“Flan–”
“No, no, it’s fine. As long as you don’t try to push your agenda on me–”
Douglas laughed. “Shut up. I just mean, things are still weird with Lily, and this guy–I don’t know–”
“What do you mean, things are still weird with Lily? You guys seem pretty comfortable.”
“For public appearances, yes.” He sounded like a press agent. “But she’s still really upset. I still get the occasional teary midnight phone call.”
“At least she’s still talking to you.”
“I think that about everybody.”
“Douglas,” I said sternly. “I can’t take this much self-pity in the morning. Not other people’s self-pity, anyway.”
He chuckled. Douglas certainly was in a good mood this morning. Maybe after the dance–out of the gutter, mind! “Well, I’ll change the subject from sex to drugs. Nobody else seemed game, but I’m totally up for an absinthe reprise tonight before the Sculpture Garden if you want.”
“There isn’t any more left.”
“What do you mean? There was plenty after the party.”
“Natasha and I took some last night.”
“Without me?”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“Well, there must be some left. If you’d taken it all, you would have pulled a Jim Carr.”
I swallowed. “Yeah, what was up with that?”
“Millie said it looked like a stroke to her. Although he seemed perfectly healthy. So how about it?”
“What?”
“Absinthe, Flan. It’s eating your brain already.”
“Yeah,” I said, seizing an opportunity. “I’d better not do it tonight.”
“Well, can I stop by and get it, then? I think I can convince Kate and–I think I can convince Kate to take some with me. Are you going to be home later?”
“Douglas, there isn’t any left.”
“What did you do, sell it?”
“Um–I spilled it. I dropped the bottle down by the lake.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“What really happened, Flan?”
“I dropped the bottle down by the lake.”
“Who exactly do you think you’re talking to?”
You’re beginning to see, I bet, exactly why I didn’t hold up under cross-examination. “Remember when you said that if I took the rest of the absinthe I’d end up pulling a Jim Carr?”
“Yeah.”
I took a breath. “Do you remember how Jim Carr had been treating me?”
Douglas laughed nervously. “Stop freaking me out, Flan. It sounds like–”
“I did.”
A few bars of gloomy Russian classical music–probably Shostakovich, knowing Douglas. “Flan, I’m just going to say what I’m thinking out loud, just so–I don’t know. Just because.”
“OK.”
“You’re telling me that you gave Jim Carr a possibly toxic overdose of absinthe.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” I said. “Well, it sort of was. No.”
“But Jim Carr got a possibly toxic overdose of absinthe.”
“Yes.”
A few more bars. Maybe Tchaikovsky?
“Because he was an asshole.”
“Douglas–”
“I’m just trying to get it straight.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“I should hope so.”
I don’t know why I said it. “Hope springs eternal.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Douglas, I want to tell you, but–”
“Look,” he said. “Why don’t you talk to all of us about it? Tonight, at the Sculpture Garden. Would that make you feel better?”
“Oh, God, Douglas. The object is for no one to know, not for–”
“Flan, come on. You need us. We can help you. I mean, this is serious shit, Flan.”
“I know.”
“So tonight, OK?”
My stomach sank, sank, sank. “I don’t know.”
“Flan–”
“All right, all right, all right. Tonight, tonight, tonight.”
“You’re singing my favorite song,” he said.
I heard my own shuddering sigh. “Stop,” I said. I felt like the camera was pulling up and away, through the roof of the house until I was a tiny speck on a sofa on a screen.
“I love you,” Douglas said, over the telephone.
“Oh,” I said. I sounded like a little mouse. I hung up and took the phone off the hook. I lay there for a while. I took another shower. I wrote this all down. I’m going to lie here for a while now.
LATER
I had to take the bus to the Sculpture Garden, because I didn’t want to call Gabriel and Natasha wasn’t going. “I was never planning on going,” she said. “I have a date.”
“But they want to talk to us about Carr.”
“I can’t believe you told them, Flan. That’s so stupid.”
“I didn’t tell anybody. They just sort of guessed.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. We don’t have to answer to them or anybody else.”
“Natasha, they want to help us.”
“We don’t need any help. Flan, I’ll tell you a secret: you and I, we’re better than them. Better than all of them. At least,” she said, and I heard her take another flask sip, “I am. And you will be, if you stick with me and quit running to them for help in things we don’t need any help in. Call me tomorrow.” The phone clattered down. She and I are better than them–that’s like metasnobbery. So in either case I was alone for The Big Talk.
Kate spotted me and walked over to give me a big hug. I hadn’t felt particularly in need of one, so I had to stand there as she kept hugging me. “We’ll do all we can,” she said. “Really, Flan.” Her eyes were alight. She had been waiting for this moment her entire life: the hive had finally been called into action, and the Queen Bee was there to lead the troops.
“Thanks,” I said. “Natasha couldn’t be here.”
“Yeah,” Kate said. “She told me she had a date.”
“That’s what she told me, too.”
Kate looked over my face like she was looking for flaws. “Well, come have some food.” She turned and led me to the lions; I checked her out. I was definitely thinner. Silver lining and all that.
Everybody said “hi” to me, and Gabriel, Jennifer Rose Milton, Douglas and God-help-me Flora Habstat gave me big hugs like we were at a wake. I couldn’t believe Flora Habstat was there. I was going to have to talk to Flora Habstat about all this. And Adam. Adam, V__ and Lily didn’t get up and hug me, for which I was both grateful and disconcerted. It made the proceedings feel less like a wake but more like an interrogation.
We all stood there for a minute like more statues, the huggers standing up and the nonhuggers sitting down, with the criminal in the middle. Finally it was Adam, bless him, who brought us all back to life.
“Flan, you need some wine. We all need some wine. Sit down, everybody.” Everybody laughed nervously and sat down on the wool blanket. Douglas pressed “play” and a string quartet began to do so. A plastic goblet with red wine in it was thrust into one hand; in the other I found a cocktail napkin, a piece of French bread, a chunk of brie and a leaf, in that order.
Everyone waited. “Well?” Lily finally said, rather sternly.
Douglas looked at her. “Let’s wait until after we’ve had some supper, at least. To us, and our friendship,” he said, lifting his glass. We all drank obediently and began to pass plates around.
“So, V__,” I said, “I thought I might see Brabantio tonight.”
“Who?”
“Steve Nervo.”
“He couldn’t make it,” V__ said quickly.
“And Frank?” I said, turning to Jennifer Rose Milton.
“We thought that just, well, you know, just us should be here tonight,” Jenn said. Jennifer Rose Milton said.
I looked at Kate, then at Flora Habstat
, then at Adam, then back at Kate and said, “Oh.” I quickly made my voice more pleasant. “I mean, I’m sorry I had to break up all these new couples.”
Kate smiled, put down her wineglass and leaned back and kissed Adam. “Not all of them,” she said.
I sat there and waited for another horror movie to begin. Maybe in this one the sculptures would come alive and eat people.
Peter Pusher: All these horror movies on TV–it’s no wonder kids are so violent today.
Winnie Moprah: Of course, some TV is very instructive and illuminating.
Peter Pusher: Oh, of course it is, Winnie. I’m not talking about shows like yours. I’m talking about shows about murder and violence. Incidentally, thank you for allowing me to participate in your very instructive and illuminating program.
Dr. Eleanor Tert: Me too, Winnie. However, I must take issue with Peter. I believe that in the case of Flannery Culp, it was not the media which was responsible for her murderous behavior. Rather, it was–
Don’t you love that? “Rather, it was”–who is she, British royalty?
Dr. Eleanor Tert: Ahem. Rather, it was certain psychosexual factors. Approximately two weeks before the killings, for instance, she learned suddenly that Adam State had entered into a relationship with her close friend Kate Gordon. When she learned the news, she took it very hard.
Flora Habstat: Actually, she took it very well.
Dr. Eleanor Tert: Perhaps to the untrained eye.
Or perhaps to someone who was actually there, Dr. Twit. I swallowed.
“We didn’t know how to tell you,” Adam said.
“Yeah, I tried to tell you the other day. Before school, remember? When I met you at the bus?”
“I remember,” I managed to say. I looked around and realized, unbelievably, that I hadn’t said enough. Everybody was waiting for more. I took a sip of wine and wished Natasha was here. She’d have something to say, all right. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just surprised. I think it’s great.”
“You’re really OK with it?” Kate asked.
“Of course,” I said, looking around at everyone I was supposed to say I’m really OK with it in front of. I saw Gabriel, who I’d forgotten completely about; he was watching me with a look of such longing I couldn’t do anything else but lean back and kiss him. I was some pawn, sacrificing itself to block the opposing queen. I wish I knew chess better to make that metaphor really resonate. “Of course I’m OK with it,” I said, still facing Gabriel. His smile was as wide as wide can be. “It’s not like people have to apply for a permit from me before they can go out. I’m very happy for you guys.” I heard my voice, so false it was all the statues could do to keep themselves from rolling their eyes. I felt my own eyes roll, stretch and break. I was crying, crying, crying. Even in my whirlpool of despair I had the smarts to hug Gabriel so he wouldn’t think I was crying over Adam. I could almost feel Natasha shaking her head at me. Nice going, Flan. “I’m very happy for you guys” and burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve had a rough couple of days.”
Jennifer Rose Milton touched my arm. “You want to tell us about it?” she said, and I did. That is, I didn’t want to, no, but I did.
I did.
“Jesus!” Lily said. She was covering her mouth with her hands but I still heard it.
“Come on,” Douglas said like he didn’t believe it for a minute. “Any one of us would have done the same thing.”
Now Lily was looking at him in horror. “Are you kidding?”
“This is pretty drastic, Flan,” Jennifer Rose Milton said.
“No wonder you were so kooky at the dance,” V__ said. I was still leaning against Gabriel but he had gone all stiff. Not like that.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Lily said.
“Well, I didn’t, not really,” I pointed out.
“But you had a hand in it,” Kate said.
“Not really.”
“Well,” Adam said, “you could have stopped Natasha, right?”
I poured myself more wine, then saw just about everyone’s glasses were empty, so I began to pour everyone more wine like a charming hostess. Lily looked carefully at her cup and didn’t drink from it.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I guess. I mean, I guess I could have run back from the lake and told Carr that he was poisoned and if he had believed me maybe they could have, I don’t know, pumped his stomach in time and then I’d be in Juvenile Hall right now. Are you going to tell me that’s what I should have done?”
“No,” Jennifer Rose Milton said.
“No, no,” Lily said, shaking her head, “but go back a little further, Flan. You should have told somebody right after–well, right after Carr–you know.”
“I know. But who would I tell? No one would have believed me.”
“I would have believed you,” Douglas said quietly.
“Me too,” Flora Habstat piped up. I wish she would have piped down.
“Flan, any of us would have believed you,” Lily said.
“Look, I know you guys would have believed me. But who are we?” I looked around. “We’re kids, OK? Smart kids, maybe, but kids. We wouldn’t have been any more believable en masse and we would have been right back where we started, with no one believing us.”
“So you decided to poison him.” Lily said, looking at me and gulping down wine.
“It just happened,” I said.
“It just happened?!?” Lily said, turning to Douglas. “And you’re standing by her?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I said. To my mortification I was crying again.
“You could have gone to my mother,” Jennifer Rose Milton said.
“I didn’t know what else to do!” I stood up, but didn’t know where to go from there. Everybody, was craning their necks to watch me like they’d arrived late for the movie and had to sit in the front row. “If you had seen what he was like–” I looked around the Sculpture Garden. It was getting cold outside, but in my head all the memories and wine were seething hot. I needed Natasha.
“I’m behind you,” Kate said suddenly. She disengaged herself from Adam and stood up. “I’m not saying what you did was the smartest thing in the world, but you know that already. But who knows what any of us would do in your situation.”
Jennifer Rose Milton seemed to be thinking this all out. “That’s true,” she said.
Gabriel stood up, and put his arm on me like he was measuring the distance between us. It wasn’t too far. “Me too,” he said, and then Douglas stood up, and Adam, and then it was like that thing that happens after concerts: you’re not impressed enough to give a standing ovation, but everybody else is and soon you have to stand up too, if only to see what’s going on. From a distance, with everybody standing in a circle around a picnic blanket, it must have looked like some ancient ritual: I Was A Teenage Stonehenge.
“I think we can all sit down now,” Kate said. “We look like some sort of ritualistic cult. Let’s pour some more wine and figure out what we should do.”
“I don’t really know what we can do,” Douglas said. “Jenn, I’m assuming that you’ll hear about Carr’s condition pretty regularly.”
“We probably all will,” she said.
“Is there any chance he’ll regain consciousness?” Adam asked.
I swallowed. “He’s unconscious?”
“Mostly,” Jennifer Rose Milton said, avoiding my eyes.
“Well,” Douglas said, “depending on how much absinthe he actually swallowed–”
“Come on,” I said. “You have no idea if he’ll wake up. Not really.”
Everybody looked at me. “All right,” Douglas said. “I don’t. I was just trying to be helpful.”
“You know, Flan–” Lily started, but Adam interrupted her.
“I don’t think it matters if he does wake up,” Adam said. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but the way you told it to us, Flan, even if he’s able to speak–”
“He’s not
able to speak?” I said.
“Not most of the time,” Jennifer Rose Milton said.
“He won’t know who did this to him. I mean, with all the wacky food internationale, he won’t even know that anyone actually did something to him. It’ll look like an accident.”
“Nobody gets that many chemicals by accident,” Lily said.
“Plus,” V__ said, “Carr would be able to think of someone who wanted him poisoned.”
“But what’s he going to do?” Adam asked. “Go to Bodin and say, ‘I think Flan did it, because I–well, never mind what I did’”?
“You’re right,” Kate said, putting her arm around him.
“Carr could think of something–” Lily started, but Adam interrupted her again.
“The main thing we’ve got to do,” he said, “is not tell anybody about the absinthe party. If by chance they trace it to absinthe and rumor gets around that we’ve had that stuff, we’re up shit creek.”
“You haven’t had it. You weren’t at the absinthe party. Why are you suddenly in charge, Adam? What are you doing here, anyway?” I was in the middle of realizing that it was me who was talking when Lily stood up.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to be anything but very, very nice to all of us,” she said.
“And besides”–I turned around and Kate was looking at me with haughty, haughty eyes–“Adam is most certainly one of us.”
I was cornered. The night air blew through me and I realized I needed them; they didn’t need me. I held out my hand for Natasha to grab, but she wasn’t there; Gabriel held my hand instead. “I’m sorry,” I said to Adam. “It’s just been a rough couple of days.”
Adam smiled and shrugged. “I can imagine,” he said. “I mean absinthe, Flan. Who the hell gets killed by absinthe? Anybody could shoot someone, but absinthe? That has–”
“Panache?” I suggested.
“Well, something,” he said. “I mean, getting killed by absinthe is something for the record books.”
“Actually,” Flora said, and I can’t write any more.
Sunday October 17th
And that it was right in front of my face. The whole time. Look at this, from Monday October 4th no less, almost two weeks ago. No, don’t try to tell me you’ll look it up yourself. You’re not reading this that carefully. You can’t fool me. Just look:
The Basic Eight Page 20
