I'll Stay

by Karen Day

“Thanks,” I said.

  “Good luck tomorrow morning,” Lee said to my mother.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Nice to see you again, Lee.”

  I kissed my mother on the cheek and we were off.

  Outside, the rain had stopped and a damp, humid smell rose up from the concrete. A foggy mist hung so low that we couldn’t see the tops of the buildings. The hotel concierge told us that he’d call a taxi, but I wanted to walk for a bit. Maybe it would help clear my head and settle my stomach.

  The lights from the hotel cast long shadows across the pavement as we walked toward Michigan Avenue. Then Lee asked, “What was that about?”

  “Logan was drunk,” I said.

  “No, I know that. I meant, what was going on with your mom?”

  I felt a cold ripple in my chest. “Logan hurt her feelings.”

  “No, before he arrived,” she said. “Your mom was so, I don’t know. I’ve seen her be really opinionated and all. And you’ve always talked about how much her writing means to her. But I’ve never seen . . . well . . .”

  “Well, what?” What was she trying to say? What had she seen?

  “She seemed so different tonight.” Lee’s voice was slower, careful. “She was so, well, almost like . . . well, needy, maybe that’s it? And she reminded me . . . Well, I guess I just haven’t ever seen her like that. It kinda surprised me. That’s all.”

  “I’ve told you that she’s moody.” I spoke quickly, sharply. “I’ve told you that for years.”

  “I know, I know,” Lee said. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m sorry.”

  An ominous feeling had followed me out of the hotel and I wanted it to go away. I didn’t want to be in a bad mood. Not now.

  “I guess you really take care of her, don’t you?” she asked.

  “We all take care of her, Lee, not just me.”

  “Okay.”

  Michigan Avenue was filled with people walking, cars and taxis rushing, and storefront lights blazing. A few blocks over I knew Lake Michigan waited, huge and silent, like a sleeping bear. When we flew over this afternoon, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. A lake that size in the middle of the country?

  A sudden weightiness settled in my chest. I imagined the lake rising and raging and then barreling down Michigan Avenue, flooding the stores and sweeping away cars and taxis. Sweeping me under, too, until I drowned. And if I were to be opened up afterward in an autopsy under bright, unforgiving lights, what would the doctors find? Maybe nothing. I would be the empty girl with no organs, no identity, no convictions, no courage, no passion.

  Stop this!

  I shivered. “Let’s get a ride.”

  We flagged down a taxi. In the backseat we were quiet as we headed north along Lake Shore Drive. The lake was on our right—the lights reflected off the water near the shore—and beyond that was a huge, black, endless nothing.

  “Are you okay?” Lee asked. “Do you want to talk about what Logan said?”

  “No.”

  How embarrassing and humiliating. I hated this attention from Logan, from Lee. I hated it more than anything. I belonged on the other end, listening. I tried to think of something to ask Lee. I tried to think of something to ask the taxi driver.

  “I guess you have to consider the source,” Lee said. “You’ve told me a hundred times that you and Logan aren’t close. What did he mean that he was dying? And what was that about a zoo?”

  “Logan was just being dramatic.” I leaned forward and looked at the identification and picture tacked to the glove compartment. Ebrahim Jahandar. Interesting. “Excuse me, sir. Where are you from?”

  “Iran.”

  The revolution was less than eight years old. My parents and their friends spent countless dinners poring over what had happened with the hostages and President Carter’s attempts to free them (we must not go to war over this, my mother always insisted). I started asking questions. Why did you leave Iran? Where is your family? How do you feel about the revolution? For the rest of the way to Evanston, as we listened to this man’s story, I began to feel better.

  CHAPTER 14

  It had been a ripple effect. First Susie said she wasn’t bringing her boyfriend and when I said I wasn’t bringing Ben, the others with boyfriends decided to come alone, too. There were sixteen of us at the hotel, out of the original twenty-two who had pledged together, and so from the beginning, the weekend felt more like a reunion than a wedding.

  Only three years out of college, we easily fell back into old patterns, especially after a few drinks. It was nice to see everyone and within minutes, I wasn’t sure why I’d been so ambivalent. The first night we were up until two, closing down the hotel bar and laughing in the suite. Because there were so many of us, and because it was the first time we’d all been together since graduation, there wasn’t much time for in-depth conversations. Everyone seemed to be on hyper mode, screaming when someone new arrived, flitting from topic to topic.

  Still, by the next afternoon I’d learned a lot. Ducky was by far the most changed. The weight she’d lost—more than twenty pounds—made her cheekbones stand out and her neck long and lean. She was still the same bubbly girl with the blond eyebrows, but she’d traded in her pearls and pink sweatshirts for expensive pocketbooks and trendy skirts. Everyone had jobs, selling office equipment or working in human resources for big companies. I thought about Lorenzo’s comment that people don’t change, but to me everyone looked more stylish, more successful, and more mature than we’d been in college.

  Now it was late afternoon on Saturday and Sarah, Lee, Julie, and I had just returned from a long lunch. A group of us were drinking in our room and when we’d polished off the last beers, Sarah said to me, “Let’s go on a liquor run.”

  Outside, the skies were overcast but the rain had held off. I had no idea if people would come out for my mother’s talk no matter the weather. Had Logan, who was supposed to be in town until Tuesday, gone to it? I hoped so. I also hoped he had a horrible hangover although I was beginning to feel something I’d overlooked last night. He wasn’t the only one who would miss Elise.

  Mary Poppins. I smiled, thinking about Lee’s nickname for Elise. It was perfect, not only because Elise was English but mostly because, like Mary, she made things better whenever she was around. Logan was nicer. My parents were relaxed. She treated me as if I were a peer, a sister. And I loved her observations about our family because they were so insightful and on target. Logan likes to make money to prove to your mum that he’s successful. Your dad enjoys taking care of your mum. You will be a great mum someday.

  How did she know so much?

  But now Elise was in love with someone else. Did this mean I’d never see her again? Would it be okay to write to her? Would she want to hear from me?

  We started down the street.

  “Amy said that most of Dougy’s friends are staying at the Hilton across town,” Sarah said. “I’m glad. It’s fun just being with all of us.”

  “Agree,” I said. Had Christopher arrived? Was he staying across town, too? I imagined catching his eye in the church, and how he’d smile, surprised to see me dressed in something so out of character. Would we flirt? Would there be sparks?

  Sarah walked quickly, her short legs taking long strides. She wore her curly red hair longer now and I thought she had unusually large circles under her eyes but otherwise she hadn’t changed much. She asked, “How’s Ben?”

  “Good.” I stared at my feet as I walked. I felt guilty at how excited I was to see Christopher, and I didn’t want to think about Ben right now.

  “Are you guys going to get engaged or what?” she asked.

  I shrugged. We turned the corner and up ahead I saw a liquor store.

  “You don’t know or you’re just being mysterious about it?” she asked. “Because that would be right in character with you.”

  “Shut up.” I laughed. “I honestly don’t know. We don’t talk about it.”

  She sighed. “I wish I could fi
nd someone. Meeting people is impossible. And med school’s so hard.”

  “Yeah, but you’re going to be a great doctor,” I said.

  “If I get through school. God, it was tough just getting away for a weekend. Speaking of that, how did you get Lee to come?”

  I felt the muscles tense across my back. “She wanted to come. We couldn’t miss Amy’s wedding.”

  “Well, it’s good to see her,” she said. “Last year, I planned a trip to New York and called her, like, three months ahead of time but she couldn’t meet me. I’ve called her so many times but she’s worse than you are. She hardly ever calls back.”

  I glanced at Sarah, surprised. Lee had never told me this.

  “No one else talks to her anymore, either,” Sarah said. “And I’m worried.”

  “I talk to her every day.” I was a good friend to Lee. I called and went to see her. A lot. Sarah should know this. Then maybe she wouldn’t be so worried. But I cringed as I looked at my feet. Why was it so important that Sarah know this?

  “Well, what’s going on with her?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “She’s too thin and not excited about her job. She told me that she’s a goddam secretary and makes her boss’s squash court reservations. What the hell is that?”

  “She has to start at the bottom.” I held open the liquor store door and Sarah walked in ahead of me. Frigid air from the air-conditioning unit above the door blasted us and raised the hairs on the back of my neck and arms. The store smelled as if someone had spilled from a keg two years ago and forgot to clean up. We walked to the back, pulled out three six-packs, and then went to the checkout.

  “She wanted to make movies.” Sarah put the beer on the counter and glanced at me. “That’s all she talked about. And now she’s some asshole’s secretary?”

  “It’s a hard industry to break into.”

  We paid for the beer and walked outside. The sky was lighter with patches of blue between gray clouds. This should make Amy, whose reception tonight was outside on the lake, happy. I should be happy, too. I had my new dress. I was glad to be here. But I was beginning to feel miserable in a deep-in-my-bones kind of way.

  “She told me about Thailand,” Sarah said. “What do you think about that?”

  “It’s risky,” I said.

  “It sounds more interesting than making squash court reservations.”

  I shifted the beer to my other arm. Sarah was a lot like Ben. They both assessed a situation and made a decision. But Sarah didn’t know how unpredictable Lee was or the many bad decisions she’d made over the last three years. I glanced at her as we turned the corner. She was frowning as we walked. Goddam it. Why did she do this to me every time we talked? Why was she so judgmental? Why ask a million questions? I made a mental list of the things I’d done to help Lee. I said, “Last year she joined a running club in New York that I found for her. And—”

  “What does she say about what happened?” Sarah asked. “In Florida.”

  I stared at my feet again, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. “She doesn’t talk about it.”

  “We really screwed up that night. We should’ve insisted that she go to the hospital. She should’ve been checked out and not just for her lip. For everything.”

  “She didn’t want to go,” I said. “Remember? She wanted to leave Daytona.”

  “She didn’t know what she wanted. She was a mess! The whole thing was a mess. And remember how she asked me if there was something wrong with her eyes? She should’ve had her eyes checked out, too.”

  “What?” I startled. “I don’t remember that.”

  “You don’t? Really? You don’t remember how she asked me to check them? I couldn’t see anything but then I worried that when I broke the window a glass shard had gotten into one of her eyes or something.”

  “I don’t remember that,” I said.

  Sarah shrugged. “Maybe that happened when you and Ducky went to get food? I don’t know. The whole night was such a fucking mess.”

  How could I not remember this? I cringed, thinking that I’d somehow either forgotten or wasn’t privy, which was worse, to this detail.

  “And I still don’t understand why she was standing there in her clothes, with her backpack at her feet. If Lee was raped, which I have no doubt that she was, when did she get dressed? How had that happened?”

  I couldn’t breathe. I began gulping breaths.

  Sarah sighed. “Has she ever, you know, told you about what happened?”

  “No,” I squeaked.

  “I don’t know, Clare.” Sarah shook her head. “She doesn’t look so good.”

  Tears sprang into my eyes and my heart began pounding and I had this terrible sense that I was running but couldn’t catch whatever I was chasing. I didn’t want Sarah or Ducky to think that I’d failed. That I hadn’t kept Lee safe. I just wanted—more than anything—for them to forgive me.

  I startled. But how could they forgive me when they didn’t even know what I’d done?

  A car sped up behind us, screaming voices piercing the air. Ducky slowed her little red convertible and Julie leaned out the passenger window and said, “Get in! We’re going to get more beer!”

  I held up the bag. “We’ve already got some.”

  “Okay, well, we’re off to get more,” Ducky said. “Be back in a minute!”

  Sarah chuckled as Ducky pulled away. “Can you believe her? Who would’ve ever thought?”

  But I couldn’t think about Ducky. I was trying to talk myself out of crying.

  More than a dozen people were squeezed into our room. I ducked into the bathroom, washed my face, and waited until I’d calmed. Then I went back out with everyone. By this time, Ducky and Julie had joined us, too. The noise was deafening as everyone talked and laughed. Then Julie stood on the bed, put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled so loudly that everyone groaned but finally quieted.

  “Remember when we went behind the house and got high in that stranger’s car?” she asked. Everyone started screaming and laughing again. I turned to Lee, who watched from across the room, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. She doesn’t look so good. But she looked the way she always did, didn’t she?

  I thought about the time a few years ago when I took the train down to see her. We met at Penn Station and bought bagels and a slab of cheddar cheese from a convenience store on Sixth Avenue. It was a warm spring day, the buds popping out on the trees and the sky brilliant blue, and we walked all over Manhattan. She was quiet and gloomy—I couldn’t remember what the problem was that time. I did remember how I felt her intensity sucking the life out of everything. But I got her going. I got her laughing. By the time we stopped for dinner in Chinatown, she was happier. That was the thing that no one, not Sarah or Ducky or Ben or Patricia Graceson knew about her. That her intensity could suck the life out of everything and that she looked to me, and only me, to help her get out of it.

  “And remember how the owner of the car opened his door and said, ‘What’s going on?’” Julie yelled over the shrieks and laughter.

  Everyone screamed again. And I let myself smile and even laugh a little because I remembered this funny story and didn’t want to keep worrying.

  And then there was another story and one after that. I passed out beers and popped one open for myself. Soon, Lynn and her group left. Ducky went to the suite and came back. The phone rang. Someone was screaming in the hall. More people left. Others arrived. I went to the bathroom again and when I walked back into the room, I saw that almost everyone had gone. I stretched out on the bed. Soon we’d have to get ready for the wedding.

  Lee was talking to Lisa and Susie. I rolled onto my side, away from them, and listened to Sarah and Ducky, who were sitting on the floor by the window. And then suddenly Ducky, in mid-sentence, stopped talking. Sarah lowered her beer from her mouth in slow motion. I rolled over. Susie and Lisa had gone and now it was just the four of us—Ducky, Sarah, Lee, and me—alone in the room. No one had t
o say anything. I was quite sure we were all thinking the same thing, that this was the first time we’d been alone together since our spring break trip. That we were in a hotel room made the moment even more pronounced.

  Lee was still dressed in her running clothes from the morning, the same blue shorts and white T-shirt that I’d seen her wear hundreds of times. She stared at Ducky, waiting for her to finish what she was saying, a slight smile on her lips. But when Ducky and Sarah dropped their eyes, Lee’s smile faded and she looked at me. My breath caught in my throat—I tried to cover it up by coughing—but I didn’t fool her. She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.

  “You guys are acting like somebody died,” she said. “Come on.”

  Ducky glanced at me and then at Lee. This was why I hadn’t come back to visit. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to talk with Ducky and Sarah about what had happened in Florida.

  “So many times I thought about our spring break trip, Lee.” Ducky’s voice was serious in a way that wasn’t familiar. “Sometimes it was all I thought about. Did you get those messages I left for you?”

  I looked at Lee. She hadn’t told me that Ducky had called her, either.

  Lee nodded. “I called you back. Right?”

  “You called me back once,” she said. “I left a bunch of messages. I wanted to know if you were okay.”

  Sarah and Ducky exchanged looks again. Lee licked her lips and said, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” Ducky said. “I just feel bad. About everything. And that we never really, like, talked about it when we got back to school.”

  “Oh.” Lee’s voice was soft, hesitant. “Don’t feel bad, Ducky. It’s okay. I had a rough couple of years but I’m okay.” She glanced at me, mouth parted as if trying to call for help but couldn’t get the words out.

  My heart had started to throb and I was suddenly light-headed, dizzy. I pulled myself up until I was sitting against the backboard, my legs crossed under me. I felt so much pressure on my chest and in my lungs. I felt as if I could barely breathe.