Marianna Baer - Frost

“Seven thirty. You were supposed to pick me up half an hour ago. Where’s Celeste?”

“Seven thirty? Shoot. I don’t know. Across the hall?”

David walked into the hallway. I grabbed some clothes and hurried to the bathroom. I couldn’t believe I’d overslept, today of all days. I’d promised Viv and Abby that we’d get an early start so they wouldn’t be stuck at the house all day, waiting for us. I’d have to call and tell them we’d be late. I took a quick shower, threw on jeans and a hoodie, cursing myself the whole time. When I went back in the bedroom, Celeste was piling clothes on her bed. I watched her with my arms crossed. Couldn’t she have done this yesterday?

“Is your bag still where I put it when I moved your stuff in?” David asked, looking over at her from by the closet.

“I guess,” Celeste said.

“What are those?” David pointed at a couple of bruises on her lower thighs. Celeste pulled her skirt down to cover them.

“Nothing,” she said.

“What are they?” he pressed.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe from when things got a little frisky with Whip. Okay? Like that answer?”

“He hurt you?” David said.

“Jesus! No. I bruise easy. Don’t you remember? From all our games of tickle monster?”

“I never hurt you like that,” David said.

“I bruise easily, too,” I said, sensing that their conversation was rapidly deteriorating. I rolled up my sleeve and pointed at a blue-yellow blotch on my forearm. “This one, I don’t even know what it’s from. Field hockey, maybe, but I don’t remember it happening.”

Neither of them said anything else. Just stared at each other as if I wasn’t even in the room.

The next time Celeste spoke was as I backed the car out of the driveway.

“I am so fucking happy to be getting out of this place,” she said.

The silence between Celeste and David lasted through getting coffee at The Mean Bean, and past multiple exits on the Mass Pike. Celeste may have been happy to leave Frost House, but all I could think about was how much I’d rather be back there alone than here in the car, trying to ignore the obvious tension.

Somewhere near Sturbridge, I heard a small snore from the backseat. I felt as if I was being released from thumbscrews.

“Is she asleep?” I asked quietly.

David twisted around and watched her for a moment. “Yeah, she is.”

“So,” I said once he was facing front again, “what’s with all the weirdness?

Before answering, he turned up the volume of the music a bit. “She used to cut. Before Barcroft, but I get nervous when I see bruises. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Oh,” I said, understanding better now. I thought of her burn, and how she’d asked me not to tell him. That must have been why. She was worried he’d assume she’d done it on purpose.

“How has she seemed to you?” he asked. “Aside from letting that asshole abuse her.”

“I don’t think he’s abusing her,” I said gently. “I think she was just trying to get to you. She’s seemed … okay. Really upset about what happened to her nests, of course. Honestly, I don’t see her that often. You should ask her how she’s doing.” That was true. Ever since that event with the nests, she’d spent more and more time in the little room, and out of the dorm entirely. I wasn’t sure where or when she was sleeping.

David turned around again to look at Celeste, then rested a hand lightly on the back of my neck, sending a jolt of electricity all down my spine.

“I’ve been really looking forward to this weekend,” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah. Me too. It’ll be fun.” I knew that my tone didn’t match his. But since that disturbing episode in the closet, I’d gotten more and more worried that maybe I was headed toward a big mistake. How did I know whether to trust my gut, or my rational mind?

“Is there anything special you want to do while we’re there?” he said. Up and down, his fingers traveled the length of my neck.

He’s just like the others . I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I passed a massive Jordan’s Furniture truck. “Left on Spit Brook, right on Daniel Web-stah.”

“What?”

“Jaw-dens Funicha Weah-house. The radio ads? The guys have those crazy accents?”

“Leena.”

“What?” My mouth felt dry.

“I just wanted to see if we’re, you know, both looking forward to the same sort of weekend.”

I decided to switch lanes and flipped on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal. I fumbled with the controls while saying, “I, um, I don’t really know….”

He took his hand off my neck. “Sorry. I thought … I guess I’ve been misunderstanding. I knew you didn’t want to get involved this semester, but I thought … the way we’ve been acting. Sorry. I guess I’m just stupid.”

A moment of silence went by. I heard Celeste breathing in the backseat. Suddenly, something clicked. The reason I was so convinced he wouldn’t be able to have a relationship, the reason I was so scared. It was more than just worrying he’d be like the other guys.

“Maybe you don’t have room to care about anyone else,” I blurted out. “Maybe that’s why you haven’t wanted a real girlfriend. You spend so much energy on Celeste and your parents, which I love, I love that you’re so good to your family. But maybe … maybe you don’t want anyone else. Maybe you’ll realize that once you’re with me.”

I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

To my surprise, David started laughing.

“What?” I said. “What’s so funny?”

“That’s exactly what my shrink used to say. About expending all my emotional energy taking care of my family. Not saving any for friends or girlfriends.”

I smiled. “Really?” I said. “Wow. I’m good.” I glanced away from the road for a minute and our eyes met.

He put a hand on my knee. “I don’t think you have to worry about it, though,” he said. “I’m feeling pretty energized. Plenty of energy. No problem there.”

My palms felt sticky on the wheel. “Really?” I said.

“Really. Also …”

“What?”

“Not that I wouldn’t, if you needed me, but you don’t seem like you need anyone to take care of you. You’re pretty good at doing it yourself.”

I didn’t say anything, but I loved that he thought that. Sometimes I felt like it was the furthest thing from the truth.

“So …” I said.

“So?”

He was now stroking my leg with his thumb. A smile took over my body. Oh, God—every single one of my cells was smiling. I put a vision of Cubby’s disapproving eyes out of my mind.

“So maybe I could, I don’t know, suspend my moratorium,” I said. “On a trial basis, of course.”

“ WASN’T THE EXORCIST FILMED HERE-” Celeste said when I pulled up in front of Viv’s family’s house in Brooklyn. It’s a four-story limestone town house, right across the street from Prospect Park, with a bowed front, Gothic carvings, and an imposing archway over the double door.

I would have laughed, but I was too stressed about the fact we were more than an hour and a half later than I’d originally said we’d be. I’d called Viv a few times and had tried to get them to go do something without us. But she’d insisted they were happy to wait.

A blond girl about our age answered the doorbell. “Come in, come in. They’re upstairs,” she said, hustling us into the marble foyer and pointing at the staircase ahead. From her accent, I figured she was the Swedish student who helped with housework and cooking in exchange for a room. She looked at Celeste’s cast. “Maybe you want the elevator?” she said. “Yah? Cool. You come this way.”