Justin Kramon (26 page)

“My dad thinks cranberry juice is the cure for everything,” Judith said.

“Panacea,” Mrs. Turngate said.

“Delicious,” Finny said.

Mr. Turngate followed this up with a string of polite comments: “Good, good, a lot of benefits, glad you like it, please come any time, help yourself, thank you, thank you, enjoy—”

“Linus,” Mrs. Turngate said to Judith’s father. “Let the girl eat.”

“Yes, very sorry, beg your pardon, please enjoy, so nice to have you …”

For a while they ate in silence. Judith hardly looked up from her plate. It was not the glamorous butlered meal Finny had envisioned when Judith had described her parents to her in their dorm room at Thorndon. Though none of them seemed uncomfortable with the silence. Finny guessed this must have been the way they spent all their meals.

Once they were finished with their food, and they had all drunk their cranberry juice, a stage of the meal Mr. Turngate observed with particular interest, Mrs. Turngate said to Finny, “I hear you are acquainted with our future son-in-law.”

“I believe so,” Finny said, wondering what Mrs. Turngate meant.

“Mom,”
Judith said. “I’m not seeing Milton anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Turngate said. “Linus, did you hear that?”

“Yes, yes, well, takes time, all for the best, whatever makes you happy, your mother knows best….”

“What?” Judith said to her father. “I don’t understand what your point is.”

But her father looked positively terrified at being caught between Judith and her mother. He shrugged and turned the color of his cranberry juice.

“He’s been behaving badly,” Judith said to her mother about Prince. “You wouldn’t approve of it, Mom.”

Mrs. Turngate raised her eyebrows. “The Hollibrands are a good family,” she said. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘behaving badly,’ but you know I’ve always thought highly of Milton.”

“I know you have, Mom. But you hardly know him.”

“I know his family.”

And she left it at that. They asked Finny a few polite questions about her trip, and then everyone scattered to different rooms of the apartment.

Later that night, as Finny was brushing her teeth, Judith came into the bathroom and said to her, “I hope you know I’m never talking to that asshole again, after what he did to you. He can’t control himself. I didn’t want to get into it with my mom, since she’s best friends with Prince’s mom and they have this idea we’re going to end up together and live in the Hollibrands’ house in Westhampton. But it’s bullshit. I just want you to know that, Fin. I think Prince is an animal, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re done. I told Sylvan that last night, while we were waiting for you.”

Finny rinsed her mouth and spat into the sink. “Then what’s going on with you and Sylvan?”

“We’re going to see how it goes,” Judith said.

“That’s great,” Finny said. She looked at the skin around her eye, which was purple and a little puffy.

“Thanks,” Judith said. “I thought you’d approve.”

“Sylvan is an ass,” Finny said, “but he comes from a good family.”

Judith laughed at that for a long time, and Finny was glad to see Judith had a sense of humor about her mother.

“What’s the status with you and Earl?” Judith asked.

“I think ‘seeing how it goes’ about captures it.”

Finny tried to read the spice article again before she went to sleep, but the headache came back and she had to put the magazine down.

“What is it?” Judith said. They were sharing the bed, the way they had when Judith came to visit Finny in Maryland all those years ago.

“It’s my head. Every time I read.”

“I think you should take a few days here, Fin. Till you feel better. It won’t make a difference. Actually, they never discuss anything the first week anyway.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Finny said, because her head really did hurt, and she worried about traveling if she couldn’t read any signs. Plus, what use would she be at Stradler if she couldn’t read?

“I’ll give it another day,” Finny said.

“Perfect,” Judith said, and they went to sleep.

Chapter
27
Several Significant Developments

“Master
of the
house, keeper
of the
wine …”

Finny was blinking out of sleep as she heard the words to this familiar song. The digital alarm clock by the bed read 10:48. “Holy shit,” Finny said.

“And good morning to you, too,” said the voice that had been singing a moment before. Carter stood by the bed where Finny lay, his skinny body clothed in a brightly patterned child-size argyle sweater, fitted jeans, and red sneakers. His hair was mussed in the careful way Finny had seen it at Judith’s party, swooping over his right ear and sticking up like a cowlick in back.

“I hope you’re ready to make something of this afternoon,” Carter went on. “I’ve been assigned to entertain you while Judith is in class, and my call time isn’t till four-thirty, so you better be ready to enjoy this goddamn beautiful day.”

“How’s it going, Carter?”

“Lovely, darling,” he said, bending over to smack a kiss on Finny’s cheek. “By the way, that’s a nasty bruise you’ve got.”

“It’s from a nasty bruiser, as you might have heard.”

“Bits and pieces.”

“Can you give me a few minutes to make some calls and brush my teeth?” Finny asked.

“Well,” Carter said, with an exaggerated air of frustration, “if you must. Then I suppose I could be persuaded to investigate the contents of the Turngates’ well-stocked liquor cabinet. But just know that you are responsible for driving me to such extremes of behavior.”

“You’re going to drink at eleven in the morning?”

“New York is a tough, tough city,” Carter said, and then left in search of the liquor cabinet.

Finny found her phone card in her backpack. She was delighted to see that her headache wasn’t as bad when she read the instructions on the back. The first call she made was to Sylvan. The machine picked up, so she left a message. “Hey, Syl, it’s your sister. I decided to stay at Judith’s an extra night because my head was bothering me yesterday, but I’m feeling better today and will probably head back tonight or tomorrow. Judith told me that you and she are talking, and you have my, uh, blessing, I guess. Take care. Bye.”

The next call was to Dorrie. She told her roommate that her flights had been delayed but that she’d be back soon and not to worry.

The third call was a bit longer distance. She knew she shouldn’t be making a bunch of overseas phone calls to a man who wasn’t even her boyfriend; but still, Earl would appreciate knowing she’d gotten in safely. And she needed some kind of closure to her trip. She figured a phone call might put the proper seal on it. She decided not to mention anything about Prince and the black eye, because what would be the point? Angry as she was, it would be impossible to explain to Earl that she also felt bad for Prince. Luckily, Earl picked up.

“Earl, it’s Finny.”

“Hey!” Earl said, in the excited way he always greeted Finny’s voice. “How was your trip?”

“Good,” Finny said. “Listen, I’m on a phone card and can’t talk long. But everything’s fine. I ended up staying at Judith’s an extra night and couldn’t get away to call you. The main thing is, I want to tell you I read your story and I loved it. It’s so good, Earl.”

“I can’t tell you how great that is to hear, Finny.”

There was a pause, as if neither of them knew where to go from here. Then Earl said, “I guess I have one other piece of news, which is that I sent the story to a literary magazine in the States and they accepted it. They’re going to publish it in their next issue.”

“Oh my God!” Finny screamed. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!” She was astonished. A publication! Earl was only twenty years old.

“I’m glad you’re excited, too,” Earl said.

“Earl, you’re really talented. I always had a feeling. But it’s great to see it. What’s the magazine called?”

“You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s called
Aftershock.
But it’s a pretty good one. They sell it at Barnes & Noble. I’m even getting a check.”

“The first of many, I’m sure,” Finny said.

“Well, thanks. I hope so.”

Another pause. Like a little wall, an obstacle they had to hop over every time they spoke to each other. Why had Earl placed this barrier there?

She was about to tell Earl how sad it made her, when he said, “I know you have to head off, but I wanted to tell you that this stuff with the publication made me think about some things. And there’s something else I want to talk to you about, when you have—”

But here the line clicked off. The phone card was out of minutes.

“Damn,”
Finny said. She picked up the phone and began to dial Earl’s number again, breathless for his news. But then she hesitated. She wasn’t sure what Judith’s parents would think of getting a call to France on their phone bill—even if they could have afforded several thousand calls to France. She decided she’d get a phone card while she was out with Carter, and call Earl back as soon as she returned to the apartment. She’d have to wait to call her mother, too, but Finny wasn’t so worried about that, since Laura hadn’t even asked the exact day when Finny was coming home.

“Okay!” Finny called to Carter after she’d washed up and gotten dressed. “Let’s go!” She’d found the cover-up and applied it again over her bruise.

“Yoorall better,” Carter said when he saw her. She smelled what she thought was gin on his breath.

“You on the other hand.”

But Carter didn’t pay attention. “I’m ship shop,” he said. “Shape soap.” He shook his head. “Shipshape. There we go.”

And they went.

“You’re probably starving,” Carter said when they were on the street. “If you were subjected to Bonnie Turngate’s cooking last night.”

“So you’ve tried her food?”

“Murder. Absolute murder. She could sap the flavor out of a bottle of hot sauce.”

It was a bright, cold afternoon, the branches of the trees along Central Park clacking in a gusty wind. The fresh air seemed to have diminished the effect of the alcohol on Carter. A man in a spandex running suit trotted past them, his breath clouding. Sunlight glittered on the cars. Finny could smell nuts roasting in a cart sitting at the entrance to the park.

“I guess I am kind of hungry,” Finny admitted.

“Then there’s only one solution,” Carter said. “Chinatown.”

They took the train to Canal Street, then walked down the Bowery. Finny had never been to this part of the city before, with the roasted ducks hanging in the windows, the bags of Asian sweets lined up in the grocery stores, the smell of fish and frying oil in the alleyways. She recognized a number of products from the cache of Asian food Poplan had kept in her room at Thorndon. Though now Finny could see what the fresh fruits looked like: pods of jackfruit in their bumpy cases, lychees, soursops, and kumquats. A man ran out from one of the restaurants and dumped a bucket of fish heads into a drainage grate by Finny’s feet.

“Brunch, anyone?” Finny said.

Carter took Finny to a Vietnamese restaurant he knew in a little horseshoe street off the Bowery. The restaurant was in the windowless basement of a somewhat run-down building, a festive shade of red paint flaking off the walls, and when they walked in, they were the only customers. A bored-looking staff eyed them as they made their way to a table. When the waiter came, he nodded to Carter, as if he knew him, and Carter told him the dishes they wanted in Vietnamese.

“No
banh xeo,”
the waiter said, shaking his head.

“Come on,” Carter said. “Just one.”

“Let me check,” the waiter said.

“We go through this every time,” Carter said when the waiter had left. “I ordered this Vietnamese crêpe, which is the best thing on the menu, but they hate to make the batter, so they only serve it to Vietnamese people and tell everyone else they’re out of it.”

The waiter came back. “One order,” he said to Carter. “All we have.”

“That’s great,” Carter said, and the waiter left again.

The crêpe turned out to be delicious. It was a thin, crisp pancake made from coconut milk and eggs, folded like an omelet around pork, shrimp, and bean sprouts. You wrapped lettuce leaves and fresh herbs around it and dipped the pieces in a salty translucent sauce.

Over the crêpe Finny said to Carter, “I feel bad intruding on Judith’s parents.”

“Why?” Carter said. “I’d do it if I could. In fact, since your little run-in, I’ve been considering getting punched by Prince just so I could live it up in the Turngate apartment for a week.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m in the way. Judith used to tell me, when we were at school together, that her father lived a certain kind of lifestyle.”

“You mean like cranberry juice and bridge games?”

“No, I mean like extramarital affairs. She said he liked to bring his girlfriend home in the middle of the day.”

For a second Carter stared blankly at Finny, his mouth open, displaying a half-chewed bite of
banh xeo.
Then he erupted in laughter. He laughed so hard he nearly slid out of his chair, and the waiter who had served them shook his head, as if he’d wasted the crêpe on someone who obviously wasn’t fit to eat it. Finny wasn’t sure what was so funny about this—she actually found the situation with Judith’s parents a little sad—but by the time Carter had seated himself again, he was gripping his stomach as if in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Carter said. “It’s just—I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. Could you imagine Linus Turngate conducting an affair?” Then Carter launched into a brief imitation of one of Mr. Turngate’s polite litanies: “Yes, thank you, please only lick my left testicle, yes, very nice, do you want it harder? Good, good, very nice to see you, do I make you horny? Very good, bye.”

Finny laughed, but she couldn’t help feeling a little hurt, too, as if Carter were making fun of Finny’s credulity as much as Mr. Turngate’s trains of courtesies. “Where did she get that idea, then?” Finny asked Carter. “Why would she say all those things?”

Here Carter stopped laughing. He watched Finny for a moment, the way a doctor might before delivering a poor prognosis to a patient. “There’s something you have to understand, Finny,” Carter said. “About Judith.”