The Trouble with Lexie (19 page)

“Oh, you are so bad with your y'alls. It's supposed to refer to more than one person, so you could say it to me and Cal—”

“His name's Cal? I love that name. Like California.” Okay,
this
is the last one, Lexie thought. She unwrapped one more.

Cal was short for Calvin, but he had lived in California for many years. He owned a charming bookstore the next town over. On Friday and Saturday nights he kept the place open until nine, unless there were customers, in which case he'd stay open until the store was empty. (Cal never kicked out anyone who wanted to buy a book.) He'd been married once, had no kids, wore glasses that always looked clean, and he smelled like spicy lime. He was five years younger than Amy, which didn't bother her, or Cal, one bit.

Lexie thought there was a nice balance in her and Amy being in love and having boyfriends at the same time. It reminded her of a happy summer in Hermosa Beach when Lexie's best friend from college was dating Lexie's boyfriend's brother. She never had to abandon one person to be with another as they all wanted to be in the same place at the same time. A blissfull synchronicity.

“I can't wait for the four us to hang out,” Lexie said. And she popped the last of the handful of Kisses into her mouth.

I
T WAS FRIDAY EVENING AND LEXIE WAS SLOWLY MAKING HER WAY
to the dining hall. The topic for tonight was the First Amendment. Normally when she walked to dinner, Lexie gathered her thoughts, came up with questions for the students, and asked herself how she felt about that night's subject. But there was only one week of school left and Lexie was as unable to focus as the students themselves. An unsettled itchiness had spread through campus and every single human around wanted simply to be free of it.

Lexie planned to spend most of the summer in Daniel's Boston apartment. She figured she'd come to Ruxton on occasion—all her stuff was here, she'd have to pick up a change of clothes every once in a while. Don McClear had even mentioned that if Lexie were dating, and if she were particularly discreet, the person she was seeing could sleep in her apartment once the students had evacuated. Surely he had no idea she was seeing Daniel Waite, but he must have guessed she was in love. He'd probably guessed it of
Amy, too. The two of them together were, Lexie thought, almost unbearable in their cheerfulness.

For the fourth time on her walk to the dining hall, Lexie checked her phone for a text from Daniel. He had been in Asia for nearly two weeks and was so heavily escorted that he was able to eke out only a single text each day. Lexie felt pangs of loneliness with him gone but he'd be home in three days, Monday. Out of simple laziness, Lexie had stopped shaving her body while he was gone and had a Fred Flintstone shadow running down her thighs and a goaty tuft of hair on her pubic mound and in each armpit. Sunday afternoon, she was getting her hair highlighted and her body waxed. She'd be as sleek as a wet seal.

At the dining hall, Lexie took her seat and looked around the table. That week, the kids had rotated groups.

“This is your final dining group for the year,” Lexie said.

“Oh my god, I'm going to cry!” Garrison Tauber said. She lived in Arizona and never saw any of the Ruxton kids over the summer.

“I'll visit you in Arizona,” The Prince said. “I've never been there.” During each of The Prince's Ruxton summers, he visited kids in states he'd never before seen.

Leighton Gaines and Piper Riley were getting the food. Lexie wished they'd hurry as she didn't have the patience or disposition for aimless chatter. She molded her face into a simple half smile, crossed one leg over the other, and floated off in her mind. As Leighton and Piper poured water or milk into the glasses, Lexie thought about the way her naked body and Daniel's naked body sometimes suctioned together as if they were a single entity.
A giant squid that was being rejoined after a temporary split in two.

“Miss James,” The Prince said. “Can we please start with a general discussion about the separation of church and state and whether or not that idea is being fully practiced in the United States?”

“Certainly.” Lexie blinked. Did her face look different when she was thinking about sex? “Why don't we have Kaeli start?”

Kaeli Tripp was from Nashville, Tennessee. Her parents were famous country singers who fell in love after recording a duet together. Most of the kids at Ruxton didn't listen to country music so Kaeli wasn't as sought after as a friend as, say, Cooper McBride, the boy whose mother was the president of one of the major movie studios, or Cece Neale, whose father was a sportscaster who had been a star pitcher for the Red Sox. But Kaeli, as a practicing and faithful Christian and as president of the speech club, would be the perfect person to articulate one side of the argument.

“I'd love to start,” Kaeli said.

“Great. Why don't we have Dewey speak next and we'll all fall in from there.” Dewey Summers came from a long line of Boston Democrats. Kaeli and Dewey could lead the table into an energetic verbal hacky-sack volley that would relieve Lexie from the burden of engaging.

The kids talked and Lexie drifted off. In the midst of remembering a moonlit night when she and Daniel had sex on the dock at the lake house, Lexie sensed eyes on her. She turned and caught Ethan Waite staring. Ethan's eyes so resembled Daniel's that Lexie startled. It was as if her fantasy had materialized. Lexie smiled. Ethan smiled. They both turned back to their own tables.

That evening, Amy lay on Lexie's bed and watched Lexie pick
out an outfit. They were going to a local bar for drinks before Amy met up with Cal.

“This?” Lexie held up a short red dress that she could never wear on campus.

“That looks like something a reality TV star would put on for a girls' night out.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I s'pose if you were meeting Daniel it'd be good. But since you're not going out with him, it could bring you lotsa trouble.”

“Are you kidding? I don't even flirt with other people.” Lexie took off her blouse and skirt and shimmied into the dress. “Also, I haven't shaved since Daniel left.” She lifted the dress and flashed her inner thigh at Amy.

“I guarantee no one at this bar will care about that hair you're sprouting.”

“Yeah, the townies are probably used to furry women.”

“Don't get snobby on me just 'cause your boyfriend's rich. You're a townie girl yourself.”

“I know. You're right.” Lexie opened the closet and took out the strappy silver sandals she'd bought for the canceled wedding. She stepped into them and stared at herself in the mirror. As long as her legs were closed, you couldn't see the hair.

“You're really gonna wear that dress tonight?” Amy clucked her tongue.

Lexie turned from side to side. She checked out her backside. “You're in a dress.”

“Mine is to my
knees
.” Amy was wearing a blue shirtdress with panty hose and flesh-colored pumps. Sometimes when Lexie looked at Amy's stockinged legs she thought of her mother. Mitzy
wore thick suntan support hose every day to work. She swore by them. Whenever she walked from the shower to the bedroom (a thin, burgundy towel wrapped around her frame) she would stop for an audience, if anyone happened to be sitting in the living room. “These legs,” Mitzy would say, holding out one solid, muscled limb like she was posing for a pinup picture, “look years younger than my face thanks to Sheer Energy!” Or she'd say, “Have you ever seen legs like this before? Have you? Seriously?” Once she even did the cancan in her towel. Lexie, eight at the time, had hidden her eyes behind her splayed fingers so she wouldn't have to see what was going on below the towel flapping open in front of her. Bert had been beside Lexie on the couch, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. He'd laughed so hard that he dropped the cigarette off the back of the couch and Lexie had run to fetch it before the house burned down.

“Take off your stockings and put this on.” Lexie pulled a short black dress from the closet and tossed it to Amy.

“My hips are way too big for that.” Amy stood and held the dress in front of herself with two pinched fingers like it was a dirty handkerchief.

“It stretches.” There was a knock at the apartment door. Lexie and Amy looked out the bedroom door toward the living room.

“Oh gawd, if the students see us in these getups they'll know what sluts we are.” Amy threw the dress on the bed and then brushed out her shirtdress.

Lexie yanked down her dress and then went to the door. Ethan Waite was there. “Can I come in?” he asked.

“Is it urgent? Miss Hagen's here.” Lexie looked in Ethan's eyes
to assess the situation. Did she need to be the school counselor or could she tell the kid to come back at a more convenient time?

“Wild Friday night in Rilke?” Ethan grinned all big and dopey. Lexie was relieved he wasn't in crisis.

“We're going to get a drink off campus. So why don't you come back tomorrow and we'll talk.”

“You drink?” Ethan was as solid as a pillar in Lexie's doorway.

“A little. Why would you think I wouldn't?” Soon enough, he'd see her drink at dinner with Daniel, or when the three of them went to Rome or Paris or any of the other cities Daniel had promised they'd visit.

“I don't know. The two weeks you spend on alcohol abuse and alcohol brain damage and all that in your class.” Ethan sauntered in like he lived there. Lexie stepped back and let it happen.

“Well, I certainly don't abuse alcohol.”

Amy emerged from the bedroom looking like she was planning to attend a church potluck.

“How you doin', Ethan?”

“Okay, I guess. How are you, Miss Hagen?”

“Fair to middlin'.”

“Can I sit?” Without waiting for an answer, Ethan dropped into one of the gray chairs.

“Do you want me to leave so y'all can talk alone?” Amy asked.

“I don't think this is a crisis. Is it, Ethan?” What could he possibly need to talk about on a Friday night when Lexie had maybe one hour to hang out with Amy before she went off to be with Cal?

“It's not a crisis, you can stay, Miss Hagen. I just wanted to talk to grown-ups, you know?”

Lexie and Amy both sat and looked at him, waiting.

“It's my eighteenth birthday today.” Ethan sounded unenthused.

“Happy birthday! You're an adult,” Amy said.

“Free to vote, buy cigarettes, and go to prison,” Lexie said.

“Yeah, so . . . I know I'm being ridiculous but, like, my parents are away celebrating their wedding anniversary, which was last Monday, and they, like, didn't even call or send me a card or anything. And I dunno, I feel so . . . I don't know, I'm embarrassed but I feel totally bad that they didn't send anything.”

The room went silent. Lexie felt a roaring fire in her ears. She consciously composed her face: settled her eyes into their sockets, relaxed her mouth with her lips slightly parted, smoothed her forehead, straightened in her seat. She looked at Amy, who stared at Ethan with a half-concerned smile.

“Oh, no.” Lexie spoke as if her concern was entirely for Ethan and not at all for herself. “Let's start at the beginning.”

“Yes,” Amy said. “When did your parents leave town? Was there any acknowledgment of the upcoming birthday?”

Lexie felt like she couldn't breathe. Thank god for Amy. Amy could figure this out. Amy could be the adult in the room.

“They left almost two weeks ago; they went on a cruise around Italy and Greece. They always do something big for their anniversary.”

“So, if they always do something big, do they always miss your birthday?” Amy asked.

“No, they usually call. But I know it's hard to get phone service from the ship. And they usually mail something, so that I get a present on the day, you know? But this year, there was no phone call and no packages came. And I feel like an idiot for even caring, you know, I mean, I'm eighteen, you'd think I'd be over this, but
shit—excuse me—damn, I mean, my whole life I've always had this strange feeling that my parents loved each other more than they loved me and when stuff like this happens it just confirms that.” Ethan dropped his head and picked at a hole in his jeans.

“You've always had this feeling?” Lexie asked. The words came out too forcefully, too quickly. Better not speak again, she thought.

“I don't think about it much. Only on my birthday. I swear, I think the whole reason they sent me to Ruxton is so they could have the house to themselves.”

There was quiet again. In her head, Lexie said the word
breathe
.

Amy said, “Honey, there's not a parent on earth who loves their spouse more than their kids. It's a whole different kind of love. And if there was no present or phone call this year, maybe it was 'cause they were way out at sea and couldn't get a connection, you know.”

“Isn't every corner of the world connected?” Ethan asked.

Lexie couldn't speak. She couldn't open her mouth. She could barely keep her face intact. Thankfully, Ethan continued to stare at the hole in his jeans.

“Well, some places are spotty. Have they contacted you at all since they've been on this trip?” Amy asked.

“My mom sent photos. Of the two of them. I mean, give me a freaking break! Who wants photos of their parents kissing?”

There was a whirling in Lexie's head. She wanted to rush out of the room, go to her purse, and take a Klonopin. Instead, she forced herself to remain in the chair. “She really sent a kissing photo?” she managed, her voice hoarse and barking.

“Yeah, can you believe it!” Ethan took his phone from his pocket, pulled up a picture, and held it out for Lexie and Amy to see. Lexie stayed in her chair, afraid she'd collapse if she moved.

Amy leaned forward, took the phone, and examined the photo. “They look like real nice people, Ethan.” Amy handed the phone back. “And I'd bet my life they love you more than anything. I'm sure it's a problem of Internet connection, slow mail, delivery all the way from some far off Greek island to little ol' Ruxton.”

Ethan shrugged. He looked up at Amy. “You're probably right. Maybe I'm more upset with myself for actually feeling this way than I am by what's happened. Like, I can't believe I'm eighteen and I actually care about this shit. Excuse me, this crap.”

“You know, we're all like that,” Amy said. “I'm in my thirties and sometimes I can't believe how much I care about things that I thought I'd outgrow by the time I was eighteen.”

“Me, too,” Lexie blurted. She wanted to run into the bathroom and retch out the mosaic of thoughts that filled her head: Daniel, Jen, Peter, the canceled wedding, the wedding dress hanging in Peter's house, the pending weeklong visit from her mother, the idea that she owned nothing of value except a five-year-old German car with a smudge on the ceiling, and the fact that in her lowest emotional state she was sporting a pubescent boy's beard up her thighs and into the crack of her ass.

“Ethan, I would bet my bottom dollar that there will be a package and a phone call coming your way tomorrow,” Amy said. “I think you have to give your parents a little break since they're so far away. You need to trust that something's coming.”