The Drifter(89)

Betsy stared at the bottom of her empty cup.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally.

“Sorry for what? You didn’t stop me from going. I stopped myself. In the end, I just couldn’t do it. I don’t know . . .” Caroline said.

“I’m sorry, but you got it all wrong,” said Betsy, averting her eyes. “You were Rizzo.”

“What?”

“Frenchy was way too nice. Rizzo was the mean, slutty one. You were Rizzo.”

Caroline took a beat.

“I was totally Rizzo.”

And for the second time that day, the two friends laughed so hard that Betsy nearly peed herself, and then had to wait in an endless bathroom line, standing helplessly while a quarter inch of beer slop on the unmopped floor seeped above the soles of her sandals and between her toes.





CHAPTER 25


LONG DRIVE HOME


September 25, 2010

By the end of the fourth quarter, Betsy was all but sober. The beer and nostalgic Jack and Cokes had done nothing but fog her brain and dull her senses, and she was covered with the salty, sticky residue of dried sweat. As Teddy predicted, they were ready to head back without saying goodbyes, so when he texted them the location of his parking spot, they hopped into the first bike cab they could flag down. A sinewy nineteen-year-old with a couple of missing teeth towed them through the crowd to a lot next to the baseball field.

“Should we ask one of these shirtless wankers what the final score was?” asked Caroline, gesturing to a pack of skinny college boys who had their T-shirts tied around their foreheads.

“Nah,” said Betsy. “I don’t care.”

The last time she went down that street, she was sitting on Gavin’s handlebars. She wondered if Remi was in her pj’s yet. She called Gavin, who picked up after the first ring.

“You survived,” he said. She could hear Remi in the tub in the background.

“Yes, but just barely. I’m with Caroline on the back of some guy’s bike,” she said.

“Of course you are,” he said.

“Can you put Remi on speaker?” she asked.

“Hi, Mama!” The sound of her voice sent electricity down her spine.

“Hi, sweetie! Can you say hi to my friend Caroline?” She put the phone on speaker.

“Hi! Daddy says ‘Go Gators,’” a small voice squeaked on the other end of the phone.

“Oh yeah? Well don’t believe everything your daddy says,” said Caroline.

“Nice to hear your voice, Car,” he said.

“You, too, Gavin.”

“Listen, Teddy’s giving us a ride to Tampa and I have to pay attention or we’ll ride right by his parking spot.

“Bye guys, I love you,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rem.”

“We love you, too.”

Caroline put her hand on her friend’s knee and gave it a squeeze.

“Well, well,” Caroline said, nodding in approval. “He turned out alright, didn’t he?”

“Hey, I’m as surprised as you are,” said Betsy.

They found Teddy standing next to his mom’s Camry.

“Nice wheels, Ted,” said Caroline. “Clearly, it’s your midlife crisis car.”

Caroline took the passenger seat, as usual, and Betsy slid in the back, forgoing the seat belt in favor of perching on the edge of her seat, her head poking over the console that divided Caroline and Teddy, like a kid. The traffic out of town was stop-and-go for miles, which allowed for plenty of time for a recap of the day’s events, who was divorced, who had a lingering drug problem, and to Betsy’s horror, who among their peers had negotiated an open marriage to cope with eighteen torturous years of sexual fidelity.

They’d made it to Lake Panasoffkee before anyone mentioned Ginny.

After Betsy hung up the phone at Miss June’s bed-and-breakfast, back in New Orleans on the day they found Ginny, she lost track of the details. Gavin went upstairs to pack their things while June tried to console her, though she couldn’t understand the extent of her loss. Instead of stopping in Gainesville, they drove to Ocala, to Ginny’s Nana Jean’s house. Betsy found her on the porch when they pulled into her driveway. She took Betsy into her plump, pale arms and the two of them wept together on the wicker glider.

They returned for the funeral, and then she tried to go back to school, but Betsy didn’t remember much about the days she spent back in Gainesville after Ginny’s funeral. She packed her clothes and filled a Dumpster with all the things she no longer wanted. She remembered loading a suitcase and book boxes into Kathy’s car, and then standing in the Embassy Suites parking lot with Gavin, worried that she’d be left alone with their secret, that she’d never see him again. She drove away and never came back.

“I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve been in Gainesville since Ginny died,” said Teddy to Betsy.

“You mean since Ginny was killed,” said Caroline, anger building quickly in her voice. “That really pisses me off. When people say she ‘passed away’ or ‘died’ like she fell asleep and tiny angels swooped down and flew away with her tidy little soul. Or that she fought some noble battle with a terminal illness. She was murdered. And before she was murdered, she was raped. And the freak that did it ate a lobster dinner the night before he was executed, courtesy of the state of Florida.”