“Oh. That’s nice.” I hadn’t told Rob, or anyone, that I was back. I couldn’t find a way to mention it without inciting cloying pity.
“Rob’s coming out from Cambridge for dinner on Friday night. His mother’s invited you over, too. I think it would be really nice if you went. She seemed a little hurt that you hadn’t been by to see them. She’s always loved you.”
“I don’t know. I’m not—”
“She’s not going to take no for an answer. I’m not going to take no for an answer. Call her and tell her you’ll see her on Friday. It will be good for everyone. Okay?” She kissed the top of my head, rearranging a few rogue strands of hair before she left.
Friday evening, I knocked on Rob’s parents’ door. In the past, I would have let myself in.
Rob opened the door. He grinned and kissed me on the cheek. “Come in,” he said, gesturing me into the front hall. “They can’t wait to see you.”
Rob’s parents weren’t so different from my parents—this was true for all my friends except Evan—and the flow and contour of the conversation made me feel at home. It was instantly comfortable in a way I hadn’t quite expected: the same worn wood of their kitchen table, the familiar view of their backyard through the window. Rob’s father was a lawyer, and his mother had a successful career as a cookbook ghostwriter. She was an excellent cook. The wine, the chicken Marbella, the fragrant basket of bread and the yellow butter—the flavors were unchanged. His mother had a deep, lusty laugh I had always loved. His father still liked a Cognac after dinner. For a moment, it felt like the last four or five years had been a mere skip of the record.
After we finished dessert, a homemade pear tart, Rob and I stood to help his parents clear the table. His mother shook her head. “No—you two go on. I’m sure you want to catch up.” I wondered if she was in cahoots with my mother.
Rob held the front door open. “Let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice night.”
He filled me in on everything that had happened since Thanksgiving, when I’d seen him last. He had been accepted at Harvard Medical School. He’d also been accepted at Johns Hopkins, Stanford, and Columbia, but he’d decided on Harvard. He wanted to be a neurosurgeon eventually.
“So you’re staying here? I mean, in Cambridge?”
“Yup. Hey, you remember Mindy? From biology senior year?”
“Yeah, why?”
“She’s going to be in my class at Harvard.”
“The girl who threw up when we dissected the pig? Mindy wants to be a doctor?”
He laughed. “I wonder how she’s going to handle anatomy.”
We walked in silence for a stretch. I was tempted to take his hand; it only felt natural to do what we’d done so many times before. I stole a glance at him when we got to the park near his house. His face was illuminated by the far-off floodlights on the tennis court. I was trying to decide if he was different. He looked almost the same as he had in high school. Maybe a fraction taller, more stubble in his beard. But he was still, mostly, the person I’d fallen for when I was sixteen years old. What I was wondering was whether I was mostly the same person, too.
“What about you?” he said after we stopped and sat on a bench. “Are you going to stay?”
“Here? I don’t know.”
“How is it, living at home?”
“You know what my mom’s like.”
He held up his hands. “I plead the Fifth.”
“It’s fine, actually. It’s not so bad. They pretty much leave me alone. I guess I need to figure out what I actually want to do next. You know. Where I want to go.”
“Why not here? I know one reason for you to stay.”
The trees made a rushing sound when the night breeze blew through them, a sound like rain falling. The park was empty except for the two of us. I pulled my sweater tighter around me. I slid my feet free of my sandals and felt the cold, spongy grass between my toes. I used to play tennis in this park. The past, my past, was everywhere in this town. When I turned back to Rob, he was looking at me. He’d stated it as a fact, and he was right. He was one reason for me to stay.
I shrugged. “I’m not in any hurry. Just taking it one day at a time.”
“Do you want to come back to Cambridge tonight?”
“Not till the third date, buddy,” I said with a laugh.
“No, not like that. My roommates are having people over. A party.”
“It’s kind of late.”
“It’s, like, ten o’clock, grandma.”
“Well, I told my parents I’d walk the dog before bed.”
He offered a hand to help me up. “So living at home does have its downside.”