The People We Keep(93)

“No,” I say, “it’s perfect. I just—I was nursing a headache today.”

“You know what the best cure for a headache is?”

I expect him to say sex, because I’ve heard that line before. Too many times. I feel disappointed about it, that he’s actually the kind of guy to use a line like that. But then he says, “This,” and stands behind me. He rubs my shoulders with his strong, strong hands, which, of course, leads to sex, on the kitchen floor, on the stairs, in his bed, but nothing about it is disappointing in the least.



* * *



I sleep at Robert’s house. All night. I don’t leave before he wakes up. Sex is one thing—just putting parts together. It’s another thing entirely to exist together. Robert is someone I want to exist with.





— Chapter 52 —


Ethan is so excited about the dance that he’s been in his top hat and tails since before I even got home from waiting tables.

He helps me get ready. We twist small sections of my hair and pin them as flat as we can against my scalp.

“You know,” Ethan says when we finally get the wig on my head, “I like you as a blond.”

“Personally,” I tell him, “I think you should wear a top hat all the time.”

I get the makeup perfect, copying a picture Ethan found for me: big red lips, eyeliner only on the top lash line.

When I go to my room to put my dress on, the zipper won’t pull up. It was fine before, but now, once I get it past my hips it starts to stick.

“Almost ready?” Ethan calls from the hallway.

“Almost,” I yell. I empty out every last little bit of air I have in my lungs and suck my stomach in as far as I can. I pull on the zipper hard and it finally slides all the way up. I have this fleeting thought that makes my heart stop and my insides flip-flop around, but I push it to the far corners of my mind. I’ve been eating three meals a day like a normal person since I got here. It’s catching up to me. The seams are straining, but I’m in the dress and I’m hoping that with all the beads and shine no one will notice it’s too tight. I bought a lacy shawl at a thrift store last week. I wrap it around myself before I go out in the hallway so Ethan won’t notice. He desperately wants everything about tonight to be perfect. I’ll just try to keep my shawl on as much as possible.

“Smashing, my darling. Positively smashing,” Ethan says when I meet him in the living room. He’s holding a plastic clamshell box with a huge wrist corsage of pale pink roses and sprigs of rosemary. It’s the first time anyone has given me roses. Matty never brought me flowers when he took me to homecoming.

Ethan opens the box and slips the corsage on my wrist. “As promised.”



* * *



We stop in to see Robert at the bar to show him our costumes and bring him a microwave lasagna.

Robert laughs. “You guys do realize we serve food here.”

“It’s what we do, right?” I say. “Bring lasagna to the person who doesn’t have a date?”

“We didn’t want you to feel left out,” Ethan says.

Robert kisses me and ends up with a mouth full of red lipstick.



* * *



Ethan takes me to a club on Grove Street that’s decked out like an old-time dance hall. Punch in big bowls. Streamers hanging from the ceiling. We dance like Fred and Ginger all night long, even though the music is wrong and everyone else is swing dancing. We almost win the best costume contest, until someone realizes I’m not a drag queen.

“Next year, I’ll be Ginger. Then we’ll win,” Ethan says, laughing so hard at the whole misunderstanding that he looks like he might wet his pants.

On the way home, we dance down the sidewalk in front of his house. Ethan sings Top Hat, White Tie and Tails at the top of his lungs while he twirls me around. When he tries to dip me, we stumble to the ground. We lie on the sidewalk laughing, and stare at the stars. It feels like a movie. I didn’t get to go to my prom, but I’m sure this is so much better.

“See that one?” Ethan says, pointing at a strip of stars that may or may not be a constellation. “That’s Cassiopeia, and that one is Orion, and that one’s Steve.”

I giggle, and it eggs Ethan on.

“That one is Phyllis, and there’s Charlie. Over there, Esmerelda.”

“And that one…” I point up, tracing my finger in the shape of a top hat, even though there aren’t necessarily stars to back it up. “That one is Ethan.”

Ethan tips his head to the side and looks at me. “Oh, I love you, Angel. This is the best night I’ve had in such a long time.”

“I love you, E.T.,” I say. “This is the best night I’ve ever had,”

He grabs my hand. “Well, sure,” he says, smiling. “One up me.”





— Chapter 53 —


Robert is cooking breakfast again. It’s a Thursday morning. I just played the restaurant last night and the bar over the weekend. Robert can’t find reliable bands. I draw crowds. I sell CDs. So it’s not like I’m complaining, but I’m tired. Every morning when I wake up, I feel like a bag of bones.

Ethan is drinking coffee and pushing scrambled eggs around his plate. “Why don’t you ever make pancakes?” he says.