“I’m saying you can’t know for sure.” I handed him back the story. “Not without asking her, and you can’t ask her. Look, maybe it’s just her imagination, completely made up, but she knew you’d get upset if you ever read it. Isn’t that a possibility?”
“So being with Nolan is her fantasy—is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying it’s a short story. It’s a class assignment. It’s fiction.”
He sighed and said nothing.
“All I know is,” I said, “she told you she wants to move to California. With you. So accept that. Move to California, get married, have twenty kids, and live happily ever after.”
“And that’s it? Never mention any of this to Nolan.”
I nodded. “Exactly. Never mention it.”
“You know he’s talking about us all getting together next winter someplace for a weekend of golf. I couldn’t do that, Will. I couldn’t play golf with the guy.”
“Then don’t,” I said. “You never have to see him again if you don’t want to. But can I make a prediction? I’ll bet that by next winter, this will all be behind you. All of this will seem like it never happened.”
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Is that what you’re saying?”
“No,” I said, “that isn’t at all what I’m saying.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can just forgive and forget.”
He could, though. Or if he couldn’t, then he must have come to terms with the part of himself that resented ambiguity and learned to live with not knowing. Some would call this growing up.
The next winter, we all met up in Sedona for a weekend of golf, just like Nolan had talked about. Every year after, we’d pick a different spot. And not once did Jeffrey bring up the three-day affair that he had read about.
“You know,” he said, “I’m no writer. But if I were to describe Sara in a story, even if it were fiction, I’d never demean her. Never.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I said.
The rain lightened up suddenly, like someone turning off a faucet. Moments later, the phone rang. It was Evan. “It’s time,” he said. He and Nolan had finished the bottle of tequila in his room and were ready to slide down some tents.
“We’ll meet you downstairs,” I told him, and hung up the phone. “You still up for this?” I asked Jeffrey.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
I saw this as the first sign of his willingness to let the mystery die. I was glad. I didn’t want high drama. These were our last days together for a long time. They were hard on us all.
A few minutes later, Evan, Nolan, Jeffrey, and I were participating in one of our last-ever Princeton rites. When Sara caught up with us, she said, “Jeff, where’ve you been?” and he shrugged and said, “Just shooting the shit with Will,” and she punched me on the arm and said thanks a lot for letting her know, and that was that. To Jeffrey’s credit, he didn’t brood or ruin anyone else’s fun. It helped that Sara was acting affectionately toward him. They held hands and slid down the tent together.
Wendy showed up at midnight with several of her suite mates, and she kissed me with sweet alcohol breath, and everything about the night made me sad. The moon shone through a light layer of clouds, which then drifted away, and a light breeze rustled the leaves of the elm trees that bordered the courtyard. At first I was afraid the tent wouldn’t hold us, but I was wrong. It was a sturdy structure. I sat at the very top of it, underneath the stars, and looked out across campus: Blair Arch in the distance, the bookstore, the smaller library where I used to study during my perplexing freshman year. Graduation wasn’t for another two days, but I was already feeling nostalgic for the place.
We climbed and slid and got muddy and behaved exactly like alumni desperate to relive their youth.
19
I took a breath, and when I couldn’t hold it any longer I got out of the car and went inside the studio with my first-aid kit. Nolan was seated at my chair in the control room, a wad of paper towels pressed to his ear but otherwise looking fully alive.
“I thought you’d fled to Mexico,” he said.
“Don’t think I didn’t consider it.” I set the kit on the couch and began to peel the tape off the box. Through the window I could see Jeffrey sitting in the recording room, leaning against one of the walls and looking down at his shoes. “How is he?” I asked.
“How’s he? What the fuck do I care how he is?”
I had the kit open and was dumping its contents onto the sofa. “I don’t see a needle or thread in here. But there are some good strong bandages. I think that’s our best bet until a professional can sew you up. I’ll tape it up real well. That should keep the wound closed.”
Nolan shrugged. “I’m in your hands.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Like a bitch.”
I handed him a packet of Advil. He tore it open and ate the pills without water. Miracle of miracles, there was also a bottle of antacids in the kit, and I quickly ate a handful. My stomach gurgled in thanks.
“Not feeling so hot yourself?” Nolan asked.