“That’s enough.” Her mother’s voice cut across her own. “It is absolutely ridiculous that you think you can come here for two months out of the year and cause havoc like you do back home!”
Pinky felt such a sharp sting of hurt, she couldn’t speak for a moment. Was that all her mom saw this as? Some ridiculous flighty whim? So the connection Pinky thought they’d had when they were reminiscing about the habitat at breakfast was all what? Another one of her mom’s misinterpretations? “I am not causing havoc. I’m participating in the havoc,” she said, instead of the million and one other things she wanted to say, like, “Oh, I cause havoc in your life, do I? Is that why you hate me?” or “Yeah, I guess I’ve been wreaking havoc on you since seventeen years ago; so sorry about being born!” or even “Do you seriously not remember what that place used to mean to us? How can you be this cold?” She cleared her throat and spoke as calmly as she could, trying to take a page from Samir’s book. “I’m merely lending my hand to protect those less fortunate than I am.”
“Are you talking about the butterflies? Or the residents?” Chrissy Paige asked, looking dubious. She took a martini from a passing waiter and ate the olive. Pinky wanted to take the toothpick and prick her on the nose.
“Both!” Pinky said, beginning to lose her patience. “Does it really matter?”
“Oh, yes it does!” her mother said, turning to her, eyes flashing. “Are you seriously going to sit there and ask me if it matters?”
“You know what matters?” Pinky asked, in a last-ditch attempt to have something good come from all this. “Our habitat. Our butterfly habitat, the one we helped build. Don’t you remember?” She paused, and then said in a rush, “You should come to the protest with me tomorrow, Mom. We can do it together. We can save that place together.”
But her mom just looked at her like Pinky had asked her to go to a rave with her. “I most certainly will not, and neither will you!”
“Let’s all take a deep breath.” Pinky’s dad looked extremely nervous. He flashed a help me look at Samir.
“Yes, let’s,” Samir said, sitting up straighter. “Perhaps we should table this discussion for now.”
“That might be a good idea,” her mom said in a dignified tone.
Dignified. She was being dignified and reasonable and calm and all of those things that made Pinky want to scream. How could she keep her emotions out of all of this? Was she a total robot?
“It makes me so mad that what you care about is that I’m going to cause a disruption to some millionaire developer!” Pinky erupted. “Instead of being mad about the developer razing all our memories!”
Her mother frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“The butterfly habitat!” Pinky shouted. A few people at nearby tables turned to look in her direction, but she didn’t care. “Don’t you even remember? Don’t you even care that we had some of our happiest times there? Were you just bullshitting me at the breakfast table when you said you wanted to go with me this summer?”
Her mother stared at her for a long time. “What?”
“You know what?” Pinky said, standing and scraping her chair back. She was vaguely aware that hot tears were spilling down her cheeks. “Whatever. I’m done with this. I’m going home.”
“Wait!” her mother called to her retreating back. “Let’s talk about this!”
Pinky laughed and turned around. “Don’t pretend like you give a crap,” she told her mom. “Just give it up already. We all know the truth anyway.” And then she pushed her way past all the swankily dressed people and raced outside into the night.
* * *
“So this is your new thing now, huh?” Samir called.
Sniffling, Pinky turned around to see him chasing her to the parking lot. “What?”
“Running out of country-club soirees,” he explained as he took off his tux jacket. “And I guess mine is chasing you out. Are we going to climb onto the roof again or what?”
“No,” Pinky said, turning back around. “I’m going home.”
“Pinky.” He caught up with her and took her upper arm. She turned to look at him. “Hey.” Samir’s face softened when he saw the mascara running down her face. Gently wiping her tears, he said, “It’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t.” Pinky’s voice wobbled as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. “No matter what I do, Samir, she’s always going to find a reason to criticize me. When it’s me against the world, she’s always going to side with the world.”
He didn’t say anything; just held her while she cried, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her bare back where the dress didn’t cover her. “Let me take you home,” he said finally. “Your parents gave me the key to their car.”
“Okay.” Her voice come out all muffled since her face was pressed into his chest. “How are they going to get home, though?”
“They said they’d find a ride with someone. Come on.” Samir took her hand and they began to walk together through the empty parking lot, toward the rental car.
Samir
“Here you go,” Samir said, handing her a mug of steaming peppermint tea. “I sweetened it with just a touch of honey.”
Pinky smiled as she rested her back against his headboard, her knees drawn up. “Thanks.”
They were still dressed in their party attire, though Samir had taken off his bow tie, and they’d both kicked off their shoes. Samir’s heart hurt at just how beautiful she looked.
Pinky took a sip of the tea and closed her eyes. He sat at the foot of the bed, watching her, wanting to take away her pain but knowing he was powerless to do that. When she opened them again, he asked, “Feel a bit better?”
She nodded. “I’ve stopped crying, so that’s a plus, right?”
He smiled a little.
Pinky took a breath, and he could tell she was trying to ramp up her courage for something. He could guess what that “something” was—he’d been thinking about it since she’d brought it up at the club. Part of him didn’t want her to ask him the question, not when she was already so raw, not when she’d already cried a river of tears. He didn’t want to add to her pain. But the other part knew it was time to be honest. It was time to have this conversation.
“Samir… what happened back there? At the club? I was talking about still being your girlfriend and you still having the internship, and… you had this look on your face.” Her hands tightened around her mug.
Samir closed his eyes for just a fraction of a second before opening them and holding her gaze. “I… Pinky, I really like you. Okay?”
She was barely breathing. “But?”
He shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “Don’t you feel it? Something seismic, just below the surface, wanting to pull us apart?”
She bit her trembling lip. “I know. I’ve felt it, Samir. I’ve had doubts too. But we could fight against it. We could figure it out. We can’t just let this go. You said it yourself; people who are completely different have relationships all the time that work out.”