Shay nods, but I can tell she’s not convinced. Seeing her like this is like watching a dandelion wilt.
So I promise, “I’ll throw the baby shower, because I count as family too. Don’t even try to argue.”
“I wouldn’t.” Her smile starts to return. “Yeah, you count.”
“Carmen will pitch in too. Wait and see.”
“Hope you’re right. You’d just think—” Shay pauses, then says, “You’d think Carmen would be more excited about becoming an aunt. Weren’t you thrilled when you found out Libby was on the way?”
Libby, whom I haven’t seen since last Easter. Libby, who begged me to braid her long golden hair. I slid daisies into the plaits, and she thought that was the most magical, beautiful thing ever.
“My emotions were complicated, actually.” I only say this because I know Shay realizes that I keep my distance from my family, and she doesn’t snoop into the reasons why. “But I love her more than anybody else on earth.”
I love Libby that much, and I never see her.
Shay and I have to get back to our respective departments, so I down the last of my mochaccino. She’s back to her usual bouncy self, while I have to struggle to keep smiling. As soon as we part, I let my face fall. The world around me seems to blur. I’m trapped inside my own thoughts, and my own regrets.
In my mind, I hear Libby singing on that voice mail I’ve saved. Happy birthday, Aunt Vivi—
Tears blur my vision. Undergrads swarm around me, a sea of ponytails and backpacks and laughter, but I feel alone. I push my way blindly through the crowd until I hear, “Vivienne?”
It’s Jonah.
Amid the brilliantly colored T-shirts and jackets of the students around us, Jonah stands alone, stark in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. He’s the only one who stands still, the only one who’s looking at me. The only one who knows who I am. Although he doesn’t come any closer, his gray eyes search mine. I know Jonah didn’t call my name just to say hello. He said it because he can see I’m upset.
I attempt a smile, badly. “Coffee’s that way,” I say, pointing to the Starbucks that must be his destination. “Talk to you later.”
Jonah nods. I turn away from him to head toward the Department of Fine Arts. It takes about seven minutes to walk the distance. Seven minutes is how long I have to pull myself together. When I walk into the meeting, I have to be calm. Assured. Confident. Anyone but myself.
The department meeting goes well.
Like I said, by now I’m pretty good at faking it.
? ? ?
Nighttime.
Originally I’d planned to go get sushi with Carmen and some of her friends from the math department, but I text her to beg off. Worst headache ever, I type out, lying without guilt. She wouldn’t really understand, anyway.
As much as I love Carmen, as close to her as I am, I’ve never told her about the rape. I never told Geordie, either, or Derek, or any of my other boyfriends. The one time I told people I love the truth about what Anthony did to me—that didn’t end well.
I’m too tense and distracted to grade student essays. For a while I try to watch movies on Netflix, but none of them can hold my attention. Finally I take my frustrations out on the housework. Soon my little house smells like Comet and lemon Joy. With yellow rubber gloves on my hands, I scrub every dish, both sinks, the toilet, the tub, and even the grout between the tiles. By the time I’m done, this place will be spotless.
Just as I lean up to wipe sweat from my forehead with one arm, my phone rings. Generic ringtone. I strip off the rubber gloves as I go to answer. Probably it’s one of the other TAs, but if this is another election robocall, I swear, I will not be held responsible for my actions. “Hello?”
A pause follows. Then: “Hi, Vivienne.”
It’s the last person I expected to hear from tonight.
It’s Jonah.
Thirteen
I thought Jonah would call for only one of two reasons: either to let me know about some last-minute change in our plans—or to make new plans for another of our games.
But here I am, at nearly eleven P.M., listening to Jonah . . . being concerned.
“I wanted to check on you. When we bumped into each other today, you looked . . .” His voice trails off. How strange, to hear someone as sure and stoic as Jonah Marks sounding uncertain. “You didn’t look good.”
What am I supposed to say? A bad habit of mine—I try to think of what people want to hear, instead of just telling the truth. But I have no idea what Jonah wants.
“I realize I’m out of bounds here,” Jonah says, and now he sounds more like himself. “Still, if I was any part of why you were so upset today—if what we’re doing is turning out to be a problem for you—just say so. We can always call this off, or wait a while. I wouldn’t want to be a part of anything you found disturbing.”
Which is hilarious. From the first moment I laid eyes on Jonah, my life has been nothing but disturbing.