Hannah Gersen - Home Field

The Shanks turned out to be a lot of fun. The sour ruminations of their first visit were never repeated — it was like they had to get it out of their system — and they devoted her remaining visits to spoiling her. They had season tickets to the Baltimore Opera and they took her once a month, treating her to dinner beforehand. One night they took her to Haussner’s, an old-fashioned place with oil paintings stacked up the walls and a coat check and a dessert cart, a kid’s idea of what a fancy restaurant should be. And Stephanie let herself be a kid, getting a little thrill out of their dinner of oysters and crab cakes and filet mignon — and for dessert, German chocolate cake! They took her there a second time to celebrate her acceptance to Swarthmore, allowing her one small glass of champagne. It was their idea for her to apply to Swarthmore (and Johns Hopkins, and Haverford, and Carnegie Mellon). They told her not to worry about money, that they would pay if she got in. When Stephanie told her parents, they shrugged, slightly baffled. It didn’t occur to them that her academic record was good enough to compete with kids from prep schools. And it didn’t occur to them that she would want that. Stephanie herself was unsure, but as she read the Fiske Guide that the Shanks bought for her, she began to imagine herself attending the kind of brick-and-ivy places she’d only seen in movies. And then Mitchell borrowed it and began to share her daydreams. Her life got busy as she wrote her applications and studied for her SATs and then her subject tests (she was one of only three people in the county to take them) and then her AP exams. And when she wasn’t doing that, she was either hanging out with Mitchell at his house or hanging out with Mitchell backstage, because he did the lights for the school play. Stephanie liked standing in the wings during rehearsals, watching the same scenes unfold again and again, but never in exactly the same way; it was like getting glimpses into subtly altered worlds.

So much of Stephanie’s imaginative life was devoted to the construction of alternate universes. In the weeks after her mother’s suicide (without warning, without explanation, without even a note) she kept reimagining the day it happened, different versions of it: a day when she didn’t go for a horseback ride; a day when she did, but with her mother instead of her father; a day when the whole family rode together, having a picnic, laughing in the sun; a day when she woke up sick with a stomach bug, so sick that her mother had to take care of her, had to bring her a bowl to vomit in and a cold compress to drape on her forehead when she was through. For some reason this last fantasy was the most compelling; it seemed to be the scenario that might have convinced her mother to stay on earth just a few days longer.

Stephanie breathed deeply to dissolve her gathering tears. She stepped out of the shade of the church and headed toward the sidewalk, where Robbie and Bry were still playing. She called to them to say she was going to get Dad and they barely nodded in her direction. Stephanie remembered how much her mother hated this, how she would point to herself and say “Acknowledge me!” She wondered if Robbie and Bry remembered the last thing their mother said to them. Stephanie couldn’t. She had tried so many times, but she could only guess. It must have been something banal and forgettable: have fun or see you later or bye now . It made Stephanie think that her mother’s act must have been impulsive, because if she’d been planning it, wouldn’t she have said something of significance before Stephanie went on her ride? Wouldn’t she at least have said “I love you”? Then again, maybe she had, and Stephanie hadn’t even noticed.

Her father was in the lobby, talking to a woman with shiny brown hair and dangling leaf-shaped earrings that Stephanie admired. She looked familiar, and when her father introduced her, he acted like they’d met before. Apparently she was Ms. Lanning, a sub at the high school.

“Are you still subbing?” Stephanie asked, just to be polite.

“Actually, I got a job at the middle school as a guidance counselor.”

“That’s where my brother Robbie’s going to be,” Stephanie said. “He’s starting sixth grade this year.”

“You didn’t mention that!” Ms. Lanning said, turning to her father.

“I guess I forgot. I still think of him as being at the elementary school.”

“Forgot your own son!” Ms. Lanning laughed. Stephanie was alarmed. Was going to college in the fall really the right thing to do? Aunt Joelle had hinted to her that it might be better if she deferred her acceptance. But her father had already said no, that he didn’t want her “backsliding” because of her mother.

A tall, thin man approached. He was young, with a scraggly goatee and wire-rimmed glasses. On his left wrist were a large black digital watch and two faded friendship bracelets, the kind that little kids make at camp. Stephanie knew he had to be Ms. Lanning’s boyfriend because he looked like her: a little different, a hint of sophistication. Like he was possibly connected to some nearby urban center — D.C. or Baltimore or even just one of the wealthier suburbs like Chevy Chase or Falls Church. After a minute or two of small talk, he said they had to leave for a picnic and the two of them were off. Her father stared after them for a moment and then mumbled that it was always awkward to see people from work out of context.

“Does she go to this church now?” Stephanie asked.

“She’s just here for today, for the baptism. That guy she’s dating is the godfather.”

“Oh, yeah.” Stephanie remembered him, now. He had stood up front while the baby wailed in her white dress, offended and confused by the drops of water on her head. Stephanie’s own baptism had yielded the one and only photo of her entire biological family: her mother and her father and both sets of grandparents. It was disconcerting to look at it now, to see the Shanks standing so close to her mother.

Once, driving home after a night at the Baltimore Opera, Mrs. Shank had attempted to apologize for her absence in Stephanie’s life.

“I think I resented that your mother could have more children. That she could start over. I know that’s petty. I don’t expect you to understand.”

Stephanie didn’t know what to say.

“The irony is that I’ve always been grateful to your mother for having you,” Mrs. Shank said, that same night. “I know she pushed Sam to start a family.”

Stephanie wanted to ask, If you’re so grateful, why did it take you fifteen years to get to know me?

“Are Robbie and Bry still outside?” her father asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, leading Stephanie toward the door. But they were intercepted by Ms. Lanning, who had come back to ask Dean about a referral for a good sports doctor. Apparently Tim was having trouble with his knee.

Stephanie left them and went to find Robbie and Bry. When she found the lot empty, she looked immediately toward the road, her heart pounding. But then she heard them calling to her. Their voices came from the pines. They had climbed one of the trees.

“Steffy!” Bry waved from a surprisingly high branch. Robbie was lower down; she could see the white of his button-down shirt.

“Get down before you hurt yourself!” Stephanie wasn’t actually worried. Pine trees were easy to climb, with their evenly spaced branches. The only danger was how spindly the branches were near the crown.

“I can see Dad from here! He’s talking to some lady!”

“Be careful,” Stephanie said, knowing the boys wouldn’t listen but feeling the need to pester them anyway. She was only going to be here for a few more days. And then they would be on their own, with no one to warn them of anything.