Part 4 (2/2)
I finished the last of the dishes and sat down at the table again. Dad dealt the cards, and we played Uno, then moved into the den to watch a show together.
As we sat down, Dad asked, ”Have you called your mother lately?”
I closed my eyes. ”Dad, please don't start.”
He muttered something under his breath, but didn't say anything else. Lucky. He was always after me to call her, and that just wasn't going to happen. But we both knew Sean wasn't at his best tonight, and any fight between dad and me was going to turn into an explosion. Best to keep it all under the surface, simmering like always, but not let it boil over.
I said it to shut her up (Julia) I was sitting in the cafe car of the train, writing a paper on the ma.s.sive changes in the music industry over the last several years as a result of file sharing and piracy. I was an international business major, and even though they weren't my plans, the plan was for me to go on to graduate school, either at Fletcher or Georgetown. But three months into my senior year at Harvard, I still hadn't filled out any graduate school applications. When I thought of it, I just stopped. Paralyzed and angry.
Whatever. I banished the distracting thoughts and went back to my paper. That's when my phone rang.
The man across from me, late twenties, wearing a suit and tie and also working on a laptop, reached for his phone and then realized it wasn't his. He grinned and shrugged, a little sheepish.
My concentration broken, I answered the phone as I watched the landscape race by outside the windows. ”h.e.l.lo?”
”Julia, hey. It's Carrie.”
One of my sisters. Carrie was a senior at Abraham Lincoln High School in San Francisco. Tall, willowy and graceful, she could be a model if she wanted. Instead, she'd been accepted early admission to Columbia University, where she was planning on majoring in pre-med.
”What's up, Carrie? How are you?”
”Did Mom call you?”
”No ...” Mom never called my cell phone. I don't know why ... she refused to use them, instead stuck with landlines. It was weird.
”She must be calling your room then.”
”Okay,” I said. I didn't say anything else because I was afraid of what this was about.
”Um ... Maria Clawson ... she, um ...”
”Spit it out, Carrie.”
”You're the headliner on her blog.”
”Oh, no.”
”Yeah. It's a nice picture, though. Steamy.”
I sat up straight in my seat, and my voice rising to an unflattering squeak, I said, ”What?” She'd run the picture again? My heart started thumping in my chest, and I felt nauseous. That photo had ruined my life. The thought of it being dredged up, where people from school would see it, with my name attached? I felt pain at both my temples and leaned forward, rubbing my forehead.
”You and the punk rocker? It says his name is...Crank? Really?”
I gasped. ”Yes, really. What about the picture?” I asked, frantic.
”Well ... it looks like it was taken in front of the White House. And you guys are kind of lip locked.”
”Oh, G.o.d,” I said. I sank back into my seat. Okay. This was a problem, but not nearly the problem I thought I had.
”Yeah.”
”What did the blog say?”
”You don't want to know.”
My patience was blown. ”If I didn't want to know, why did you call me?” I snapped.
Silence at the other end of the line. Finally, she said, ”Way to shoot the messenger, sis. Talk to you later.”
”I'm sorry,” I said, trying to calm myself and speak in a conciliatory tone. ”Carrie ... thank you for calling me about this. Please, tell me what the blog says?”
She sighed. ”It's typical Maria Clawson. Talks about you and this Crank guy, how you went back to some hotel with him. Did you really?”
”I didn't even stay in a hotel.” Which didn't answer the question.
”Oh. And ... I'm sorry, Julia. But it ... says something about when you were in high school. She says ... there was a scandal in high school that broke and kept Dad from getting approved as Amba.s.sador to Russia. That's not true, is it?”
I grimaced and rubbed my forehead. ”Not exactly.”
”She said you were pregnant in high school. I can't believe she'd do that. That woman is horrible.”
”I don't want to talk about this on the phone, Carrie. And it was a long time ago.”
”I'm sorry.”
I rubbed my forehead again. I could feel a killer of a headache coming on. ”How crazy is Mom?” I asked.
”She's ... gone off the deep end. She's been crying all morning. And Dad's locked himself in his office. I called thinking you might want some warning.”
”I'm so not going back to my room tonight.”
”She might break down and call your cell.”
”G.o.d, I hope not. I don't need this.”
She was silent for a few moments. ”So, what's this guy Crank like? Are you serious about him?”
I sighed. ”I barely know him. He's ... a nice guy. And I'm not seeing him again.”
”Why not?”
I couldn't answer. For one thing, I had no way of getting in touch with him. And because he was so ... much. Far better to date safe, boring guys-guys who didn't make me feel lightheaded. Guy who didn't kiss in a way that made me want to wrap myself around them. Guys who couldn't tear me to pieces.
”Julia?”
”Carrie, I don't really ... I don't know, all right?”
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