“You,” he murmured, “are absolutely beautiful.”
He felt her smile against his shoulder, and then the music ended. As she leaned back, the grin she gave him was the old Sue with a little mischief thrown in. “Better than in the pink-striped dress?”
Tony eyed her critically, pretending to consider this. “I really don’t think it would fit now, Sue.”
For a moment more, they smiled at each other, and then she went to find Sam.
Curious, Tony let his gaze follow her. It was clear that with respect to Tony, Sue was on her own. Sam had turned from the dance floor and was laughing with Charlie Moore; Tony sensed something a little stagy about his indifference to Sue’s return, and he and Charlie looked as if they were united in the superiority of a secret shared. Then Sam took a quick, emphatic swallow from his paper cup, and Tony guessed the secret—whiskey, hidden in Sam’s locker in the men’s shower room. Perhaps, Tony thought, it was time to test Sam’s feelings.
As Tony joined them, Sue turned, saw him, and made room in the circle. Charlie, the Lancer, gave a curt nod; taking her cue, Jane Jeffords flashed a perfunctory smile. Sam seemed to take Tony in slowly, with mild surprise, as if his presence required time to register.
Tony nodded. “Hi, Sam.”
“Hi, Tony.” Sam’s face was flushed, Tony saw. “No date?”
The words had an edge; Sam well knew Tony had no date, and the remark seemed directed at Sue. Glancing at Sue, Tony saw her hurt expression.
“No date,” Tony answered. “It’s going to be an early night for me.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Too bad,” he said carelessly. Taking another swallow of whiskey, he turned back to Charlie Moore.
Next to him, Tony felt Sue tense. Leaning closer to her, he whispered, “Thanks for the dance, Sue. It’s time for me to become a pumpkin.”
Sam turned abruptly, as if he had caught them. Then he smiled, his too-bright eyes meeting Tony’s. “Am I missing something, guys?”
For Sue’s sake, Tony held his tongue. But the look she gave Sam was less hurt than angry. “I just asked Tony for another dance,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
The undertone in her voice warned Sam not to mind. Someone who knew Sue less well, even Charlie Moore and his date, might not have heard it.
Sam flushed. “Why should I?” he answered blithely, and turned to Charlie. “Quick trip to the boys’ room?” They were gone before Sue and Tony had moved.
Tony walked her just far enough so that no one could overhear. “It really is time to leave—”
“Dance with me, Tony. Please.”
He took her in his arms, moving slowly to “A Thousand Stars.” “What have I missed in the last few minutes?”
She leaned against his shoulder. Softly, she said, “That it’s not enough that I love him.”
“Why?”
“Because you haven’t apologized, so he thinks I’m taking sides with you. He stops making sense when he drinks.”
Tony held her closer. “It’s not just him, Sue. From the moment you asked me to come, I knew he’d be like this. I forgot about you too.”
She leaned back, looking into his face. “Are you jealous of him?”
“No. But I compete with him. And I’m still angry.”
Sue shook her head, as if to herself. “Then it’s different,” she said at last. “Because Sam’s jealous of you.”
Tony wanted to deny this. “You never gave him reason—”
“It’s not about me.” Her voice was sad and very clear. “It’s about you. Whatever he thinks you have, he’s afraid he doesn’t.”
Listening, Tony felt leaden. “Why do you say that?”
“When I came back from our dance, I saw the way he looked at you.” Her gaze was troubled but direct. “But it’s more than that. I think part of him wants to be you—”
Tony felt a tap on his shoulder. “Cut in?” Sam asked amiably. His breath was raw with whiskey.
Tony studied him. Sam’s face had an odd defiance; Tony wondered what he might have heard. Still in his arms, Sue looked from Tony to Sam.
Stepping back from her, Tony spoke as if nothing were wrong. “You guys enjoy the rest of your night.”
Sue mustered a smile, joining the pretense of normality. “We’re glad you came, Tony.” Sam said nothing.
Tony left them there.
All around him, more couples were dancing. Tony took in the scene: the swaying couples, the clumps of parents to the side, the muffled sound of chatter beneath the music. It was beginning to seem like a party; for the first time, he permitted himself to imagine this night if Alison were with him—how she would look, how funny or pointed her observations might be. Suddenly he felt a new anguish for her and, for himself, a shock as fresh as the first days after her death, discovering once more how irretrievable his loss had been, how unfathomable it would always be. The sight of Sue, eyes shut as she leaned against Sam’s shoulder, filled him with loneliness. This was a night for couples.
He drifted off the dance floor, killed a few more minutes with Ernie Nixon and his listless date. One of the chaperons, a mother with a pink corsage, began eyeing him suspiciously.
“Tony!”
It was Jane, Charlie Moore’s date. She was alone and, it seemed clear, emboldened by whiskey. Her round face looked a little slack, and the movement of her lips was exaggerated, as if mouthing words for a grandmother who was hard of hearing. “Why don’t you dance with someone else?” she demanded.
Tony managed a smile. “Everyone else has a date.”
She nodded solemnly. “It’s still so terrible about Alison.”
Tony stared at her. Sighing, she gathered herself with the presumptuous emotion of a woman just drunk enough to mistake tactlessness for feeling, and then to impose it on someone else. She peered up at him, demanding attention. “I mean, I see you dancing with Sue, and I just keep thinking that Alison should be here.”
For his own sake, Tony decided, it was better not to respond. In an even tone, he asked, “Where’s Charlie?”
“In the locker room, getting a little more you-know-what.” She smiled brightly. “Sam’s got his own locker here. They’re members, you know.” The thought stopped her abruptly. “Alison was a member too.…”
“I know.” He still spoke quietly. “Maybe you should wait here for Charlie, Jane. Someone might think you’re drunk—”
“Hey, man—you trying to snake me?” It was Charlie Moore, as drunk as his date, teetering that fine line between bluff humor and inebriated menace. “Isn’t Sue Cash enough?”
“More than enough,” Tony said, and then Charlie turned to Jane, forgetting him, and emitted a wet-sounding screech of laughter.
“That sonofabitch!” Charlie said.
Her eyes widened. “Tony didn’t—”
“Sam.” Haphazardly searching the dance floor, Charlie hovered between mirth and indignation. “There were two bottles, and now I can’t even find one. Sonofabitch must’ve taken it.”
Tony turned, looking for Sam and Sue. But he could not spot them in the crowd of couples. He did not think that Jane or Charlie rated a goodbye.
Outside, he leaned against the door of his car.
The night was warm, starry. Except for the sound of the band, faint now, the parking lot was quiet. It was nearly midnight; soon, Tony supposed, couples would begin sneaking past the chaperons and head for the golf course to drink or make out. That this dance was a time of passion was part of high school lore: how many girls, Tony wondered, had lost it near the eighteenth green on prom night? Part of him still ached for Alison.
Over the sea of car hoods, two voices drifted to Tony. Lost in thought, he did not try to listen. That one voice was male, the other female, was no surprise to him. Someone had to be the first.
“No,” the girl said.
Tony stood straighter. Across several rows of cars, he saw the profile of a woman—much shorter than the man she spoke to—looking up in apparent ang
er.
Even in the dark, Tony thought, he could recognize Sam Robb anywhere. “I don’t want to,” the woman said again, and now her voice was Sue’s.
Moving quietly, Tony began to slide between the cars.
Sam had opened the trunk of his car. He stood with his back to Tony, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a picnic basket in another. Sue had backed away from him.
“Come on,” Sam said. “No one’s going to miss us. And who cares if they do.”
Sue shook her head. “I care. Especially when you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
Three rows from them, Tony stopped. “Drunk,” he heard Sue answer.
Sam dropped the blanket to the asphalt. “Not like him, you mean.”
“You are drunk, Sam. You wouldn’t say that if you weren’t.” She paused, her exasperation becoming a plea. “Please, let’s not ruin our night over Tony.”
The sound of his own name stopped Tony where he was. For a moment, Sam was silent. Frozen there, Tony thought that the worst had passed.
Softly, Sam said, “You embarrassed me, in front of our friends. They saw the way you were with him.”
“How was I?” Sue asked in tones of weariness.
“Like you wanted him.” Drunkenly, Sam nodded for emphasis. “Like Tony Lord’s the one you want tonight.”
“No. I feel bad for Tony. That’s not the same thing.”
Sam took a lurching step. It was this loss of coordination, more than Sam’s voice, that showed Tony how truly drunk he was. He felt himself tense, watched Sam put both hands on her shoulders as he asked, “Then who do you want, Sue?”
Looking up at Sam, Sue seemed to draw breath. “No one. Not right now…”
“But I want you.” Sam’s voice seemed to move between anger and panic. “I need you to prove whose girl you are—”
“Mine. I belong to me, Sam.” Sue turned, starting for the country club.
Sam grabbed her by the wrist. “Get in the car with me. Please, I need to know—”
“You’re hurting me,” Sue said, and Tony moved without thinking.
Sue saw him first. She froze, eyes wide, mouth forming a silent “No.” Sam, hand still on her wrist, followed her gaze to Tony.
Sam straightened, dropping her arm, eyes filling with feelings he could not seem to control—shame, jealousy, anger. “You’re sloppy drunk,” Tony told him. “And you’re hurting your own girlfriend.”
Sam looked astonished. “I’m not hurting her.…” Then his voice trailed off and his hand fell to his side.
Tony put his own hands in his pockets. “My mistake,” he said softly.
For an instant, Sam seemed mollified, and then the alcohol seemed to hit him again. “It was none of your business, Tony. Your girlfriend is dead. Sue’s mine.”
Tony felt his self-control slipping. From behind Sam, Sue gazed at Tony, conveying a silent prayer for reason. Teetering, Sam stepped forward, looking Tony in the face. “What do you have against me, Tony? Why were you trying to take Sue?”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Sam straightened. “You’re a liar—”
“Stop it,” Sue cried out. She grasped the sleeve of Sam’s tuxedo. “Tony hasn’t done anything—”
Shoving her aside, Sam grabbed the front of Tony’s lapels. “Why is she watching out for you?”
Tony looked him in the face. Still quiet, he said, “Because she may need someone sober enough to drive her home.”
Face contorted, Sam raised his fist. Tony pushed him off balance. “Don’t be an ass,” he snapped, and then Sam swung at him.
As Sue screamed, Tony moved his head back. Sam’s fist, missing his chin by inches, freed seven months of anger.
Stepping to the side, Tony hit Sam in the stomach with all the force he had.
The shock ran through Tony’s arm. Sam grunted, air gasping from his lungs. He fell, sitting on the asphalt. His head bent forward.
Sam twitched, and then the sound of his retching echoed in the parking lot. Tears in her eyes, Sue looked from Sam to Tony.
Tony felt his anger die. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Sitting between them, Sam began coughing, the first wave of dry heaves. Head still bent, he stared into the pool of his own vomit. Sue bent over him. “Can you help me?” she asked Tony.
He took one arm, Sue another. When they pulled Sam into an upright position, his eyes were empty with shock, and the front of his tuxedo was stained.
“He can’t go back in,” Sue said.
It was as if Sam were not there, Tony thought. “What should we do?”
“Take him home.” Sue was somewhere between anger and defeat. “He can’t drive like this.”
Tony looked in Sam’s pockets for his car keys, opened the back door of the car. Together, he and Sue lifted Sam. As they dragged him the few feet to the open door, he groaned in feeble protest. But by the time Tony pulled him across the back seat, and Sue had laid his head down, Sam was asleep.
Tony stared at her. “Who gets to wake up his parents?”
Sue shook her head. “Not me. And I can’t sit up with him until he gets better. I hate him too much right now.”
Tony puffed his cheeks. “There’s a hammock in his backyard. We can let him sleep it off there. You drive him. I’ll follow.”
Sue nodded slowly. “All right.”
Twenty minutes later, they carried Sam across his backyard, Sue by the arms, Tony holding his feet.
The hammock was bound to two apple trees. As they laid Sam inside it, he sighed, stirred slightly, and was still again. In the thin light, he was pale, his mouth slightly open.
Sue put two fingers to his lips, to make sure he was breathing.
“Is he all right?” Tony asked.
“Yes.”
Together, they watched Sam’s face, now serene as a baby’s. “Look at him,” Tony said softly. “He’ll probably die in his sleep, from old age. You wouldn’t think anything had happened, would you?”
For a time, Sue gazed at Sam, silent, as though trying to read what lay beneath. Then, walking away from the hammock, she stood alone in the middle of Sam’s yard, looking up at the stars. After a moment, Tony joined her.
“Well,” she said. “I certainly screwed up your night.”
“And I certainly screwed up yours.”
She was quiet for a moment. “No, you didn’t.”
He shifted his weight, listening to the chirp of crickets in Sam’s backyard. “I guess I should drive you home now.”
Turning, she looked back at Sam. “Do you really want to go home?”
He shrugged. “For me, the party was pretty much over. By now a bunch of them have headed for the golf course, or the beach. Waiting for the sun to come up.”
Sue looked down. “Do you want to do that, with me? Wait for the sun to come up, I mean.”
Tony hesitated, glancing over at the silent hammock. “Are you okay with that?”
“Uh-huh.” Looking up, she smiled a little. “We’re supposed to stay up late, remember? I don’t want to miss out on everything.”
SIXTEEN
Tony would not drive to the beach until dawn, he told Sue—he could not imagine being near Taylor Park at night. The only other place Sue knew was a grove of abandoned maple trees; all that she wanted from the next few hours, she told him, was to be where she did not have to explain Sam to anyone, or even think of him very much.
Tony knew this was not possible. The maple grove was where she had gone with Sam the night that Alison died; the blanket they spread before them was his; the picnic basket—orange juice, fruit, breakfast rolls, a bottle of cheap champagne—was what Sue had prepared for them; the dress she still wore as she walked in the dewy grass, barefoot now, was the one she had wanted Sam to admire. Tony was quite certain that even he was a reminder of Sam, just as Sue had made him think of Alison.
She sat next to him on the blanket, pensive. The dark was streaked with moonlight, the night warm a
nd clear and windless, the only noise the rise and fall of crickets chirring. “Last year,” Tony told her, “if we’d tried to imagine this, Sam would be with you, Alison with me. Since the night she died, everything changed. Including Sam.”
Sue was quiet. “You’ve changed too,” she said at last.
Tony shrugged. “I guess I’ve never really been sad before. Now I’m sad most of the time.”
She turned to him. “Not just sad, Tony. It’s as if you’ve already left here—Lake City, Sam, me. Like you’ve started thinking a lot of things you don’t say and we don’t have any idea about.”
This seemed right to him, although Tony could not define the changes. “You sound like Sam,” he told her.
“I don’t mean to.” Rearranging her dress, Sue seemed to sort through her thoughts. “I can deal with whoever you are, Tony. But I think it’s harder for Sam.”
“How do you mean?”
“That you’re moving away from him.” Sue paused, voice filling with doubt. “I’m not sure, exactly. Maybe as long as Sam thinks you both want the same things, like Athlete of the Year or to be the hometown hero, he doesn’t have to be jealous. In Lake City he can beat you. But if what he wants more than anything doesn’t mean that much to you, maybe he doesn’t mean that much.…” Abruptly, she stopped, as though her thoughts embarrassed her.
“Go on,” Tony said.
She faced him. “This may sound funny, but he hates himself for feeling that. Because Sam really loves you, Tony. I think that’s what the fight was all about—he was trying to say he was your friend no matter what, and he didn’t feel it coming back to him.” She turned away. “Does any of this make sense to you?”
It was the first speech Tony had ever heard from Sue; it seemed to him that she was trying to explain Sam to herself. “Maybe,” Tony answered. “But what about tonight?”
Sue exhaled. “That’s simple. He’s always thought I liked you, more than I should. Now that Alison’s gone, he thinks I’m closer to you than he is.”
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