by Sean Olin
“Like what?”
“It’s classified right now.”
Jake had had enough. “Arnold. You haven’t learned anything, have you? Do you even know how to do this? Be honest with me. I know you don’t want to let me down, but I really need this information.”
Again, silence on Arnold’s end of the line.
“I know how to do it,” Arnold said. “You’ll see. I’ll be your hero. I’ll have what you need in thirty-seven and one-quarter hours. I promise.”
“I’m counting on you,” Jake said, almost pleading, realizing as he said it that he was at Arnold’s mercy.
“I’m counting on me, too,” Arnold said.
Jake cringed.
But despite Arnold’s oddly precise calculation, Jake reflexively glanced at the time as he hung up. Thirty-seven and one-quarter hours would be eight a.m. on Monday. Homeroom. The first day back from winter break.
33
Through the window, Elena listened as the cab slowed to a stop in front of her house. She watched as the door opened and Nina placed one leg then the other on the sturdy pavement of the street, taking care to ensure that her feet were well planted.
As the driver hefted Nina’s small pink roller bag out of the trunk, Nina braced herself on the open door and pulled herself slowly out of the cavern of the backseat. Elena watched her totter up the driveway, dragging her tiny suitcase behind her. The rhinestones spelling out Juicy on her sweatpants sparkled in the sun. Her hair hung limp and distressed across her face, but as she got incrementally closer, Elena could see that her face was flushed and puffy, her cheeks streaked black. She’d been crying.
Matty. Damn him.
It must have been bad for Nina to pull herself out of her state of inertia and make the trip home like this. Elena jumped up from the couch, where, with Nina gone for the past ten days, she’d been able to nestle as she sketched out storyboards and experimented with the filters in Final Cut Pro, and prepared herself to be outraged on Nina’s behalf.
She threw the door open before Nina had made it halfway up the drive, and, standing on the mosaic portico, hands on hips, she called out to her sister. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asked.
The wounded look reaching out to her from Nina’s face broke her heart. She felt her sister’s pain like it was her own. And then she felt a vengeful, defensive rage bubble up in her.
“What did he do, Nina?” Elena asked. “Did he hit you? Did he hurt the baby? I’ll kill him.”
Propping her roller bag back on its wheels, Nina let loose a massive chest-heaving sigh. She looked like she was going to crumple to the pavement, but instead she sat on the top of the bag. And she sobbed.
Elena felt a tug in her chest, an acute ache for her sister’s well-being. She ran to Nina. Wrapping her arms around her, she squeezed with all her might.
Pulling herself together, Nina asked, “Is Dad home?”
“He’s in the Slats. Colleen called in sick again.”
Nina nodded. “Good,” she said.
Elena refused to let her go. If only she could hug the pain right out of her. “You gonna tell me what happened?”
“He didn’t hit me.”
“Well, he must have done something.”
“Sabrina Perez. That’s what he ‘did.’”
“Sabrina Perez?”
“Yeah. That skanky puta who hangs out at Cubano Cantina with him and all his jackass hermanos.” Nina revved herself up to blow her anger and pain into a hot balloon of words. There was the Nina Elena knew. “He wasn’t even sorry. He doesn’t give a shit. He brought her back to the apartment, and they did the gooney while I was sleeping in the other room! And Sabrina fucking Perez. She was, like, screaming like a dying cat, like Matty—limp-dick, coked-to-the-gills Matty—was the best fuck she’d ever had. Or, really, like she knew if she howled long enough she’d wake me up. She’s always wanted him. And she’s always hated me because I knew how to treat him. But, ut-uh.” She wagged her finger in front of Elena’s nose. “Nut-ut-uh! That’s all over. She can have him. You know what he said to me? He said, ‘What do you expect? It’s not like I can get any from you.’”
“God. That’s horrible,” Elena said.
But Nina wasn’t done.
“Then later, when the skank slinks her way out of there, he’s begging me to stay. He’s all, ‘Nina! Nina! I can’t live without you!’ Fuck him. My baby deserves better than him. I’m moving back in here with you.”
Elena’s heart froze for a second. She could just imagine the storm that would erupt if her father got home to see she’d let Nina back in. He’d never understand. When he made a decision, he bullheadedly stuck to it regardless of how wrong it turned out to be. If Elena let Nina back in today, it would be just like that time last year when Matty had stolen two hundred dollars from the cigar box her dad kept hidden in his closet. He might just kick both of them out.
“Nina,” she pleaded, hedging.
She stepped back to take in the whole of her sister, holding her hand to let her know that she wasn’t turning her back on her.
Even so, Nina could see what was coming. “Oh, not you, too,” she snapped. “Who’s on my side? Where’s the person in this whole world who’s on my side?”
“I’m on your side. It’s just . . . Dad would kill me. He’d kill both of us.”
Nina burst into tears again. She hugged her chest like she was showing Elena how hard it was to comfort herself now that she’d let her down. A burbling, bubbling mess of tears. The longer she cried, the more helpless Elena felt.
“Let me talk to him at least. Before you move in. If you can just hold off for a day or two, Nina—”
“And go where? I have no place else to go!”
“Can you go back to the apartment?”
“Matty’s there!”
“Well, kick him out. You want me to come with you? I’d kill to tell him off.”
Nina looked around helplessly. “My cab’s already gone.”
“We’ll call another one. It’s not like they’re in demand at four o’clock on a Saturday.”
Nina reached out and held Elena’s hand. “Please,” she said, the tears teetering on her eyelids.
“One day. And I’ll talk to Dad for you. I promise.”
Relenting, Nina reluctantly nodded. “Okay,” she said, sighing.
Elena placed her hand tenderly on Nina’s shoulder. “Do you want me to come with you? To deal with Matty?”
Nina shook her head no.
“Okay. You wait here and I’ll get you a glass of water. I’ll call that cab, too.”
As soon as she was back inside, Elena squeezed the bridge of her nose, leaned back against the closed door, and tried to slow her racing mind.
What an impossible situation.
It would take a whole lot of begging to get her dad to change his mind. His pride would have to be massaged. His deeply submerged sense of compassion would have to be slowly coaxed to the surface. She wasn’t sure she could succeed if she tried. And Nina, she was all emotion and impulsive action. Without Elena’s intervention, they’d barrel into each other like two semis going full speed. And with her intervention, she might just get smashed between them.
Mostly, she was afraid that if she tried to intervene, she’d make everything worse. She had a temper, too, and right now it was flaring. It was ironic. If she was going to successfully support Nina, she’d need someone to support her.
Whipping her phone out of the back pocket of her black jean shorts, she dialed Harlow. As the phone rang three, four times, she found herself begging him to pick up. He was supposed to be her conquering hero, but she hadn’t heard a word from him since New Year’s Eve. The phone kept ringing, five, six times, and then it went to voice mail with an automated message: “The caller you are trying to reach is unavailable at this time.”
Where could he be? she wondered. Was he really in danger, or had he just flaked? She didn’t want to believe that he was the kind of guy to vanish a
s soon as he’d notched her name on his belt, but part of her worried that maybe he was.
She hung up without leaving a message.
So, what now?
She did the only thing she knew how to do, the thing she’d been doing for as long as she could remember when she felt overwhelmed. She texted her best friend.
“CAN WE TALK?”
It didn’t take Jake ten seconds to respond.
“OF COURSE. WHEN?”
“NOW.”
As soon as she hit send, she regretted leaning on him like this in her moment of need. It wasn’t fair to him. Not when things were such a mess between them. She’d have to be careful, kind, mature. Was she up for it? She hoped so. She needed him. She suspected she always would.
34
It was the magic hour. The thin winter sunlight painted the dunes and the shore road a deep golden ocher. The sea grass rippling in the breeze glimmered like goldenrod.
As Jake drove the Rumbler toward the pier (he still couldn’t bring himself to take the Mini out), he could feel the wind in the air ruffle through his hair and he felt like he was entering a movie in which the beauty of the moment draws all the most beautiful possibilities of life. He had to vigilantly stop himself from hoping that Elena had called him here to tell him she’d realized what a fool she’d been, deluded and afraid to admit that she’d loved him all along. That wasn’t going to happen. He knew this. But still, he couldn’t help fantasizing about her throwing herself into his arms.
He rolled onto the dirt road—really just two wheel tracks through the grass—that led to the dilapidated pier where he and Elena had spent so many lazy afternoons. Her bike was already there, lying on its side. He parked next to it and hiked through the goat trail to the pier, and there she was, like a classical statue, wearing black jean shorts and a tight pink tank top, dangling her legs off the far platform, past the spot where the pier had rotted away.
She was gazing off into space like she was in a trance and she didn’t notice him approaching, not even when the wooden slats creaked under his feet, not even when he leaped across the gap to the platform.
Touching her warm bare shoulder, he plopped down next to her.
“Hey,” he said. Given how complicated everything was between them, he wasn’t sure if he should hug her or not.
Even now, it took her a minute to look up. When, finally, she did, she seemed drained of her usual spunky, protective humor.
“Hi,” she said, scrunching up her face apologetically. Then, “Sorry. This is totally unfair. I didn’t know who else to call. You’re the only one I know how to talk to.”
Jake tried to keep his disappointment in check even though he knew now that she hadn’t called him here to profess her love. But seeing her like this, upset, overwhelmed, he cared less about his own feelings than hers. If she was in need, he had to be there for her in whatever way he could. To do any less would be a betrayal of his devotion to her.
“It’s okay,” he said.
She looked like she was about to cry.
“Elena, it’s okay,” he said again, more meaningfully this time. He sat down cross-legged across from her. “I’m here. Whatever it is, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Now the tears fell from her eyes. He took her hand and let her cry.
When, finally, she took her hand back and wiped the tears away, he asked, “What happened? Is it Harlow?”
The stricken look that flashed across her face at the mention of Harlow told Jake he’d made a mistake. “Sorry,” he said in a rush. “I’m not fishing. I promise. I just . . . Tell me what happened.”
After a moment of hesitation in which she seemed to be gauging Jake’s ability to comfort her, she rolled her eyes slowly with an ironic sense of resignation, and then she launched into it. “What didn’t happen. Matty fucked some girl, and now, well, you know Nina. ‘It’s all over now,’ she says. ‘I’m moving back home.’ But that can’t happen. Dad would kill her. He’d kill me. Tough love, baby. You live with your choices. And anyway, what happens when she decides to forgive Matty? Then we’re right back where we started. It’s just . . .” She flopped onto her back and gazed up at the clear blue sky. “It’s the same old thing over and over again, but somehow it’s worse each time. Know what I mean?”
Jake couldn’t entirely follow the thread. In the past few weeks, with the strain between him and Elena, he’d missed a few episodes of the soap opera that was Nina’s life. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he simply listen and show her he cared.
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “You think she’ll ever leave him for good?”
“She claims it’s for good this time. But, you know, what fun would that be?” Elena said ruefully.
“Maybe it is. Maybe she’s had enough. Maybe it’s like my mom back when my dad was drinking. At a certain point, you can’t keep sacrificing yourself. No matter how much you love the other person. Maybe Nina’s reached that point.” He thought for a moment about what might be holding Nina back. “She’s probably terrified about raising a baby by herself,” he said.
“I’d help her.”
“Does she know that?”
“Yes . . . no. Maybe. How could she not?” Elena said.
Jake tipped his head and raised an eyebrow, silently letting her pick up on what he was implying.
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re right.” She gave a little half laugh. “Like the saying goes, ‘When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.’”
“Exactly,” Jake said with a smile. “Baby steps. You’ll talk to your dad. You know he can’t say no to you. And then you’ll see what happens.”
Elena let out a sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jake,” she said.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
They stared at each other, embarrassed for a second, then Elena stuck out her tongue and made a funny face. “Anyway,” she said, “enough about me. I’m sick of me. What’s up with you?”
Jake took a deep breath and thought about what to say and what to keep hidden. “Well,” he said, “my, I guess, stepbrother Nathaniel broke my guitar the other night.”
“The Gibson?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh shit. What did you do?”
“What am I supposed to do? He’s . . .” Jake couldn’t resist planting a small seed. “You’d see if you met him,” he said. “He’s a total douche bag. Anyway, he’s gone now. Back in Atlanta at the Roderick School, where he would have been kicked out except if they kicked him out they’d lose that nice pipeline of cash they get from Cameron.”
She propped herself up on her elbows and gazed out at the water. In the golden light, every curve of her body seemed even more achingly beautiful than usual. “Same shit, different day,” she said. Then she made another one of her funny faces.
“Better than a bullet to the head,” Jake offered.
“But just barely,” said Elena. There was that smile he’d been hoping to see—a little wistful, a little sad, but as gorgeous as ever. “Oh, Jake,” she sighed.
Sitting up, Elena scooted closer to Jake and laid her head against his bicep. He was too tall for her to reach his shoulder. He could feel the heat radiating off her forehead, feel the tickle of her hair against his skin.
He had to at least make an attempt. “Should I ask how Harlow is? Or is that off-limits?”
“You really want to know? I thought you hated him. I thought you didn’t even think he was real.”
“I’m over it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve missed you too much to stay angry about anything.”
And yes, maybe he was twisting the truth a bit, but he was being entirely honest about his emotions. That’s what really mattered. Protecting the connection between the two of them.
“So how’s it going with him?”
“I wish I knew,” she said.
“You broke up?”
Elena sat up and looked at Jake. He felt a cool emptiness rush in
to replace the warmth of her skin on his arm.
“I wouldn’t say exactly that we broke up, but . . . he’s got a wild streak. He’s gotten himself into some sort of . . . situation. I haven’t seen him since . . .”
She stopped herself from revealing more, but what she had said was enough for Jake to spin the calculations in his head and note one more convenient alignment between Harlow’s and Nathaniel’s actions.
“You know what,” he said, letting her off the hook. “Let’s talk about something else. We should go to Comic-Con this year. Don’t you think? I mean, you’ve wanted to go forever and why not now? We can get Cameron to buy us plane tickets and . . .” He knew he was babbling, but he just kept on going, filling up the space between them with words. “Who would you go as? I think we should be elves, like from The Lord of the Rings. But not the obvious ones, not Legolas or whoever. Some elves that only appear on, like, one page in the appendices. Some elves that nobody would recognize. And then we can wander around acting totally shocked when people come up to us not knowing who we’re supposed to be.”
Elena tilted her head and gazed at him with what he could only understand to be adoration. He wondered if she’d ever let Harlow—or Nathaniel—see this marvelous and unguarded expression on her face. No way. That look was just for him.
“What?” he said, grinning.
“Where’ve you been all my life?” she said.
“Right here. Always. Right here.”
She looped her arm around his and laid her head against his arm again.
They’d reached the old familiar place in their conversation where they knew where each other was without having to speak. Instead, they watched as the sky transformed from golden into a streaky orange and red and purple.
Jake wished they could stay here forever like this. Nestled close, arm in arm. It felt good—not good like pleasurable, more like there was a goodness that existed when they were together that couldn’t be re-created any other way. When would she realize this? he wondered. Or was he asking for too much? Maybe he should be thankful for what they had and not worry about pushing it toward something more.