“Oh. My. God. You pig.” She punched me in the arm. “I can’t believe you were hot after a cougar. So, why’d you get fired?”
“Well, apparently Clara threatened to tell her dad, Jane’s husband, unless I was fired.”
“She was married?”
I held up my hands in a defensive gesture. “She told me they were getting a divorce.”
“Man, Tati would have a field day with you.”
“Which reminds me. What was the deal with you guys earlier?” We headed back to the tree as we talked.
“I don’t know. She’s mad because she thinks I’m giving something up for you.”
I grabbed her hand and swung her around. She looked up at me and then looked away quickly. “Look at me, Grace. Are you giving something up for me?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate.
“I would never want you to feel that way. You said yourself that we’re young, that we should do what we’re meant to do.”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“I’m not sure, but I know I’m taking the internship, and you should go with Pornsake, if you think you should. You could always go to grad school later.”
“Dan wants to travel for a year and a half, Matt. He has a tour planned. He’s been saving and preparing for a long time.”
“Okay . . .”
“That means you and I wouldn’t see each other for that long.”
The thought made me physically ill. “But if it’s what you think you should do after we graduate, then do it.”
She blinked up at me and then shook her head and looked down. “That’s it? That’s how you feel? ‘Just go ahead, Grace, leave for over a year, and good luck’?”
My heart was pounding out of my chest. “Is your scavenger hunt over?”
“Change the subject much?”
“Let’s get drinks and talk,” I offered.
“Yes, Matt, because we always make such great decisions when we’re drunk.”
“Just come on,” I said. “I have an idea.”
We found a pub and spent the rest of the afternoon there. But instead of talking, we drank away the questions that surrounded our futures . . . that surrounded us. Grace picked ten songs on the jukebox and insisted on staying until each one played. By the time the last one came on, we were well and properly sauced.
“Are you drunk?” I slurred.
“Are you, MatthiUSSSS?”
“I nee’ take you somewhere, ’kay, Gracie?” I pulled her along as we stumbled out onto the street and down to the subway. We were laughing hysterically as we tried to keep our balance without touching the subway poles. The other riders were not amused. We got off downtown and walked a few blocks. “Look,” I said, pointing to City Hall, “we ssshould totally get fuckin’ married righ’ now, Grace! Thass the only thing that’ll make this ALL better.” I grabbed her shoulders and looked her right in the eyes, which were alight with happiness—-or maybe it was drunkenness. “Wanna?”
“Thass a grea’ ideeea, Matt.”
I don’t know how but we managed to fill out all the necessary paperwork and fork over the fifty bucks. The justice of the peace, an irritated, short, red-haired woman told us, “You need a witness, and I’ve only got fourteen minutes left on the clock. You’d better hurry.”
“Wait,” I said, “Hold on.” I came back a few minutes later with a homeless man who said his name was Gary Busey. I had to pay him ten bucks.
The ceremony was over in about a minute. I think I said, “I do,” as did Grace, and then we kissed sloppily.
Gary Busey cleared his throat behind us. “Come on you two, get a room.” We hugged him and then ran into the bathroom and washed Gary’s overwhelming salami smell off of our hands. When I came out, Grace was waiting in the hall. I held my hand out. “Mrs. Shore, may I have this dance?”
“Yes, husband, I would be honored.”
We danced around like fools for a few minutes and then stumbled out of the building, laughing. After we took the subway to the East Village, I gave Grace a piggyback ride eight blocks to Senior House, where we passed out, eating tortilla chips in the lounge.
DARIA SHOOK MY shoulder. “Matt? What are you two doing down here?”
I looked up at her and squinted. My head was pounding and the small desk lamp on the end table in the lounge was like a powerful Vita-Ray blasting my skull. “Oh shit,” I said, holding one hand against my head and the other against my stomach. I had achieved the mother of all hangovers.
I turned to see Grace passed out beside me on the grungy couch. “Grace.” I shook her and she groaned and made a pained sound, whimpering like an injured animal.
Daria helped us get up, and we headed to our rooms. I worshipped at the porcelain altar of a vengeful god all morning before passing out again.
Later, I went to Grace’s dorm and found the door cracked. “You okay?” I asked as I walked in.
“Yeah, come in,” she said. I found her lying on the floor, her face pressed to the germ-y carpet. Her pallor had a greenish tint to it.