“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she said, and then she opened the door.
It was a surprise.
The first thing I saw were the balloons. On the floor, on the bed, some spilling outside. Then I saw the silver streamers hanging from the ceiling, shimmering in the draft. On the nightstand there was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two paper cups. And taped on the wall above the TV, a handmade sign. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I stepped inside and looked around. Dawn shut the door, threw the bolt, and put the chain on.
I said, “What’s this for?”
“Duh. What do you think it’s for?”
“But New Year’s Eve is tomorrow.”
“I know that,” she said. “I’ll be spending it with Sir Reginald and his pals. Imagine how much fun that’ll be.” She took off her coat, hanging it on the hook by the door, then she sat on the edge of the bed to unzip her knee-high boots. “I wanted to start the New Year off right, and that meant I couldn’t start it with them. So I’m starting it with you.”
I wanted to tell her that was the nicest thing anybody had said to me in a long, long time, but it sounded lame in my head, so instead I said, “I’ll open the champagne.”
“Wait, not yet.” She scooted up the bed, moving the pillows out of her way to sit with her back against the headboard. She took a travel alarm clock out of her purse and set the time back to 11:58. “According to my clock, we’ve got two minutes.”
“It’ll take me that long to figure out how to open it.”
“Sit up here with me, then. We’ll watch the second hand go round.”
I kicked off my sneakers and sat down next to her, close, but not too close, the bed creaking under us. Dawn laughed. “Geez, I bet this thing makes some noise.”
“I’ll try not to breathe.” I put a pillow on my lap and set the alarm clock on top. It was a poor table but a good cover.
She leaned over and took something out of her purse. “Here, put this on.”
I held it up. “For real?”
“I insist.”
I shrugged and put the glittery green party hat on my head, pulling the thin elastic band under my chin. “How’s it look?”
Dawn adjusted her hair around a cardboard HAPPY 1978! tiara. “About as stupid as this. Let’s get that bottle open.”
It took longer than I thought, and when the plastic cork popped, champagne sprayed the bedspread, new spots blending in with the old.
“Here’s to new beginnings,” Dawn said, tapping her cup against mine.
It was cheap champagne—the $4.99 sticker was still on the bottle—but I knew that if I lived to be one hundred, no drink would ever taste as good.
“Soooo,” Dawn said, running a finger around the top of the paper cup. “You know what I want to do now?”
I had ideas—lots of them—but I said, “No clue.”
“I wanna get under the covers with you, then cuddle up close . . .” She paused and looked up into my eyes. “And watch monster movies all night long.”
I smiled anyway. “Sounds good to me.”
“Honest?”
“Honest.”
“You’re not going to try anything, are you?”
“Scout’s honor,” I said, holding up my hand. “We’ll just watch movies. This is your New Year’s.”
She looked at me and her eyes got soft, and she said, “You know, that’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me in a long, long time.”
THE GLOW-IN-THE-DARK HANDS of the travel alarm clock read 3:15.
Dawn’s head was on my shoulder, one arm under her pillow, the other across my chest, her breathing soft and easy. I left the TV on, volume low, and thought about what had happened.
Technically nothing had happened. We got under the covers. She cuddled next to me. We drank champagne and watched monster movies. No sex, no making out, no roaming hands. She still had on her black Cheap Trick T-shirt and bright red underwear. I still had on the white shirt and tie I wore to work and my boxers. If she had noticed the hourlong, tent-pole bulge—and there was no way to miss it—she had acted like it wasn’t there. I didn’t know if I should feel relieved or disappointed. But I did know that I was happy. It was a different kind of happy—and maybe that wasn’t even the right word—but as I watched Godzilla lumber through downtown Tokyo and felt Dawn’s warm breath on my arm, happy pretty much summed it up. And when she whispered, the words seemed to float by.
“It’s New Year’s in Vietnam.”
It was strange and I had to think it through, trying to remember which way the world turned. “Not yet,” I said, softening my voice to match hers. “They still got a half a day to go.”
“They have a different New Year’s. The traditional one, anyway. They call it Tet Nguyen Dan. It means the feast of the first morning of the first day.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah.” She paused, took a shaky breath. “Nine years ago today, on the first morning of the first day of Tet, a hand grenade landed next to my father.”
I heard myself gasp. She pressed her hand to my chest.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It was a long time ago. I was pretty young. My sister was only three. She never really knew him, not even in her way. I suppose I didn’t either. It was different for my mother. She’s still all messed up. Probably why she can’t keep a job. It’s the worst around the holidays. She started early this year, a month before Thanksgiving. All of a sudden, we had no money. Nothing. We were going to lose the apartment.” She paused, sighed. “That’s when I took the job with Reg.”
“Damn.”
She laughed. “More like damned.”
“Can’t you get anything from the army? They must have benefits or something for families.”
“It was the marines, and, yes, there’s benefits. But only for families. My parents never bothered to get married. Way too traditional for my mother,” she said, her tone hinting at what she thought of the idea. “So we’re not considered family.”
“What about your grandparents?”
“Never met my mother’s parents. From the little she’s said about them, that’s a good thing. My father’s parents blame my mother for their son getting killed. Funny thing, she wanted him to run to Canada. Anyway, nothing from Gram and Gramps. I suppose we could go to court, prove that he was the father, but that would take money. And if we won, his parents could turn around and sue for custody of my sister. They’d win, too. My mother can barely take care of herself. She doesn’t want to get better, either. My sister and I should be on our own. It’s pretty much all on me right now.” She straightened her legs and stretched, then cuddled closer, putting her head on my chest. Two minutes later, she was asleep.
And right then, at that dead-quiet moment in that no-tell motel on a make-believe New Year’s Eve and a god-awful anniversary, I knew I was the biggest loser on the planet.
Oh, poor Nicky, you have to live in basement of your parents’ house.
Your mommy and daddy don’t love each other anymore.
You don’t have any friends.
Boo-hoo-hoo.
But what made it worse, next to me in bed—was she always that tiny?—lay somebody a lot braver and stronger than me.
And I knew I would do anything for her.
I WOKE TO the sound of water running.
One eye opened.
A saggy, green velvet curtain with sunlight bleeding in around the edges, an empty champagne bottle on the floor, one of my sneakers, a toothbrush rapping against the sink in the bathroom.
It took me a few minutes, but I pieced it together.
I’d slept with a few girls, but I’d never woken up next to one, and I wasn’t sure what came next. Did I offer to take her to breakfast? Go get her a coffee? And the things she told me, was it safe to bring any of it up, or was I supposed to pretend I’d been too sleepy to remember? I was still thinking it through when I heard the water turn off. Too late to do anything but lay there.
“Rise and shine,” Dawn sai
d as she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was a mess and her eyes looked different without makeup, somehow larger and not as dark. I thought it was a good look. She dropped her toothbrush into her purse and sat crossed-legged on the bed.
I propped a pillow behind my head. “What time do we gotta be out of here?”
“You in a rush?”
“I don’t want it to cost you any more than it has.”
She laughed. “What, you think they rent by the hour or something? Trust me, the room was worth the whole twenty-four dollars it cost. Oh, and thanks again for not trying anything.”
“No problem. Well, maybe some problem . . .”
She smiled. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to just lounge around like that. Nobody having to snort lines or spark a bowl first. Like I’m so awful they’ve got to be stoned to sit next to me.”
“It was fun,” I said. I meant it, too. “Definitely a first. For me, anyway.”
“Me too,” she said. “Believe it or not, that was one of my new year’s resolutions from last year.”
“To watch monster movies in a crappy motel room?”
“No,” she said, looking into my eyes. “To spend a wonderful night with a great guy.”
I felt my face flush, and I wanted to laugh, but I could tell Dawn wasn’t kidding this time. I took a deep breath, savoring the moment. “Glad I could make one of your wishes come true.”
Dawn smiled at that, a different type of smile, her eyes narrowing as she reached down for the bottom of her T-shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor in one graceful move. “Now it’s my turn,” she said.
Monday, January 2
THE NEW YEAR WAS ONLY TWO DAYS OLD, BUT I WAS CERTAIN that 1978 was going to be the best year of my life.
This was the fresh start I’d been looking for. Well, a start of a start anyway. The whole reinventing-myself thing was taking a lot longer than I thought it would. I’d been at it almost a month and I was still living in my parents’ basement, I still had the same crappy job, and I still had no real idea what to do next. Kind of hard to find a new life when you’re living in the old one. The only thing that seemed to be going according to plan was my wardrobe change. I had four different ties now, and a few more button-down shirts, and I liked the way they made me stand out from the crowd. Yet almost every morning, I pulled out one of my old concert T-shirts before remembering that I didn’t wear those anymore. I kept my list in my wallet and I was going to stick to it—that was one of the things on it—but there were moments when I’d wonder if a four-line, eight-word list was going to be enough. But it was something—and it was as close to a fresh start as I was going to get.
And it started with Dawn.
That morning in the motel room? The single greatest morning of my life.
The motel manager had to call the room twice—once to remind Dawn that checkout was at ten a.m., a second time, close to noon, to tell us to get the hell out. I hadn’t seen Dawn since, but I knew it would be like that, meeting up when we could, where we could. For now, anyway.
“I wasn’t kidding about my new year’s resolutions. I want a new life,” she had said as we showered, slipping her arms around my soapy neck. “I just gotta figure out how to get it.”
The sound of ice scraping off the windshield brought me back to the moment. I flexed my fingers to keep them warm. It was cold and dark and quiet, the fresh foot of snow deadening any sound in the neighborhood. I could barely hear my car as it idled. It was weird, even a little scary, but it was better than listening to my sister yelling as she got the girls ready for school, better than hearing my father making up stories as to why he’d be home late again, better than hearing my mother’s not-so-subtle hints that I move out already.
It was too early to go to school, but I figured I’d stop at the donut place on the way in, kill some time there as I skimmed the book I was supposed to have read over break. Or maybe not. Maybe I’d simply sit there and think about the weekend some more. It was nice to have options.
I backed out of the driveway and headed down the road. That’s when I saw the blue and white VW parked at the corner.
Her car was running and Dawn sat behind the steering wheel. I pulled up alongside, and she looked over at me. Even through the fogged-up window, I could tell something was wrong. I motioned for her to follow me, then I drove to the mall, parking in an area that had already been plowed. She parked next to me and unlocked the passenger door. I got out of my car and into hers, and was expecting to see a black eye or a swollen lip, but she looked all right, no makeup covering a bruise. She took my hand, squeezed it. I could feel her leg shaking.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to freak you out or anything, I just had to see you, that’s all.”
“What’s up?”
Dawn looked away and made a sound like a laugh. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, shook her head. “You’re not going to believe me.”
“Try me.”
“Okay. Listen. I think . . .” She sighed, took a deep breath, and said, “I think they did something to Freddie.”
I could see the guy—short, a bit dumpy, hint of a mustache, his head snapping back when Reg slapped him for talking out of turn. “Who are they?”
“Who else,” Dawn said. “Reg, Cory, Steve, Lester. All of them.”
“Why?”
She shook her head. “Something to do with missing drugs. Or money. It doesn’t matter. Something went missing, and they think he took it.”
“Did he?”
“How am I supposed to know? I don’t talk to any of them if I can help it. Especially Freddie. I told you, I don’t trust him.”
I could guess how it went down. Freddie saw how much there was—coke or cash—and figured either Reg wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t care if a little was missing. Only Reg would notice, and he would care, and he’d know who to blame. “What do you think they did to him?”
Dawn closed her eyes. After a long pause, she said, “I think they killed him.”
“What?”
“See? I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just . . . I don’t know . . . it seems kinda—”
“Psycho?”
“Yeah, but—”
She pulled her hand away. “Forget I said anything. Just go.”
“Geez, calm down. I believe you. I’m just not used to stuff like that.”
“And I am?”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “Cool it for a second. We gotta think here.”
“Think about what?”
“What we’re gonna do.”
“What do you mean, ‘What we’re gonna do’? You’re not part of this.”
“No,” I said. “But you are.”
Her eyes started to water. “Don’t be stupid.”
“It comes naturally.”
“Why do you care what happens to me?”
I knew why. But now wasn’t the time. “I don’t know,” I said. “I just do.”
She looked away.
Across the parking lot, a pair of plows cleared the spaces near the Sears, ramming the snow into piles as tall as the lamp poles. It was warm inside the car. I unzipped my coat and watched the plows for a while, then I said, “We have to go to the police.”
Dawn kept her head turned. “You’re crazy.”
“If you tell them what you know—”
“I don’t know anything. I only know what I think I might know.”
“That makes no sense.”
She chuckled. “Tell me about it.”
“But they’d have to investigate.”
“And what do you think they’re going to find? Freddie’s body in the basement? Reg is insane, but he’s not stupid. If they killed Freddie, nobody’s gonna find him. Ever.”
“Fine,” I said. “Then you gotta get out of there.”
“Why? I didn’t take anything. I’m not that crazy.”
No, I thought, but us being together with Reg in
the picture, now that’s crazy. I kept that thought to myself and said, “I just think it’d be safer if you went somewhere else.”
She turned. “And go where, Nick? Really. Where should I go? You tell me.”
“Venice.”
“Italy?”
“Florida. I have a friend who lives there. Her name’s Karla. She’d be cool with it, and you could—”
“No, I couldn’t, Nick,” she said. “My sister needs me. I could never leave her. My mother, well . . .”
“Take your sister with you. You could crash at Karla’s place a few weeks. She’ll help you get a job, find a place to live. Trust me, she wouldn’t mind at all,” I said, wondering if any of it was true.
Dawn leaned back in her seat. I watched as she played it out in her head, her eyes open, her lower lip curled in between her teeth.
“You could leave today,” I added.
“Yeah, right,” she said. I heard her mumble to herself and laugh, then she mumbled something else, and the laugh was gone. After a long, quiet minute, she looked over. “Would you go with me?”
Whoa.
I wasn’t expecting that.
Asking me for money, a ride to the bus station, sure, but asking me to run off? What was she thinking? I hardly knew her. Yeah, the sex was amazing, but what about my life here? My family, my education, my future? She wanted me to give it all up, just like that, start with nothing—less than nothing—in another city, another state. Yeah, I know, I said I wanted a change, but was I really ready to make that big of a leap? And when we got there—if we made it that far—the only thing we’d have would be each other, and who knew how long that would last. Plus we’d have her sister to take care of. What if she needed more care than we could give her? And if Dawn was right, if Reg did kill Freddie, he wouldn’t let her go. If she took off, he’d try to track her down. He wasn’t as big as he thought he was, but he could still have contacts, the higher-highers Zod hinted at. Dawn had no one, so she clung to me, hoping to be rescued. But if it went bad—and why wouldn’t it?—I’d get pulled down with her.
We didn’t stand a chance.
I was about to tell her all that.
Then I looked in her eyes.
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