I'll Stay

by Karen Day

“Do you not want to talk about it?” Sarah asked.

  “Talk about it?” Lee said.

  “We talk about it.” My voice sounded to me as if it belonged to someone else. Lee shot a look at me.

  “Well, I’m glad about that.” Sarah shook her head. “But I’m sorry. I still don’t understand what happened that night. Everything feels mixed up. Like, how did Clare get away and you didn’t?”

  I felt ringing in my ears that seemed to pierce my eardrums and vibrate through my head. Someone was screaming. I was screaming, only it was inside of me and I didn’t think anyone could hear it. No! Don’t talk about this! Because I led everyone to believe that I was lucky to have gotten away and Lee was unlucky. That it was a fluke, maybe even that I’d been smarter, slyer, faster. I was the one who knew what to do and what to say.

  Lee stared at Ducky—she didn’t look at me—but I saw the muscles in her jaw tighten and her eyes blink. I knew that look. I saw it on Logan’s face last night at the restaurant and I’d seen it on my mother’s, too. It was the look of heartbreak, when you realized that something wasn’t as it seemed.

  “Clare was just quicker.” Lee’s voice was a whisper. “I guess.”

  I started to cry. Everything about this was wrong. Lee just saved me the embarrassment of having to admit that I let them believe I’d gotten away on my own merit and not because she’d sacrificed herself for me. Just saying this made me sick. I was a phony. Tell them!

  “I’ve been talking to a resident in emergency room medicine, not about you but about this topic,” Sarah said. “It’s complicated. Have you seen a counselor? There are support groups, too. What happened can impact you for a long time.”

  Lee nodded and still wouldn’t look at me. I felt tears stream down my face and pool in the corners of my mouth.

  “God, Clare, are you okay?” Ducky asked.

  “It affected the rest of us, too,” Sarah said. “Clare was there.”

  If only you knew. If only I wasn’t such a coward.

  “You look really tired,” Sarah said to Lee. “And too skinny.”

  All eyes were on Lee, just like in the old days when she walked into a room and heads turned to see what she was doing or to listen to what she was saying. I felt a jab in my stomach as I cried. I was a flood, a faucet. I couldn’t stop.

  “Work isn’t so great,” Lee said.

  “What about going to Thailand?” Sarah asked.

  Lee’s elbows were on her knees and she turned her hands over, palms up, and stared at them. “I don’t know. It’s kinda risky.”

  “But you’d be getting back to filmmaking, what you love, right?” Sarah asked.

  Lee nodded.

  “Jesus Christ, Clare.” Sarah frowned at me. She was disappointed. Maybe guilt was stamped all over my face. I wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my hand.

  No one said anything for a moment.

  “Look, I’m just going to say this,” Ducky began. “What happened to you was a tragedy, there’s no way around it. But I’ve always admired you, Lee. You were the only person I knew who was excited and sure about what you were going to do with your life. I guess I never told you this because I was such a screwup and so intimidated by you. But don’t let what happened stop you from reaching your dream. You deserve to go for your dream, Lee. Am I making sense?”

  “Amen.” Sarah raised her beer bottle.

  Then Julie bounded into the room, telling us that we only had forty minutes to get ready. I stood, went into the bathroom, and closed the door. And then I sat on the toilet and sobbed. I barely knew what I was crying about anymore. I just knew that I couldn’t stop.

  CHAPTER 15

  I saw Christopher before he saw me. We’d gotten to the church early and I’d turned in the pew to watch the others entering at the back and suddenly there he was, behind a group, taller than I’d remembered and better looking. His wavy brown hair was short on the sides and long in front—a trend I’d seen a lot of lately. And yet unlike other men, who announced their new locks every five seconds by flipping their hair out of their faces, Christopher seemed at ease. He smiled as he talked to a man next to him, and in my mind I saw him walking down the halls of Congress, confident in what he was saying. Confident in his hair. I imagined introducing him to my parents and not caring if he told them he was a Republican.

  “Clare!” Susie squealed from the pew behind me. “Now I know why you’re wearing that sexy red dress. Look!”

  The others turned. A few gasped and laughed. Some, who hadn’t known, whispered, “What are you talking about? Who?”

  I felt my cheeks redden and turned to face the front. I still felt a little sick about what happened earlier in the hotel room. I didn’t feel so good in my dress, either. It was too tight. Too revealing. Too much the same color as a fire truck.

  I glanced at Lee, who sat several people over at the end of the pew. She wore a simple blue peasant dress that made her look thin, almost concave, across her chest and shoulders. She stared at the altar, dark eyes not blinking and her face still. She’d barely spoken to me, barely even looked at me, since this afternoon. Clare was just quicker, I guess. Of course she was angry with me, for leaving her that night, for not telling our friends the truth. I needed to apologize. And I needed to apologize soon.

  Once the ceremony started, I didn’t turn around to find Christopher and yet I kept thinking about him. I went over our time together, the excitement I felt seeing him in Nick’s, the anticipation of going home with him, the late nights across his bed, and those wonderful hands and thick lips. But I decided that when I saw him at the reception, I wouldn’t talk about this. I’d ask questions about his job. We’d catch up, like old friends. I wouldn’t betray Ben if this was all we did.

  The service was quick, a few Bible verses, a few funny anecdotes, a long, passionate kiss and then they were pronounced husband and wife. I didn’t see Christopher again until we were outside on the steps. His arm was lightly touching a woman’s back as the two of them walked toward the parking lot.

  Oh. Of course. Just because I’d come here single, didn’t mean he did. Had I forgotten the dance pictures in his bedroom? The way every girl on campus seemed to know his name?

  When Ducky yelled, “Who’s riding with me,” I followed.

  Amy’s parents’ house was a small, two-story Colonial—nice, but not fancy. The yard, however, was spectacular. Long and wide, it sat high on a ledge with sweeping views of Lake Michigan. Dozens of tables, chairs, and a small dance floor were dwarfed under the biggest tent I’d ever seen. It was a large wedding, maybe two hundred people, and all around me there were cheers, laughter, excitement, and drinking. People were in the mood to celebrate.

  Five of us—including Lee—had squished into Ducky’s backseat on the way here, everyone talking and music blaring. Sitting next to Lee, I’d complimented her on her dress and asked if she’d talked to Susie, who was thinking of moving to New York. She answered with one-word responses. Now I turned to her. She stared at the lake, seemingly oblivious to the people around her, a distant, familiar look in her eyes. I could feel her heaviness seep into my skin.

  Ducky, at the bar at the edge of the tent, called us over.

  “Come on, let’s get a drink,” I said.

  Lee turned, walked across the grass to the edge of the yard, and stopped, hugging her arms to her chest as she stared at the lake. If I hurried over, took her arm and dragged her to the bar—made her laugh and got her to talk—I could pull her out of her gloomy mood. I knew how to do this.

  “Clare!” Ducky called.

  But God, I needed a drink first. And so I turned and walked toward Ducky.

  * * *

  Later, after dinner had been served and the band was setting up next to the cake table, I ran into Christopher, who was alone, as I came out of the bathroom in the house. I gasped and brought my hand to my chest.

  “We have to stop meeting like this.” He grinned. It was so good to see him up close again. I tried not to st
are at his lips or think about how wonderful his hands felt on my body. I straightened and pulled down the sides of my dress. “You’re avoiding me. You kept running away during cocktail hour.”

  “I did?” But he was right. As I watched him and his girlfriend work their way toward me in the crowd—God, she was beautiful with her long brown hair and high cheekbones—I stayed a step ahead. I had no interest in meeting her.

  “Ah, you’re still Miss Vagueness.” He laughed and leaned over me, wiggling his eyebrows.

  I was a little drunk, the waiter kept filling my glass and the Chardonnay was so good, but not enough to be fooled. I was suddenly glad that he’d brought a date, a girlfriend—whatever she was—because it gave me cover. “And you’re still a big flirt.”

  He laughed again and took a long drink from his wine. I glanced down the hall where I heard voices in the kitchen, dishes being stacked, water running in the sink and then back at Christopher, who was staring at me. He said, “So, it’s been a while. How are you?”

  “Good. And you? You’re still in Washington?”

  He nodded and took another sip of wine.

  “What are you doing there?”

  “A little of this. A little of that.” He drained his wine and smiled. Then he reached down, took my left hand, and raised it to eye level. “Not engaged to the baseball player yet? I thought that was a done deal.”

  “He’s in Philadelphia and I’m in Boston. So . . .” I felt my cheeks redden and pulled my hand away. Why did I say that? “Looks like you’re doing okay for yourself. You’re serious enough to bring your girlfriend with you today.”

  He wrinkled his nose, laughed, and shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Right.”

  We both moved against the wall when a waiter, carrying a tray of dirty dishes, walked past us. Christopher slipped his empty glass onto the tray and then turned to me and crossed his arms. “I grew up not far from here and so I’m staying with my parents this weekend. Kim’s a friend from high school. That’s all.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.” I laughed. He didn’t smile but shrugged and looked over my shoulder down the hall. I straightened and chided myself for having so much wine. Don’t make a fool of yourself!

  “You look great,” he said. “You’re beautiful. I still don’t think you know that.”

  My cheeks began to throb. “Thanks. You look pretty great yourself.”

  “Thanks.” He reached out to touch the strap of my dress. “This dress isn’t like you. You were always so, let’s see, au naturel. You know, the T-shirt and jeans girl.”

  I knew it. I looked like an imposter. I was bloated from the wine and bread and butter and chicken Kiev and suddenly felt as if my dress were strangling my stomach and intestines. This dress belonged on someone like, well, his date. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “No, no! I like the dress. It looks good on you.” He lowered his hand. “You left school without saying goodbye.”

  “You didn’t say goodbye to me, either.” I squeezed my hands into fists. I felt my head spin—it was the wine and the conversation—and I wanted to be in control.

  He shrugged. “I was at Nick’s on graduation night. And you weren’t.”

  It was true. I hadn’t gone there that last night. After saying goodbye to my parents, I’d helped Lee pack and then had gone over and helped Ben pack, too. And what did I do afterward? Did I promise to meet him and forgot?

  He burst out laughing. “I’m kidding! I was long gone after graduation.”

  I shifted my feet, unsure what to think. Then I smelled the smoke from his cigarette and the taste of all those beers. What would have happened if I’d gone with him to Washington? Would we still be together? People began to crowd the hall, some wanting the bathroom and others looking for more to drink. Sarah and Susie walked in and told me that it was almost time for the father-daughter dance.

  As I turned to say goodbye to Christopher, he leaned over again and whispered, “We have unfinished business, don’t you think?”

  Then there was a big cheer as Dougy, his bowtie undone and hanging down his chest, walked into the hallway, a bottle of champagne clutched in his hand. I hurried out into the night behind Sarah. I felt as if I’d been sucked back into a head-spinning time warp. Partying with college friends. Worrying that Lee was angry with me. Unsure what to think about Christopher.

  “I couldn’t tell if you needed rescuing or not,” Sarah said.

  I didn’t know, either. “Thanks.” We walked to our table under the tent. Band members were milling around, talking and tuning instruments.

  “Oh, God, look at Ducky,” Sarah said. Although there wasn’t any music yet, she’d run onto the parquet and started dancing with a tall, good-looking guy with short hair and a thick, square jaw. She wore a strapless, light blue dress like the other bridesmaids, but on her the dress was perfect. Her hair was short and her skin tanned golden brown. She smiled as her partner swung her out and then yanked her back to his chest. Everyone began laughing and clapping. Ducky waved to the crowd, beaming, as if she were having the time of her life.

  “You know, that night in Florida completely freaked me out,” she’d whispered to me a few hours ago while we stood in line for the bathroom. “After college when I moved downtown, I was terrified. If I was out late, I worried I was being followed. I thought every man I met wanted to attack me. I had two bolt locks installed on my apartment door. It was awful! Then one day I decided that I couldn’t live like that.”

  “What did you do?” I leaned closer so I wouldn’t miss a word.

  “I signed up for a self-defense class at a gym. And that led me to an aerobics class that led me to running. I started feeling stronger, physically, which made me feel stronger all over, I guess. I’m not the deepest person in the world. I know that doesn’t surprise you! But that night made me afraid of everything. It changed me. And so I had to change, too. Do you ever think about what that night did to you?”

  If only she knew. That night changed everything. I nodded.

  “I know how upsetting this is. You cried so hard today in the hotel room.” Ducky wrinkled her forehead in concern. “But I’m glad you’ve been a good friend to Lee. This morning she told me that you call her every day and see her, like, once a month. I hope this doesn’t sound corny, but that just warms my heart. I’m not surprised. You were always good at helping people. You were the house therapist.”

  Her compliments made me so uneasy that I couldn’t look into her eyes. I had to stare at her white eyebrows. Then it was her turn to use the bathroom and after that I lost her in the crowd and we never picked up the conversation. But now, watching her dance, I wished I’d said this to her: that night completely messed me up, too. Because it proved that I wasn’t good at helping people, after all. No wonder Lee was a mess. I was good at saving myself.

  Ducky, giggling, bowed to her partner and they walked off the floor. Then the music began, a soft, sappy tune that brought out Amy and her dad. I drank my wine and held out my glass so the waiter could fill it again. I glanced at Lee, who stood with two older women—somebody’s mothers—as they watched Amy and her dad. Then she turned, smiled at the women, and said something that made them laugh. All night I’d watched her, animated and talkative with others.

  I thought about the weekend last year when she drove up to Boston with Phillip, a guy she was kind of seeing. The three of us had gone to the Head of the Charles. It was cold and snowy and the flakes were giant, the size of quarters. Lee and I glanced at each other and without speaking, without planning, began running through the crowd along the river, trying to catch flakes on our tongues. I remembered being happy in a complete kind of way, as I often felt with Lee before everything went bad. Later, drinking beers at a bar, I imagined that one day I’d marry Ben and Lee would marry Phillip and we’d live in the same town and raise our children together. When I told this to Lee, we both burst out laughing.

  But there was a difference between Lee�
��s laughing then and now. Because at the moment she was barely talking to me.

  When the band broke into a loud disco song, “Stayin’ Alive,” most everyone jumped up to dance. I looked for Christopher but couldn’t find him. Instead, I saw Lee slip away from the crowd and out through the back of the tent. Her flight to New York in the morning was much earlier than my flight to Boston. This was it. I chugged my wine and fortified with Chardonnay, I somehow found the courage.

  I followed her as she walked on the narrow, sandy path and then down the wood stairs. I paused while she took off her shoes and disappeared into the darkness. At the bottom of the stairs, I slipped out of my sandals and walked across the cool, hard sand to the water. Millions of stars stretched across the sky and gentle waves lapped the shore. I fought a nervous urge to run back to the reception, to the safety of lights, people, and happiness. As I walked toward her, the voices and music faded and a breeze pulled my hair across my face.

  In the moonlight her dress looked white and her dark eyes seemed to melt into the shadows on her face. She turned to the lake and opened her palms in front of her. “Have you ever seen anything like this? It’s beautiful.”

  I startled. I hadn’t expected her to talk about beauty.

  “Look at how the moonlight and stars change the color of the water,” she said. “It looks black and then the light makes it look silver. Water reflects what’s around it. Right? Water’s funny like that, don’t you think, how it changes?”

  She didn’t wait for my answer but tilted back her head and took a deep breath. I shifted my feet and looked up, too. I tried to see what she saw, tried to feel what she felt, but I was too anxious. Underneath this talk of beauty, I knew she was still angry with me.

  “I don’t mind being in the dark,” she said. “Sometimes, if it’s too bright, you can’t see anything. You know? But if it’s darker, you somehow can. That was such a revelation to me just now.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about. “Lee.”

  “Know what I was thinking about today?” she asked. “The Rat Man case. Remember how we spent weeks, months, talking about it? Remember how at first we were horrified that the guy had to experience it, and then we wondered how the torturer had come up with such a thing? Remember what we decided?”