In Your Room (19 page)

Instead, Ron said, “Let me see if she’s available to come to the phone,” and now Charlie was on hold waiting to speak to her.

He paced back and forth across the station, waiting for her to pick up, waiting to find out there was some simple explanation, some reason why she couldn’t come or try to reach him.

“Hello? Are you still there?” It was still Ron, speaking in a harsher tone now.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Molly can’t speak to you right now.”

He said it with such finality. Like she wasn’t just indisposed; she was deliberately avoiding him. “Okay, well—”

“Okay, then.”

Ron was about to hang up when Charlie interrupted. “Wait. Can you please give her a message?”

There was a long pause.

“What is it?”

“Please tell her to call or e-mail as soon as she can. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

“Sure,” he said. He didn’t sound quite as gruff. “I can tell her that.”

It was the final call for the bus to Park City but Charlie slid to the ground next to his bag. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut and couldn’t move. He sat there watching the world go by, feeling like he was no longer a part of it.

“Charlie? Is that you?” Lisa emerged from the dark hallway just as Charlie was about to go upstairs.

“Hey. Change of plans.”

“It’s five o’clock in the morning. What happened?”

He was tired and confused and had been hoping to avoid seeing anyone for at least another few hours.

She turned on the light. “You look terrible. Come, I’ll make you something to eat.”

Charlie followed her into the kitchen and sat on a stool while she made the batter for pancakes. He hadn’t eaten or slept all night, and could only obsessively think about Molly and what had gone wrong. There was no way she could have known about the incident with Celeste, since she should have already been on the bus by the time Charlie woke up. She had to have made up her mind to miss her bus before that, so there had to be something else to blame.

“This will make you feel better.” Lisa handed him a cup of hot tea with honey.

He felt a little more alert after a few sips. “Why are
you
awake?”

“Getting this paperwork out of the way so I can spend the day with the girls,” she said, pointing to a pile of essays on the table.

After they finished eating, Lisa put her hand on top of his. “I’m concerned. You still look awful.”

Charlie laughed. “Thanks, Mom. I feel much better now.”

Lisa smiled. “You know what I mean. Are you okay?”

Now that they were face-to-face, Charlie couldn’t keep it in any longer. He wasn’t okay at all—he was completely heartbroken. He opened up and told her about Molly and their secret plan and why he’d done an about-face when he got to Salt Lake City.

“Oh, Charlie,” Lisa said, squeezing his hand. “That’s so painful. There must be some kind of explanation.”

It was a relief to talk about it, to get it off his chest after being alone for so many hours. “There’s something else.” If he was going to confide in her, he had to tell her everything. “Celeste kissed me last night, and I didn’t exactly stop her. Not immediately anyway, like I should have. Once it happened, I knew it was a mistake, and all I could think about was Molly.”

Lisa sighed. “Is there any way she could have found out so fast?”

“I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter. This is what I deserve for letting it happen.”

Lisa frowned. “If Molly really means that much to you, then you owe it to her and to yourself to find out what happened. Giving up because you think you deserve it is the easy way out.” She leaned over and kissed Charlie on the forehead.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Charlie helped Lisa clean up, then went up to Molly’s room.

• • •

“Penelope! I’ll see you tomorrow,” Molly called. She walked toward Ron’s car, which had just pulled up outside.

“All right, sweetie. It’s good to have you back.” Penelope caught up to her and gave her one of her trademark hugs.

It was Molly’s first day back at the store in over a week, and Ron had offered to drive her in and pick her up. She couldn’t contemplate getting on the bike; it reminded her too much of Charlie.

He had been calling the house every day, like clockwork, right before dinner—a time when he knew that Molly was usually home, just getting back from work. Ron took on the role of answering the phone, each time telling Charlie the same thing: that Molly was unavailable. She could only imagine how many e-mails were piled up in her inbox. Her laptop was another thing she was avoiding.

She got in the car and they rode along in silence, Molly slumped in her
seat, staring out the window. She’d finally told her mother everything and had her fill Ron in—it was too painful to rehash the whole story from the beginning more than once. But Ron quietly assumed the role of a protective guardian, no questions asked, and was always there when the phone rang.

“The call already came today,” he said, when they were almost at the house. She couldn’t think of it as home anymore.

Her heart sank thinking about it, even though Ron was clearly trying to spare her the anticipation of waiting for the phone to ring when they got back. “That’s a relief.”

He didn’t say anything more until they pulled into the driveway, and he shut off the engine.

“Look,” he began, his hands still gripping the wheel. “I know this isn’t any of my business, but maybe you should send him an e-mail letting him know how you feel. I’m not defending the guy, but he’s not giving up. Maybe he just needs some closure.”

She waited until Ron was finished talking before getting out. She heard him, but she didn’t know how to respond. She already felt like she’d told Charlie enough. He should have thought about the kind of closure he wanted before he went and kissed Celeste.

Her mother ran out of the house and met her on the walkway leading to the front door. She was waving a large white envelope above her head. “Molly! Molly! This just came for you!”

She handed Molly the envelope. Right there on the front label was clearly marked C
YNTHIA
V
INCENT
.

In the past week Molly had completely forgotten about the internship. Her months of dreaming about it and the amount of work she had poured into her application seemed to completely vanish in light of recent events.

Pain like that tended to eclipse everything else.

She took the mail from her mother to be polite, but discarded it on the console next to the phone as soon as she walked in the door.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

Molly was already halfway up the stairs. “No, but you can if you want.” She shrugged, resuming her way up.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Molly was already lying down, staring up at the ceiling. Her mother entered, sat down on the edge of the bed, and reached over to run her hand through Molly’s hair. In her other hand she was holding the white envelope.

“I know it hurts, Molls. And I know it feels like any sense of joy has been sucked right out of you.”

Molly closed her eyes to trap the tears that started forming.

“But another thing I know is that you have a gift. And it’s a gift that needs to thrive no matter who comes in and out of your life. This talent is yours, and no one can take it away from you. Not Charlie, or Celeste, or the internship committee, or even me. You have something to share with the world, and it would be a shame to throw it all away, with or without this internship.”

Laura handed Molly some tissue. She wanted to embrace what her mom was saying, but there was a big gulf of despair preventing her from really believing it, or caring enough to open the envelope. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

“Your father would be so proud of you too. You remind me of him, you know. Seeing the way you’ve devoted yourself to putting the application together and the way your face lights up when you’re inspired. He was the same way when he was passionate about something, and he never swayed from his conviction, no matter who got in his way.”

Molly was sitting up now. “I really remind you of him?”

“More than you even know.”

Laura got up to leave and propped the envelope up against the elephant-shaped lamp on the pink nightstand between the two beds. “I’m going to finish making dinner. Take your time. Come down whenever you’re ready.”

Molly turned over and stared at the envelope. She wanted to open it, but there was something she had to do first. She got out of bed and walked down the hall, past the bathroom to Charlie’s room. She took a deep breath and went in. Her laptop was right where she’d left it—and where it had been for most of the summer—on the unmade bed next to the pillows. She quickly retrieved it, trying not to notice anything else, and ran back to the twins’ room.

She opened the computer, went straight to her e-mail program, and hit compose.

She didn’t read the e-mail over or do a spell check or second-guess her actions before sending it. She just pressed the button, and away it went. Charlie was now officially out of her life. He got his closure. But instead of feeling relief that she would no longer be nauseous for the hour leading up to his daily call, or need to avoid her computer for fear of seeing his name appear in her inbox, she felt worse.

She closed her laptop and reached for the envelope. It felt thick and heavy. She opened it absentmindedly, like it was some dumb school newsletter she would casually glance over and then discard.

She pulled out a glossy red folder. Inside, there was a typed letter on Cynthia Vincent letterhead from the internship committee. After reviewing materials from over five hundred extremely talented applicants they were very pleased to inform her that she had been chosen as one of four finalists and had an interview with the committee next week in L.A.

Molly returned the letter to the folder, which she stuffed back into the envelope. She placed it facedown on the pink night table and went downstairs for dinner.

Charlie rang Celeste’s bell and knocked on the door. He had desperately been trying to track her down since receiving Molly’s e-mail and had even checked her father’s place a couple of times until he finally found out, through Jose, that she had gone to Paris and was due back today.

She finally came to the door in a robe. “What are you doing here?” It was the first time they had seen each other since the morning after the Farmers Market.

“We need to talk.”

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. “I just got back and I’m beyond jet-lagged so can this wait?” She acted different without her usual sexy clothes or makeup on.

“No, it can’t.” He had already waited long enough. “I don’t know what you said to Molly, but you need to fix it.”

“Excuse me?” Celeste said, genuinely confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I guess you also have no recollection of what happened the last time I saw you either.” He was in no mood for her attitude.

“Yes, I remember.” She looked down at her feet. “But what does this have to do with Molly?”

“You mean you haven’t spoken to her?”

“No. She’s been, like, a hermit all summer. What’s going on?”

“Don’t screw with me, Celeste,” Charlie said. He hadn’t considered the possibility that he was wrong and that Molly had found out what happened some other way.

“What’s your problem anyway? You’re, like, freaking out.”

Convinced that she was telling the truth, Charlie filled her in on what was going on with Molly.

“HO-LY SHIT,” she said, when he was done. “I can’t believe it.”

She didn’t seem mad at all, but rather kind of shocked. “Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, suddenly a little defensive.

She turned to him and laughed. “No, it’s just that you have no idea how huge it is that she even agreed to meet you in the first place. I mean, the Molly I know would
never
do something like that.”

“Well, she didn’t because somehow she found out what happened that night at the Farmers Market, and now she won’t talk to me.”

Celeste was quiet and reached for the doorknob. But instead of going inside she muttered something under her breath. Her back was to Charlie, so he couldn’t hear her. “You have to speak up.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, just loud enough so her voice was now audible. “It’s all my fault.”

Charlie softened. “You didn’t know. I’m the asshole.”

She still had her back to him. “I threw myself at you even though I knew
you weren’t interested.”

She seemed to be crying now, because her shoulders heaved every time she took in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I accused you,” Charlie said. “Please—”