“Hardly,” Shelby says.
Jasmine has turned out to be everything Shelby was not: the prom queen, the valedictorian, the good daughter. Now Jaz has a big -announcement, one she wanted to tell Shelby in person. She’s been -accepted to Yale. She found out at the start of the week. Shelby throws her arms around Jaz. “I can’t believe you waited a whole week to tell me!”
“It was so hard not to tell you, but Mami and I thought you would need some positivity today, considering Ben and the wedding.”
Maravelle announces they intend to spend the night to cheer Shelby up. They’ve brought pillows, bags of candy, flannel pajamas. Maravelle will sleep on the couch, Jasmine on a quilt on the floor. They’ve also brought the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, and Maravelle begins the search for mixing bowls and a cookie sheet.
“I don’t own a cookie sheet,” Shelby informs her. “I don’t cook. I order. I think you’ve mistaken me for a normal person.”
“Fine. We’ll use aluminum foil instead. My mami used to do it that way.”
Shelby has a sink full of unwashed dishes and no clean sheets and her tattoo is killing her. It’s not the pain, it’s the itch, like something is trying to get out of her skin. “You should leave,” she tells them.
“We’re not letting you be alone tonight,” Jasmine informs her. “Not on Ben’s wedding day.”
“Seriously. I’m fine,” Shelby insists. “I’m happy for him.”
“Get real,” Maravelle says. “Nobody’s happy for their ex-boyfriend.”
“Now that my mom finally has a boyfriend she’s an expert,” Jasmine quips.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” When Shelby gives Maravelle a look, Maravelle grins and says, “In the first place, he’s not a boy.”
It’s all very proper, but Maravelle has begun to see Teddy’s attorney, Isaac Worth. He’s taken her to dinner several times, and he was recently allowed to come to Sunday night supper with the family. He brought potato salad, his mother’s recipe, which Shelby hears was delicious. Mrs. Diaz put Maravelle’s new beau through his paces, questioning him, and he rated a not bad, which is excellent in anyone else’s book. Last Saturday, Isaac drove Maravelle upstate to visit Teddy. When they sat down to lunch together, Teddy narrowed his eyes and asked, “Do I get free legal services from now on?”
Maravelle reports that Isaac Worth quickly said, “No. Because you’re not going to need an attorney again.”
Ever since, Maravelle has been on cloud nine, though she’s downplaying the situation. “I hardly know him,” she claims.
“Should we refer to him as your beau?” Shelby teases.
“How about your steady?” Jasmine suggests.
“Just a friend,” Maravelle insists. “Thank you very much.”
While the cookies are baking, Jasmine and Shelby take the dogs out for a walk. It is freezing on Tenth Avenue, with a wind rising off the cold, half-frozen river. They head across the West Side Highway. Shelby carries Blinkie while the other dogs enjoy what’s left of the snow. The black butterfly charm is in her pocket. Soon it will be spring, maybe tomorrow. As evening falls, the wet street glows as if sprinkled with -diamonds. Shelby remembers the angel crouching down on the pavement on the night of the accident. She didn’t know who or what he was, but she let him cover her with his coat.
“Ben’s a great person,” Jasmine says as they trek along the riverside. “He just wasn’t right for you.” Jaz is much smarter than Shelby ever was at her age. “You have a different path.”
“Yeah.” Shelby laughs. “Alone.”
Jasmine laughs. “You’re not alone.”
Shelby hugs Jasmine, and then they take off running, the dogs leaping beside them, Blinkie in Shelby’s arms. Shelby never wanted to get involved with Maravelle and her kids. She wasn’t looking for friends. Tonight they will sit up till all hours and watch movies; they’ll finish the chocolate chip cookies and order Chinese food. If there’s a fortune, Shelby won’t read it. She can see the future without it: Jasmine will grow up. Maravelle will fall in love. As for herself, she’s still not sure she wants to know.
When Jaz and Maravelle have fallen asleep, Shelby locks herself into the tiny bathroom. She tugs off her T-shirt, then eases the tape away from the bandage, even though James told her not to fuss with it until the following day. When she sees what he’s done she feels tears stinging her eyes. Instead of Helene’s name, he’s inked a black butterfly. It’s the exact image of the charm from her bracelet, the one he held on to ever since that night. He’s telling her what happened isn’t something she has to pay for, for the rest of her life. And then she knows she trusted him on that night, and that maybe, possibly, she’ll trust him again.