My Last Innocent Year(61)

“Go,” she said, tossing the bag at me. “But if I ever see you in here again, I’ll call the cops.”

I ran all the way home, stopping briefly to throw up between two parked cars. When I got home, I put everything I’d ever stolen in a black garbage bag and tossed it in the dumpster behind Rosen’s.

I slipped off Kelsey’s ring and held it in my hand. It was beautiful: gold with two tiny diamonds nestled together like twins in utero. If it were mine, I would have worn it every day, wouldn’t leave it languishing in an overstuffed jewelry box. I tightened my fist around it and placed it in my pocket. I held it there for a minute, my heart pounding, breath quickening, that rust taste tangy in my mouth. Then I threw it back in Kelsey’s jewelry box and slammed the lid shut.



* * *



ON FRIDAY NIGHT, I found myself following Ginny and a group of rowers down to the river. It was late, and I’d lost Kelsey and Debra somewhere between Gamma Nu and a party at the River Ranch, an off-campus house perched above the river in Vermont. I’d had quite a bit to drink, although not as much as Ginny, who stumbled as we headed down the narrow, wooded path that led to the Connecticut River, the body of water that separated Vermont and New Hampshire. Ginny and I had never really hung out before, but as graduation drew near it felt like everyone was my friend.

Up ahead, someone started singing the alma mater. Back when I was in Glee Club, we used to sing the alma mater for groups of Wilder alumni, old, white-haired men in kelly green jackets and plaid pants. As we sang, their rheumy eyes would fill with tears; some would struggle to their feet, gripping tightly to their canes. I always thought there was something cultlike about the alma mater, vaguely Hitler Youth, but now, walking arm-in-arm with Ginny on a cool spring night, my heart swelled with feeling and I thought I might cry.

“We will remember Wilder, the rolling hills of Wilder, our happy years at Wilder nestled in our memory and our hearts,” we sang.

“That song is creepy,” Ginny shouted. “I don’t want Wilder nestled in my heart.”

“It’s a metaphor,” I shouted back.

“A metaphor!” Ginny tossed her head back and laughed as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “I love you, Iz,” she said, winding her strong arm around my waist. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that. I always wished we were better friends.”

“Aw, thanks, Ginny. Yeah, me too.”

“I know a lot of people don’t like you,” she said, “but I think you’re a badass.” And then she leaned over and kissed me on the lips. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but maybe it was just that kind of night.

The rain from earlier in the day had stopped, but the sky felt heavy and swollen. After a few yards, the path narrowed, then opened up into a grassy field that sloped down to the river. I kicked something with my foot. It was a T-shirt. Up ahead, a trail of clothing led to the water’s edge.

Ginny kicked off her sneakers, then looked at me as if to say, “Why not?” I watched as she pulled off her clothes and ran toward the water, her strong pale body glowing in the moonlight. All around me, people were doing the same. “Come on, Isabel!” Ginny shouted. I looked around, then carefully removed my shorts and T-shirt, underwear and bra, and placed it all neatly in a pile on a rock. And then, before I could think about it too much, I plunged feet first into the black water.

There were people for whom the river had been at the heart of their Wilder experience, much as the library had been at the heart of mine. Ginny, for example, and the rowers who came here every morning in the fall and spring as mist rose off the water like dry ice. In the winter, when the river froze over, some traversed its length on cross-country skis. In the summer, they floated down it in big rubbery inner tubes. I’d only been to the river a couple of times and I’d never swum in it. I’d always thought of it as belonging to that part of Wilder that didn’t feel like mine, but now, suspended in the water’s soft embrace, I wondered what I’d been waiting for.

I floated for a while, thinking about Connelly. Roxanne was going to a conference, and he’d invited me to spend the night at his house. I wanted to go, but I also wanted to do this, float aimlessly through my final few nights here. The Tunemen were performing in their last big concert, and Bo had asked me to go. I felt stuck between two paths, one leading toward a future I could understand, the other leading—where? Nowhere good. There was, I can see now, a kernel of self-preservation at my center, a belief in myself and my future. I wanted more than what Roxanne and Connelly had, more than what my parents had had. I wanted something close to what Kelsey and Jason had, what I’d thought Joanna and Tom had. I wanted love. I wanted it all. I dipped my head under the water and, weirdly, thought about Bo.

A breeze rippled through the trees, ruffling the water and raising goose bumps on my skin. I looked up and saw I had floated far away from everyone else. A few people were climbing back onto shore, whooping and hollering and scrambling for their clothes. A guy named Rod was holding Ginny’s bra high above his head. She was jumping for it, one arm held across her chest. Someone was sitting on the rock where I’d left my clothes. As I swam closer, I saw it was Andy.

“Nice swim?” he asked.

“Yeah, really nice,” I said. “Were you at the River Ranch?”

“No. I’ve been with Joanna all day.”