The Accidentals(77)

He’s quiet at first. “I suppose it doesn’t count that we don’t like the same things on pizza.”

“What did she say when you told her I was pregnant?”

“She said… ‘Wow, really?’ And ‘I guess this means you’re staying in Claiborne.’”

“I rest my case.”

“And now I’m totally lost.”

“Look, Frederick. What she meant was, ‘How could you, asshole?’ I know you think the world of Rachel, and you should. But getting along perfectly—that’s not a sign of her good nature, that’s fear.”

“Well, that’s heavy. Thanks for that.”

“She has to test you, Frederick. She knows you’ve got her back when she’s got straight A’s at Claiborne. But she has no idea how you’d deal with her if she needed bailing out of jail.”

“And you got all this just from watching her puke?”

“Insecurity and I are very old friends. We go way back.”

He laughs, but it has a nervous quality. “So instead of yelling at her, oh great one, what would you have me do?”

“You still get to say your piece. But you say it tomorrow, calmly, and when she’s sober enough to hear you. Right now you can check her breathing, be nice, and tell her the worst is over.”

“How much did she drink, anyway? Should I be worried?”

“It was just your average teenage puke. No records were broken.”

The edge of my bed depresses a minute later. “Rachel.” He puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Hmmm?” I do my best impression of a sleeping drunk. Not like it’s hard.

“I hear you tossed your cookies.”

I turn my face away.

The mattress wiggles as he lies down on the bed next to me. One hand skims over my hair. “Rachel, I love you anyway.”

My eyes burn. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard those words from him. I blink into the darkness, trying to hold still. And he stays a while beside me, which is all I’ve ever wanted from him.

After I begin to doze, I feel him rise and tiptoe away. I hear him slide the door barely closed, as if trying to shut it without the loud click. But a minute later I feel the breeze of my door fanning open again in the pitch dark. The pain in my head has ramped up, and there’s an evil taste in my mouth. But I feel too poorly to get up and fix it.

“Oh, honey,” I hear Frederick say. “I’m getting a tattoo. You know what it’s going to say? Three words. ‘Listen to Norah.’”

“Can I choose the location?” There’s the sound of soft laughter, and then a rumpled silence which implies kissing.

I’ve almost fallen asleep again when I hear him speak one more time. “Marry me, Norah.”

My eyes snap open again.

But Norah’s answer surprises me. “One of these days I’m going to say ‘yes,’ and then you’ll have to go through with it.”

“Try me,” he says.





Chapter Twenty-Six





Spring finally shows signs of arriving in Claiborne. It’s still cool, but the snow is gone. There are little buds on the trees, and the air smells muddy and green.

But I’m completely depressed.

I’m annoyed with Frederick and lonely for Jake. Aurora is preoccupied, and midterms loom.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and I usually spend those with my father. “Guitar today?” he asks me on the phone. “I could bring it over to your place.”

At least he’s noticed how uncomfortable I am at Norah’s house. But I feel too troubled to sit and struggle with the guitar. “I would rather walk. It’s nice out.”

So we meet in front of the library and head west.

“What’s the matter?” my father asks after only about ten paces.

Perhaps my poker face needs work. But what to say? Of all the things on my mind, most of them have to do with him. Except for one.

“Spit it out already,” he prompts.

“Well… There’s a boyfriend.” Or there was, anyway.

“And he’s a problem? Wait, is it that guy from Florida?”

“No.” I shake my head. “You haven’t met him. He’s great, and he likes me a lot.”

Frederick waits.

“And I like him a lot too.” We turn left to angle toward the pond.

“I’m still waiting for the ‘but,’” my father says. “So far this is a happy tune. Nobody is singing the blues.”

“Right.” And that’s as far as I get. I’m too chicken to go on.

“So, is this conversation about sex?”

I feel my cheeks get hot. “It might be.”

“Well, hallelujah! My area of expertise.”

I laugh for the first time all week.

“Seriously, I’m on very solid ground here. Also, I don’t embarrass.”

“Okayyy…” We continue walking. “Well, it’s just not something I do. It’s a deal I had with my mom.”

“And when was this deal struck?”

“At birth.” My whole life, she’d made it clear that she blamed herself for her own setbacks. If I’d had you at thirty instead of twenty, I’d probably be a doctor right now. But you’re smarter than I am, she’d always add. Translation: Don’t even think about it.