And then she had to stand up, naked, because as it had gone on he had pawed a few times at her underwear and she’d understood she was to use her free hand to wiggle out of her thong, which she’d abandoned to the floor. So she had to walk naked across the room, and pluck a few Kleenex—how many would she even need for this?—from their box on the bookshelf, and then turn and walk back to the sofa where he lay splayed, his shirt still on and his sweats only pulled down a tug beneath his hip bones, almost none of his skin exposed. He was looking not at her but down, his mouth set in concentration, his jaw working, and as she lowered herself to the couch again he put his hand out and touched her hip, not far from her belly button, and said, “Wait, would you stay there? Sit up like that. Yeah.”
And so she sat at his side, as if he were a patient and she were his nurse, until it was finished, then gave him the Kleenex. She didn’t know if he’d wanted her to do something with it but it made more sense to let him take care of it, he understood the situation better, surely, than she did. Then she lay down next to him again because that way they didn’t have to look at each other’s faces. She figured if she were him, she’d be embarrassed, that the other person had just seen his face, in that moment. He didn’t seem embarrassed.
She thought about whether she was allowed to turn to her side, to press her body against him, or kiss the part of his neck just where it became his shoulder. Eventually he put his hand to her bare thigh and squeezed, once, then pushed up, past her, pulling at his sweats.
“We should probably get up,” he said, gathering the beer bottles from the floor. He frowned at hers, which was practically full. “They might be home soon.”
“I thought you said they’d be gone for a while.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what a while means,” he said, and it was this sentence more than anything else that made her want to cry. “They might get back soon. Do you need a ride?”
She hadn’t made any plan. She had lied to Lily, said she was meeting Zo? for dinner on the Avenue. Getting here to be with him: that had seemed like it would be such an achievement that no further planning was needed. She had just assumed that elation would dissolve the pesky roadblocks of logistics, obligations.
“Yeah,” she said. “I need a ride.” She snatched her clothes from the floor and pushed past him, unwilling to look at his face.
She got dressed in the bathroom, then ran the water and pressed a perfumed washcloth to her squeezed-shut eyes. She wanted to look untouched by the time she left this room.
The front door opened and closed. She heard Chip’s voice, loud and performed, and she heard what could only be his mother’s voice, too.
She had no choice but to leave the bathroom.
“Oh,” his mother said when Madison came into the living room. “I see. I didn’t realize we had company.”
Madison ran one hand through her hair and stepped forward.
“Hi,” she said, “I’m Madison D’Amico.”
The woman’s lips parted and she took a reflexive step back, as if to consider Madison more fully, but she caught herself quickly and extended a hand in return.
“Of course,” she said, “Madison. I can’t believe we’ve never met—well, we must have, but years ago. Your mom and I used to play tennis together sometimes. When I could keep up with her.”
“She played in college,” Madison said. “You’re not the only one. I’m impressed you could play with her at all.”
“I’m Lacey,” Chip’s mother reminded her. They shook hands. His mother had Chip’s face, almost, but everything that was sharply defined in him—his jaw, his smile, his brow line—was somehow more casual on her, gummier, more lopsided. When she smiled it seemed to touch the very edges of her face, and tiny fans of wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes. Her wavy blond hair was cut short, to her chin, in an indifferent, untouched sort of bob.
“Well, I’m just getting home with groceries,” Lacey said. “We weren’t planning anything special, because we all still have to pack for Florida, but Chip’s dad will be back from the city in another hour or two. Do you want to stay for dinner?” She looked at Chip, without turning her head away from Madison. He was standing several steps away from them, disavowing the conversation. “It would be fun—we could get to know each other.”
Madison scanned, quickly, what she knew about Chip’s father. He was, she was pretty sure, a lawyer. And not in-house counsel anywhere; she was almost certain he had no ties to anywhere that mattered. But it was irrelevant, anyway. Chip cleared his throat.
“She’s got to get home,” he said. “I was just going to drive her.”
“Oh,” Lacey said. “It’s looking like rain, honey. Why don’t you stay here? Madison, I’ll run you home. Are you guys still up in that same place? Off Baldwin Farms?”
“Yes,” Madison said, and she couldn’t keep her fear from her voice, even though she tried. “Of course we are.”
“I just haven’t been up there in years,” Lacey said, her voice dipping to acknowledge and dispense with Madison’s curt reply. “Your mom hosted the Silent Auction a few times, when you guys were still in elementary school.”
Madison breathed again. She nodded her head furiously, eager to agree.
“Sure, I remember that.”
“All right, well,” Lacey said. “Chip, I’ll be back in twenty.”
He nodded, and then turned to Madison and stiffened his hand, touching it to his temple. He was saluting her good-bye. Their bodies had not touched since they’d been lying on the couch.
“Have a good spring,” Madison said to him, looking away so quickly that she couldn’t see whether or not he flinched, if he even understood. Or if he just wanted her gone, out of the house.
LACEY LOWERED HERSELF slowly into the Mercedes, checking her mirrors and her purse methodically, as if they were embarking on a cross-country road trip. Madison glanced over her shoulder and saw a pair of cleats tucked tidily beneath the driver’s-side seat. She felt her blood in a rush, pooling behind her eyes, and she faced forward.
“So, what are your plans for the break? I assume you aren’t traveling.”
Here was the opening salvo, and Madison met it midarc, almost enjoyed catching it right away. She tossed her head, lifted her chin. She was developing a routine, an actual series of steps in response to rude, veiled questions about her parents. But as she opened her mouth and looked over at Lacey, her eyebrows raised as she watched the road, the vestiges of a smile on her face, she realized this woman might just be asking the question itself.
“No,” she said. “We had thought about going out to Shelter Island for a week, but my mom just wanted to stay here.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you guys had spent time on Shelter. One of the partners at Nick’s firm—Chip’s dad—has an old family place out there. It’s quite gorgeous.”
Madison nodded. “It was my grandparents’ house. I thought it would be fun to go, even if the weather stays like this. It’s fun to kind of hole up there.”
“I’m sure your mom will be happy to have you all around the house for a little while,” Lacey said. “So, are you in Chip’s class? You’re a year below him, aren’t you?”
“I’m a sophomore,” Madison said, “yeah.”
“Well, let me tell you, enjoy it while you can. I know girls are different from boys, but this year has been a constant struggle getting Chip to stay on top of all the different SAT dates, the ACT dates, his AP tests coming up soon. Everyone warns you about junior year—and we went through it already with his brothers! But I think it’s even worse, for you guys. It gets worse every year.”