He laughed at that. “I miss you, you little punk. When I’m back and you have all this sorted, stop by the apartment. Bring the girl. Unless you’re too embarrassed to let her see Rachel whoop your overeducated ass in Scrabble for the thousandth time.”
“Fuck you!” I said. “Your wife’s a cheater, and her two-letter words close off the board!”
Arthur laughed again. I was about to hang up and head into the clubhouse when he stopped me.
“Hey, Tyler?”
“Yeah?”
“Get it right this time.”
70
Katie
February, Ten Years Ago
Long Island
Downtown was blank and bleary. Just dangling power lines and leafless trees and brick rectangles that housed nail salons and places to file taxes, buy firewood, and pick up pizza to feed your family of four. I hopped out of Owen’s idling Jeep, and the frost struck my hair, nose, and eyes. With my hands bundled into the pockets of my coat—fuchsia with a giant bow in the back—I darted into the pharmacy and headed straight to the holiday aisle in search of what I’d come here for: Chapstick, a spool of pink ribbon, ten yards of cellophane, and as many oversize conversation hearts as twenty dollars would buy me.
I was making Valentines for everyone in the drama club. I always did. Valentine’s Day was kind of my thing. I was minding my own business, deciding between the half-inch ribbon and the quarter-inch, when I heard his voice.
“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be buying you this shit?”
My stomach knotted. I inhaled, rubbing my index finger against the spool’s plastic seal. I did not turn to face him.
“They’re for my friends, Tyler.”
“Adorable,” he said.
I twisted around, shaking. He had bags under his eyes. He always had—it was part of his look, but these weren’t that. These were bad. These were worse. Everything about him was droopy and distant and all wrong. I didn’t even have to avoid him at the house anymore. He and Mikey were never there. And at school? I hardly ever saw him, and when I did, we’d lock eyes for a split second, then both look the other way.
I knew what was happening, but not completely. Not entirely. It was not the kind of thing I wanted to understand. It felt safer that way. Undefined. Even when Ingrid squeezed my arm in the hall or took me out for a muffin after school, there was silence. Nobody wanted to call it what it was. If we did not allow ourselves to give it a name, then maybe, somehow, it could not be true.
“I, uh...” I didn’t want to look at him any longer. I began to turn around, clutching the ribbon in my trembling hand. “I have to go.”
“Why him, Katie?”
“Please leave me alone.”
He followed me down the aisle. Everything, fuzzy and frilly and pink and white. I turned, and he was standing there beside a gaggle of giant teddy bears holding cheaply embroidered, red satin hearts.I love you, they said.I love you.
“All the boys in this town,” he said, “and you had to pick him? I told you—”
“You told me what? What could he possibly do that’s so bad? Have sex with me? Dump me? What could he possibly—”
“You’re having sex with him? You’re fifteen years old. You’re—”
“So?” I said. “Did you think you were the only one who got to do that?”
Tyler grimaced. I shook my head, then began to walk toward the register. He curled his hand around my elbow. I jolted, then took three steps back.
“You’re not allowed to touch me.”
He nodded. He put his hands up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But Owen—He doesn’t...”
“He doesn’t what, Tyler?”
