Sweet Water(64)

“No, and I hate that he said that, by the way.”

We get to the bottom of the hill, and I think we both realize we’ve reached our limit, because we stop in front of Phipps Conservatory, the largest indoor botanical garden in Pittsburgh, and just stare at the beautiful glass structure.

“What is this place?” Hanna asks.

“It’s a building dedicated entirely to plants. It’s named after Henry Phipps, a philanthropist who wanted to gift the city of Pittsburgh with the most beautiful green space full of gorgeous flowers because he loved them so much.” “It was my mother’s favorite place,” I want to add but don’t.

“How flipping romantic,” Hanna says, and I’m slightly satisfied she’s breathing heavier than I am.

“It is. People even have wedding receptions here because it’s so pretty.” It’s hard to sum up a place I loved so much as a child and actually do it justice. My father has unlimited passes to the conservatory.

“They built on over the years, adding art exhibits and a play area for kids,” I add, remembering the scavenger hunt worksheets they used to hand out at the front desk. There were always one or two strange plants that were hard to find, and I felt like the master of the universe when I discovered them all. Dad would sip his coffee, sit back, and watch me explore like he was having the time of his life, even though we’d been there a hundred times before. We rarely visited my mother’s grave, because it was too hard for both of us, but this place was just as good. Sometimes I even caught Dad whispering, and I swore he talked to her there.

“You Pittsburgh people have some weird hobbies.” Hanna is from Bethesda, Maryland, just outside Washington, DC. She said it sucked going to school there because half the town was employed by Lockheed Martin and everyone was in your business. I’d take repetitive plant scavenger hunts over that type of cattiness any day. It’s probably why Hanna is superficial sometimes, growing up under a social microscope like that.

Dad and I were in a world all our own, but right now we’ve never been so far apart.

“What’s wrong?” Hanna asks.

“My dad really doesn’t want me to see Martin.”

Done with our jog, we’re walking back to the dorm, officially on campus grounds again.

“Do you want to date Martin?” she asks.

“Yes . . . but—”

“Look, it sucks that your dad works here. I mean, I know that’s how you pay for tuition, which is awesome, but it’s not fair that he knows so much. You should be able to date the hot, rich, troublemaking frat boy and have the right not to tell your father.”

“But he knows, and—”

“And you’re over eighteen and can make your own decisions. And I haven’t gotten a date with Meat yet, and if you break things off with Martin, I never will.”

“He’s a senior and the fraternity president, Hanna.”

“What, you think I can’t pull the prez?” Hanna stops walking and puts her hand on her waist, popping her hip. She’s a little sweaty, and her ponytail is propped nicely on her head, which is wrapped in a thick headband.

A boy who’s blowing by us on his bicycle gives her a whistle.

“No, I totally think you could.” And she could. She’s gorgeous. And smart.

“Listen, you need to do what’s in your heart. And I need to find out why they really call him Meat.”

“Gross.” I make a face.

We’re getting closer to our dorm, but Hanna stops and stretches her leg on a tree trunk, which I find laughable because we haven’t even been running for a half hour.

“What, you don’t wonder?” Hanna asks.

“About why they call him that? Sure. But not enough to do my own private investigation.”

“Oh, come on.” She giggles and finishes stretching her other leg.

“Let’s speed walk,” I suggest. “I have a test to study for.”

“Okay, okay.” We begin to walk at a quick pace. “So that’s all that’s got you bugging? Your dad doesn’t approve of your boyfriend?” Hanna asks.

I’m thoughtful of her question. There’re other things that bother me. The rumors that have been floating around have been troubling me greatly, but only because they’re hurting Martin, not me.

We’re rounding the corner to Morewood, and every time I pass the SAE house I’m filled with sorrow after all that’s happened there. I wonder if it will always feel this way.

We’re climbing the stairs to our dorm. It’s not just that he doesn’t approve; it’s the way he doesn’t approve. He’s so angry about my dating Martin, and he won’t tell me exactly why. It’s probably because Martin is rich, not our kind of people, but it’s almost like he’s holding out on me, and that’s a rare thing for my tell-all father. He’s also planted a seed of doubt that maybe I don’t know everything there is to know about what happened to Tush that night.

“Well, that, but . . .” I almost tell her this, but I’m too tired to talk and walk anymore. And I still have that Business Communications test to study for. Not only is Dad interrupting my dating life, he’s messing with my academic life too. We’re back on the sidewalk in front of our dorm now, and I can’t wait to tear off these ugly black jogging pants so I don’t have to stand next to young Jane Fonda anymore.