Page 48 of Corkscrew You
“But you think youmightfall in love with him,” says Chiara, relentlessly.
“Yes,” I admit. “I was definitely well along that track before this morning. But why does he have to make this sodifficult?”
“Some people are naturally cautious,” says Chiara. “I’m one of those people, whereas you and Jordan are not. You’re the kind who think nothing’s wrong with rocking up to a battered panel van scrawled with the words ‘Free candy’.”
Jordan and I exchange a look. It says, “She’s got us.”
“Add to that a perfectionist nature,” Chiara continues, “and you’ve got the textbook formula for heel-dragging and compartmentalizing.”
“Plus his dad’s ill,” adds Jordan. “That can make youtotallyfreak out. Oh, shit. Sorry, Shel.”
“What for? You’re not wrong.”
“Think that might be at the heart of it,” says Chiara. “Fear of what’s going to happen if his dad gets worse.”
Chiara should start practicing as a psychic. She’d make a fortune.
“Could be,” I reply. “Like I said, I don’t know him well enough to be sure.”
“And even though you don’t know him well, you still have to decide,” says Chiara. “What’s it going to be, Shel?”
“Come on, Kiki, don’t pressure her,” says Jordan, the defender. “She should sleep on it, at least.”
“I should,” I agree. “And right now I will drink on it.”
I take hold of my glass – great colour and nose; where the heck’s Brendan been hidingthis? – and I raise it in a toast.
“Here’s to the right answer coming to me in a dream,” I say. “Cheers!”
“Zum Wohl,”says Chiara.
“German?” I ask, pointedly.
“I’m a woman of the world,” says Chiara, unabashed. “I’ve also learned that the German for a woman’s nipples isbrustwarze. Translates as ‘breast warts’.”
“To breast warts!” says Jordan, loudly, possibly to get Brendan’s attention, a ploy she should know by now is doomed to failure.
We clink glasses, and I manage the first smile of the day.
Won’t be smiling when I’m in bed alone tonight definitelynotsleeping, but that’s in the future. I’ll deal with that when I absolutely have to, which right now, seems like the perfect guide to better living.
ChapterEighteen
NATE
If there’s anything in this world guaranteed to keep you humble, it’s coming home as an adult and sleeping in the bed you had as a kid.
OK, so the room has changed dramatically. After I left for France, Mom painted the once blue walls a pale sage green and hung watercolours of flowers in place of my posters of Filbert Bayi, Seb Coe and Mel Sheppard, the first American to win an Olympic gold for the 1500 meters, my track event of choice.
She got rid of my old desk and put in an antique sewing table, covered it with a vintage lace cloth, and set a jug of flowers on top. The bed she kept, but now it’s got a floral quilt on it in place of my Golden State Warriors duvet, and a whole lot more pillows than any human with a normal number of heads needs.
All but one pillow is on the floor. I lie back on the last and try to make out the spot on the ceiling where I tossed half an Oreo up to see if it’d stick. I was seven, what can I say? It did stick, for about half a second. Left a faint oily mark that I stared up at on many an occasion during my childhood. Can’t see it now. Mom probably repainted the ceiling, too. All traces of me have been eradicated.
I joined the family this evening in Dad’s hospital room again. He was … OK. Doc Wilson had been around that morning and maybe some of what he’d said had sunk in. Or maybe Dad was still feeling too weak to argue. On the way home, we stopped at In-N-Out to get more illicit burgers and fries to go. My bag’s still sitting on the kitchen counter, untouched.
I could have stayed and hung out with everyone in the kitchen. Max insisted on making a pot of Darjeeling, because he’s a sophisticated New Yorker now, and Mom brought out cookies that she’d somehow found time to bake.
I excused myself, citing work to do, which wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t the real reason I had to go. Real reason was that I couldn’t stop thinking about what Shelby was up to, how she felt about me now, whether she’deverforgive me. I couldn’t stop picturing her lying there in bed, flushed and happy, smiling up at me like I was the greatest lover on earth. Which is exactly how she made me feel.
