Nadine shrugged. “I haven’t heard from her. I think she’s still in Europe.”
“I thought it was South Africa,” Rob murmured.
Joanna stared hard at Charles’s ear, waiting for him to turn back to her and give her some apologetic gesture to explain himself. But Charles took another bite of bread, nodding thoughtfully. By the time he did look over, Joanna’s look had wilted into a grimace, not nearly as potent. “What?” Charles snapped quietly. He took a swallow of his drink.
She looked away. “Nothing,” she mouthed. And then the waiter arrived with their dinners. Joanna wiped her mouth on her napkin, gave the waiter a forced smile, and took her first bite of her baked chicken and haricots verts.
By dessert, Charles had downed five more gin and tonics. His face was flushed, and he was starting to slur his words. Rob was talking about the Craftsman-style house they’d just bought for a steal in Narberth. Nadine told Charles and Joanna that they should check their birth blog for a weekly progress report. After they hugged, Charles kept the smile pasted on his face for exactly one block. Once they were out of sight, he dropped Joanna’s hand and wordlessly passed her the car keys. He staggered to the car, dropping his canvas bag on the sidewalk. “I think there’s a bottle of water on the back seat,” she instructed. Charles grunted and reached for it. His cheeks flared red.
She started the car and backed out of the space. Charles drained the whole water bottle, sloppily screwing the cap back on when he was finished.
“What was that, back there?” he said as she paused at a traffic light.
“What was what?”
“You know what. Do you guys haze?”
“I was just curious.”
“Yeah, well, it’s probably not the right thing to bring up right now.”
She sniffed. “It’s not like they know. They didn’t even ask about Scott! They don’t even care!”
They’d talked about Nadine’s brother, Christopher, and Rob’s sister, Camille, and a whole slew of other people who’d gone to that school—and, of course, Sylvie—but not a word about Scott. Joanna couldn’t recall a time they’d ever talked about him. He was a nonissue, just like she was.
Charles rolled the water bottle between his palms. He lowered the window, then changed his mind and rolled it back up. “I know no one knows.”
“Then what is wrong with you? Why did you get so angry?”
“I didn’t get angry.”
Joanna groaned. “You did. And …” She took a deep breath, considering if she should really say this. “And you think Scott’s guilty. You’ve made that pretty clear.” She peeked at him, almost positive she should’ve kept her mouth shut.
“Well, yeah. Maybe I do,” Charles murmured after a moment.
She waited. They were merging onto I-76 now, the lights watery blurs. “Is it because he’s adopted?” she blurted out.
Charles stared at her in horror. “Jesus. No.”
“I don’t mean you think that. I just mean … is it what other people think? Is that why other people are assuming he’s …”
“I should hope not.”
She pressed the brake. The rain obscured the windshield. They passed a car that had pulled over to the shoulder, its hazard lights blinking. A shapeless man sat in the passenger seat, seemingly just staring out into the inky night. And swish, he was gone.
“Scott beat me up once,” Charles said in barely more than a whisper. “In the middle of this party we were having. Like he enjoyed it. It just … worries me.”
She kept her eyes on the road. So here it was. He was going to tell her about the fight after all. “When was this?” she asked, halfheartedly feigning ignorance.
He shrugged. “Years ago. When we were in high school. A lot of my friends were there. Many people saw it.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did he beat you up?”
“I don’t know.”
“He just started beating you up for no reason?”
Charles didn’t answer. Joanna felt her pulse against her throat. Headlights streaked down the highway, leaving an imprint on her retinas long after they’d passed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she said quietly, trying to control her anger.
“I don’t know. It’s not something I like to think about much.”
He was turned away from her, so Joanna couldn’t see his face. She slowed at the turnpike gate, waited for the EZ Pass sensor to detect her car.
“I mean, maybe I deserved it.” Charles broke the silence.
“Why would you say that?”
Charles bit his lip, as if considering saying something more. Then he shrugged and slumped down in his seat.
“I wish that headmaster had never called your mom,” Joanna muttered. “It’s just getting everyone worked up. And it’s dredging up things that are irrelevant. I think it’s criminal to start this kind of panic over rumors. Like that thing with that Schuyler girl and your debate coach—it’s just bored people looking for conspiracy theories, making assumptions before actually getting the facts.”
“Sometimes assumptions are right.”