This Glittering World (11 page)

I
n his office at school after his last class, he graded the stack of papers he’d collected that morning. He thought about marking them all B and calling it a day, but he still had finals to deal with. He wouldn’t be done with everything until close to Christmas.

He’d been working for a couple of hours, when he started getting antsy. His office didn’t have any windows. He was starting to feel closed in, caged. He figured he’d take a break and stretch his legs, go see if anybody was hanging around in the break room. Maybe he could find somebody to go grab a bite with. He hadn’t had lunch yet and his stomach was starting to rumble.

The main office was deserted except for Penny, one of the grad students who came in and helped out in the office a few times a week. She didn’t look up from the computer when he came in.

“Hey, Penny,” Ben said. “I’m headed to go grab something to eat. Can I bring you back something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, clicking away on the computer.

Ben shrugged. He checked the mail room, the break room. Nobody was around. Office doors were closed, up and down the hallway. Even Rob wasn’t milling around, and Rob was always milling around. Jesus. Maybe he was the only one who hadn’t already checked out.

He went back to his office and grabbed his coat. The stack of papers leered at him from his desk. “I’ll be
back,”
he said, and then wondered if that was crazy.

He made his way across campus. By the time he got to the student union, he was starving.

The faculty may have been mysteriously absent, but students were everywhere. There was hardly any place to sit. Every single table had at least three students and all of their paraphernalia sprawled out across them. Coffee cups and textbooks, notebooks and laptops. With finals just a week away, all of the students who had been partying on weeknights, sleeping in, skipping class to go snowboarding were suddenly studious. Serious. He saw this every semester. There was something magical about the end of the semester; it made students believe in miracles. This is when they went into high gear, cramming in thirteen weeks’ worth of information in the hopes that it would stick. It was when the bargaining, the pleading, the praying began. He’d been guilty of it himself to a certain extent as an undergrad. But he was pretty sure he’d never tried to make a deal with a professor, and already he’d had two kids who’d begged him to drop their lowest quiz grade so they could pass his class. He’d thrown up his hands and said,
Why not?
He really, truly didn’t care anymore.

He stood in line at the Sub Connection, studying the illuminated menu.

There was a group of girls in front of him. They were all wearing flannel pajama bottoms and thick collegiate sweatshirts. Finals wear. Being in Flagstaff had been refreshing after DC. Here you were considered dressed up if you wore a button-down shirt with your jeans and boots.

He ordered his sandwich and was paying when he heard a loud voice boom above the din of clacking keyboards and muffled music: “Hey, Fitch!”

Ben spun around, trying to follow the voice, unsure if his ears were playing tricks on him or not.

Over by the main door, there was a table of guys, all wearing baseball caps and sweatshirts. And standing at the table, fist-bumping each of them, was a guy with blond hair.

Ben grabbed his food and quickly wound his way through the labyrinth of students and tables, finally making his way to a table near the guys, where a girl in glasses and sweats was clearing away her things.

“Are you leaving?” Ben asked.

“Huhh?” she asked, unplugging her iPod earbuds.

“You leaving?”

She nodded. “Yep, it’s all you.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, and waited as she loaded up her backpack before he sat down and unwrapped his sandwich.

He was close enough to the table to make out a little bit of the conversation, their voices loud but muffled.

“You going up to the mountain this weekend?” one baseball cap asked the other.

“Nah, my mom’s coming up from Phoenix.”

“So?” said another cap.

“Dude, you’re going to miss the party at Fitch’s on Saturday, then?”

Fitch.

“No way,” a new voice,
Fitch’s
voice, said. “My girlfriend’s getting a keg from work. You totally can’t miss it.”

Ben looked up from his sandwich.

The kid, Fitch, was sitting down now. He’d taken off his hat. His hair was the color of sand dipped in vanilla frosting. He recognized him right away as a California transplant. They all had the same hair. The same slow, easy way of talking. The same golden skin all winter long.

“Where’s Jenny work at again?”

“Flag Brew. They’ve got a killer IPA,” Fitch said.

Flagstaff Brewing Company. Jenny was probably the girl he’d seen at Bashas’ driving the Mustang.

“Dude, you can always come out after your mom goes to bed. She staying at your apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, give me those fries,” a familiar voice said.

He’d know that voice anywhere. Ben looked up and watched as a kid grabbed a fistful of fries from the basket and opened his mouth to shove them in. Sure enough, underneath that baseball cap was Ben’s old buddy, Joe Bello.

A
t the movies on Friday night, Sara ordered a large popcorn and M&M’s. As they waited for the previews to start, she dumped the giant bag of candy into the vat of popcorn and held it out to Ben. “Want some?”

He shook his head.

“Mel?” Sara asked, offering the bucket to Melanie, who had come with them, and Melanie grabbed a handful.

“I am having the weirdest cravings,” Sara said. “This morning for breakfast, I had scrambled eggs inside a peanut butter and cheese sandwich.”

“You must need the protein,” Melanie said.

“I hadn’t even thought about that, but I bet you’re right. That would explain why Burger King commercials practically give me an orgasm. I ate an Ultimate Cheeseburger for lunch yesterday at Jack in the Box, and I was still hungry, so I got another one.”

By the time the lights dimmed and the speakers boomed with the previews, Sara and Melanie had made their way to the bottom of the popcorn. When the movie started, and Sara reached for Ben’s hand, her fingers were slick with butter.

Earlier that day, while Sara was at work, Ben had gone to Flagstaff Brewing Company and sat down at the bar. He’d ordered a beer and some onion rings and chatted with the bartender a little bit. After they talked about how the Suns might do this season, he said, “Hey, does some girl named Jenny work here?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the new chick’s name,” the bartender, Gus, said.

“She working today?” Ben asked, looking around.

Gus shrugged. “I think she’s on tonight. She was here last Friday. You want me to check the schedule?”

“Nah,” Ben said. “That’s cool.”

“You want me to tell her you said hey?”

“No,” Ben said. “She doesn’t know me.”

Gus raised his eyebrow, waiting.

“Sara,” he stumbled. “Sara went to school with her sister, I think.”

Gus shrugged.

Now, at the theater, he kept checking his watch every time there was enough light from the screen to see. It was already nine thirty, and the movie didn’t seem to be ending any time soon. It was a chick flick that Sara had wanted to see for a while now. She’d waited for a moment of weakness to ask Ben to take her. And then Melanie said she’d wanted to come, and now he wasn’t even sure why he was there.

His plan was to drop the girls off at the house and then make some excuse to go into town. Maybe he could say that Hippo had called him in for a couple of hours. That Ned had called in sick. Friday nights could be jam-packed, and Sara probably wouldn’t think twice.

But then, as they were walking out of the theater, Sara said, “Hey, why don’t we go out? You guys can get a drink and I can watch.”

Ben said, “You’re usually in bed by nine. You’re not tired?”

“Ben, it’s been so long since we’ve done anything, and I actually have some energy for a change. Come on. Just for a little bit. Go downtown somewhere?”

“Let’s!” Melanie said. “There’s some band playing at Charly’s tonight. They’re supposed to be pretty good.”

“Please, Ben?” Sara said, putting her hands together and batting her eyelashes.

“Just for a little bit, and then you need to get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” Sara said mock serious, saluting him.

Ben bristled.

They parked across from the tracks and had to wait as a train barreled past. He couldn’t help but wonder if Shadi might be waiting on the other side again as the caboose rolled past. What would he do then?

Sara and Melanie held hands like little girls, skipping across the street when the light turned green, and Ben followed behind reluctantly, dragging his feet. As they walked past Flag Brew, he glanced quickly into the window to see if he could see the girl.
Jenny.
The place was packed, and people were spilling out of the doors.

“Hey,” Sara said. “Why don’t we go here instead? I haven’t been here in ages.”

“Really?” Ben asked. “It’s pretty crowded. We might not get a seat.”

“I’m pregnant, not an
invalid,”
she said and yanked his hand, leading the way.

Ben prayed that Gus had left, but as soon as they got to the bar, he could see that he was still there. He must be working a double. Ben anxiously glanced around, looking for a free table. It was standing room only, except for two open spots at the bar. He could imagine the conversation already: Gus asking Sara how she knew Jenny’s sister. Introducing them. Sara wondering what the hell was going on.

But Gus seemed pretty busy, probably too busy to even remember the conversation. At least that’s what Ben hoped as they took the only open spots at the bar.

“Hey again!” Gus said."What’s up?”

“Hey,” Ben said, shaking his hand.

Melanie and Sara were occupied with taking off their hats and mittens and coats.

“So Jenny
is
working tonight,” Gus started. “I can call her over if you want.”

“Who’s Jenny?” Sara asked.

“One of my students,” Ben said, looking at Gus, hoping he was getting it. Gus lifted his chin; he understood. “She’s failing,” Ben added for good measure. “I was going to try to talk to her before the final, but I don’t want to bug her when it’s this busy.”

Gus nodded, slung his dishrag over his shoulder, and said, “So, what would you girls like to drink?”

“I’ll have a vodka cranberry, and she’ll have a cranberry cranberry,” Melanie said, smiling, flirting a little, Ben thought. Melanie hadn’t dated anyone since her fiancé, Doug, died. Doug was a helicopter pilot and had crashed in the Grand Canyon right before Melanie graduated from nursing school. He and Ben hadn’t been close, but it had been nice to go out in pairs instead of this awkward threesome. And since Sara got pregnant, Melanie was always around. Ben felt extraneous. He kept wondering if Melanie might be a better father to this baby than he would.

They got their drinks and, because he had no place to sit, Ben stood. The girls gossiped and leaned in close to each other, until finally Ben figured they wouldn’t notice if he slipped away for a minute. He wanted to see if the girl, Jenny, really was the girl he’d seen with the Mustang.

“Hey, I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” he said and Sara brushed her hand, dismissing him.

He set his beer down on the bar between them and made his way through the crowded bar area to the men’s room.

There were only two waitresses in sight, and one was Asian. The other had brown hair, a short denim skirt, and pink Ugg boots. It was her.

He went to the bathroom, used the urinal, and then washed his hands, splashing water onto his face. This time he would be smart, actually think about what he might say.

When he came out of the bathroom, he saw the girl. It seemed to have slowed down, and she was just leaning against the bar, looking out over the crowd to see who might need her.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you
Jenny?
”

“Yeah?”

“Hi,” he said, reaching for her hand to shake it. “I think we might have met on Halloween.”

She cocked her head at him.

He waited for her. For something to click. Anything.

“Oh! Were you the guy dressed up like the zombie salesman? At the Beta Beta Phi party?”

A frat party.

“That was me! You’re Fitch’s girlfriend, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry, I totally forgot your name.”

“It’s Gary,” he said.

“That was an awesome costume,” she said. “The blood looked so real. And that gash on your forehead was so cool.”

“Thanks,” he said. “That was a wild party.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” she said, scowling.

And he knew then that whatever had happened that night had probably started at this party. His heart was beating hard. He took a deep breath and leaned close to her, speaking softly. “So, I heard there was a crazy fight…. ”

Her smile dissolved, and she grabbed her tray. The glasses on it trembled. “I wasn’t there when that happened,” she said. “I got tired and I went back to my apartment.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was just so …”

She turned to look at him again; her eyes were glossy with tears. “You better just pretend like we didn’t have this conversation. “And then she and her tray disappeared into the crowd.

Cold adrenaline surged through his body; he could feel its grip in his shoulders, spreading down each of his arms. He walked back down the length of the bar to Sara and Melanie.

“You tell her she’s failing?” Melanie asked. “She looked super pissed.”

“Yeah,” Ben said, grabbing his beer. “She’s in a lot of trouble.”

H
e had to tell Shadi. Maybe this information would be enough to trigger an investigation by the police. And if they figured out what had happened to Ricky, then maybe this could all end. He could let Shadi go.

But telling her meant
seeing
her. And seeing her meant facing the overwhelming possibility that he’d made the wrong decision in staying with Sara. Seeing Shadi was seeing a future he would never have. Seeing Shadi meant being tempted to change his mind, to leave Sara and the baby.

But she had to know what Jenny had said. He couldn’t let this go.

After proctoring his last final, he gathered all of his stuff from his office and put it into a banker’s box. He took the few personal items down from the bookshelves and walls, rolled the posters up and tossed them in the trash. He had a feeling, no matter what Rob said, he wouldn’t be back in the fall. He had looked a few times at the museum’s Web site to see if they’d posted the job Shadi mentioned, but it still wasn’t up.

He loaded everything into the truck and drove into town, stopping at Late for the Train for a coffee though he knew the caffeine was going to only make him jumpier, more on edge.

It was cold but sunny out, the sun reflecting off of the snow, too bright. He searched for his sunglasses and then remembered leaving them on the table by the door on his way out of the house that morning. He squinted and pulled the visor down to shield some of the glare.

He turned into the RV lot and drove the winding path to Shadi’s trailer. A woman walking down the road with a backpack and a walking stick waved at him as he passed.

Shadi’s bike was leaning against the trailer.

His hands were sweating. He shouldn’t be here. He could have sent her an e-mail, called. He could have made an anonymous call to the police department. But before he could do a U-turn and head back out of the lot, Shadi opened the trailer door and stepped out. She was wearing a dress, heels. Her hair was down around her shoulders. She had long silver earrings on.

He parked the truck and rolled down the window.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She took a deep breath and straightened her dress.

“Why are you so dressed up?” he asked.

“I have an interview.”

“For a job?” He knew she was graduating in the spring, and she planned to try to get a teaching job at a local charter school.

“With a magazine.”

“To work at a magazine?”

Shadi laughed. “No, they’re interviewing me about my work. I have another exhibit coming up at the museum in a few weeks.”

“That’s great! Do you need a ride into town or something?”

“No, the woman is picking me up here and taking me out for a late lunch.”

“When is she coming?” he asked.

“Any minute.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and scratched her arm.

He was still sitting in the truck. He knew that if he got out, he might never leave.

“What happened to your truck?” she asked, running her finger along the scratch. He could almost feel her fingers touching the wound. She came closer to the window, put her fingers on the window frame.

“I have some information about what might have happened that night,” he said.

She closed her eyes slowly and opened them again.

“There was a party, at a frat house. The kid, the one from the Laundromat, the one with the Mustang, was there. His name is Mark Fitch. His girlfriend was there too but won’t talk about it. I think one of my students might have been there as well.”

“Why would Ricky be at a frat party?” she asked. “It doesn’t make sense. He didn’t have any friends on campus.”

“I don’t know. I’m going to try to figure that out,” he said. “In the meantime, I think you should call the police.”

“And tell them what?” Shadi asked, sighing. “That some college boy is bragging about beating up a drunk Indian at a party? That his girlfriend won’t talk about it?”

As she spoke, he realized how thin the information was. How insubstantial.

“Maybe it’s time to let it go,” Shadi said. “Let him rest in peace.”

“You don’t mean that,” he said.

“Ben,
it’s time to let it go,”
she said again, but this time he knew she wasn’t talking about Ricky. She touched his face and then backed away from the window.

He heard a car idling behind him. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw a woman in a Volvo, waving at Shadi. “I have to go,” she said, straightening her dress and backing away from the truck.