Yours and Mine (Freshman Forty #2)

by Christine Duval

“I’ll be home around 3:30. You can take off then.”

  She kisses Carolyn and starts trotting in the direction of a lecture hall.

  Chapter 21

  A few days after our first Upstate custodial visit, Laurel texts me to say she’ll be at my house by three o’clock for my first official weekend with Carolyn.

  My brother and Jenny are chomping at the bit to finally meet their niece and introduce her to their kids. Since it’s supposed to be a great weather weekend, Jenny plans a barbeque for Saturday. My mom will be there, too. And it’s a good thing because my brother and I have a lot we want to talk about with her.

  Laurel arrives at my front door with Carolyn in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other.

  “You’re starting early,” I joke. “Long drive?”

  “Uh. She cried the entire time!” She hands Carolyn to me. “Besides, it’s after three.” She pushes past me and goes into my kitchen. “Want one?” she calls.

  “Sure.”

  Laurel sits on my couch, kicks off her shoes and puts her feet up while I bounce Carolyn around on my knees. It’s nice to have Laurel here, comfortable again like it used to be between us.

  After Carolyn is giggled out, I put her down on a blanket on the floor with some toys and take a seat next to Laurel.

  She turns to me, her face serious. “Have you ever heard of the drug Adderall?”

  “Adderall?”

  “Yes. It’s a prescription drug for people who have ADHD.”

  “ADHD? No. I haven’t. Why?”

  She sighs. “Mike’s been taking it a lot lately.”

  “Does he have ADHD?”

  “No. But that’s not the point.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Laurel sighs. “People don’t just take it for ADHD. It’s an upper. You know, a stimulant. A lot of students use it to stay awake to study. And Colman is a super-competitive school. The professors give out so much homework, people pull a lot of all-nighters to keep up.”

  “How do you get it? Are there dealers on campus?”

  She nods. “Pretty much. Adderall is a common drug. A lot of students have legitimate prescriptions for it. And the ones who do have found they can make a lot of money selling it to students who want it.”

  “So Mike uses it to stay awake?”

  She takes a big swig of her beer and then goes into the kitchen. “Want another one?” she calls.

  “I’m good.”

  When she comes back, she’s double fisted, and she plops on the couch.

  I take the unopened beers out of her hand. “Slow down. And continue, please.”

  She sits up straighter. “His new suite mate, Owen, has a prescription for it. And apparently he sells it to whoever wants it. So it’s right under his nose all the time. I swear it’s the reason there’s always a crowd in their suite.”

  “Well, if he’s just taking it to study, what’s the problem?”

  “Last weekend my friend Rita and her boyfriend, Wolf, offered to watch Carolyn so Mike and I could have a night together.”

  “You have a friend named Wolf?” I laugh.

  “What? He’s nice. Stop!” She smiles. “Anyway, so last Saturday night I drove over to the Towers, and as usual, when I got there, they had like fifteen people congregating around a keg in their suite. Before Mike noticed I was there, I saw that he and Owen were whispering off in the corner about something and then I saw Owen slip Mike a pill, which he downed with his beer.”

  “Did you ask him about it?”

  “He didn’t know I saw, so no.”

  “So what’d you do?”

  “I walked over to him and said hi. The plan was for us to go see a movie and grab dinner. Alone. But it was pretty clear that he wanted to stay for this impromptu party that had formed in his suite. I didn’t want to be the annoying girlfriend who whines about not having a date night, so we canceled. And an hour after he took the pill, it was like he was on speed. I could barely understand what he was saying. It was…kind of scary.”

  “That’s bad, Laurel.”

  “I know. So my friend Liz showed up eventually and she’s such a party girl, I figured she’d know why Mike would be taking Adderall before a party. You know what she said?”

  I shake my head. “I have no idea. What?”

  “She told me students don’t just take it to stay up to study. They take it so they can drink more without passing out. So they can party longer.”

  “This really isn’t sounding good, Laurel.” I touch her hand. “So what did you do?”

  “I stayed and watched him. It was like he was on hyperdrive all night. He was cracking up at things that weren’t funny. Dancing to music that he hates. Fluttering like a butterfly from person to person. And he kept drinking, even though I told him I thought he had enough. Eventually I left. I didn’t even say good-bye.”

  “Did he apologize later?”

  “I don’t think he remembers. He called me the next day, acting like nothing had happened.”

  “Geez, Laurel. You’ve got your hands full.”

  “Hopefully he won’t keep doing this.”

  “It’s a slippery slope. I know from watching my father.”

  She pulls her hand from under mine. “I’m sure Mike isn’t going to end up like your father. I think he’s experimenting with stuff. He’s twenty years old. On a college campus. People do that.”

  “Yes. But, like you pointed out to me when Ava was here, you’ve got a baby to think about. Do you really want someone around Carolyn who is experimenting with drugs?”

  She sighs. “No. I don’t.”

  Laurel stays for pizza and for bad Friday night television. When it gets close to midnight and the last ferry to Shelter Island, I almost don’t point out the time to her because I like having her here. “You’re welcome to crash. You can even have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch,” I offer.

  “I wouldn’t mind not having to get on that ferry or unlocking a dark house on a mostly deserted island. Are you sure?”

  “Go get your stuff. I’m sure.”

  Chapter 22

  It is probably from screaming her lungs out the entire car ride from Upstate to Greenport, but Carolyn sleeps through the night and until almost 9 a.m. on Saturday morning. Laurel and I are up and dressed before she finally stirs.

  Laurel kisses Carolyn’s oatmeal-covered head good-bye while she eats breakfast. “Have fun meeting your cousins tonight.”

  I don’t want Laurel to leave and I sense by how long it is taking her to get out the door that she doesn’t want to go either. “Why don’t you come with us?”

  “Um, because your family hates me.”

  “No one hates you.”

  “How could they not?”

  “They don’t. Just come.”

  “I have studying to do.”

  “Stay here and do it this morning. The barbeque isn’t until four. I want to take Carolyn for a spin with the jogging stroller my sister-in-law dropped off. You’ll have the place to yourself for a couple hours.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  ***

  It is an Indian summer day with the sun shining brightly as we walk up to my brother and Jenny’s house, which is only a half a mile from my apartment.

  I’m just about to push the front door open when Laurel grabs my arm and says, “Wait. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “Why?”

  “You have to ask?” She rolls her eyes.

  “You’re the mother of my kid. They have to accept you, regardless. Putting up with behavior we don’t approve of is a tradition in my family.”

  “That’s not making me feel better.”

  I slip my arm around her waist and pull her towards me. “It will be fine!”

  Her face is adorably apprehensive. I like when she’s insecure.

  Holding Carolyn in one arm with my other wrapped around Laurel, a feeling rises inside me that I’ve never felt before and I can’t really n
ame what it is. To my surprise, Laurel slides her hand across my back and squeezes. I don’t want the moment to end but let it anyway and announce through the screen door, “We’re here.”

  My nephews, ages three, four and seven, charge at us in the front hall and Carolyn watches them in amazement.

  A mishmash of questions – Can we see her? Can I hold her? What does she eat? – ensue until Jenny appears in the doorway. We make brief introductions, with Jenny stiffer than her usual self, but still welcoming enough, until she corrals everyone out back.

  My brother and mom are sitting at the picnic table, deep in conversation. My mother jolts up when she sees us, reaching for the baby and barely acknowledging Laurel. It’s going to take some time before my mom forgives her.

  Joe shakes Laurel’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” He and I have learned through the years not to judge each other’s choices in the girl department. If I feel comfortable enough bringing someone over, he’s got to accept it and be civil to her, whoever she is. He squeezes Carolyn’s chubby thigh. “She’s a pretty one.” Then he pulls out drinks from a blue cooler near the grill and hands them out.

  I can tell by the way Laurel is standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and fiddling with the soda can, that she’s nervous. But once she sees no one is going to bite her head off, she’ll relax.

  “Here, sit.” I pull her towards the table.

  Jenny delivers chips and dip, placing them in between us. My mom sits on the back stairs with all four of her grandchildren. She loves kids and should have been a teacher. She had always wanted to, but with my dad stationed in Iraq for so long, there was never time. Then, when he got back, he was so fucked up…just one more thing she sacrificed being married to him.

  Joe slides onto the bench next to me. He speaks softly so my mother won’t hear him. “I told Mom that she’s got to file for divorce or she’s going to go down with Dad.”

  “That must have gone over well.” I snort. Laurel glances at me with a confused look on her face.

  “So what did she say?” I ask.

  “She won’t do it.”

  I shake my head.

  “That is one stubborn lady,” Jenny chimes in, slipping on the bench next to Laurel.

  “Why won’t your mother divorce your dad?” Laurel asks softly.

  “She’s a devout Catholic. She doesn’t believe in divorce,” I say.

  “She refuses to file,” Joe explains. “Even after all she’s been through.”

  “Maybe Steve could talk some sense into her. He’s a good lawyer. Look at what he worked out for me.” I wink at Laurel and she shakes her head.

  Joe and Jenny exchange glances. My attempt at a joke leads to an uncomfortable silence until Laurel speaks up. “Maybe if they aren’t divorced, it’s better.”

  “How?” my brother asks. “There’s a lien on a house that they owned outright. They could go after her bank account to get it paid back.”

  “Or she could tell your father that she wants to sell the house, pay back the lien, and they could split the rest. She won’t be able to do that if they’re divorced, right?”

  Jenny, my brother and I all stare at Laurel. She’s got a point.

  “You have a law degree you’re not telling us about?” I jibe.

  She shrugs. “I’ve overheard my dad on cases over the years.”

  My mom walks towards the table and I whisper, “Okay, enough.”

  She sits down and says, “What are you all mumbling about over here?”

  No one answers or makes eye contact.

  “I’m not divorcing your father. End of story.”

  “Well, maybe you don’t need to,” Joe responds and he explains Laurel’s idea.

  When he’s done, my mom doesn’t answer right away, but it is clear she is considering it.

  “If you sold it, you’d be able to buy yourself a place. You wouldn’t have to live over a garage anymore,” I say in hopes of convincing her. “And when Dad gets out of rehab, the money could give him a fresh start too.”

  “That is true.” She passes me Carolyn and rests her elbows on the table. “But how do we convince your father?”

  Chapter 23

  Carolyn is sound asleep in her stroller when we leave my brother’s and walk the eight blocks back to my place. There’s a harvest moon, the air is bright and clear, and even though there is a bit of a chill in the air now, people are still outside on their porches, kids riding on bikes or kicking soccer balls around well past their bedtimes.

  When we approach my front door, Laurel says, “You could let her sleep in the stroller instead of trying to move her.”

  I unlock the door and we lift her into my apartment, setting the stroller down in my bedroom. She doesn’t stir and I close the door.

  I walk into the kitchen and grab a couple beers. When I return to the living room, I see Laurel has taken off the sweatshirt I loaned her and is rifling around through her bag for her car keys. “You leaving?”

  She looks at me holding the two beers. “Well, it’s almost eleven. I probably should.”

  I push a bottle into her hand. “Stay.”

  She smiles. “It can’t be too long; otherwise I’ll miss the midnight ferry and turn into a pumpkin.”

  I laugh and pull her down onto the couch, flicking on the television.

  We search through three hundred channels until we find a comedy special that we can both live with and I turn off the lamp. The two of us sit facing the television, both kind of stiff despite the jokes being told on the screen, and I know that in this dim light I’m not the only one who is reenacting last summer in my head. “Laurel,” I say softly.

  She doesn’t look at me.

  “Laurel,” I say again.

  She turns her head in my direction and whispers, “What?”

  “Should we talk about what happened between us last summer?”

  “I thought we already did,” she says, her voice still soft. “Back in June.”

  “You said you weren’t drunk.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “So it wasn’t just a fling. You wanted more from our relationship.”

  “I did.”

  “What did you want?”

  “I don’t know. But more than what we had.”

  I take her beer and place it and mine on the table, then reach my hand around her neck. She looks nervous, but I pull her in until our lips meet. We kiss gently at first, but then she opens her mouth and I take it as my cue to push up against her, my tongue going deeper. The chemistry that I felt last summer comes right back. And the way she kisses me, I think the feeling is mutual. But when I begin to feel my way around her T-shirt, she grabs both my wrists. “Danny.”

  “What?” I ask, shifting.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? You said you wanted more. Why don’t we try for more?”

  She hesitates. “Because of Mike.”

  “That guy is a loser,” I whisper in her ear. “Forget him. Let’s give this a shot.” There’s a hint of desperation in my voice that I don’t like, but I can’t control it.

  She rests her forehead against mine, her eyes closed. “I know you think that. But I care about him. I need to give him a chance. He’s been good to me.”

  “I can be better.” I breathe her in. She smells so good.

  She pulls away. “I should go.” She stands abruptly and grabs her keys off the coffee table.”

  I stand too. “You don’t have to.”

  She shakes her head. “I think I should. It’s better if I do.” And she walks out my front door without looking back.

  ***

  At 9:30, she shows up to retrieve Carolyn to head back to school. Carolyn and I have been up for much of the night. I don’t think either of us got more than three hours of sleep. As soon as Laurel left, she started wailing, and there was nothing I could do to console her. She wanted Laurel. She wasn’t the only one.

  Laurel makes little eye contact while she puts together C
arolyn’s things that have somehow managed to get all over my apartment. Knowing I’m going to be seeing her next week, sleeping at her house, I can’t have it be uncomfortable between us, so I pretend like nothing happened in the way of meaningless small talk.

  “What time do you think you’ll get home today?” I ask.

  “Leaving now, I’m hoping by four, the latest.” She still doesn’t look at me.

  “Which way do you go?”

  “I’m going to drive through Pennsylvania.”

  “Cool. Have you ever taken the Thruway? I think there’re more rest stops if you go that way. You know, if you need to stop and feed Carolyn?”

  “It’s all highway either way. There are rest stops in Pennsylvania too.” Her voice is thick and curt.

  “I was just wondering.”

  “Okay,” she snaps.

  “Okay what?” I bark back.

  “Nothing.” She picks up Carolyn and stomps to her car.

  I follow with Carolyn’s diaper bag and place it in the trunk while she puts Carolyn into the car seat.

  When I’m done, I stand by the car door, watching her. And I feel my face getting warm. Why is she so hard to figure out? She wants something more; she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want me to be a part of Carolyn’s life; then she does. And this Mike guy sounds like a prick.

  She backs out of the SUV and her hip brushes against me. I am instantly turned on.

  I grab her arm so she has to face me.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” she blurts.

  I release her arm. “You are going to have to stop apologizing to me if this is going to work.”

  “Why can’t I apologize if I feel bad about something?”

  “That’s my point.”

  “What is?”

  “Stop doing stuff that you feel bad about later.”

  Laurel gapes. “You kissed me.”

  “You kissed me back.”

  She crosses her arms. “You invited me to the barbeque.”

  “You said yes. And you came. And you charmed my family.”

  “I didn’t charm them.”

  “You did. They were prepared to hate you and the opposite happened.”