by Finny (v5)
“Stop it,” Finny told her brother. “Stop taunting him.” She walked over to Sylvan and put an arm around him, intending to help him out of the room. She wanted to get him away from the apartment, away from Judith and Prince and this absurd scene.
But as they walked toward the door, Sylvan hesitated in front of Prince. For a moment he looked like he was going to toss out another insult. But instead he spat on Prince. Finny couldn’t believe it. The spit splashed Prince’s face, and a small gob of it landed in the crook between Prince’s neck and his shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Prince said. His hand flew to where the spit had landed, as if he were swatting a mosquito. When he felt the wet spot on his shoulder, Prince’s eyes widened. And then, without warning, he swung at Sylvan.
Finny saw the blow coming. Her perceptions were startlingly precise. It was as if she were watching the world at some slower speed than normal. She saw Sylvan duck out of the way. She heard Judith gasp. She saw Prince’s enormous fist coming toward her temple.
A shock of lights, a roaring noise, a moment of explosive pain.
Then everything went black.
Chapter26
Finny’s Convalescence
She woke with the cloying scent of Prince’s cologne in her nostrils. Her head felt like it was locked in a vise. Where was she? She heard some banging, someone in another room calling, “Medics! Open up!”
Then she recognized the gray sofa she was lying on, the television across from it. She saw a woman folding laundry in the apartment across the street. Sylvan was standing above her, saying, “Fin? Are you okay, Fin?”
“Bags,” she said.
“What?” Sylvan said.
Finny was trying to say that she’d left her luggage in front of the door, and that was why whoever was banging couldn’t get in, but she couldn’t seem to form the words. She was too tired. And it felt like someone was tightening the vise on her head.
“Where’s Judith?” Finny asked.
“She took the gorilla into the other room. He kept saying he was sorry, and wanted to stay and make sure you were okay. But Judith wouldn’t let him. You scared us, Fin. You were out cold for a second.”
“You’re an idiot,” Finny said to her brother.
“I’m sorry, Fin,” Sylvan said. “I really didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just didn’t want to back down. I’m sure that’s what he expected.”
Finny sneezed. “Ow,” she said.
Then the paramedics burst into the room. There were two of them, wearing orange vests. One of the men had a large belly and, in his tightly cinched belt and vest, had something of the look of a trussed turkey. The other man was extremely thin, his face pocked like an orange peel, and his vest was so large on him that it billowed when he walked. They were rolling a metal gurney that clanked in the small room. Judith was behind them, trying to peer around at Finny.
“Okay,” the fat medic said in an unnecessarily loud and deliberate voice, like he was speaking into a megaphone. “Please tell us where the body is.”
“You’re okay,” Judith said, seeing that Finny was awake. Finny could hear the relief in Judith’s voice. Then Judith told the medics, “It’s not a body; it’s my friend.”
“I’m fine,” Finny said to the paramedics. “Really.” But when she tried to sit up, the screws tightened on her head and she had to lie back. “I just need a minute.”
But the fat paramedic shook his head. He was bald, and had a triangle of orange hair on his chin, a silver hoop earring in his left ear. “You are coming in to get checked out,” he informed Finny in his megaphone voice.
Then the thin one piped up, “Why don’t you just give her a minute, like she said?” His voice was actually deeper than the heavy man’s, and there was a sandpapery roughness to it. He had a couple days’ worth of stubble on his face, and his black hair looked unwashed, oily.
“You better go in and get checked out,” Sylvan said to Finny. “You look like you might be getting a black eye.”
“Then the toughs won’t mess with me at Stradler,” Finny joked.
“Seriously, Fin,” Judith said from behind the paramedics, “you should go.”
“All right,” Finny said. “Sure. Why not?” Her head really did hurt.
“Okay,” the fat paramedic said, “we will now load you on.”
“Do you have to announce everything?” the thin one said.
They helped her onto the gurney, and started to push her out of the room.
“It’s not going to make it around the bend with her on it,” the thin man said. “I can see from here. There’s no point.”
“The procedure is to try once before we make adjustments,” the heavy one said.
“You and your procedures,” the thin one said.
As predicted, the gurney couldn’t make the turn with Finny on it, and the men had to pick it up and tilt it.
“We will first tilt to the left,” the heavy paramedic said.
“You need to tilt right,” the thin one said. “The hallway turns right.”
“The procedure is left first, then right.”
The thin man rolled his eyes. The gurney swayed. Finny felt seasick from being tilted left then right. But she didn’t complain. She didn’t want to make the tension between the two medics worse.
“You need to go with the turn,” the thin one said. “It’s obvious.”
“Obvious is not necessarily right,” the fat one said.
“Are you crazy?” the thin one said. Then he looked at Finny. “Will you verify this guy is crazy?”
“Sticks and stones may break my bones,” the fat man said.
But the thin one went on, “Everything is rules, rules, rules. We had an old lady say sayonara the other day because fat Joe over here insisted Broadway was the shortest route to the hospital. Who takes Broadway through midtown in an ambulance? What are we, a fucking tour bus?”
“Sticks and stones,” the fat man repeated.
Finally they got Finny around the turn and out of the apartment. Prince must have left, because Finny didn’t see him during her trip to the elevator. Downstairs, as they were loading her in the ambulance, Sylvan said, “I feel so awful, Fin. That punch was meant for me.”
“Don’t worry,” Finny said. “I think I can take a punch better anyway.”
“I’m sorry!” Judith called to Finny as they were closing the ambulance doors.
“Don’t take Broadway,” Finny told the paramedics.
Finny spent a woozy night in the emergency room, getting poked, prodded, x-rayed, and blood-tested, shuttled from room to room. She was exhausted because of her long flight, the time change, and probably also the punch she’d taken. She fell asleep a couple times, and they had to wake her, telling her it was bad to sleep if she had a concussion. During the night she found her mind playing tricks on her because of the fatigue. At around two in the morning she realized you could rearrange the letters in concussion to spell unconscious, if you added a u. This seemed an urgent discovery, and she wanted to alert one of the nurses to it, but no one seemed to care. She attempted to notify a doctor, but this only caused him to believe she was suffering from a concussion, which prompted more tests, more hours of sleeplessness.
Then the doctor told her everything was okay. He let her sleep a couple hours in a hospital bed. In the morning, when they discharged her, Sylvan and Judith were in the waiting room, their eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Judith’s hair was coming out of her ponytail, and her face looked puffy, as if from crying. Or maybe because she’d taken a nap.
“You’re not going back today,” Judith said.
“I have to,” Finny said. “I have class tomorrow.”
“It’s one day,” Sylvan said. “I’m sure you can make it up.”
“People are adding and dropping classes anyway,” Judith said. “Just come back and rest. I called my parents and told them you had a fall last night. They said we could stay at their place. It’ll be more comfortable for
you. Come on.”
“Do it,” Sylvan said. “For your health, Fin. I’d feel awful letting you go back the way you are.”
“Are you coming?” she asked her brother. She wasn’t sure what his status with Judith was.
“I have to go back to Boston,” Sylvan said. “But call me tomorrow, okay?”
Finny agreed—more for her brother’s sake than hers, since she could see how guilty he felt.
Sylvan got on the subway. Judith paid for a cab to the Beresford for Finny and herself.
Inside the apartment at the Beresford, Judith told Finny, “You’re going to stay in my room. Don’t even think of protesting. You can go rest now. My dad is at his bridge game, and my mom is at a meeting. I’m going to get your bags from my apartment this afternoon, and I’ll be back by the time my parents get home for dinner.”
Finny lay down in Judith’s bed, and the next thing she knew it was five-thirty in the afternoon. She got up and looked outside at the darkened streets. Then she picked up a copy of The New Yorker magazine Judith had in the magazine rack by her bed. Finny started to read a long article about spices, thinking of Laura’s boyfriend, Gerald, but almost immediately her head began to feel like it was getting screwed into the vise again. She put down the magazine and lay back on the bed. In a minute she picked it up again, and read the first line. Gregory P. Mark is not the sort of man you’d expect to find in a police lineup. But then Finny’s vision went blurry, and she felt like her brain was about to pop out of her skull. Several more times she tried to read, and each time the headache came back worse than before. Finally she dropped the magazine back into the rack.
There was a light knock, and the bedroom door opened. “Hey,” Judith said. “How are you feeling?”
“Weird,” Finny said. “I can’t read anything.”
Judith looked concerned. “Well, maybe you should eat something. You haven’t eaten all day. My parents said we could have dinner early.”
“Sounds good,” Finny said. “How’s my eye look?”
“Not bad, actually,” Judith said. “I’ll give you some cover-up.”
Judith’s parents turned out to be not at all as Finny had imagined them. Because of Judith’s stories of her father’s trysts, Finny imagined a well-dressed, confident man. But the man who appeared in the dining room was neither of the above. He had a hunched posture, pinched features, and spindly legs that emerged like stalks from the running shorts he wore to the dinner table. He was soft-spoken, with a funny nervous way of talking. He asked Finny how she was feeling, and before she could even answer, he began to mutter a train of almost unintelligible courtesies: “Yes, yes, very good, thank you, nice to meet you, great, great, how lovely …”
Mrs. Turngate, on the other hand, was an authoritative woman. She had short dirty-blond hair, which she kept in a spiky style Finny was used to seeing on high schoolers. Judith had clearly inherited her wide jaw from her mother, whose flat cheeks and sharp little nose appeared the way a ship’s hull might look if it were approaching you while you were swimming. Mrs. Turngate’s features were like a clumsier version of Judith’s, and they put Finny in mind of how thin the line is between beauty and strangeness. Mrs. Turngate wasn’t a particularly large woman, but next to the stuttering Mr. Turngate, she was impressive with her straight posture and jutting bosom. She wore only gray clothes. Even her shoes and earrings were gray.
“Charcoal is my shade” she said when Finny commented on how well-coordinated her host’s clothes were. “Once I learned that, I have never worn anything else.”
Finny thought it was an odd look, but of course didn’t question this distinguished woman’s tastes. Mrs. Turngate asked Finny again how she was feeling after her fall, and Finny said she was doing much better. The cover-up that Judith had applied completely masked the bruise.
They sat down to dinner, which Judith’s mother had prepared. She said that it was meat loaf and vegetables, though to Finny it appeared as several indistinguishable gray mounds. They ate with heavy silverware, off the kind of china that feels light and breakable but that Finny knew to be very expensive. Their dining table—made of a glossy chocolate-cherry-colored wood—must have been twelve feet long, but they sat gathered in the middle, like animals huddled in the cold. Behind Mrs. Turngate there was a foggy modern-looking painting that heavily featured the color charcoal-gray Instead of wine, everyone was served a glass of cranberry juice in the gold-rimmed glasses Finny had seen at the party where she’d run into Earl.
“My dad thinks cranberry juice is the cure for everything,” Judith said.
“Panacea,” Mrs. Turngate said.
“Delicious,” Finny said.
Mr. Turngate followed this up with a string of polite comments: “Good, good, a lot of benefits, glad you like it, please come any time, help yourself, thank you, thank you, enjoy—”
“Linus,” Mrs. Turngate said to Judith’s father. “Let the girl eat.”
“Yes, very sorry, beg your pardon, please enjoy, so nice to have you …”
For a while they ate in silence. Judith hardly looked up from her plate. It was not the glamorous butlered meal Finny had envisioned when Judith had described her parents to her in their dorm room at Thorndon. Though none of them seemed uncomfortable with the silence. Finny guessed this must have been the way they spent all their meals.
Once they were finished with their food, and they had all drunk their cranberry juice, a stage of the meal Mr. Turngate observed with particular interest, Mrs. Turngate said to Finny, “I hear you are acquainted with our future son-in-law.”
“I believe so,” Finny said, wondering what Mrs. Turngate meant.
“Mom,” Judith said. “I’m not seeing Milton anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Turngate said. “Linus, did you hear that?”
“Yes, yes, well, takes time, all for the best, whatever makes you happy, your mother knows best….”
“What?” Judith said to her father. “I don’t understand what your point is.”
But her father looked positively terrified at being caught between Judith and her mother. He shrugged and turned the color of his cranberry juice.
“He’s been behaving badly,” Judith said to her mother about Prince. “You wouldn’t approve of it, Mom.”
Mrs. Turngate raised her eyebrows. “The Hollibrands are a good family,” she said. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘behaving badly,’ but you know I’ve always thought highly of Milton.”
“I know you have, Mom. But you hardly know him.”
“I know his family.”
And she left it at that. They asked Finny a few polite questions about her trip, and then everyone scattered to different rooms of the apartment.
Later that night, as Finny was brushing her teeth, Judith came into the bathroom and said to her, “I hope you know I’m never talking to that asshole again, after what he did to you. He can’t control himself. I didn’t want to get into it with my mom, since she’s best friends with Prince’s mom and they have this idea we’re going to end up together and live in the Hollibrands’ house in Westhampton. But it’s bullshit. I just want you to know that, Fin. I think Prince is an animal, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re done. I told Sylvan that last night, while we were waiting for you.”
Finny rinsed her mouth and spat into the sink. “Then what’s going on with you and Sylvan?”
“We’re going to see how it goes,” Judith said.
“That’s great,” Finny said. She looked at the skin around her eye, which was purple and a little puffy.
“Thanks,” Judith said. “I thought you’d approve.”
“Sylvan is an ass,” Finny said, “but he comes from a good family.”
Judith laughed at that for a long time, and Finny was glad to see Judith had a sense of humor about her mother.
“What’s the status with you and Earl?” Judith asked.
“I think ‘seeing how it goes’ about captures it.”
Finny tried to read the spice article again before she went to sleep, but the headache came back and she had to put the magazine down.
“What is it?” Judith said. They were sharing the bed, the way they had when Judith came to visit Finny in Maryland all those years ago.
“It’s my head. Every time I read.”
“I think you should take a few days here, Fin. Till you feel better. It won’t make a difference. Actually, they never discuss anything the first week anyway.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Finny said, because her head really did hurt, and she worried about traveling if she couldn’t read any signs. Plus, what use would she be at Stradler if she couldn’t read?
“I’ll give it another day,” Finny said.
“Perfect,” Judith said, and they went to sleep.
Chapter27
Several Significant Developments
“Master of the house, keeper of the wine …”
Finny was blinking out of sleep as she heard the words to this familiar song. The digital alarm clock by the bed read 10:48. “Holy shit,” Finny said.
“And good morning to you, too,” said the voice that had been singing a moment before. Carter stood by the bed where Finny lay, his skinny body clothed in a brightly patterned child-size argyle sweater, fitted jeans, and red sneakers. His hair was mussed in the careful way Finny had seen it at Judith’s party, swooping over his right ear and sticking up like a cowlick in back.
“I hope you’re ready to make something of this afternoon,” Carter went on. “I’ve been assigned to entertain you while Judith is in class, and my call time isn’t till four-thirty, so you better be ready to enjoy this goddamn beautiful day.”
“How’s it going, Carter?”
“Lovely, darling,” he said, bending over to smack a kiss on Finny’s cheek. “By the way, that’s a nasty bruise you’ve got.”
“It’s from a nasty bruiser, as you might have heard.”
“Bits and pieces.”
“Can you give me a few minutes to make some calls and brush my teeth?” Finny asked.
“Well,” Carter said, with an exaggerated air of frustration, “if you must. Then I suppose I could be persuaded to investigate the contents of the Turngates’ well-stocked liquor cabinet. But just know that you are responsible for driving me to such extremes of behavior.”
