“What?” Jamie says.
“You licked my arm twice. I have to wash it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m going to go wash my arm now,” I say. I let go of the couch and step my way across the floor. My feet aren’t quite going the way I tell them to; they step to the side and fling me forward before I’m ready.
“Bring me some more hair thingies, darling,” Alex says.
“You’re not done yet?” Sasha asks. I grab at the doorframe as I go into the hall, and I don’t hear what Alex says in reply. Ever since my second drink, I have had a warm and happy, free feeling, like I’m in a nice hot bath and invincible. I’ve had four drinks now, and something is bubbling up in me like a laugh caught in my chest, tickling me nicely as it struggles to break out.
I go to the upstairs bathroom, my favorite because of the clawfoot tub. The year I was ten, I could lay on my back with my feet at one end and my head grazing the other perfectly. I have to bend my knees now. I step inside and wiggle around until I’m comfortable. Then I have to wiggle again to get my cell phone out of my pocket.
I shift around, trying to find the comfortable spot again as the phone rings. When he answers, I stop moving.
“Autumn?”
“Finny, hi,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I’m drunk.”
“Oh,” he says. And then, “Oh.”
I feel a swell of pride in my chest; I surprised Finny. And I’ve been drunk now, just like him. I laugh, then remember that I’m trying to be quiet. “Now I know why you do this,” I whisper. I cover my mouth with one hand to stifle my giggle.
“Where are you?” he says.
“In the bathtub,” I say.
“Whose?”
“Mine. With the feet. I’m hiding from my friends.”
“Why?”
“So I can call you, silly.” He laughs, one short bark that turns to a sigh. I frown and shift again. The porcelain sides are digging into my elbows. “Was that mean to say?” I ask.
“No, it’s not mean. Just true.”
“But I still have to tell you why I called you.”
“Why’d you call me?”
“When we go to visit Mom tomorrow night, will you come too?”
“You want me to come?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come, but you have to promise me two things.”
“Fine,” I say.
“Number one, when we hang up, I want you to go downstairs and drink a big glass of water. And before you go to bed, have another one.”
“Why?”
“You won’t be as sick tomorrow, hopefully.”
“Okay.”
“Number two is very important, Autumn.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t have sex with Jamie while you’re drunk,” Finny says. I close my eyes. I know what I want to say, but I am silent. My words can’t find their way through the fog of my mind and out of my mouth. There is something here, something significant, if I could just find it. “Autumn?” he says.
“I wasn’t going to,” I say. The words fall from me like stones dropping into water—one, two, three, four.
“Okay,” he says. We’re both quiet now. There is a thump downstairs, and laughter. “I was going to come on Thursday anyway,” he says.
“Jamie and I are going to have sex after graduation,” I say. There is a pause. I can hear him breathing.
“Why then?”
“I dunno.” I want him to tell me that it’s okay, that it’s the right thing to do.
“How many drinks have you had?” he asks.
“Three,” I say, “and I have one waiting for me downstairs.”
“I think you should stop after that.”
“You’re always so bossy,” I say.
“Promise me,” Finny says.
“I promise,” I say.
“Okay then.”
“I’m supposed to be washing my arm. I should go.”
“Why are you washing your arm?”
“Jamie licked it. Twice.”
“Is that something he normally does?”
“No. He’s drunk too.”
“Don’t forget to drink your water.”
“I won’t. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Downstairs, the good spy is flying off on a helicopter with the girl. I’ve forgotten to get any “hair thingies” for Alex, but Sasha’s head is on his shoulder now and he doesn’t notice. My arm is red and itchy where I rubbed it with hot water, proof that I was washing it upstairs. I sit down next to the other boy I’m in love with.
“What’s that?” he says.
“A glass of water,” I say. “You want some?”
“Sure,” he says. I hand him my glass. He takes two gulps and passes it back to me. I finish it and cuddle up next to him. He leans his head against mine. The spy kisses the girl and the music swells. The screen fades to black.
Tonight I will sleep all night with Jamie in my bed but we will not have sex. In the morning, he will kiss me and breathe his hot breath on my neck and I’ll bury my head in his shoulder. Angie will be vomiting in the bathroom down the hall. Alex will be sick too. Jamie and I won’t be sick. Those of us who can eat will fry eggs, and with glazed eyes we will all watch the morning news on the couch. No one will talk much. I won’t tell them that I’m visiting my mother later. When they are gone, I will be relieved, and I will go back to sleep.
That evening, I will put on a skirt and go next door. I will decline when Finny offers me the front seat. Aunt Angelina will turn the station to oldies and no one will sing along. I will watch the back of Finny’s head as the car turns into the hospital parking lot because he is there, right there, and he was going to be anyway.
45
I think I have read every book at the library. Every novel, that is. Every novel that I want to read. Or might be willing to give a try. If someone had told me that this was possible ten years ago, I wouldn’t have believed it. Books are unlimited.
I spin the rack with the sign “New Acquisitions” in bold letters. The air conditioning is too cool and I have goose bumps. My mother is home again. My father is at work. The Fourth of July is tomorrow.