“I don’t know about this,” I said. I pictured sitting across the table from Dave at Chauncey’s, and then, as I reached for the bread, knocking over my water glass. The worst would be when he reassured me that it was no big deal. And it would be no better if he knocked over a glass. It would not comfort me if he, or any guy, said softly, with a smile meant just for me (in fact, softly and with a smile meant just for me would be the deadliest parts), You know, I’m nervous, too. Or, I don’t know what I’m doing, either. He should just be competent and shut up-that would be ideal.
“What exactly are you afraid of?” Martha said.
“I know. I’m being weird.”
“No, really. Answer the question. What are you afraid of?”
I was afraid that Dave had chosen Chauncey’s because he thought it was nice, when it wasn’t that nice. I was afraid he’d tell some jokey story, ostensibly to the waitress but really for my benefit, and I’d be worrying the whole time about whether it was actually going to be funny, and if it wasn’t funny, would I be able to muster up appropriate laughter? And to compensate, not wanting to miss the punch line, I’d begin tittering halfway through. I was afraid of how even though I would put on lotion before I left the dorm, I’d feel like the skin around my mouth was peeling, and this suspicion would be another conversation under the one we were having, a continuous murmur that would rise in volume as we sat there. It would be demanding more of my attention, most of my attention, then almost all of it, and just before I went to the bathroom to check for sure (as if, thirty seconds after I came out of the bathroom, I wouldn’t start wondering about the peeling all over again), I’d be tilting my head and shifting my chin to prevent him from looking at me straight on. It was so hard to feel comfortable with another person was the problem, and what guarantee was there that it would be worth it?
“First dates are supposed to be awkward,” Martha said. “And then after you’ve been going out for six months, you look back, and you think about how funny it was when you didn’t know each other.”
“So I should go?”
“You definitely should go. And you should wear your turtleneck sweater because it makes your boobs look big.”
“Yuck,” I said.
“If my boobs looked as big as yours in that sweater, I’d steal it from you.” Martha wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously, and I thought how liking a boy was just the same as believing you wanted to know a secret-everything was better when you were denied and could feel tormented by curiosity or loneliness. But the moment of something happening was treacherous. It was just so tiring to have to worry about whether your face was peeling, or to have to laugh at stories that weren’t funny. All I really wanted was this, I thought-to sit around in the dorm, goofing off with Martha.
Martha had gone to the library, and I was sitting at my desk, working on algebra-or, more precisely, gazing at the pages of the textbook in front of me without actually absorbing anything-when Adele Sheppard, a senior, stuck her head in the room. “Phone call,” she said, then ducked back around and let the door shut.
I felt myself tense. Friday was not a night my family would call. So what if it was Dave, just wanting to chat? (Could he have gotten the number for Elwyn’s? That seemed unlikely.) Or, far worse, what if it was Mrs. Morino or a nurse from the infirmary calling about Sin-Jun? They’d been wrong to let her come back to campus, and she’d found a razor, or tied a sheet to a pipe near the ceiling. But when I picked up the phone, it was Sin-Jun herself who said, “Lee, I have favor to ask. I leaving on Sunday with Father.”
“For good?”
“Maybe yes.”
“Wow, I’m sorry. Or is that-are you glad?”
“Maybe it’s better to be home. The favor I ask is for you to get passport. It’s in middle drawer of my desk. You can do this?”
“Yeah, that’s no problem. Do you need it tonight?”
“Tomorrow is fine. Lee, I have very fat stomach now. Do you know why?”
“You don’t have a fat stomach.”
“It is so full with caramel. I eat a whole bag.”
“That sounds delicious,” I said, and I suddenly felt how I’d missed Sin-Jun, how I still missed her in this moment.
Because of the rush on Saturdays between the end of morning classes and the start of athletic games in the afternoon, the dining hall didn’t make a real lunch but simply set out sandwich fixings and fruit and cookies on a long table, and you could eat the food there or stuff it in a brown bag and take it with you on the bus. I had a home game, so I didn’t need to hurry. I made a turkey sandwich and went to sit at a table with Dede, also on my basketball team, and Aspeth, who played squash, and a couple guys. Sitting there, I could feel the relief of the weekend come over me. I even felt okay about our game-we were playing against Gordon, whom we’d beaten back in December by more than twenty points.
I had just bitten into a potato chip when I felt a hand on my back, and I turned-calmly, I turned, assuming at a level below consciousness that it was Martha or someone else unremarkable-and when I saw that it was Dave Bardo, the horror I felt made my entire body stiffen. His face above his apron was flushed and sweaty, and perspiration ran in rivulets from his forehead.
“Lee,” he said. “Listen.”
I was between Dede and Devin Billinger; to see Dave, I had turned to the left and craned my neck, and Dede had turned to the right, also gazing up at him. Probably everyone else at the table was looking at him-at us-but I wasn’t going to check.
“Lynn needs the car tomorrow,” he said. “Can we postpone?”
It took a few seconds for me to realize it was a question that required a response.
I swallowed. “That’s fine.”
“Any other night this coming week is fine. I’m not on for Tuesday or Thursday, but if those nights don’t work, Sandy owes me a shift, so I’m pretty open.”
“Okay.”
“Okay meaning which night?”
“I don’t-I don’t know.” I could hear that my voice was deadened and emotionless.
“Is everything cool?” he said. “Are you…” He trailed off, and his eyes shifted around the table.
“I’m fine,” I said.
When his gaze came back to me, he said-he sounded sarcastic, the only time I heard sarcasm from him-“All right then. Got it. Didn’t mean to interrupt. See you around, huh, Lee?”
When he’d walked away, I turned back to the table. Looking at no one, with a shaking hand, I picked up another potato chip.
“Who’s your boyfriend?” Aspeth said.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Are you sure? It kind of looks like he is.”
“Aww, yeah,” said Devin. He was responding to Aspeth and not to me, but the situation was unbearable. My mind raced: Would other people find out about this-would Cross Sugarman, who was Devin’s roommate?-and what would they make of it? Which words would they use to speculate about Lee Fiora’s link to the kitchen guy? But the real question was, what had made me imagine this wouldn’t happen? Why had I assumed that Dave knew we were being circumspect?
“At least tell us his name,” Aspeth said, and I felt hot and sick and desperate for the moment to pass.
Beside me, Dede said, “This tuna is totally rancid.”
“You didn’t see the sign?” said Devin. “It said, Eat at your own risk.”
“Hardy har,” Dede said. “That’s so funny.”
Later, before our game, Dede came up to me in the locker room and said, “Are you going out with that guy?” When I said no, she said, “I’m sure he’s okay, but you’re an Ault student. Your life is here, not at a bowling alley in Raymond or wherever you were supposed to go with him. You can act like I’m being snobby, but I’m just telling you the truth. I don’t think you want to separate yourself from the rest of our grade.” I said nothing. “And you will,” Dede continued. “People will definitely talk if you’re dating a townie.” That’s what Dede said to me in the locker room, later. But in the dining hall, she was the one who changed the subject. And I know that both times that day-sometimes I pretended otherwise, but Dede did not have a bad heart-she was trying to help. And even if she was wrong, even if she was only partly wrong, she wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already believe.