It was nearly ten o’clock by the time our sorority president led the way down to the beach for our final initiation rite. The girls were blindfolded and holding on to one another, giggling drunkenly.
I saw Maggie peeking out from under her blindfold, violating another rule. “I hate it when I can’t see. It makes me feel claustrophobic.”
“Put it back on,” I instructed. “It’s only for another few minutes.”
As we passed by fraternity houses on Greek Row, guys clapped and cheered, “Go, Chi O!”
Jessica, the wildest girl in our sorority, lifted up her shirt and flashed her hot-pink bra, earning a standing ovation. I was pretty sure Jessica would end up sleeping out tonight; she’d been matching the pledges shot for shot.
Beside me was Leslie, one of my closest friends. Her arm was linked through mine, and she was singing along to “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” with all the other girls. Normally I would have been shouting the lyrics along with them, but I hadn’t had a sip of alcohol. How could I, knowing a little life was inside me?
I thought about the beach. The place where Daniel and I had likely conceived. I couldn’t go there.
“Hey,” I whispered. “I feel like crap. Can you do me a favor? Watch Maggie at the ocean?”
Leslie made a face. “She’s kind of a dud. Why’d we vote her in?”
“She’s just shy. She’ll be fine. And she’s a good swimmer, I already asked.”
“Whatever. Feel better. And you owe me.”
I found Maggie and told her I was ill. She lifted up her blindfold again, but this time I let it slide.
“Where are you going? You can’t leave me.”
“You’ll be okay.” I was annoyed at the whine in her tone. “Leslie will look out for you. Just tell her if you need anything.”
“Which skinny blonde is she?”
I rolled my eyes and pointed in Leslie’s direction. “She’s our vice president.”
I peeled away from the group as they turned the corner and began to march the last two blocks to the ocean. The faculty housing was on the other side of campus, a fifteen-minute walk if I cut across the quad. I tried Daniel a final time. Straight to voice mail, again. I wondered if he’d turned off his phone.
I thought back to the girl who’d approached him after class this afternoon. I’d been so focused on Daniel that I hadn’t paid attention to her. But now, as if I were watching a movie and the camera was panning back to encompass her, I saw her anew. She was quite attractive. How close had she stood to him?
Daniel had told me I was the first student he’d ever slept with. I’d never doubted that until this moment.
He could be out with her for all I knew.
I didn’t realize I’d quickened my step until I began to breathe more heavily from exertion.
The faculty homes were all in a row, just like the Greek houses. They lined the very edge of campus, back behind the Agriculture Department’s greenhouse. The two-story redbrick structures weren’t fancy, but they were rent-free—a great perk for a college professor.
His Alfa Romeo was parked in the driveway of house number nine.
My plan had been to knock on a door and ask where Daniel—no, Professor Barton—lived. I was going to say I had a paper I had to turn in, that I’d given him the wrong draft in class. But the car eliminated that need. Now I knew exactly where he lived. And he was home.
I pressed the buzzer, and one of Daniel’s professor roommates answered. “Can I help you?” She tucked her wheat-colored hair behind an ear. A calico cat sauntered into the room and rubbed its head against her ankle.
“It’s the stupidest thing. Is Professor Barton here? I just realized I, um, gave him the wrong—”
The woman was turning around to look at someone descending the stairs. “Honey? One of your students is here.”
He almost ran down the final steps. “Vanessa! What brings you to my home so late at night?”
“I—I gave you the wrong paper.” I knew my eyes were wild as they flicked between Daniel and the woman who’d called him “honey.”
“Oh, no problem,” Daniel said quickly. He was smiling too brightly. “Just submit a new version tomorrow.”
“But I—” I blinked hard against tears as he began to shut the door on me.
“Wait a minute.” The woman reached out to stop the door’s movement, and that’s when I saw the gold band wrapped around her finger. “You came all the way out here to talk about a paper?”
I nodded. “You’re his wife?” I was still hoping it was a roommate, that this was some kind of misunderstanding. I tried to keep my voice even and casual. But it broke.
“I am. I’m Nicole.”
She looked at my face more carefully. “Daniel, what is going on?”
“Nothing.” Daniel’s blue eyes widened. “I guess she turned in the wrong paper.”
“Which class is this?” his wife asked.
“Family Sociology,” I said quickly. It was the class I took last semester. I didn’t lie to protect Daniel. I did it for the woman standing in front of me. She was barefoot and wore no makeup. She looked tired.
I think she wanted to believe me. Maybe she would have. She might have closed the door and heated up oil for popcorn and cuddled with Daniel on the couch while they watched Arrested Development. Daniel could have explained me away, as if I were a mosquito to be batted aside. “These kids are so stressed about grades,” he might’ve said. “Remind me, how long until I can retire?”
Except for one thing.
At the exact same moment that I said, “Family Sociology,” Daniel said, “Senior Seminar.”
His wife didn’t react immediately.
“That’s right!” Daniel snapped his fingers theatrically. Overcompensating. “I’m teaching five classes this semester. It’s nutty! Anyway, it’s late. Let’s let this poor girl go home. We’ll sort it out tomorrow. Don’t worry about the paper, it happens all the time.”
“Daniel!”
At his wife’s shout, he fell silent.
She jabbed a finger at me. “Stay away from my husband.” Her lower lip quivered.
“Sweetie,” Daniel pleaded. He wasn’t looking at me; he didn’t see me at all. Two broken women stood in front of him. But he only cared about one.
“I am so sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know.”
The door slammed and I could hear her yell something. As I walked down the front steps, I had to grip the railing to keep from stumbling when I saw a yellow tricycle in the grass. A tree had hidden it from my view when I approached the house. Near it was a pink jump rope.
Daniel already had children.
Much later, after I’d returned to the sorority house and cursed Daniel and sobbed and raged; after Daniel had brought me a bouquet of inexpensive carnations and an equally cheap apology, saying he loved his family and that he couldn’t start a new one with me; after I’d gone alone to a clinic an hour away, an experience so wrenching I was never able to talk about it with anyone; after I’d completed my senior year with honors and had set out for New York, desperate to put Florida behind me—even after all that, whenever my mind returns to that warm October night, the moment I always remember the most vividly is this:
When the pledges returned from the ocean, Maggie was missing.
Maggie and Emma have nothing in common. Except for me. These two young women have forever changed the course of my existence. But one is now gone from my life, and the other is ever present.
I used to spend as much time thinking about Maggie as I now do Emma. Maybe that is why they are beginning to blur together in my mind.
But Emma is not like Maggie, I remind myself.
My replacement is stunning and confident. Her radiance draws the eye.
The first time I saw her, she rose from behind her desk to greet me in a fluid, elegant motion. “Mrs. Thompson! I’m so happy to finally meet you!”
We’d spoken on the phone, but her throaty voice hadn’t prepared me for her youth and beauty.
“Oh, call me Vanessa.” I felt ancient even though I was only in my mid-thirties.
It was December, the night of Richard’s office holiday party. We’d been married seven years by then. I wore a black A-line dress in an attempt to hide my extra pounds. It looked funereal next to Emma’s poppy-red jumpsuit.
Richard came out of his office and kissed me on the cheek.