The Best Possible Answer(41)

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

I hand her a box of tissues. “What’s the other half?”

“Forget the other half. I don’t want to talk about it.” She blows her nose and clears her throat. “Want to hear about Professor Cox? That’s a better story than both yours and mine.”

So she tells me. Her mom has been helping him ever since the incident with the tomatoes. It turns out that Professor Cox had been a journalist in the 1960s, a good one who worked for the Associated Press and was on his way to becoming a nationally known writer when he became convinced that he’d caused the Cuban Missile Crisis. He started throwing ashtrays across the office and writing incessantly about all-out nuclear annihilation. At that point, he was diagnosed with schizophrenia, along with some other coexisting issues. He was hospitalized for a while, and after that, and years of medication, he also completed a doctorate in psychology, partly in an attempt to cure himself. He gave most of his inheritance from a family fund to charity. His family, deeply concerned and immensely wealthy, finally stepped in. They connected him with the St. Mary’s Seminary, which has parishes in Virginia, where they sent Professor Cox for a “cure of the spirit.” But it still wasn’t enough to help his mental state, and he went as far as to try to fake his own death.

After that, he was hospitalized again, and this time, he was put on some new meds that actually helped and allowed him to function fairly well. Professor Cox’s family donated a good chunk of change to St. Mary’s, so they eventually agreed to hire him as a professor. But for the past few years, he’d been trying to self-medicate with some illegal pills. That’s what Evan found in his cabinet. That explains the postcards and the tomatoes. “You were right. He does suffer from psychological issues. I feel bad about calling him ‘the Nut.’”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“He’s back in the hospital, and my mom’s been helping to advocate for him. His family’s paying her, but I know she’s happy to do it.”

“Is that why you’ve been busy with so many errands?”

“Um.” Sammie picks up her phone. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

“Vivi, forget my stuff. What’s going on with you?”

“Ugh.” I roll on my back. “You’ve done such a good job of distracting me. Please don’t remind me. What time is it?”

Sammie looks at her phone. “Ten-thirty.”

I muffle my face with the pillow. “I don’t want to go to work today. I can’t go to work today.”

“If you tell me what’s going on, I’ll take your shift.”

“If I tell you what’s going on with me, will you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“No!” Sammie laughs and hits me. “I already said I’d take your shift. If I tell you my stuff, too, it won’t be a fair deal!”

“Please, Sammie,” I say. “Will you let me be a friend to you? Please?”

Sammie thinks for a moment. “Fine.”

“Okay. Good. Thank you.”

“Now tell me.”

So I do.

I tell her about Mila’s surprise gift of my dad’s return and the strange midnight conversation with my parents. I tell her about my mom, how she held his hand, how they’re promising this honest new life for us. And then I tell her about my father’s double life. About Paige and the texts and the kids who are excited about toys from Daddy.

Sammie slides down on the pillow next to mine. “Oh my God, Viviana.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to cry?”

“No.”

And then I look over at her and I see that her pillow is damp. The tears are streaming down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because this last year has been so awful for us. For you and me both. We’ve lost so much.” She wipes her eyes.

“Oh.” I hadn’t really thought about how intertwined our lives have been.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be the one crying.”

I reach over and give her a hug. “It’s okay. One of us should cry. I don’t know why I’m not.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“My mom? I have no idea.”

“Ugh.”

“Now you tell me.”

“Mine’s nothing compared to yours.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Well, besides the whole Instagram thing, then this guy I thought I liked has a crush on my best friend, and it turns out they’re probably perfect for each other, and so even though my heart is broken, I’m also really happy for them.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Shut up. Nothing’s going to happen. I promise you.”

“Sure,” she says. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“That’s not your news, though. Tell me, for real now.”

“Well…” Sammie takes a deep breath. “My mom’s been interviewing for a new job.”

“Okay…”

“In Morton Grove.”

“Oh.”

“We’re probably moving there at the end of the summer. We’ve been looking at apartments. My mom wants to be close to our family.”