Frost

by Marianna Baer

  “Is your bag still where I put it when I moved your stuff in?” David asked, looking over at her from by the closet.

  “I guess,” Celeste said.

  “What are those?” David pointed at a couple of bruises on her lower thighs. Celeste pulled her skirt down to cover them.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “What are they?” he pressed.

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe from when things got a little frisky with Whip. Okay? Like that answer?”

  “He hurt you?” David said.

  “Jesus! No. I bruise easy. Don’t you remember? From all our games of tickle monster?”

  “I never hurt you like that,” David said.

  “I bruise easily, too,” I said, sensing that their conversation was rapidly deteriorating. I rolled up my sleeve and pointed at a blue-yellow blotch on my forearm. “This one, I don’t even know what it’s from. Field hockey, maybe, but I don’t remember it happening.”

  Neither of them said anything else. Just stared at each other as if I wasn’t even in the room.

  The next time Celeste spoke was as I backed the car out of the driveway.

  “I am so fucking happy to be getting out of this place,” she said.

  The silence between Celeste and David lasted through getting coffee at The Mean Bean, and past multiple exits on the Mass Pike. Celeste may have been happy to leave Frost House, but all I could think about was how much I’d rather be back there alone than here in the car, trying to ignore the obvious tension.

  Somewhere near Sturbridge, I heard a small snore from the backseat. I felt as if I was being released from thumbscrews.

  “Is she asleep?” I asked quietly.

  David twisted around and watched her for a moment. “Yeah, she is.”

  “So,” I said once he was facing front again, “what’s with all the weirdness?

  Before answering, he turned up the volume of the music a bit. “She used to cut. Before Barcroft, but I get nervous when I see bruises. It’s stupid, I know.”

  “Oh,” I said, understanding better now. I thought of her burn, and how she’d asked me not to tell him. That must have been why. She was worried he’d assume she’d done it on purpose.

  “How has she seemed to you?” he asked. “Aside from letting that asshole abuse her.”

  “I don’t think he’s abusing her,” I said gently. “I think she was just trying to get to you. She’s seemed … okay. Really upset about what happened to her nests, of course. Honestly, I don’t see her that often. You should ask her how she’s doing.” That was true. Ever since that event with the nests, she’d spent more and more time in the little room, and out of the dorm entirely. I wasn’t sure where or when she was sleeping.

  David turned around again to look at Celeste, then rested a hand lightly on the back of my neck, sending a jolt of electricity all down my spine.

  “I’ve been really looking forward to this weekend,” he said in a low voice.

  “Yeah. Me too. It’ll be fun.” I knew that my tone didn’t match his. But since that disturbing episode in the closet, I’d gotten more and more worried that maybe I was headed toward a big mistake. How did I know whether to trust my gut, or my rational mind?

  “Is there anything special you want to do while we’re there?” he said. Up and down, his fingers traveled the length of my neck.

  He’s just like the others. I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I passed a massive Jordan’s Furniture truck. “Left on Spit Brook, right on Daniel Web-stah.”

  “What?”

  “Jaw-dens Funicha Weah-house. The radio ads? The guys have those crazy accents?”

  “Leena.”

  “What?” My mouth felt dry.

  “I just wanted to see if we’re, you know, both looking forward to the same sort of weekend.”

  I decided to switch lanes and flipped on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal. I fumbled with the controls while saying, “I, um, I don’t really know….”

  He took his hand off my neck. “Sorry. I thought … I guess I’ve been misunderstanding. I knew you didn’t want to get involved this semester, but I thought … the way we’ve been acting. Sorry. I guess I’m just stupid.”

  A moment of silence went by. I heard Celeste breathing in the backseat. Suddenly, something clicked. The reason I was so convinced he wouldn’t be able to have a relationship, the reason I was so scared. It was more than just worrying he’d be like the other guys.

  “Maybe you don’t have room to care about anyone else,” I blurted out. “Maybe that’s why you haven’t wanted a real girlfriend. You spend so much energy on Celeste and your parents, which I love, I love that you’re so good to your family. But maybe … maybe you don’t want anyone else. Maybe you’ll realize that once you’re with me.”

  I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

  To my surprise, David started laughing.

  “What?” I said. “What’s so funny?”

  “That’s exactly what my shrink used to say. About expending all my emotional energy taking care of my family. Not saving any for friends or girlfriends.”

  I smiled. “Really?” I said. “Wow. I’m good.” I glanced away from the road for a minute and our eyes met.

  He put a hand on my knee. “I don’t think you have to worry about it, though,” he said. “I’m feeling pretty energized. Plenty of energy. No problem there.”

  My palms felt sticky on the wheel. “Really?” I said.

  “Really. Also …”

  “What?”

  “Not that I wouldn’t, if you needed me, but you don’t seem like you need anyone to take care of you. You’re pretty good at doing it yourself.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I loved that he thought that. Sometimes I felt like it was the furthest thing from the truth.

  “So …” I said.

  “So?”

  He was now stroking my leg with his thumb. A smile took over my body. Oh, God—every single one of my cells was smiling. I put a vision of Cubby’s disapproving eyes out of my mind.

  “So maybe I could, I don’t know, suspend my moratorium,” I said. “On a trial basis, of course.”

  Chapter 20

  “ WASN’T THE EXORCIST FILMED HERE-” Celeste said when I pulled up in front of Viv’s family’s house in Brooklyn. It’s a four-story limestone town house, right across the street from Prospect Park, with a bowed front, Gothic carvings, and an imposing archway over the double door.

  I would have laughed, but I was too stressed about the fact we were more than an hour and a half later than I’d originally said we’d be. I’d called Viv a few times and had tried to get them to go do something without us. But she’d insisted they were happy to wait.

  A blond girl about our age answered the doorbell. “Come in, come in. They’re upstairs,” she said, hustling us into the marble foyer and pointing at the staircase ahead. From her accent, I figured she was the Swedish student who helped with housework and cooking in exchange for a room. She looked at Celeste’s cast. “Maybe you want the elevator?” she said. “Yah? Cool. You come this way.”

  David and I carried our bags up the three flights, “accidentally” bumping into each other a number of times. We found Viv, Abby, and Cameron sitting in the Parker-Whites’ less-formal living room, watching one of the Spider-Man movies.

  “Hey.” Viv unwound her limbs from Cameron’s and came over to give me a hug. “Long drive, huh?”

  “Sorry,” David said. “My fault. I suggested an alternate route that turned out to suck.”

  That wasn’t really why we were late, of course—it had been my fault for oversleeping. He was taking the bullet for me, probably because it had been so obvious in the car that I was worried they were going to be mad. I had a sudden urge to hug him. As if sensing this, he placed a hand on the small of my back.

  “I wish you guys hadn’t waited for us,” I said.

  “Viv’s idea,” Abby said, not looking away from the TV,
even though a commercial was on.

  Celeste appeared in the doorway. David took his hand off me to move a bag that was in her way.

  “I hope you guys are hungry,” Viv said. “We stocked up at the farmers’ market this morning. I got those dilly beans you love, Leen, and good bread and cheese. A ton of stuff.”

  “Actually,” I said, feeling a spike of guilt, “we kind of ate in the car.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said. I could hear her disappointment. “Well, it’s a gorgeous day. What does everyone want to do? Abby, Cam, turn off the TV, losers.”

  It turned out that none of us had really thought about what we wanted to do in New York, except Abby, and everything she suggested involved tons of walking. I kept having to point out that Celeste was on crutches.

  “Okay,” she finally said to me, “how about we sit on our asses and do nothing? Does that work for you?”

  “No, I—”

  “How about we split up?” David said. “You guys go do what you want. Celeste and I will be more mellow.”

  People exchanged looks. “Sounds good,” Abby said.

  So now I had to pick whether to spend the day with David or with my friends? This wasn’t part of the plan.

  “You’re coming with us, Leena, right?” Abby said.

  “Umm … I …”

  Viv cut in. “Wait a minute. I’ve got an idea.”

  Viv conferred with Miss Sweden for a minute, then the two of them wrangled some sort of metal contraption out of the hall closet. It turned out to be a collapsible wheelchair that belonged to Viv’s grandfather.

  Celeste stared at it. “You want me to ride around in that? In Manhattan?”

  “It might be kind of annoying,” Abby said. “The sidewalks are so crowded.”

  “Try it,” Viv said.

  Celeste sat down and wheeled herself slowly forward. “It’s hard to maneuver.”

  “We’ll push you,” I said. “We’ll take turns.”

  “Promise you won’t push me down any stairs?” she said.

  “Promise,” I said.

  “At least not on purpose,” Abby added. Then she looked around at all of our horrified expressions. “Just kidding! Jeez.”

  Who knew a wheelchair in New York could be so much fun?

  We didn’t only take turns pushing, we took turns riding. Much to their mothers’ annoyance, we used small children and strollers in the Central Park Zoo as a moving-obstacle course. We had time trials down the park’s corridor of massive elm trees.

  At one point, David pushed Abby in a tight little circle until she was laughing and screaming and begging him to stop. When he did stop, she caught her breath and gathered her hair back in its clip. Our eyes met and she smiled. The first real smile I’d gotten from her in a long time.

  Even Celeste seemed like she was relaxed and having fun. A whole group of Japanese tourists must have mistaken her for a movie star because they asked if they could have their picture taken with her. Of course, she obliged, taking off her coat so her fabulous outfit would be visible.

  We ended up at a matchbox-size Indian restaurant in the East Village for dinner. The ceiling and walls were decorated with so many flickering, multicolored Christmas lights it was like being inside a kaleidoscope. Along with the frenetic Bollywood music, the table full of curries, and everyone talking, it was sensory overload of the best kind. At the end of the meal when the bill came, David took out a credit card and handed it to the waiter.

  “How much do we owe you?” Viv called over the blaring strains of the sitar.

  “I’m taking care of it,” he said.

  “What?” I said. “No way. That bill must be huge.”

  “Yeah, man,” Cameron said. “I wouldn’t feel right.”

  “Look,” David said. “It’s not a big deal—this place isn’t expensive. Just saying thanks for the weekend.”

  When the waiter brought the receipt back for David to sign, I said, “Are you sure? Let me give you some cash, at least.”

  “Leena,” he said quietly, folding up the yellow copy and placing it in his wallet. “I’m trying to impress you here. You’re not making it very easy.”

  “Oh.” I stared down at the tablecloth, a stupid grin on my face.

  The temperature outside had dropped. None of us were dressed for it, and I shivered in my thin coat as we stood on the sidewalk, debating what next. Without a word, David draped his hoodie over my shoulders. I moved closer so I was leaning slightly against him, and rested like that until a minivan cab big enough for all of us came down the street, and we decided to head back to Viv’s house for the time being. During the ride, Celeste suggested we go to a bar in a remote, waterfront neighborhood in Brooklyn that she’d been to over the summer with Band Boy. She promised they wouldn’t card us, and if they did, I was the only one without a fake ID.

  “Will there be guys?” Abby asked. “Cute guys?”

  “Actually,” Celeste said, “there’s a sign on the door that says Ugly Guys Only. Is that a problem?”

  “At least Cameron and David will be able to come in,” Viv said.

  Everyone laughed. I settled back against the comfy seat and closed my eyes. We’d made it through the day and no one was fighting.

  David was sitting next to me. I felt his hand, warm on my knee. He squeezed it and I squeezed his hand and I thought, Maybe we should just die right now, in a car accident. Because it didn’t get better than this.

  Chapter 21

  DESPITE CELESTE’S ASSURANCE we wouldn’t be carded, I wasn’t taking any chances. Back at the Parker-Whites’, I put on my nicest jeans and a black turtleneck sweater that made me look older and more sophisticated, and pulled my hair into a twist at the nape of my neck.

  “You look like a librarian,” Celeste said from the bed she’d claimed.

  We were sharing a room here, too, with twin beds, framed photos of Japanese temples on the walls, and a massive golden Buddha statue watching from the corner.

  Insisting I could do better, she had me try on one of the many dresses she’d brought—a red-and-black-pattern vintage Diane von Furstenburg. The silk stretched over me, cool and slinky, and seemed to fit. Then I looked in the mirror. “No way,” I said immediately, taken aback by how exposed I felt. This sort of dress—tight, low-cut, curve-enhancing—was obviously designed for someone with a different sort of build. Or, rather, a different sort of personality. And definitely someone with different footwear, I thought, looking across the room at my selection: scuffy, brown, lace-up boots or Chucks.

  A knock came at the door. Celeste said, “Come in,” at the same time I said, “One minute.” Her voice must have been louder because the door opened. David stood there.

  “Wow,” he said.

  I crossed my arms in front of my boobs. “I was just trying it on,” I explained. “I’m not wearing it.”

  “Really? Why not?” He turned to Celeste. “It’s yours, right? You should give it to Leena for good. To wear on a daily basis.” I blushed as he grinned at me.

  “It was Mom’s,” Celeste said. “I’m not giving it to anyone. What did you want, anyway?”

  David’s smile faded. “I actually need to talk to you.”

  “I have to use the bathroom,” I said, picking up on his serious tone of voice. “You guys can talk in here.”

  I decided to wear my hair down, and just a little mascara and lip gloss, so I didn’t actually have that much to do in the bathroom to waste time. I ended up posing in front of the mirror, trying to appreciate David’s opinion of my new look. I liked that he’d been so enthusiastic, but wearing something so sexy and sophisticated still felt strange: as much of a lie as my friends’ fake IDs. Not to mention, it seemed more than a little weird to be trying to look good for a guy in his mother’s dress.

  Before going back to the bedroom, I glanced in the medicine cabinet to see if anything had been abandoned there. While my doctor prescribed me antianxiety pills for emergencies, I occasionally snagged a few other types fr
om my and my friends’ parents—only when it was obvious they weren’t actively taking it. Nothing here, though.

  Eventually, I figured I’d given Celeste and David long enough. Celeste stood in her black lace underwear, surveying the remaining clothes in the closet.

  “What do you think?” She held up a fifties aqua-blue diner waitress dress and a black top that looked like it was made of ribbons.

  I pointed to the aqua blue.

  “Eh. I think the black,” she said.

  Celeste rehung the blue dress and hopped toward the bed. Her eyes were bloodshot.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  She sat down and began wriggling the top over her head. I noticed that there were a couple of bruises on her torso, too. Like the ones on her thighs. Were they really from Whip? I’d thought she was just saying that to annoy David, but maybe they were. I couldn’t imagine how else they might have happened. What did people do to each other in bed that would make bruises? Did it feel good at the time?

  “Celeste, you okay?” I said again.

  She pulled the top down. “Yup,” she said. “That David. He always likes to make sure I’m in a cheery mood when we’re going out.” She shook out her hair. “You know, you don’t have to wear that just because he said you should. I can tell you’re uncomfortable in it.”

  “I think I will,” I said, running a hand over the smooth fabric. “It’s fun to wear something different for a change.”

  “Hmm.” She stood up to admire herself in the mirror and I realized that the black ribbon top was actually a dress. Sort of. It barely reached below her underwear. “You might be right, you know,” she said.

  “About?”

  “David. Your hesitation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I guess if you guys wanted to be together it would have happened by now. Right?” She turned so she could see herself in side view. “Maybe I tried too hard to push you together, for selfish reasons. Maybe you’re not his type. I made it all up in the beginning, saying that he liked you. He’s that way with anyone who has boobs.”