Chapter Thirteen

thirteen

“An unmitigated disaster.”

That’s Kathryn’s official review of Thanksgiving with Daniel and her grandparents. From the moment I pick up the phone, she’s a faucet of news ranging from bad (the pumpkin pie set off the smoke alarm) to worse (Daniel asked why the stuffing, made with challah bread, “tasted off”). I pace the few steps of off-white tile while she recounts every detail of a conversation between Daniel and her grandmother. “Bubby straight up cornered Daniel and asked what his intentions were with me.”

“And?” I bite down on a hangnail. “What did he say?”

“That he and I were having fun .” Her voice cracks more and more with every word. “Having fun. Can you believe that?”

“And that’s…not true?”

“Of course it’s true!” she shrieks. “But we’re not just having fun! And it’s not what you say to my grandma!”

Personally, I don’t think any of it holds a candle to listening to your accounting professor and your fake girlfriend argue the merits of your life choices, but we don’t have time for the context that conversation would need. I test the structure of the bathroom vanity with one butt cheek. When it doesn’t budge, I give it my full weight, keeping my back to the mirror so I’m not tempted to squeeze the pores in my nose. “What should he have said? That he wants to marry you? You’ve been dating for like twelve seconds.”

“He should’ve said that he’s, like, serious about me or something.” The raw edge of her voice snags on her throat. “And it’s been two months, Murph. Not twelve seconds.”

“Same thing.”

Kat’s voice shrinks. “Okay, I called for help and you’re actually being pretty unhelpful right now.”

My tongue presses to the roof of my mouth, barricading back everything I would say if I had been honest with her earlier. I need to ask her about the transfer app and if there’s any grace on that deadline. I need to tell her about Ellie and the kiss and the work in progress that is my reputation with Kara Meyers. Mostly, I need to pull myself together, get off the phone, and get back to the table to finish what I started. But as far as Kat is concerned, I’m still on my parents’ couch. I should’ve been honest from the jump.

“I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I’m a little distracted. But you’re right. Daniel shouldn’t have said that. Fuck Daniel.”

“Not fuck Daniel! That’s not the point!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” My voice echoes off the top of the shower, and I pray they can’t hear me down the hall. Just in case, I dial it back to murmur. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me that my family isn’t going to think my boyfriend is a scumbag. That I can fix this.”

“Your family isn’t going to think your boyfriend is a scumbag,” I repeat back to her. “But you don’t have to fix anything. Your Bubby is probably glad her granddaughter is enjoying herself with a boy.”

“It’s Bubby,” Kat says flatly. “She doesn’t think anyone should be enjoying themselves until marriage.”

“I’m sure she didn’t take it that way. And Daniel definitely didn’t mean it that way, right?”

“I don’t care how he meannnnnt it,” Kat whines, drawing her words out with all the drama I should expect. “I care what she hearrrrrd. She’s been looking at me different ever since.”

“Different how? Like bad different?”

“Way bad different. Like I’m the family slut.”

I choke on my laugh. If Bubby knew what I know—that Kat had only allowed Daniel to touch her boobs as of two weeks ago—she wouldn’t be concerned. “Just focus on all Daniel’s Bubby-friendly qualities then. Talk about how smart he is. Talk about his scholarship.”

“He doesn’t have a scholarship,” Kat says. Her voice teeters on the verge of tears.

“But Bubby doesn’t know that,” I remind her. “Or you can always talk about me. Remind her that I fuck girls. That helped the year she found out you were on birth control.”

Kat makes a defeated little whiny sound. “I can’t keep throwing you in front of the slut bus.”

“Hell, tell her I drive the slut bus,” I say. “Beep beep.” It’s a dumb joke, but it dials Kat’s panic down from a ten to a seven, which is roughly on an even keel with mine.

“You don’t drive the slut bus,” she says between sniffles. “Unless you want to drive the slut bus.”

I shrug, then remember she can’t see me. “How does it pay?”

“Minimum wage.”

I suck in air through my teeth. “Rough break. Any benefits?”

“Bragging rights.”

“Fine, I’m putting in my notice at Sip as we speak.”

Kat giggles, officially putting us beneath a five on the panic scale. Success. “God, I wish you were here. My family loves you.”

“Because they know me,” I remind her. “They’ve had plenty of time to love me. They just met Daniel. If they were just meeting me, it would probably be a disaster too.” I trap a breath in the base of my throat, wondering if I’m speaking more to her or myself.

“You’re right.” She pauses, then adds. “I mean, no you’re not. They would love you no matter what. You’re the best.”

I swing my feet through the air, trying to touch the hem of the hand towels with the toe of my socks. I don’t really feel like “the best” right now. All I’ve done today is lie, lie, lie. And I’ll have to keep lying the second I step out of this bathroom, but for now, maybe I can be honest. I don’t have to keep up this ruse with Kat. “Hey, sorry to change the subject, but can I tell you something super quick?”

“Of course,” Kat says. “What’s up?”

I focus my gaze on a swirl in the towel pattern. “Ellie Meyers is up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I went to her house for Thanksgiving.” The words tumble out at top speed, like I’m getting them all over with at once. Kat doesn’t respond, so I keep talking. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t decide until after we talked on the phone earlier. I really was planning to stay home and clean, but then Ellie texted me and I just…” I run out of excuses before I figure out what to say next, but with the truth out in the open, a tiny bit of the pressure on my chest releases. “I’m sorry,” I sigh, “I should’ve told you.”

“Hang on, slow down.” Kat’s voice slows to a cool, measured pace. “You went to Ellie’s…are you there now?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Hiding in the bathroom.”

She sputters a laugh. “Does that mean it’s not going well?”

“No, that’s not it.” I hop down from the vanity and start to pace, but something about the four and a half steps in each direction leaves me feeling too caged in. I plop down on the floor instead, running my hand back and forth on the faux suede bath mat to change the color from yellow to dark yellow and back again. “She, uh. Ellie kissed me, actually.”

“What?!” The pitch of Kat’s squeal seems better intended for dogs than human ears. “Oh my GOD, Murph! So it’s going SUPER well, then.”

“No, no. I mean kind of.” The tiniest smile creeps over my lips, and I chip at a dry cuticle with the edge of my fingernail. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind.”

“Then why are you hiding in the bathroom? Shouldn’t you be making out with Ellie or something?”

“You said it was an emergency!”

“Yeah, but that’s because I thought you were vacuuming or whatever! I wanted you to feel included.” Kat pauses, then in a softer voice, adds, “And I needed your advice, but it wasn’t that urgent. I’m sorry.”

With the tip of my pinkie nail, I draw a frowny face in the fabric of the bathmat, then wipe it away with the side of my hand. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“Well, we’re all making mistakes this weekend, right?”

I flatten the tip of my tongue against the back of my front teeth. Was that…an apology? About the Daniel stuff? I don’t have time to dig deeper on that. “Listen,” I start, “I need to go. I’m missing some important family tradition right now.”

“Of course. I want to hear more about that later though, okay?”

“Deal.” I give a thumbs-up, then say, “I’m giving a thumbs-up right now, for the record.”

“Got it,” Kat says. “Thumbs-up received and reciprocated.”

Our laughs blend together. “You sure you’re okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, I think so,” she says, then thinks again. “Wait, real quick. What kind of scholarship should I say Daniel has?”

“Did your Bubby go to college?”

She pauses. “I think no?”

“Then just make something up.”

“Perfect,” she says. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you more.” My thumb hovers over the end call button as I add, “Tell Daniel I say hi.”

“I won’t tell him you said fuck Daniel,” she promises. “And tell Ellie I say hi too.”

“On it. Love you.”

“Love you, bye.”

I pull my phone back from my face to hang up, shocked to see almost fifteen minutes have passed since I answered. I end the call, shoving up to my feet in a hurry. After practicing a smile that says sorry I took so long , I flush the toilet and run the sink, just in case anyone can hear the plumbing. I’m a lot less nauseated than I was twenty minutes ago, but it still feels like rush hour on every one of my neural highways. Ellie, Kat, college, transfers, accounting, putting on a convincing girlfriend act. I need to sit the hell down and eat some pie.

I tiptoe down the hall, past the family room, where Otto has resumed his position in the recliner, either sleeping or trying to. In the kitchen, Ellie is still at the table, but Kara is back at the sink, and Carol kneels over a bowl of kibble, trying to get her dog to eat. In the silence, the dishes clatter a little louder, the persistent hiss of the faucet feeling more aggressive somehow. It’s like we’re all in a play, waiting on one of us to remember our line. But no one does.

“Did I miss the thankful thing?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Ellie says, her voice short. “It’s done.”

“Sorry about that.” I head for the table, trying to make myself useful before someone tells me not to be. Apart from the slice of pie Ellie is still working on, only the place mats and napkins need to be bused. I scrunch each one, careful to keep the crumbs off the floor. “How’d it go?”

Ellie’s eyes stay down, focused on her plate. “Fine. We missed you.”

“I really am sorry. It was kind of an emergency.”

“I’ll bet.” It’s not her tone that bothers me, but the lack thereof. She’s flat and cold, and a chill branches from my spine to my fingertips.

“Are you feeling all right, Murphy?” Kara asks. Maybe she felt the chill too. She turns over her shoulder and catches me with an armful of napkins. “Oh, you don’t have to clean up. Just sit down and have another slice of pie, if you like.” Per Kara’s request, I drop the napkins in a small heap on the table, but my stomach is in no state for pie. Not so long as Ellie’s being all quiet and avoidant. I settle back into my seat, hoping that, if I stare down the crown of Ellie’s head, she’ll eventually look up at me. “Ellie?” I try quietly, and then again a little louder. “Ellie, c’mon.” I can’t get her attention, but Bo does, with a bark that sounds like a squeaky toy caught in a lawn mower.

“C’mon, Bobo,” Carol begs, waving her cupped hand of kibble beneath her dog’s snout. “Bobocito. Boba Fett. Eat your dinner, honey.” Instead of complying, Bo snarls, then barks again, and, ultimately, pees a little.

“Goddamn it, not again.” Carol doesn’t wince, just sighs and hops to her feet, maneuvering around her sister to retrieve paper towels and a red spray bottle from beneath the sink. “El Bell, can you let Bo out? He pissed on the floor.”

Ellie nods, wiping her mouth with the side of her hand. “Where’s his leash?”

“By the front door.”

“I’ll grab it,” I offer, pushing my chair back from the table, but Ellie sticks out an arm, holding me in place.

“I’ve got it.” She heads down the hall, and Bo follows. So do I, and we all catch up by the door, where Ellie already has her coat on and is choking the leash in her fist.

“Mind if I come with you?”

“I’ve got it,” Ellie snaps.

“I didn’t say you didn’t.” I try to make my voice soft and nonconfrontational. “I said I wanted to come with you.”

“Mm-hmm.” She crouches down and latches Bo’s leash on to his collar, and I grab my coat and move between her and the door, trying to stand my ground despite the spin cycle starting in my stomach. Is she really this mad that I missed the thankful thing?

“Hey. Ellie. Seriously. Are you okay?”

“Yup,” she says, her voice pitched up in a way that feels untrustworthy, like she’s not even pretending to pretend she’s fine. It’s only when she realizes she can’t get out the door that she finally looks me in the eye. “Can you move? Please?”

I bite my cheek. “Only if you let me come with you.”

She stares at me defiantly, but I’m not backing down. “Fine,” she huffs. “That’s fine.”