All LeeLee talks about, too. But this I keep to myself.
LeeLee adds, “You know what else I can’t believe? That you made up with Susan. And she was civil to me last night.”
Of course Susan had to be civil; it was a small party, only LeeLee, Mel and Danielle, Jonas, and Nabil. We grilled outside, danced on the deck, and splashed around in the pool till well after midnight. I got some great gifts, too, including an art book from LeeLee, a diary from Susan, Godiva chocolates from Jonas, and a jangling ankle bracelet, imported from Lebanon, from Nabil.
Ah, Nabil. Pool water glistening on his deeply tanned skin. The gold cross dangling on his rippling chest. His sexy white smile, his laugh, his accent, his everything. And no, he didn’t try to jump my bones after the prom.
Dad sneered when Nabil, resplendent in his tux, showed up on prom night and slipped a lily corsage over my waiting wrist. Well, Dad, you can sneer all you like.
“Have you talked to, you know. ..” LeeLee doesn’t say their names.
“I promised Dad I wouldn’t,” I admit.
“Like that ever stopped you before?”
“It’s different this time.”
“That’s a big bummer, Shawna. ’Cause you and Arye’d make a cute couple if he’d, ya know, grow a few inches, maybe join a gym . . .”
“LeeLee. Stop.”
“Okay. Gotta run anyway.” Her fierce hug explodes the breath from my lungs. “Send me lots of postcards, ’kay?”
“I will,” I promise. I add, hugging her back just as hard, “I’m happy for you.”
“Me too,” she mumbles, and takes off.
I didn’t tell her the whole truth about MassArt. Knowing LeeLee, she’d rant and rave and accuse me of “sacrificing” my own happiness. But not going to art school isn’t a sacrifice. Isn’t a true sacrifice something that helps you become a better person? Or, possibly, makes somebody else happy? So maybe this is only a half a sacrifice, because I know Dad’s happy I’m going to Kenyon after all.
I’m not proud that I blackmailed my dad. But Dad nailed me, too. Because this is our mutual agreement:
1. I will go to Kenyon, as planned.
2. I’ll keep my mouth shut about what he did to Mom. And to Schmule, too. I will never breathe a word.
3. I will not under any circumstances see the Goodmans again. If Dad has no son, then it’s only fair that I have no brother. A “clean break,” Dad called it.
He meant “All or nothing.”
As for Dad’s part of the agreement:
1. Fran keeps Schmule.
2. Dad, like me, will not call, or visit, or do anything at all to disrupt their lives.
3. Surprise. There is no number three.
So I got my way and, yes, Schmule’s with Fran. But I pay for this every day in small, cruel ways. Like when Poppy bobs excitedly as soon as he hears my voice—and the bobbing slows to a disappointed quiver when he sees Schmule’s not with me.
When I pass my brother’s room and see all the stuff that Dad, so far, has refused to get rid of. Or when Dad sits in his study, silent, dejected, and I know he’s thinking about the son who really isn’t his son.
Or when I used to find Charles on Schmule’s old bed, perplexed and lonely.
I haven’t seen Arye since that day on the blanket. I changed my screen name and blocked his number from my cell.
And I’m trying every second of every day to forget the feeling of his hands on my face.
All or nothing, Dad.
At least I have his shirt.
121
Realizing how thirsty I am, I venture downstairs to brew some iced tea after LeeLee leaves. I stop dead in the kitchen and stare at empty space where Charles’s dishes used to be. He’s only been gone two days. I may never get used to it. But I promised myself, after crying for hours, that I’d be strong, strong, strong, and keep in mind that it’s for the best.
Obviously I couldn’t take Charles with me to Kenyon, right? Who’d take care of him here while I’m away? Feed him? Walk him? Love him the way I’ve loved him for ten years and exchange those sloppy, lovable doggy kisses? Nonny’s too old. Aunt Colleen’s too bitchy. Julie lives in an apartment with a snarky Persian cat. Dad works long hours and travels all the time; in fact, he and Julie are together in Greece right now. Still not married. No longer discussing it, either.
Because I couldn’t exactly do the deed myself, Uncle Dieter volunteered. The last time I saw Charles he was prancing on a leash on the way to my uncle’s car, tail wagging like a metronome at warp speed.
My baby, my Charles.
Frighteningly close to tears again, I carry the iced tea back to my room—against the rules, ha-ha—and drag my laptop closer. I need to write some good-bye letters, especially to Susan and Nabil, though something tells me, yes, I’ll be hearing from Nabil again.
I spot an e-mail from LeeLee, forwarded to her from Tovah, forwarded from somebody else. LeeLee sent this yesterday? She never said a word.
I stare, confused, at the original sender’s name: BUNGEE1202.
I only know of one bungee fan who was born on December second.
The e-mail reads: Careless gifts may be despised, but your gift to me will forever be prized. I love you! I love you! Many good-byes.
And when I read the P.S.—Charles sends kisses!—I feel the mosaic edges of my heart shift closer together.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to my family and friends, as always, for their love and support; to my awesome agent, Tina Wexler of ICM; to editors Caroline Abbey and Michelle Nagler, and the rest of the Bloomsbury crew who worked so hard to bring Shawna to life; plus a very special thanks to Jill Davis.
I’d also like to thank the dedicated members of my weekly group, my first readers, all my wonderful friends on LiveJournal and AWR, and my old TCU buddies (I miss you guys!).
ALSO BY JEANNINE GARSEE
Before, After, and Somebody in Between
Copyright © 2009 by Jeannine Garsee
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles or reviews.
First published in the United States of America in March 2009
by Bloomsbury Books for Young Readers
E-book edition published in February 2011
www.bloomsburyusa.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Bloomsbury BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Garsee, Jeannine.
Say the word / Jeannine Garsee.—1st U.S. ed.
p. cm.
Summary: After the death of her estranged mother, who left Ohio years ago to live with her lesbian partner in New York City, seventeen-year-old Shawna Gallagher’s life is transformed by revelations about her family, her best friend, and herself.
ISBN-13: 978-1-59990-333-0 • ISBN-10: 1-59990-333-4 (hardcover)
[1. Family problems—Fiction. 2. Lesbians—Fiction. 3. Homosexuality—Fiction. 4. Grief—Fiction.
5. High schools—Fiction. 6. Schools—Fiction. 7. Only child—Fiction. 8. Ohio—Fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.G1875Say 2009 [Fic]—dc22 2008016476
E-book ISBN: 978-1-5999-0674-4
Say the Word Page 26
