How to Save a Life(38)

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed my dress and went downstairs. I left my defensive bullshit behind. I couldn’t wait to see him and I let myself be giddy about it. I let myself be happy.

Evan was going to pick me up at six. I glanced at the clock. Quarter till. I sat in the living room to wait, flicking on the TV. The news said a storm was set to hit tonight. A big one. As the clock rolled over to 6:00, I rolled my lip, tasting the gloss.

I waited.

At 6:10, I thought about texting Evan, then changed my mind. Ten minutes wasn’t a big deal.

At 6:20, we were in danger of losing the reservation Evan made for us in Halston. I sent him a text and tried to infuse each keystroke with as much casualness as I possibly could.

On your way?

No answer.

At 6:30, I texted him again.

Are you okay? Where are you?

No answer.

I called him and it went straight to voicemail.

At 6:45, the fear he really wasn’t coming took root and refused to let go.

I should’ve known, I told myself, feeling it all unravel around me. I shouldn’t have let him in. I should’ve been more careful. I’m such a f*cking idiot.

But another more insidious truth wound its way between my paranoia and defensiveness. It seeped into the cracks of my walls and broke them apart. Evan wasn’t standing me up. He wouldn’t do that. He would never do that. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I called him again. Getting no answer, I threw my phone into a little clutch purse and headed out. I hiked up my dress around my knees so I could mount my bicycle and tore off down the street. A fierce wind ripped at my elegant braid and made my eyes water. The sky was yellow and gray, with fat rain clouds rolling in. My heart was thundering in my chest, the fear fueling my furious pedaling, racing ahead of the storm.

A block from the Salinger’s house, I saw the red-and-blue lights of the police car and the brighter blood-red lights of the ambulance. I coasted up to the front of the house just as the first light raindrops began to fall.

Chaos.

Or maybe just my panicked vision watching my night with Evan fall apart around me. They were putting a little boy onto a stretcher and his face was covered with blood. A heavyset lady—Mrs. Salinger—was holding the boy’s hand and crying inconsolably. Merle and Shane Salinger were standing off to the side, both wide-eyed, their faces filled with panic. I got the impression from them immediately: two people who had started a small campfire and then watched helplessly as it roared into a giant inferno.

Evan was nowhere to be seen.

But I knew where he was. I wheeled my bike around hoping no one had seen me. Faintly over my shoulder, I heard the word “Funtown” and Norma Salinger’s hard-edged voice saying Evan swam at night.

Now it was a matter of time. I had to get to Evan first. Race the storm, get to him first. That’s all that mattered.





An Hour Earlier



I studied myself in the hall bathroom mirror. Norma had spared no expense, allowing me to rent a fine black tuxedo, white dress shirt, black cummerbund and bowtie. No less expensive or classy as Shane’s or Merle’s.

When I went downstairs at five to six, Norma was snapping pictures of my brothers. They had a limo waiting out front to take them to pick up their dates. Norma fussed over them, smoothing down their lapels and straightening their bowties. Shane looked like an overdressed scarecrow and Merle’s bulk strained the shoulder seams of his tuxedo jacket. I kept my mouth shut, my mood too good to waste on ill will. I had Josephine waiting for me. I had tonight with her. I’d have all night with her.

I gave myself a shake and ducked into the hallway to wait until the hot flash of lust and desire that ripped through me subsided.

When Norma saw me, she gave a small gasp. Her hand flew up toward her chest, rested a moment against her heart. Then she cleared her throat and her hand dropped, straightening her skirt. She smiled as she approached me and reached to smooth my lapels, the same way she had for my brothers. The small, maternal gesture made my heart full. She smelled like the pot-roast she was cooking for tomorrow night. Her hard, dark eyes were softer as she looked at me.

“You look quite nice,” she said softly.

“Thanks, Ma.” I never called her that. That night I felt like I could.

“Yes. Well.” Norma was intent on brushing invisible lint from my suit. “Have you a corsage for Josephine?”

“Oh shit. I forgot.”

“You said a bad word,” Garrett said. I smiled down at him, ruffled his hair.

Norma went to the kitchen, and came back with a plastic container. Inside was a corsage made of three small white flowers on a bed of delicate green.

“I don’t believe in ruining the girl’s dress with pins on the bodice,” Norma said stiffly, putting the box in my hand. “This goes on her wrist. Do you see?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice threatening to close on me. “I see.”

“Go on, then. Don’t keep her waiting. All of you.” She waved her hand. “Have fun. Don’t stay out too late and don’t get into trouble. And watch the weather. See that you don’t get rained on.”

All this time, Merle and Shane had been staring in slack-jawed dismay at the exchange between their mother and me. Now they headed for the front door. I made to follow them, then stopped and went back to Norma.