“It shows how beloved you are here,” I said, pulling on my jeans. “I doubt anyone is missing Ryland Dennis right now. Let’s go get some bacon.”
...
The sun came out that afternoon and warmed things up a bit, and I took an hour-long break before getting ready for the dinner service. Sitting on my favorite bench, still exhausted from a general lack of sleep over the previous few nights, I was giddy at everything that had transpired since returning to Rockwood. Kyle found me there after he taught his last class of the day, and we got a kick out of talking to people who passed by us, many of whom seemed surprised by how casually we were hanging out together after being somewhat guarded and covert about even being friendly with each other for so many months. It felt good not to care what anyone thought anymore. One female student even point-blank asked us, “So, are you two like, you know, a couple now?”
“Something like that,” Kyle said, putting his arm around me. “How could I not like the cookie lady?”
“She probably has access to basketball tickets,” said one male student, as if I wasn’t sitting right there.
“That’s true, I do,” I said. “That’s definitely why he’s hanging out with me.”
There was a commotion building around a black Sprinter van in the adjacent parking lot. “What’s going over there?” I asked Kyle, and the students we had been talking to walked over to see what was going on. The small crowd parted, and we watched Ashlyn Lark emerge from nearby Browning Hall, wearing sunglasses and her Canada Goose down jacket, carrying her cell phone and a large purse. Two men pushed luggage carts filled with suitcases and other belongings to the Sprinter.
“She’s actually leaving? Andrea finally kicked her out?” Kyle asked, his eyes huge with shock.
“That’s a new cell phone she’s holding,” I mused.
“How do you know?” he asked.
“It’s a good story,” I said. “Let’s save it for later. I want to savor every moment of watching her leave.” And we did.
Soon after the Sprinter pulled away and Kyle and I gave each other a fist-bump, a shiny white Land Rover pulled up at the same parking lot, and I watched as Bentley and Julianna Preston got out of the still-running car, along with a driver who I didn’t recognize. The driver hustled over to Adrienne’s dorm, and I felt panic creep into my body.
“No, no, not Adrienne. She didn’t do anything. I’m positive she was not involved in Midsy. Oh shit, Kyle. She can’t get kicked out of another school.” I looked over at Julianna and Bentley, who had noticed me sitting there watching the scene unfold. Julianna started walking in my direction. “Ugh. I think she wants to talk to me.”
“Want me to stay with you?” he asked. “She probably won’t say much with a witness.”
“You don’t know this woman,” I said. “She’s malnourished and quite hangry. I’ll deal with her. You shouldn’t be subjected to this.” I stood up and walked in her direction.
“Julianna,” I said.
“Devon, hello,” she replied.
“Is everything all right? Is Adrienne—” I didn’t know how to even ask the question.
“We came up to take Adrienne out to dinner,” she said, and I instantly felt relieved. “As you likely know, our relationship with her is often strained, and we need to have some interactions with her that are lower stakes. In other words, not just special occasions.” She sighed. “This is all at the suggestion of a therapist. I’m sure you know I wouldn’t be able to come up with these ideas on my own. I’m a lot of things, but an empathetic human isn’t often one of them.”
I didn’t know what to say and needed to be careful not to insult her, so I decided to stick to Adrienne. “I’ve gotten to know her a bit this fall. She’s a lovely person. You have much to be proud of.”
She nodded. “I’m not sure how much credit I can take for any of who or how she is, but I thank you for that. I wasn’t thrilled when she said she was cooking with you, but I recognize that until now, she didn’t have any significant interests or anything she was even slightly considering doing after high school. We had our sights set on the Ivy League for her, but if culinary school is where she ends up, so be it.” Her face looked pained saying these words, but knowing her as I did, I recognized that getting to this point of acceptance was huge progress.
“Well, that’s great,” I said. “I hope you have a good dinner.”
“Thanks, Devon. You know about Ward, right?”
“That he’s…” I didn’t want to say it. I hoped she would finish the sentence for me.
“Yes, who he is to Adrienne and to me,” she said mercifully.Whew.“Well, he’s not much to me anymore, but I’m glad Adrienne is here. In weird ways, she occasionally spends time with him, at least from what they tell me.”
“I saw her helping him with lights on the scaffold the other day,” I volunteered and then instantly regretted it. Julianna probably hated the idea of Adrienne doing grunt work like that.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It’s something. I am moving on from him, I guess, with my own husband. Imagine that,” she said with a short laugh, gesturing toward him. Bentley was still standing against the Land Rover, probably perplexed as to what on earth Julianna and I could be talking about. “He’s okay,” she said. “You know that already.”
“Um, yes,” I replied awkwardly. “Well, good luck with all of it.”
Adrienne and the driver walked toward us, relieving me of this incredibly bizarre conversation. “Hi, Devon,” she said. “Okay, Mom, I’m starving. Let’s go eat.” She was wearing a long corduroy skirt and Doc Martens, and I knew Julianna was doing everything in her power not to make the “are you really going to wear that?”comment. I silently applauded her for not saying a word. More progress.
I said goodbye and caught Bentley’s eye, giving him a wave. He waved back, and I settled back next to Kyle on the bench. “This has been a very long day,” I said. “A good day, but a lot has taken place.”