The next day, Saturday, I called Nicole’s cell, and she didn’t pick up. I tried the house phone and got the machine. When I got home from work Saturday night, I hadn’t heard back from her. Sunday afternoon, I got her mom on the house phone. “She’s sick with a terrible flu, Jay. She’s been sleeping all weekend.”
I hadn’t slept all weekend. I had been trying to figure out what my father was doing in Marathon. I couldn’t get it out of my head, what he told me that night when I asked him what he’d done with all his attempts at painting. “I burned them,” he’d said.
I met Cherry at Sbarro for a slice. “Here’s the thing about boys,” she said. “You’re all idiots. This isn’t PMS bitchy she’s going through, okay? She lost a sister.”
“Technically, they weren’t sisters.”
“Technically, you’re brainless. This is exactly what I’m talking about. You need to give her space, Jay. Tell me you didn’t text her.”
“A couple of times. Okay, four.”
“You’re worse than a girl. Give her a few days. How are you doing, though? About Emma, I mean. Are you okay?”
“Me? Fine. I mean, yes it sucks, but you know. It’s not like I knew her. Collectively I spent maybe a couple of hours with her. Seriously, I’m cool.”
“You’re so not cool, you poor boy.” She pulled me into a hug. I was exhausted, and I sort of cried into her hair. “Crying can be sexy when it’s done in a rugged albeit sensitive dude way,” she said. “Can I bite your earlobe? Just a nibble? No?”
My suspension ended the next morning, Monday. I was eating by myself, under the B-wing stairs. A bunch of dudes from wrestling rolled up on me. Rick Kerns was suspended for another week, but this other heavyweight was happy to fill in for him as pack leader. He nodded. “Spaceman. Heard you and Dave are cool about Nicole.”
“Nothing’s going on,” I said.
“Whatever,” he said. “Hey, that was ballsy. What you did for her, I mean. Jay, seriously, man, come to practice sometime. We need dudes like you on the team.” He nodded again as he headed off.
“Later, Jay,” somebody else said as they left.
After school I headed down to the Hoboken waterfront to meet my father and his friend from the old days. She was a lawyer. She couldn’t take the case because she wasn’t licensed to practice in New Jersey, but she knew we were broke and was happy to give us free advice. Her name was Camilla, and she chain-smoked. “I think your best bet is to try to get the Lyles woman to drop the burglary charge,” she said. “That might get the judge in the mind-set to reduce the obstruction charge or maybe even throw it out.”
“How do we get her to drop the charge?” my father said.
“Steve, not to tell stories in front of Jay, but do you remember that time you had a couple too many from the frat house keg and ditched me to hang with that pretty little blond thing? What did you do the next day?”
“I apologized.”
“On bended knee you apologized. And you were sincere. We worked it out.” She nodded to me. “Offer her compassion, Jay. She just lost a daughter.” Her phone beeped. “Fellas, I have to get a man out of jail. See you around.”
The air was cold, but the sun was warm. “Steakhouse or salad bar?” my dad said.
He didn’t need to be gnawing on rib fat. “Afraid it’ll have to be rabbit food.”
He slapped my knee. “Maybe I ought to go with you to see the Lyles woman.”
“Thanks, but it’ll be better if I go solo. You know, so it doesn’t look like I’m going because my old man forced me to.”
“You ever gonna cut that hair?”
“When I start stepping on it.”
“That’ll be an interesting look.” He sighed as he pushed himself up from the bench. “Salad, huh? Bleh.”
“Dad, seriously, it’s cool if you have a girlfriend in Marathon.”
“Jay, seriously, back off. There’s nothing going on down there. Let’s go, we’re getting steaks.”
After school the next day, Tuesday afternoon, I headed for Mrs. Lyles’s house. I bought flowers but realized they would make me look like a kiss-ass, and I gave them away. I wasn’t into my second rap on the door when it opened. Her eyes were puffy slits rimmed with washed-out mascara. She smoked a cigarette. “I’m just on my way out,” she said.
“Ma’am, my name is Jay Nazzaro.”
“What do you want?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, wait, you’re him. You’re the. .” She slammed the door.
I nodded to nobody but myself. I was at the curb when I heard “Wait.”
I headed back up to the porch and waited at the threshold. “You see me holding the door for you, don’t you?” she said.
The house was more of a wreck than the last time I’d. . been there. We went to the kitchen. “Sit.” She laid out coffee mugs. “That night at the party a couple years ago. Angela told me you stood up for her.” She poured old coffee. “The detective told me your name, but I couldn’t place it until just now, when I saw your face.” She pulled a faux leather bound album from a stack on the table and flipped to a sketched portrait of me. Angela must have drawn it from memory, because I couldn’t remember posing for a picture like this. She nailed me, my eyes, my trying not to look scared. I hated her a little more for getting inside me like that.
“She told me the whole story,” Mrs. Lyles said. “Or at least the story that was told to her. She herself remembered just tatters of it. I told her she should go out with you, but she said she wasn’t good enough.” Her eyes went to her wristwatch. “I have to visit my daughter now. I’m afraid. I’d like to know if you would come with me.”