“Were you any good?”
“I dunno. At the research part of it, maybe. But honestly, probably not. I didn’t like standing up there, arguing with smart people. I mean, I used to think I was pretty smart myself, but I don’t like conflict. Not even civilized conflict.”
“Do you not think you’re smart anymore?” he asked, sounding troubled by that throwaway comment.
“Well, no. Not really. I mean, I’m not dumb or anything, but I’ve got a tenth-grade education. I was smart for a fifteen-, sixteen-year-old, but mostly because I was a good student. I doubt I’ve read more than a dozen books in—” She caught herself, about to say, in the past five years, which, if Casey was as good at math as he claimed, would’ve told him she wasn’t twenty-four, as most people believed. “Since then,” she finished lamely. A dozen books in five years, and at least half of those had been since Mercy had been born. Babies were good for providing sleepless nights and restless brains.
“I could be smart again,” she decided aloud. “If I ever had a chance to go back to school.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It sounds like a luxury. Like I said, I’d rather have a skill, like hairstyling or something. Getting a bachelor’s . . . I don’t even know what I’d want to study. If it can’t help me pay my rent, and quickly, it sounds too frivolous to imagine. But maybe in a few years, when Mercy is in school herself, I could take some classes. I’d like to learn Spanish again. I was good at Spanish, and it’d be useful around here. How, I’m not sure. Maybe if I ever got some job at the casino or something. Some kind of administrative job.” Such a thing sounded pleasant—steady and air-conditioned, with benefits, if not a ton of mental stimulation.
“If you’d ever forgive me,” she added, wondering what kind of a future Benji’s had, once the Eclipse was up and running. The coming crowds could have them thriving, or the accompanying competition could choke them into oblivion. It was hard to guess.
“You do whatever you need to do,” he said. “And pretending the casino’s not coming won’t make it so. I’m all about exploiting a given situation, so if you decide it’s what you want, I’d never tell you not to.”
“Your brother would probably say it’s disloyal.”
“My brother would also say that family comes first,” Casey said. “And you have to do what’s best for Mercy.”
She nodded, mussing her already chaotic hair against the pillow. “I’m trying to, anyhow.”
Casey shifted his legs, giving her own a little breathing room; their skin was clammy now, and she turned onto her back, freeing her arms and welcoming the cool, dry air on them. He did the same, and took her hand atop the covers, in the little hammock the blanket made between their hips. He yawned, the sound long and lazy, and telling her this pleasant chat was coming to an end. Before he could nod off, she shared a little more of that truth that had for so long eluded her.
“This was really nice, just now.”
“The talking, or what came before it?”
“Both.” She hesitated before going on, unsure if it had been exceptional to him or not. What if the best sex of her life was nothing more than a typical encounter for him? He didn’t hold back the way she did, after all. Tonight had felt like a deep, dark surrender to her, whereas a man like Casey probably put everything on the table, every single time he went to bed with somebody.
Still, her cowardly days were done. She was sick of hesitating, sick of deferring, sick of holding back her opinions, for fear they were wrong or dumb.
“That was amazing,” she whispered.
She heard his head turn on the pillow, felt his eyes on her face without even needing to glance at him.
“You mean that?” he asked.
“Yeah, I do. Not just because . . . You know, because I came,” she said shyly. “I just felt really connected, I guess. It was . . . I don’t know what the word is.”