Monsoon Season (21 page)

‘You’re okay,’ he told me, getting me a towel, patting me down roughly. ‘I told you you could do it.’

I’d reminded my father recently of this story.

‘I was there?’ he asked, drawing a blank on the whole thing.

‘Yeah.’ I nodded with a certainty that instantly vanished. In my memory, the figure standing on the shore became my mother.

Maybe it hadn’t happened that way. Maybe it hadn’t happened at all. When I asked my mother, she told me the buoy had been blue and white stripes.

It felt true even if it wasn’t actually true.

Jack called on a Friday night. ‘Ethan’s gone,’ he said.

‘Gone?’

‘Gone. He left me a Dear Jack letter.’

‘Oh, God. Are you okay?’

‘Let me read it to you.’ There was a pause, the sound of crinkling paper. ‘“Dear Jack, Sorry to leave this in a letter but I just couldn’t face you. Maybe I’m not such a grown-up after all.”’ I could hear the sneer in Jack’s voice, but I knew his mimicry was a shield. ‘“I’m not going back to school in September. I just need some time to find myself, rediscover my joy for art. You’ve been so great to me. I will never forget you, Ethan.”’

I shimmied under the covers. ‘He actually said he needs to
find himself
?’

‘He sure did.’

‘Yeah. Not a grown-up.’

‘Nope.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Thanks. I guess part of me knew it couldn’t last,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘But another part of me pretended that it could.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Well, I sure could use a visit from my best friend.’

‘I’m there.’

‘Really? What about your mom?’

‘She’s practically back to normal. Besides, my dad will be home this weekend. It would be good to have an excuse to get away.’

‘So things are still weird between you two?’

‘I think they’ll always be weird.’

‘And your mom still doesn’t know?’

‘No.’

‘Are you ever going to tell her?’

‘I don’t want to. I mean, I didn’t want him to know. Whenever I’m in the room with him, I feel like I’m wearing a scarlet letter on my forehead. At least I don’t have to feel that way with my mom.’

‘Maybe if you told her, she’d understand and help your dad understand.’

‘That’s a pretty big maybe.’

‘Are you afraid to tell her because you’re ashamed of it?’

I tried to hold my voice steady. ‘Do you think I should be?’

‘Riley, of course not. I’m just trying to figure it out.’

‘Does she really need to know? I mean, I’m an adult. Is it completely unhealthy that I keep certain things from my parents? Isn’t that just part of growing up?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe there’s a balance.’

The drive to New York was prettier than I’d thought it would be. Green vines wrapped around green trees making a lush green curtain. I kept alternating the position of the visor as the sun streamed through the trees, appreciating the cool shade offered by stone bridges.

The last time I’d done this trip, I was eleven. We’d gone to New York City to see a show, eat at a fancy restaurant and stay overnight at a hotel. It was Mother’s Day.

My mother had known the names of all the plants growing at the edge of the road. She rattled off Latin words the whole way. My father wondered about bridges and rivers and buildings. He needed to know what they were called. It was as if knowing the name could make things different, as if it meant something. I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window, their conversation winding through my half-sleep.

It wasn’t like they’d been fighting any more than usual. Ethan never did the dishes; Jack had moved his jar of paintbrushes. Typical bullshit.

They’d had sex on Thursday. Goodbye sex, only Jack hadn’t known it. Ethan must have. He was certainly more spontaneous than Jack but he had to have known that in twenty-four hours he’d have everything packed up and cleared out, a page of notebook paper folded in half on the windowsill with Jack’s name on it.

Jack had worked late. The two flights of stairs seemed longer than usual. He was thinking about ordering food. Chinese or pizza. Ethan would want to order from the Thai place around the corner. Jack hated their
pad Thai
. Ethan would tilt his head, give Jack a kiss, get his way.

Jack knew Ethan wasn’t home as soon as he’d stepped through the door. The lights were out and the apartment was lit only by the moon. He took off his jacket and hung it on the wall. Walked down the hallway to the living room. It just struck him as odd. He couldn’t think where else Ethan might be. Ethan was a morning person and had all early-morning classes. Most of the people he hung out with were gone for the summer. They wouldn’t be back until the semester started next week.

Jack switched on the light. That was when he saw the note, saw the emptiness of the room. No canvases. No paintbrushes. That was when he knew.

Jack opened the door wearing his long striped pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt with a coffee stain down the front.

Riley stood in the hallway, as if uncertain whether to come in. ‘Wow. I feel like I’m looking into a mirror. Past tense.’

‘At least I’m not pregnant,’ Jack said. He wasn’t sure they were joking about it yet.

She winced. Nearly imperceptible. If anyone else had been there, they’d have missed it.

Then she nodded. Smiled. ‘Already looking at the bright side. A good sign.’ She hugged him, and walked inside as Jack shut the door. She threw her duffel bag onto the foot of the bed and wandered into the living room. ‘Nice place.’

‘Yeah, well, enjoy it while you’re here. Without a roommate, I can’t afford to stay here much longer.’

She hugged him again.

‘I’m sad,’ Jack said.

‘I know.’

‘I thought I was prepared, but I really didn’t see it coming. Am I an idiot?’

Riley took his hand and pulled him toward the couch. ‘Yeah. That must be it,’ she said, rolling her eyes. She sat down. ‘I don’t think it works that way,’ she said, kicking off her sandals and tucking her bare feet underneath her. ‘If you’re actually invested in something, I don’t think you can keep yourself from getting hurt just by thinking you’re prepared for it to end.’

‘Yeah? What do you know?’

She made a face.

‘When are you going to start dating again?’

‘Uh, it isn’t really on my list. I think I need to figure some stuff out first.’ She sighed. ‘Let’s talk about you. You’re the one with the broken heart,’ she insisted.

‘Not you?’

She tilted her head. Looked up at the ceiling. ‘I guess not. I think most of what I feel for Ben is just—’ Her eyes seemed to be searching the apartment for the word she meant. Then she looked right at Jack. ‘Guilt.’

‘Guilt?’

‘Yeah. I just feel like, did I do this to him? Did I make him this way?’

‘What do you mean?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s just that when he came by my parents’ the week before last, he was so different. He wasn’t the person I remembered, the one I fell in love with. How does that happen?’

‘I don’t know. But, Riley, you can’t make someone lash out at you unless that’s part of them already. I mean, maybe that’s how he deals with being hurt, with being left. You couldn’t really have known that in the beginning because he wasn’t vulnerable then.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You think you made him hit you?’

‘No. I mean, I don’t know. Not that I deserved it. Just, I wonder if something about me pushed his buttons.’

‘Yeah, because you really are infuriating. I mean, I have to sit on my hands sometimes just to keep from smacking you around.’

‘Jack, I’m being serious.’

‘So am I. Come on, Riley. You are not responsible for his actions. Don’t take it on.’

‘I guess.’

‘When was the last time you had sex?’

‘Um, two months?’

‘As if you have to think about it.’ Jack rolled his eyes at her.

‘I don’t feel like sex exists without Ben. I can’t imagine it. Even for other people.’

Jack raised his eyebrows sceptically. ‘Trust me, sex exists.’

The angst left her face as she laughed. ‘Okay, okay. When was the last time you had sex?’

‘Thursday.’

‘Was it good?’

‘It was always good.’

She nodded knowingly.

‘Last night I slept on his side of the bed. This morning I took everything to the laundromat next door.’

‘That’s probably healthier than sleeping in his shirt for weeks.’

‘That’s what I figured,’ Jack said. ‘He left things here. Socks, an earring, hair gel. I threw it all out. I bet I never see him again.’

‘Yeah?’

‘It would have been nice to say goodbye. I think.’

She patted Jack’s knee.

‘You know, Ethan thought you were in love with me,’ he said.

‘Me?’

Jack smirked.

‘Ethan never even met me.’

‘I know.’

‘Jack, no offence, but I’ve never been in love with you.’

‘No offence taken. I told him that, but he wouldn’t let it go.’

‘When we met, you had those big glasses.’ She giggled, lying across the couch, putting her feet in his lap.

‘So?’

‘Not sexy.’

‘Oh, yeah? Well, you used to wear stirrup pants.’

Riley laughed. Pushed her foot against Jack’s knee in mock-insult. ‘Maybe all of Ethan’s girlfriends are in love with him,’ she suggested.

‘Maybe.’

‘Ugh. As if I’m some kind of cliché.’

‘Ethan tended to think in stereotypes. He was young,’ Jack said. ‘Let’s go out tonight,’ he said, suddenly deciding, needing it. Riley was wearing olive green linen pants and a black tank top. ‘Tell me you brought something you can wear dancing.’

She laughed. ‘Of course.’

Jack got up and went to his closet. ‘We can start at this great little Chinese place I know. I want dumplings,’ he called.

‘Okay,’ she said, following him into his room, unzipping her duffel bag and pulling out something small and silver and shiny. ‘Just promise me you won’t drink tonight.’

Jack scowled.

‘There’s nothing worse than the break-up drunk. Come on, remember when you and Richard broke up? You drank so much – oh, my God, what was it?’

‘Whisky.’ Jack smiled. Sat down on the bed.

‘Yes! You drank half a bottle of whisky.’

‘It was the only thing in the house. Don’t ask me why.’

‘And you were crying and incoherent. I couldn’t understand a thing you were saying.’

Jack started laughing.

‘Which didn’t keep you from talking a blue streak. And then you threw up
everywhere
.’

Jack laughed harder.

‘And I had to clean it up!’

‘Of course you did. That’s how it works. I clean up after you, you clean up after me.’

She brushed the hair across his forehead. ‘Yeah. That is how it works.’

Riley always wore high heels when they went dancing. She walked in heels like they were nothing. A girl who practically lived in flip-flops and tennis shoes. Jack was in awe. He’d tried once, years ago, and had had to kick them off after ten minutes. He’d spent more time trying to find a pair of men’s size-twelve heels than actually wearing them. Much more.

At certain clubs, when a girl walks in, she has basically signed up to be groped. Riley wore high heels for this reason. Get too close, lose a toe. ‘It makes them think twice the next time,’ she had explained once. She was educating them.

Jack came out of the bathroom and saw a guy limping toward the bar. He smiled. Fucker. He crossed the floor to Riley. ‘I saw your latest victim.’

‘He grabbed my ass.’

‘You’ve got your spunk back,’ he said.

‘What?’ she said, leaning forward, not hearing him over the bad techno music.

‘I missed you,’ Jack said.

‘I missed you, too.’

She thought he meant that he’d missed her these past weeks, that he’d missed the dancing. Really, he’d missed the flash of her eyes, the sound of her laughter as she threw her head back and her body gave itself over to it. Jack had missed who she was. His best friend.

The next morning Riley got up first. Jack heard her padding around the living room in her bare feet, trying not to wake him up.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Just looking around. Sorry.’

He found her tipping her head at the calendar hanging on the wall. Reading about deadlines and dentist’s appointments.

‘Should I make coffee?’ he asked.

She turned. ‘If you want.’

Jack sat on the couch, her non-answer justifying his delay.

‘It’d be a shame to lose this place. It’s great,’ she said, sweeping an arm across the room. ‘I mean, the light from this window is amazing.’

Donna had always known she’d have her mother give her away at her wedding. It was the detail she’d figured out long before it was any kind of reality, the only thing that remained consistent from the days when she’d pictured seventeen bridesmaids in either pink taffeta and puffed sleeves or bustiers, pearls and combat boots. So when Dave had tossed out the idea of skipping off to Vegas, Donna nixed it right away.

‘My mother would die.’

He nodded. He hadn’t really meant it anyway.

‘Who do you want to invite?’ Donna sat on the couch with a notepad. So far it had five names on it.