Afterparty(60)

I roll over. “Yeah. Except for the part where I stole you from my best friend and destroyed her life and I’m a bitch, everything’s great.”

Dylan starts to rub my shoulders. “Who said that?”

“Everyone.”

Dylan gets the clothes and drops them in a heap at the end of the bed, dragging along the dog, who is chewing my shoe. He says, “Drop it, Lulu!”

Lulu ignores him.

He says, “So. It seems kind of churlish to talk about her. Now.”

“Churlish?”

“Inappropriate, crappy, bad . . .”

“I get it, Kahane. I know what ‘churlish’ means.”

“I was never with her like this.”

Oh.

I say, “She might have thought you were. With her like this.”

Dylan is looking away from me, putting on his pants. “Do you want to talk about this? Because I’m not proud of it.”

I say, “Just tell me why. How did it even happen?”

“Because it was a party,” he says, pulling my shoe out of Lulu’s mouth and handing it to me by its slightly chewed strap. “Because we were drunk and opportunity presented itself and it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It sounds worse out loud. And then she was just there and it kept going.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Or feel. If what he’s describing is a good thing or a bad thing, relative to something like, Oh, I was in love with her.

“I said I’m not proud of it. And for what it’s worth: Strick and Gart. She tells me nothing is happening. She lies to my face. Then, after I break up with her, she decides no, she’s breaking up with me, and she all but gives me a road map to—shit—she made it clear she knew I liked you, and it was okay with her. And now she’s offended??”

“Sorry.”

“The only person I can stand besides you is Arif, and everyone makes such a big f*cking deal over how we don’t kill each other, he thinks we ought to stage a fistfight at Convo.”

“Bye-bye, Georgetown.”

“Not letting that happen. He’s more on the bored side. I just want out. No more fakes, no more palm trees. I’m going East and I’m not coming back.”

“You’ll never see your family?”

“They picked Aiden. They can keep him.” The coldness of this, of having a live mother just across the yard and walking away, is almost unbearable. He says, “What did I say?”

I think of my father and lamb stew. “Your mom. I can’t even imagine having one and tossing her. Sorry.”

Dylan says, “Emma. If they wanted me in their house, I would be living in their house. Okay? Can we stop there?”

I’m looking over at the stack of folded cloth napkins, all the clean, color-coded laundry, the cash in an envelope, and the grocery bag of fresh fruit.

Dylan clears his throat, but his voice remains choked and still harsh. “Seed, that was the maid, I’m on her list of chores. Not my mom.”

I am suddenly sadder for him. “Just me and Arif?”

Dylan stretches his arms over his head. “Sam Sherman before he thought you were Cruella de Vil. Mara. Kimmy’s horse. Kimmy. I’m not completely antisocial. I’ve been tested for that.”

“But not Siobhan?”

By now the sun is behind the pine trees in his backyard, and it’s suddenly chilly, and my father is texting about where I am and when I’m getting home.

He says, “No, you. It was always you.”

There is nothing in that moment—the lamplight in the room, the sound of Lulu thumping her tail on the bedspread, my fingers woven between his fingers, the smell of his hair and the tone of his voice—that isn’t imprinted on my heart, like the afterimage of a burst of light, under your eyelids when you close your eyes.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE


IN THE MORNING, AT SCHOOL, Siobhan starts texting me as if nothing happened, as if I somehow forgot that she chased me around screaming the day before.

Siobhan: Where were u after English? Are u Stepfording 24/7 now?

Me: Licking my wounds.

Siobhan: What wounds?

Me: Seriously? Do you ever apologize for anything?

Siobhan: I said I wouldn’t tell. Chill.

Me: You melted down on me.

Siobhan: When I melt down, you’ll know.

Me: You’re not slightly sorry are you?

Siobhan: Get over it. I’m slightly sorry. Is your boat all floaty now?

Siobhan: At least I don’t cuddle with the enemy.

Siobhan: What were u doing with Chelsea? Are u in the pony club now?

Me: Right. She’s my bestest friend.

Me: She cornered me by the candy. Weird but true. She thinks me being with Dylan sucks for you.

Siobhan: WHAT????

Siobhan: You’re making that up.

Me: Swear to God. Go check. There’s a Tory Burch scuffmark three feet off the floor behind the door.

Siobhan: Not buying this. Walking there now. That horse bitch feels sorry for me???

Siobhan: There was a shoe on this wall!!!!!!! Did u do this?

Me: Go roll somebody for a Tory Burch flat and go all CSI on it. It was Chelsea.

Siobhan: U shd f*ck him on the quad.

Me: Not if you’re going to hit me in the ladies room.