Forks, Knives, and Spoons

  The factory-printed words read: I’m happy we’re friends. He let the card speak for him and signed only, Love, Matt. She looked at her name written across the top in his handwriting and it struck her. Matt knew her initials spelled her name. Her computer login was AMYork.

  “WHAT DID YOU DO for the most romantic night of the year?” Amy asked Matt as they finished lunch. “You won’t believe what I did.” Without waiting for an answer, Amy went on. “I sat in my room alone, wrote a profile on a new professor, and read my public communications book. Thank you for your card and the rose; that was my highlight. But yup, I was all alone, in my pj’s, on Valentine’s Day!”

  “Is something wrong? Where was Andrew?”

  “Yeah, well, he had a big project.” Amy’s voice lowered; she didn’t want to complain about Andrew to Matt, and she instantly shifted to defending him without Matt breathing a sound. “It’s not that important anyway, it’s just a night, right? I mean, it was a weeknight and it’s better that he’s a good student. We’re going out this weekend instead.”

  “That sounds good.” Matt looked away and zipped up his backpack. “All set?”

  “Sure, hold on,” Amy said, glad for the way Matt never judged her, or Andrew, or anyone else, either, she realized. He was kind and diplomatic, empathetic and forgiving, and he didn’t dwell on other people’s behaviors. Amy balanced her bag on one arm and her lunch tray full of empty bowls and dishes on the other. Matt grabbed it for her, tucking both trays onto the conveyor belt.

  “So, you didn’t tell me, what did you do on Valentine’s Day?”

  “It was no big deal,” Matt answered.

  “Where you home in your pajamas, too?”

  Matt hesitated, then held the door for her to step outside onto the snowy sidewalk. “I was out.”

  “Out? Out with who?” Amy found herself speaking in a high voice and louder than she intended.

  “I don’t think you know her, someone from my dorm. She’s a theater major.” Matt took deliberate steps around the fresh snow that concealed the slush beneath it.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Laura.”

  Amy nodded. “Oh” was all she could verbalize, though questions ricocheted in her mind. Who is she? Are they serious? Why hasn’t he mentioned anything about her? Matt has a girlfriend?

  ON A DREARY MARCH afternoon, Amy entered the bathroom clutching her toothbrush and Crest Fluoristat toothpaste, ready to brush away a snack. She heard giggling from the shower stall as she passed, barefoot and silent. She recognized the bath towel hanging beside the industrial curtain and thought she heard whispering through the sound of running water. There was a thud followed by an “Ouch!” The wet, lower voice was definitely male, and Jenny was loudly shushing him.

  As the shower turned off, Amy brushed quicker, hoping to escape before them, but she saw a corner of purple pass in the mirror. She could see a wedge of Jenny in the reflection, the towel wrapped around her naked and dripping Barbie-doll body. Peeking from behind the tiled wall toward the hallway door, she motioned with her hand, waving the boy on. He stepped forward, into Amy’s mirror view, a matching violet towel hugging his hips and highlighting a rippled physique. Ken-doll ab muscles sculpted into him, his build was incongruent with his boyish face. Amy backed deeper into the bathroom to remain unseen, holding a mouthful of minty spit. From her vantage point, she could not avoid seeing Eric Sheridan tiptoe out behind Jenny. Wet hair clung behind his ears, and his bare feet slapped the floor puddles as he snuck out with the arrogance of the unobserved.

  VERONICA WAS WALKING THROUGH the Brewster lobby when Eric snuck up and covered her eyes from behind like a schoolboy, coaxing, “Guess who?” His voice pierced her lungs, letting a sigh escape. She had once loved him and, caught off guard, those feelings surfaced.

  Their history tugged at Veronica’s emotions, even as she noted that his scent was not his own. His hands above her nose smelled fresh and slightly of jasmine. She turned, and forgetting herself, she fell into his hug and pressed herself against his chest. For a moment she wondered if she had been too harsh; perhaps he had paid his penance and she should give him another chance. She floundered and wavered, thinking he must feel remorseful and committed since he was persisting and had come all this way.

  Since their breakup, despite the dates, fraternity events, and formals, she missed the steadier connection and comfort of a boyfriend, of him. Someone who knew both her silliness and her seriousness, someone who knew her family and her home, someone who knew her in jeans, dresses, or panties. Despite the hurt and betrayal, Veronica missed Eric and the idea of Eric. Time and distance softened her heart and let him slide back into it.

  AMY PACED THE ROOM. Her gray sweatshirt shouted SYRACUSE, and its bulkiness hid any sign of her small breasts. Her thin legs peeked out beneath it, snug in black stirrup leggings. She wondered where Veronica was and how she was going to tell her about Eric. Passing the door on her loop of the room, it swung open, nearly missing her. Thank God, she’s home, Amy thought, then froze as she saw Eric enter behind Veronica.

  “Look who I found waiting for me in the lobby,” Veronica said, her tone clear that it was a good discovery. Her eyes had a sparkle and Eric was in their room, grinning. Amy squinted her eyes at him, unable to speak, but he was effervescent and charming in his greeting.

  “Amy! So great to see you.” He embraced her, pinning her arms as Amy resisted the hug.

  Amy turned to her best friend, trying to understand what was happening. She had to get her alone, even knowing it might break her apart all over again.

  “Hey, where are all the pictures of me?” Eric asked, scanning Veronica’s bookshelves, desk, and nightstand.

  Inside, Amy was starting to seethe. What a complete fork. Does he really not get that he’s been an asshole? That he is still being an underhanded, lying player?

  “My parents have really missed you. They send their love,” Eric said, letting his question fade like old film while Amy stood frozen. “I’ve really missed you, Roni, you know I need you.”

  “Veronica, can you come here a minute, please?” Amy spit the words out, unable to calculate a better strategy.

  “Now? But Eric just got here.”

  For a second, Amy questioned whether to tell Veronica at all; she even momentarily doubted what her own eyes had witnessed, as if her wishing that it wasn’t Eric stepping out of that shower would make it so. Then she pictured him wrapped in Jenny’s towel, bold enough to be fooling around publicly within yards of Veronica’s room.

  “Yes. Now. Please.”

  Veronica unraveled herself from Eric’s arms. He held her fingertips and fastened her to him for a moment. Veronica followed Amy out of their room and down the hall toward the stairwell.

  “Where are we going? What’s going on?” Veronica quickened her pace to keep up.

  Amy’s heart was pounding; she knew she was about to deliver a blow. Steeling herself, she moved swiftly to the gray door at the end of the hall, aware that it was across from Jenny’s room, but she needed to talk to Veronica where they wouldn’t be interrupted, and the stairs were the only immediate option.

  “Amy, you’re freaking me out! What’s going on?”

  Amy hit the chrome bar and pressed the door into the stairwell that they had descended too many times in the early-morning hours. She walked up one flight. Veronica climbed behind her, silent now, and sat beside Amy on the ninth-floor landing. When their footsteps stopped, the only sound was the hum of the lights. Amy squeezed her eyes shut, then quietly told Veronica the truth of her ex-boyfriend’s surprise visit.

  Veronica let out a long, voluminous scream that bounced above and below them, and then she stood and bolted down the steps two at a time and flung her body around the bend. She reached the entry to the eighth floor then called up to Amy, her voice echoing, “Come on! I need you!”

  THE DOOR OPENED TO ROOM 808 with such force that it slammed against the side of Amy’s closet and rebounded back tow
ard Veronica. She straight-armed it open and rushed over to Eric, who sat upright on her bed, startled and confused. Amy watched Veronica pound the side of a single fist into Eric’s chest. She was crying and yelling at him while he sat looking perplexed.

  “What the hell did you say to her?” He ignored Veronica’s barrage of anger and glared accusingly at Amy.

  “The truth, Eric,” Veronica shouted clearly. “She told me the truth.”

  Veronica slid her desk chair in front of her closet. Standing on it, she reached to the top shelf and pulled out frames from under a stack of sweaters. One by one she threw the pictures of Eric and her smashing to the floor at his feet.

  “You want to know where your pictures are? Here!” Another one shattered, frame parts and shards of glass skidding across the floor. “I am embarrassed that I ever loved you! You made me doubt myself and what I knew to be true.” Her words caught and she threw another picture at Eric. The cherry frame Frisbeed from her hand and the corner caught Eric’s forehead. He folded forward holding his head but remained silent.

  Amy stepped over the Erics smiling up at her from the prom and the slopes and took Veronica’s hand. Veronica’s shoulders crumpled and she stepped down from the chair and into Amy’s hug, sobbing. The door slowly opened and Jenny peered into the room.

  “What’s going on in here?” She gasped as she saw the blood dripping down Eric’s face. He fixed his eyes to the floor.

  Veronica pulled free from Amy’s arms. Seeing Jenny in her room ignited a new fury. As if she didn’t know where to direct its energy, she turned between Eric and Jenny. Her red curls freed themselves and whipped around, accentuating her rage.

  “You! Are you coming to check on him? Because you can have him!” In the hallway behind Jenny, others had gathered, drawn by the commotion. “You two deserve each other,” Veronica spat. “Get out!” she commanded, looking at Eric but speaking to them both. He didn’t move, just sat on the edge of Veronica’s bed, stunned and still. His face, hand, and shirt were covered in red as the small cut kept bleeding. Veronica felt like she was bleeding, too, her pulse beating wildly in her throat and at her wrists.

  “Get. Out. Now.” She spoke in rhythm with her blood.

  Eric stood, hanging his head and pressing his hand to his wound. He bent down and peeled a photograph from the floor. He wiped the glass from the faces: Veronica and him squinting and salty at the beach, carefree and happy. A drop of blood rolled down his wrist and fell onto his tanned summer face. He wiped his sleeve across the image, smearing the blood and making the face in the picture match how he looked now. He tucked it into his shirt pocket and walked toward Jenny. She backed away as he approached, her face stricken. Jenny looked from Eric into the room at the red splotches and shattered glass, and at Veronica’s eyes. Jenny brought her hand to her mouth, turned, and ran down the hall to her room. Alone.

  AMY SAT ON ANDREW’S bed as he zipped his duffel bag, ready to leave for his spring break trip. She handed him a package that looked like a giant Tootsie Roll wrapped in tissue paper. Andrew tore into the crinkly paper and shook out the thick beach towel striped in red, yellow, and blue. He lassoed the towel around Amy and drew her to him, covering her face in kisses.

  He tucked a new bottle of Coppertone suntan lotion into his bag with the towel. She didn’t want to cry. She had told him to go, encouraged him even, as evidence of her being the understanding, easygoing girlfriend, the way she thought she should be. But now that he was leaving, she felt deserted and lonely.

  “Don’t look so sad, Aim, it’s only a week.” He tried to comfort her with a voice that was cheery and full of anticipation. “Come on, walk me out to wait for the guys.”

  Andrew slung the bag over his shoulder and held Amy close to his other side. The spring break trip had been planned months ago with eight pledge brothers. They were driving a rented Winnebago to Daytona Beach and Amy was spending the week in Newport with Veronica. She was looking forward to a restful week with her best friend, mixing lazy hanging out and touristy fun. Still, a pang struck her gut sending Andrew off to the hub of spring break madness without her.

  “OH, GIRLS! I’M SO excited that you’ll be staying with us for the week,” Mrs. Warren said, greeting Veronica and Amy with kisses on their cheeks. She couldn’t wait to share her surprise: “I even arranged for the Bennett boys to take you out. A double date. One’s a sophomore and one’s a junior, older men, and they both attend Yale. They already had their spring break but they’re home next weekend. I can’t understand why Barbara isn’t expecting them home this Sunday for Easter, but either way, they’ll be here next weekend before you girls head back. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Veronica rolled her eyes as Amy mouthed, “Andrew.” She answered with a silent, “Sorry,” then turned to her mother. “Mom, Amy has a boyfriend.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, girls, it’s just a friendly evening. One of the boys, I forget which one—Zach maybe, or Doug, no, it’s Zach—has a girlfriend. Just go and have a nice time.” And that was that.

  Throughout the week, Veronica and Amy enjoyed quahogs, lobsters, and steamers and walks along Bailey’s Beach and Gooseberry Beach. They slurped Del’s Lemonade and Rhode Island clam chowder, and Amy had her first taste of coffee milk. They dyed Easter eggs and celebrated Easter Sunday with the Warrens at church, followed by brunch at Rosecliff mansion. They crossed the bridges to spend days in Providence shopping on Thayer Street, as well as touring the Rhode Island School of Design Museum and the domed state house topped with The Independent Man statue.

  The Bennett brothers picked them up on Friday evening and drove along the waterfront cobblestoned streets to an old park overlooking the Atlantic and the Beavertail Lighthouse. Polite chitchat filled the car as the foursome honored their parents’ setup, making the best of the required date. The boys pulled out a picnic basket and blankets and led Veronica and Amy to an edge of the park above the smashing water. A father and two young boys were flying kites in a field of barely green, almost-April grass.

  Veronica wrapped her sweater tightly around her and kicked off her shoes. She sat at the corner of the large quilt and tucked her fleshy legs under her long denim skirt, grateful that she’d shaved her winter legs. The boys were naturals at entertaining and without effort put the girls at ease, as they laid out a board of cheeses, pâtés, and fruits and poured merlot into four elegant picnic wine-glasses. Veronica caught Amy’s eye and knew she was enjoying the storybook romance. She raised her eyebrows a fraction; the Bennett brothers really knew how to impress, even the daughter of Newport socialites.

  “So, you’re home for the weekend. Why?” Veronica grinned flirtatiously and took a sip of wine. “Couldn’t find a girl on your own at Yale?”

  “No, we need our mommy to make all of our social arrangements,” Doug quipped in response.

  An evening of laughter and shared stories of college sagas and drunken friends, of fire alarms and dorm pranks followed. They skipped pebbles and searched for halo rocks: gray stones ringed with a white band. Walking along the huge boulders of the jetty, they balanced and held hands, teetering four in a row as the sun set early in an orange blur.

  Though Brenton Point State Park closed at dusk, not a single patrol was seen as the sun eased below the water and darkness nestled in. The new friends sipped, lounged, and joked as if they had known one another for years. They lay in a circle on their backs, covered in the extra quilts the brothers had packed. Their heads touched in the center and they fixed their eyes on the sky. March 31 was too early for meteor showers, and the distant lights from land dimmed the stars, but beneath the glowing darkness, the conversation grew intimate and more serious. Eventually, Doug reached for Veronica’s hand, and she felt a rush of excitement as their palms met and his fingers enclosed hers.

  “We’re going for a walk,” he announced, hopping up and leading Veronica toward the tree line. “Have you ever been to the old carriage house? See it there? Through the trees?”

&nb
sp; “Behind that fence? We can’t go in there, it’s closed.”

  He smiled.

  “I went there once in Girl Scouts; they told us there was a fire there in the sixties.”

  “I think you’re going to like this field trip better.” Doug tugged her toward a broken rule and all that remained of the historical manor home.

  ZACH ROLLED ON HIS side, propping his head in his palm. His good looks shone in the dim haze, forcing Amy to glance away, removing her eyes from his. If she let him look into her eyes, surely Zach would know her heart. She worried that she was being disloyal to Andrew just by feeling an allure to this handsome, witty, and confident guy. A solid knife without a doubt. The two had enjoyed flirtations, feeling safe in the knowledge that the other was taken, off-limits, committed to another. Somehow, alone in the dark, lying side by side, she felt vulnerable and exposed, as if the security of “having a boyfriend” wasn’t enough to protect her from her own attraction. Amy felt silly worrying, believing that Zach was simply being friendly to her and loyal to his girlfriend back at Yale. He had done nothing to cross a line with her. Amy dropped her head onto her folded arm and let herself look back up into Zach’s face.

  “I worry that you’ll think it’s a corny come-on, but you are really beautiful,” he spoke, barely above a whisper.

  Amy’s heart raced with the compliment. Then her mind joined her heart in racing and wondered where he was going.

  His hand crossed the narrow space between them, softly touching her cheek and sending a warm chill through her body. Amy closed her eyes and inhaled, savoring the moment of tender seduction; there was no longer a question about his intentions. As he slid his palm behind her head, Amy fell into his kiss. She was still, though her entire body pulsed with sensations. She felt only his kiss, heard only his breath, until a crash of waves startled her. Opening her eyes, she saw the faint moon, the same moon that shone above Andrew’s head. Amy stiffened and stopped him with her hand on his collarbone.