The Grown Ups Read online

  Bella shrugged. “Frankie Cole is having a graduation party. It doesn’t matter when I get there.”

  “Is it safe to count his chickens before they hatch?”

  It took Bella a moment to figure out what her mother meant, but then she laughed. “He is the smartest dumb person I’ve ever met. Third in the class, can you believe it?” Bella’s mother raised her eyebrows and Bella laughed again. “If you ever saw any of them at a party you would have some serious doubts.”

  “Well, boys are a little slower catching up. Your brothers were such fools.”

  “That doesn’t even seem like it happened in my lifetime, you know? They were both so much older than me.”

  “You were my surprise.” Her mother’s smile was so wide it covered half her face, making fishtail pleats of flesh at the corners of her eyes.

  “Some surprise,” Bella said softly.

  “I wouldn’t have changed a thing, Bella.”

  “Seriously, Mom?” Bella said. “How can you even say that? If you hadn’t had me you might not have gotten sick.”

  “Bella, listen, tomorrow is not a guarantee for anyone.”

  Bella rolled her eyes. Her parents had been holiday-only Episcopalians and that was how they had raised her brothers and Bella. But the sicker her mother got, the more phrases acknowledging a spiritual world had entered her mother’s lexicon.

  “Doctors try their best with the science at hand,” her mother continued, “but they can’t tell you what it’s going to be like to live with your decisions while you wait out their medical conclusions. I wanted you before I knew who you were. It’s important for you to know that.”

  Bella looked down at her feet. She didn’t want to have this particular discussion with her mother right now. Her once-white sneakers were now gray and smelly from being caught in too many rainstorms and wading at the shore, and were decorated with designs in Sharpie marker. The laces were shredded and the rubber was worn off in places. But she didn’t want a new pair. She hated the look of new sneakers. “Do you want a bowl of ice cream?” she asked abruptly, standing without waiting for an answer. It was mean, this upper hand that she played, and she knew it and regretted it, but it still didn’t prevent her from doing it.

  She took the carton of vanilla from the freezer and scooped until her hand hurt. She filled two bowls and carried them back outside, handing her mother a spoon along with the bowl. She placed a dish towel on her mother’s lap and watched as her mother rested the bowl on her thighs.

  Bella sat back down and buried her head in her bowl of ice cream. She didn’t look up until she had three brain freezes and the bowl was almost empty. When the sliding glass door opened behind them she twisted in the seat, surprised that the light had faded so quickly. There was a milky film over her teeth and tongue and she wished for a glass of water.

  “Ladies,” her father said as he walked toward them, trying hard to contain the surprise in his voice. He was without his suit jacket and his tie was looped around his neck untied, but his face bore the exhaustion of a day that was never-ending.

  Bella looked over at her mother. The ice cream was nearly untouched and was now a puddle of white cream that threatened to overflow onto her lap. Bella reached for the bowl and put it down on the deck.

  Her father steadied himself by grabbing on to the handles of the wheelchair before he bent over to kiss her mother lightly on the top of her head. Bella looked away. It was just as awful to witness a completely asexual kiss as it was to see a passionate one.

  “Where’s Sasha?” Her father squinted into the corners of the deck as if the nurse’s aide were hiding.

  Bella shrugged. “Broken car, no bus, I don’t know.” Her mother was looking down at her lap. Bella knew she hated the presence of the nurse’s aides in the house. She had reluctantly agreed to someone during the day and evening but refused to have a night nurse, making do from eleven until seven, when the day aide came in.

  Her father sighed. “I’ll call the agency, get someone new tomorrow. Should we go inside?” His hands reached for the wheelchair’s brake.

  “Why don’t you go make a drink and bring it out here?”

  Bella and her father glanced at each other, surprised by Bella’s mother’s suggestion. Bella looked away quickly, collected the ice cream bowls, and stood up. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urgency to run away. She walked back into the house without a word and deposited the bowls in the kitchen sink. When she looked back outside her father had taken her seat. His hand was on the armrest of the wheelchair, his legs splayed out in front of him. She could tell from the movement of her mother’s head that she was talking. Occasionally her father nodded, even laughed. It should have made Bella feel better, but it just made her angry.

  In the way, way back of Frankie Cole’s backyard, which was really a second lot that had remained wooded and undeveloped, there was a tremendous bonfire in the fire pit and constellations of people dodging stray sparks. Bella searched for a familiar face and almost immediately ran into Stephen Winters and Peter Chang carrying cases of beer.

  “Take one,” Peter urged, his face red and puffy. “Or six.”

  Bella took a can even though she really didn’t want it. Peter huffed with effort and walked by, Stephen in the rear. He carried three cases to Peter’s two and it barely looked like it was an effort.

  “There you are! Finally!” Mindy grabbed Bella’s arm. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” Bella said, handing Mindy her beer.

  Mindy took it and popped the lid. She took a large swallow before she sighed. “We’re never going to see each other again.”

  Bella laughed. “Min—we live within blocks of each other. All of us.”

  “Ugh, can’t you just let me be dramatic for once?” Mindy smirked. “We are all going off to discover the world and then what? We’ve been together our entire lives!”

  Bella shook her head and looked back toward the fire for Sam. “Vassar is in Poughkeepsie. Sarah Lawrence is a few train stops away in Bronxville. The world? Really?”

  “The world is out there waiting for us. My guidance counselor, my parents, and Seventeen magazine have told me so.” Mindy frowned. “Whoa, why are you so bitchy?”

  “I’m sorry,” Bella said quickly. It wasn’t Mindy’s fault that Bella wanted to get as far away from her house as possible tonight.

  Mindy smiled again and squeezed Bella’s arm. When she did, the beer she was holding tipped and spilled. She righted her hand quickly, only to spill more beer all over her shirt. “I’m drunk, I think.” Mindy burped. “Have you seen Peter?”

  Bella pointed in the direction he had gone.

  Mindy swayed. “You okay if I go? Ruthie is over there by the fire with a hundred of our closest friends, and Celia is around somewhere outrunning Johnny Ross.”

  “Okay, I’ll go find them. You don’t need any help?”

  “Bella, Bella, Bella.” Mindy lunged toward her and cupped Bella’s face in both of her hands. “You are a gem. A true friend. But no, I am fine. I am going to find Peter Chang and we are going to kiss. It is probably a mistake, but I’m feeling it and I think he is too.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Mindy?” Mindy had made Bella and Ruthie swear that they would rescue her from herself where Peter Chang was concerned. But maybe, Bella thought, maybe Peter Chang wasn’t such a bad idea for Mindy. Maybe she just didn’t know it yet. Bella reached out and grabbed Mindy by the sleeve. “Hey, if you want Peter Chang, who am I to stop you?”

  Mindy gave her a wide, sloppy smile and then shrugged off her arm and drifted toward the house. Bella turned and continued walking, although she had no real plan until she saw Sam. His back was to her, and though he was surrounded by people on all sides, it was obvious to her he was alone, staring into the fire.

  She walked up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to the dip between his shoulder blades. Bella closed her eyes for a second, grateful for Sam’s quiet, stea
dy presence. After a few minutes she let go and Sam twisted around to face her. “Hey there,” he said. He pressed his lips to hers and she felt, as she had the first time, that they were meant to do this very thing forever. “Where’ve you been? I was just going to start looking for you.”

  “I just had some stuff to do at home,” Bella whispered as she found his mouth again. Sam tasted like beer and smelled like woodsmoke. He tightened his arms around her and squeezed, lifting her slightly off the ground before putting her back down. Bella felt fused to him, the length of his thighs against hers, the hard angles of chest and arms. She felt soft, molding her body into his. They leaned their foreheads together and swayed back and forth.

  “My dad is up at the lake,” Sam said in a low voice.

  “So?” Bella teased.

  “Later on? Can you spend the night?”

  “Will you make me pancakes for breakfast if I do?” Bella grinned, enjoying the moment. Of course she wanted to spend an entire night with Sam.

  Sam laughed. “Bella, you’re killing me.”

  Bella smiled and kissed his cheek; there was a little bit of stubble and her lips stung from the tiny cluster of hairs.

  “DUDE! Turner! There you are!”

  Bella and Sam swung around as Peter Chang and Frankie Cole came toward them. Frankie held aloft a bottle of vodka. “SHOTS! Now!”

  Bella shook her head. She looked behind Peter for Mindy, but she wasn’t there. Peter thrust a cup at Sam and Frankie began pouring. Bella disentangled from Sam. “I think I’m going to find Mindy and Ruthie.”

  Sam hooked a finger through her belt loop and tugged. “No.”

  “Yes,” Bella said. “Enjoy your shots.” She smiled and looked over at Frankie. “Where are your parents, anyway? This is getting kind of crazy.” In the short amount of time she’d been at the party the woods seemed to have grown even more crowded.

  “Everyone needs to leave by midnight. They’re in the city for a play and dinner.” Frankie poured vodka into the cup. He seemed sober, but even Bella knew that was impossible. “I figure that gives me until one to clean up.”

  “Are you kidding?” Bella looked over at Sam, who shook his head and shrugged. She leaned over and glanced at Peter Chang’s wristwatch. “It’s after eleven. Have you seen how many people are here?”

  “It’s a little nuts,” Peter Chang admitted as he squinted toward the fire.

  “Really?” Frankie looked up. “Can you do me a favor, Bella, and start telling people they need to get going?” He grinned at her and then passed the vodka bottle to Peter Chang. “Pretty please?”

  Bella rolled her eyes. She twisted Sam’s T-shirt into a knot and brushed her fingers against his stomach before she pulled away. When she looked back at him he was staring at her from over the cup he’d raised to his lips.

  It was after two when Bella and Sam staggered into his darkened kitchen through the back door. They had managed to get rid of everyone before the Coles arrived home, but Frankie would have to craft a convincing story when the sun rose of why there was a confetti spill of beer cans and cups in the backyard, not to mention the enormous circle of blackened grass where the flames had overshot the fire pit.

  Bella had her arm around Sam’s waist and his arm was slung across her shoulders as they tripped over the threshold. He’d had way too many shots, so it was Bella who led the way through the shadows to Sam’s bedroom. When they got there Sam pulled Bella down onto the bed and rolled over on top of her. “Finally,” he said softly against her hair. “Finally.”

  Bella laughed and pushed Sam slightly off of her so she could breathe. Their legs were still entwined but their heads were side by side on Sam’s pillow. If she turned her head she could press her lips against his without moving. Sam reached down and grabbed her hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissed her fingers, and then held it against his chest. “Bella,” he whispered.

  “Sam,” Bella whispered back.

  “You’re here. In my bed.”

  “And you’re very drunk.”

  Sam moaned. “Give me a minute.”

  Bella laughed quietly. “How many of me can you see right now?”

  “I don’t know. I’m scared to turn my head too quickly.”

  Bella closed her eyes. She could smell the boy-ness of Sam on his sheets: shampoo mixed with sweat and detergent and foul sneakers and another layer of whatever he’d had to drink that night. “Hey—do you feel like you’re going to be sick?”

  Sam didn’t answer. His limbs were like lead weights on top of hers. Bella nudged him gently, afraid to make it worse. “Do you need a bucket?”

  Very carefully, his words measured, Sam said, “I don’t think so.”

  Bella attempted to disentangle so she could get up and get the wastebasket just in case. But Sam roused himself enough to stop her. “No, no. Don’t.”

  “I’m coming right back.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” Bella tried again to move but Sam wasn’t cooperating.

  “I ruined everything.”

  “It takes more than some vodka to ruin everything.” Bella kissed Sam’s neck below his ear.

  “That’s so nice.”

  Bella kissed his neck again.

  “Really nice.”

  Bella rolled onto her side and curled up against Sam, bringing her knees toward her chest, careful not to place them anywhere near his stomach. “Mindy is worried that we’re never going to see each other again. She said we’re flinging out to the far corners of the world.”

  “Like pinballs?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Pinballs roll back and bounce off each other again before they find a landing place. Over and over and over.”

  “Is that what you think we’re going to do? Bounce off each other until we find that landing place?”

  Sam bucked against the bed and the mattress moved beneath them. “You know I like to bounce off you.” He laughed.

  Bella laughed with him. “Hold on, cowboy, you’re going to puke.”

  “Not going to puke,” Sam said quietly. “Why do you like me?” He let go of Bella’s fingers and brushed the back of his hand against her bra over her shirt. With his other hand he fumbled with the button of her jeans and when his fine motor skills failed him he slid his hands up under her shirt and cupped her breasts. “Off,” was all she heard him say as he slid down beside her until his mouth was level with her bra. He bit at her nipples through the fabric. Bella put her hands on his shoulders to get his attention. He stopped what he was doing and stared at her from beneath heavy lids as she sat half up and lifted the shirt over her head and unhooked her bra. She tossed it over the side of the bed, and before she could even lie down Sam’s mouth had found a nipple, while his fingers slowly drew out the other.

  “You,” Bella gasped.

  “What?” Sam stopped what he was doing and looked up at her, a boyish little grin on his lips, his cheeks flushed a deep red. When all of a sudden he swallowed hard, Bella saw in his eyes a rising panic. She rolled off the bed and dove for the tin wastebasket under the desk, sliding it to the bed just as Sam’s head came over the side. She turned away, but from the sound of it he managed to get it all in the can.

  Bella scrambled around the room and grabbed at a pile of laundry still unfolded in the basket at the end of Sam’s bed. There had to be a T-shirt in there. Her clothes were somewhere on the floor by the trash can. Finding one, she slipped it on over her head and ran to the bathroom for a towel.

  When she returned to the room Sam was sitting up in the middle of the bed with his head in his hands. It smelled awful. Bella opened the windows and moved the wastebasket away from the bed with her foot. She handed Sam the towel and he dabbed at his face.

  She tried to hold her breath as she moved closer to him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, his face buried in the towel.

  “You want some water?”

  “I’ll get it.” He swung his legs over
the bed and steadied himself before he stood. He was wobbly as he made his way to the door, so Bella moved to support him around the waist. He was pale and shaking as they made their way to the bathroom. When they got to the door Sam turned to her. “I’m good, better.” He tried to touch her face with his hand but he missed. “I love you.”

  Bella nodded, too stunned to respond. Sam shut the bathroom door and she sank down on the floor outside the bathroom. Had it only been tonight that she’d waited in the exact same place for her mother? She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “Sam?” she called.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m going to go home.”

  He didn’t respond right away. Bella stood and pressed her ear against the door. She tapped her fingers lightly. “Sam?”

  “I heard you. I was trying to think of something to say to change your mind. But there’s puke in my bedroom. So . . .”

  Bella smiled. She heard the squeak of the faucets turning on and then off. Soon afterward Sam opened the bathroom door. His face was damp and he rubbed his hands against his jeans. She caught a whiff of toothpaste. He smelled better but he still looked terrible.

  Bella laughed nervously. “I can’t go back in there. I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” Sam shook his head and winced. “Not a good idea.” He put a hand on her elbow. “I’ll walk you home.”

  Bella shook her head. “I’m okay. You’re not.”

  “I’ll walk you to the end of my driveway.”

  Bella frowned. “Watch me from the window.”

  Sam laughed and then held a hand to his head. “Oh, I wish this was funny.”

  “Okay, Mr. Pitiful.” Bella tugged on his hand and smiled. “Walk with me.”

  When they got outside Sam took a deep breath. “That’s good.”

  “Remember how the air smells before you go back inside.”

  At the end of the driveway Sam leaned against the mailbox. “So, let’s do this again soon, okay?” he joked.

  Bella smiled and leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek. In his ear she whispered, “When you find my bra, will you give it back?”