-the-day visitations, and generally felt she had lived enough for a decent lifetime (despite failing to shag Laurence, which she didn’t mention to Tony). But she admitted she was worried about February nineteenth, especially now that it loomed so near. We assured her nothing would happen and that, regardless, we would be here.
Amber said she was considering going back to Canongate Cemetery but didn’t know if it was a good idea. Tony thought she should wait till after the nineteenth; Laurence and I agreed.
Amber also said she hadn’t decided yet where or how to spend the nineteenth. With us, certainly, but indoors or out? Usual routine or something special? Tony advised she think on it and decide when the time came.
Through all this, my eyes kept pulling toward Laurence, who sat across from me at the small square table. Comparisons between him and Tony spilled into my mind, all in Laurence’s favor.
Tony was newly eighteen but still looked sixteen. I used to find that cute, but now it struck me as weak. Laurence, not quite nineteen, looked sophisticated. His navy sweater had brown buttons that matched his overcoat and brought out the warm tones of his hair. His leather shoes of the same color gleamed as if spit-polished despite our walk through the wet, gritty streets. Tony hadn’t bothered to tuck his black turtleneck into his trousers, and his socks were white--white, with a black shirt. Oh, dear.
We encountered a hazardous moment only once, when Tony touched the gold bracelet on my arm and said, “Cool. I don’t remember that.”
“Laurence gave it to me for Christmas,” I mumbled.
Amber leaned closer to look, though she had seen it before. “It really is pretty,” she said. “He is so sweet.” She pushed her palm against Laurence’s arm, smiling at him. He rolled his eyes.
I looked away, for I would certainly have burst into manic giggles otherwise. Laurence filled the space by asking Tony something about Wild Rose. The topic sailed past, leaving me with only about a hundred bigger and more dangerous problems.
Chapter Forty-One: Two-Party Procedural Summit (With Snogging)
Back at the hostel, I waited an eternity for Tony to go to bed. Finally, after we’d scraped clean our bowls of Neapolitan ice cream, Tony stretched and said he was exhausted.
Laurence had put him in a room on the second floor. He had lied for me, or for his own satisfaction, and said Room 17 was full, when in truth it was not. Funny how a small act of vindictiveness could signify love.
I changed into my nighttime T-shirt, long johns, and thick socks, and lay awake awaiting my next problem: Amber. Since her return from Jerusalem she had spent her nights in Room 17 again, but only after a long visit to Laurence, where, I assume, she did her best to get him naked. Tonight was the same as ever, in that she left after putting on her pajamas, and presumably went upstairs. But she returned sooner than usual, after only half an hour. I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to hear any complaints or details. She sighed and flopped into bed, and before long I heard her snoring.
I kicked off the duvet and went up to Laurence’s room.
When I knocked, he didn’t ask who it was. He let me in without a word. I sat on the arm of the sofa and watched him lock the door. He walked toward me, barefoot and wearing his usual long T-shirt and sweatpants.
“How you holding up, sweet thing?” he asked.
I caught his shirt, pulled him close, and hugged him around the chest. With my ear pressed against the cotton, I listened to his steady heartbeat. He held me a minute, then picked me up and sat on the sofa, settling me on his lap.
“Our timing sucks,” I said.
“I take it you don’t want to be with Tony,” he answered.
“Ah. Getting right to the point, then. Don’t you know I’d choose you?”
He ran his finger along my sleeve. “I don’t presume to know. But I wouldn’t have groped you this morning if I hadn’t been ninety-nine percent sure.”
“Ninety-nine? Come on, I wasn’t that obvious.”
“Well, ninety-seven point four. I was in a gambling mood.” He tightened his hands, tickling me. “Groping a guy in his sleep does count as ‘obvious,’ by the way.”
“All right. Well, here’s my answer: I’m willing to break up with Tony, but not if you’re moving to Massachusetts.”
“I’m willing to stay on the west coast, but only if I have a good reason.”
“Is being groped a good reason?”
“It’s a start.”
Our faces drew closer over the last few sentences, and we began kissing. This occupied us another minute, until Laurence pulled his mouth away.
“I cannot believe you waited this long to say anything,” he said.
“What was I supposed to do? You were busy with Amber.”
“I was annoyed with Amber, because I wanted you.”
I snuggled against his chest. “How long have you wanted me? Was this an ‘I’ve loved you since seventh grade’ kind of thing?”
“Please. I would have killed you on the flight over if I hadn’t been so ill.”
I stroked the back of his neck. “I would have killed you several times since if it hadn’t been illegal.”
“Aww.” He adjusted my weight on his legs. “Actually, it started that night at Waverley when I saw you fondling Gil. My first thought, which completely surprised me, was, ‘Why can’t she do that with me?’ Since then it’s been a gradually encroaching illness.”
“You weren’t grossed out by my sneaking around and being a skank?”
“You were tactful about it. Anyway, your evilness became kind of endearing.” He kissed me again, dipping me halfway to the couch cushions.
I tugged him down the remainder of the distance until he lay on top of me. He murmured in approval, but stopped when I tried to lead his hand under my T-shirt.
“Easy, tiger.” H
e spread his palm against my bare waist, but didn’t move it higher. “I can’t do this with your boy under the same roof.”
“What, it’s okay if he’s on a plane headed here instead?”
“Not really, but at least then he won’t walk in on us. And he might be up and about, with his internal clock all out of whack from crossing eight time zones.”
“All right,” I grumbled. “So I’m not spending tonight in your bed?”
“Better not. Though believe me, I wish we could.”
“So.” I reluctantly sat up. “If I’m not telling Tony yet, I assume we’re not telling Amber either?”
He groaned, pushing his hands through his hair. “Let’s at least wait till after the nineteenth. If there’s no Apocalypse of Amber, maybe we can tell them.”
“And trigger a different apocalypse.”
“Yes. But...” He glanced cautiously at me. “We don’t have to say anything, even then. This only officially started today. It might be rushing into things, to drop it on them now. We could potentially wait a few weeks.”
I nodded. To be truthful, doubts lurked in my mind about whether Laurence and I would make a compatible pair. Would we ever stop arguing? Or rather, since we wouldn’t, would the arguing be worth the companionship? It was easy to say yes when enfolded close to him, aglow with the novelty of the sensation, but would I regret it two months down the line? Worse yet, would he?
Tucking our relationship into the shadows for the duration of Tony’s stay seemed only wise. I had lived with treachery since September. Surely another week wouldn’t hurt.
“It won’t be easy to keep it from Amber,” I said, “with her stalking you and all.”
“True. But we’ve both become experts at hiding things.”
I cast him a rueful gaze. “This probably means you won’t...” I ran my hands up his chest. “...while Tony’s around, huh.”
“I can’t. I hate the guilt. Still...” He leaned forward and nipped my lower lip with his teeth. “Expect to be tackled once in a while. Just on principle.”
* * *
The next day, while I dried countertops in the Monteith Hotel, the housekeeper poked her head in and said, “Eva? Visitor for ye. Don’t take long, mind. I’ve a dining room full of people wanting their coffee.”
I nodded and walked out to the lobby, sure it was Tony just popping by to say hi while out sightseeing. Instead I found a young blonde woman standing by an end table, her curls silhouetted against the light from the windows.
We squealed and leaped into each other’s arms.
“Shaaaannon!”
“Eeeeva!”
When we finally jumped apart, under the scowling eye of a bald guy trying to read his paper in an armchair, I said, “Oh, God, do I have a lot to tell you.”
“What? About Amber? The nineteenth?”
“Not exactly. Though I figure that’s why you’re here?”
“Yep. Got a couple days off work for it.” Her forehead wrinkled in anxiety. “Should I not have surprised you? I should have told you ahead of time. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be a dork. I love seeing you. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Eva?” reminded my housekeeper, from the front desk.
“Yes. Sorry,” I said to her. Then I spun back to Shannon. “Long story short, Tony’s here, and Laurence told Amber no, because it’s actually me he wants, and the feeling’s mutual, and Amber doesn’t know, and neither does Tony, and I’m screwed.”
Shannon’s mouth hung open. “Laurence?”
“Insane, huh?”
“They’re wanting their coffee,” called the housekeeper.
“Coming,” I assured her.
“Laurence?” Shannon said.
“Go talk to him. He ought to be at the hostel. But don’t tell Amber. Please.”
“Whoa.” Her wide eyes and still figure could have signified anything between rapture and horror.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t put you in this position.”
“No, it’s okay! I mean...I’ll be careful what I say. Just, wow.”
“Eva!” demanded the housekeeper.
“Coming!”
“I’m off,” Shannon said. And after giving me a look up and down that carried a certain bewildered admiration, she hugged me once more and dashed out.
* * *
Shannon’s explanation for appearing in Edinburgh all of a sudden came to me via texts I surreptitiously checked as I completed my work shift. She only had a few days off, so she’d flown instead of taking a train or bus, to save time. Thomas was still in Canterbury, studying, but he was fine and they were still the gooey sweet couple we had last witnessed. Shannon even managed to greet Tony and Amber with every semblance of joy and optimism, not betraying what she now knew except in an occasional unsteady glance toward Laurence and me. In those seconds her composure dropped like a mask and she seemed to be asking us silently, “Is this okay? Did I say anything wrong?”
“I hate myself for dumping this situation on you,” I moaned as we stole a private minute (ostensibly to apply lipstick) in the girls’ restroom in the hostel.
She pulled down a paper towel and moistened it in the sink. “No, it’s okay.”
“But I would have hated myself for not telling you, too.”
“Exactly, I get it.” She smoothed the damp towel across her face, blotting invisible oily patches, I supposed.
“You talked to Laurence?”
“Uh-huh. He didn’t have much to add, but he says he’s glad you told me. He didn’t want to keep secrets either.”
“But we kind of have to.”
She set down the paper towel and picked up her lipstick. “Understood. I couldn’t stand keeping the secret from my folks about Thomas. So I finally told them.”
“Wow. How’d it go?”
“Oh, um, not so great.” She rotated the clear cover on her lipstick without removing it. “I’ll be staying another six months.”
“Holy crap.”
“Or at least, I can. The tailoring place I work for got it all arranged.” She stiffened her back, standing straighter. “It’s not like I won’t go home and visit.”
“Right. Totally.”
“I’ll even buy a plane ticket for them if one or two want to come see me. They’d love it here. It’s just...” The edge in her voice crumbled. “All they can think is that I’m deserting them. It’s so not true.”
“Damn it. They have no right. I’ll back you up every chance I get, I swear.”
“Thanks.” Then she lifted her head and fixed a gaze upon me. “But the point is, even with all the fallout, I felt better to have told them.”
I started to see where this was headed. “Oh.”
“Eva...you know I love you...”
“Uh-oh.”
“But this is a really difficult situation.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in it. I knew it.”
“Not for me. Amber and Tony are two of your best friends. Don’t you think they deserve honesty?”
“I’ll give it to them. I will. Just, not yet.”
“I didn’t like it when you were involved with Gil, and Tony was here, and still obviously loved you. But at least then Laurence was telling you all this, being the one to remind you it wasn’t cool.”
I felt like she had stuck me with a sewing pin. “Hey. You said I could flirt with Gil. You backed me up.”
“I know, but all the same, I didn’t like it once I saw Tony and really understood what you were doing.” She bowed her head again. “I have Thomas now, and I can’t imagine doing that to him.”
“Then don’t! No one’s asking you to. God.”
“Please don’t be mad. Let me finish. It’s just, last time Laurence was the voice of reason, but this time he can’t be, because he’s in it too. So I’m saying this stuff because I think you need to hear it.”
Another half a dozen pins in my flesh. “Shannon...”
“You don’t have to change what you�
��re doing. I won’t hold a grudge or love you one bit less, I swear. But I had to say it, okay? It’s important.”
I nodded, stinging, my gaze fixed on the edge of the sink. “We’ll tell them after the nineteenth. Maybe even on the nineteenth.” I sounded sulky, which wasn’t my first choice, but it was what my voice decided to do. “It’s only in two days.”
“That’s good.” She, in turn, sounded encouraging and hopeful, which made me hate myself even more. “And till then, you and Laurence won’t...I mean...you’ll be careful?”
“Yeah, I won’t let him knock me up in the next two days, Shannon.” Now I’d gone over to sarcasm. Lovely.
She tried to smile, then gave it up and turned to the mirror, fumbling with the lipstick. “Try this pink,” she said, her cheer sounding strained. “It’ll work on you.”
Chapter Forty-Two: The Sweet Dark Hours
Shannon, dear heart that she was, truly didn’t seem to hold any grudge despite my snippiness--which, I should add, I did try to make up to her via lots of groveling compliments and offers of expensive coffee. There were two kinds of people in the world, I thought during those two endless days between her arrival and February nineteenth: those who hold grudges, and those who don’t. She was obviously the latter. And, I cringed to think, I’d soon find out where Amber and Tony fell.
For now, I merely tried to do what Shannon was doing: namely, soothe Amber’s anxiety. As I watched Tony, Shannon, and Amber talking with fervor over their coffee during those two days, it occurred to me that sometimes the absence of other people mattered more than their presence. In the constant presence of these three, my life would not have changed much over the past five months. But in their absence, jeez, look at the mess I created.
On the night of February seventeenth I again took the risk of sneaking upstairs to spend half an hour with Laurence. We sat latched together on his sofa, alternately kissing and analyzing how we had gotten ourselves into this. We agreed several times we shouldn’t meet this way. In anyone else’s company we behaved impeccably, though Laurence did surprise me, the night of the eighteenth, by caressing my knee under a pub table while retrieving a sliding napkin from his lap.