Ivy Secrets (19 page)

“I can’t,” Charlie said. “I have U.S. History at four o’clock.”

Tess wasn’t sure if she should yell. Or cry. Had Charlie or Marina ever done anything for her? How many times had Tess fielded their phone calls, told them how gorgeous they looked before their dates, or listened to their endless postdate ramblings? What about her feelings? Did they think she had none?

“Can’t you cut?”

Charlie looked at Tess. “Cut class?” she asked, as though Tess had just suggested she commit multiple murders.

She thought about what she was asking. Maybe it was too much. Maybe it
was
an imposition. Then she thought of Peter, of the way he had told her about Lydia, of the way he had brushed her off. She thought of her mother. Suddenly, unwelcome tears spilled down her cheeks.

Charlie touched her shoulder. “God, Tess, what’s wrong?”

Tess couldn’t speak. She couldn’t tell Charlie what Peter had done, how he had shattered her illusion. She couldn’t tell Charlie about her mother’s stupid plan.

“Tell me, Tess. What happened?”

She sniffed back tears and tipped her head toward the gray November sky. She wondered if she would ever have a normal life, if anyone would ever love her. She wondered if she would ever stop feeling so humiliated.

“It’s Peter,” she said quietly. “I broke up with him.”

“Oh, Tess,” Charlie said sympathetically. “What happened?”

“He was gone a long time. He changed. We have nothing in common anymore.”

“So that’s why you’re so upset.”

Tess shook her head. “No. Peter and I are finished. But
it’s my parents. I didn’t have the heart to tell them.” She wiped her tears and began walking briskly again. “My father gave me some papers to deliver to Peter. I’ve got to get them to him today, and I don’t want to go alone. I’m afraid I hurt him terribly, and I don’t want to embarrass him.”

Charlie was quiet a moment, then said, “Well, I guess I could cut class and go with you.”

“No, Charlie. You don’t have to. It’s my problem.”

“Tess,” Charlie said, “You never ask me for anything. This is the least I can do.”

Tess felt a smile grow inside her. “Great,” she said, as she shifted her books. She decided she wouldn’t bother to put on makeup for the trip.

    “Peter’s in class,” said the student who was standing in the foyer of Peter’s frat house. “He should be back any minute, if you want to wait.”

Tess glanced at the library off the hall. “May I leave these papers for him?”

“Do you think you should leave them?” Charlie asked.

Tess shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“We haven’t had any robberies this semester,” the guy assured them. “This isn’t UMass, you know.”

Tess looked at the papers in her hand, as though they would hold the answer. “Could you put them in his mailbox?”

“Our mailboxes are across campus. At our post office.”

“Can I leave them in his room?”

“It’s probably locked.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “If you want to give them to me, I’ll make sure he gets them. Honest.”

Tess hesitated. If she left the papers and Peter didn’t get them, her father would be furious. Yet if she left them, she wouldn’t have to face Peter. She saw his face again, his eyes sparkle as he said the name:
Lydia.

She handed the papers over. “Fine. Thanks.” They turned and headed out the door. As they reached the porch, a young man in a camel stadium coat was climbing the steps, two at a time. Tess’s heart sank.

“Peter,” she said weakly.

His eyes connected with hers without recognition. Then
he blinked. “Hey, Tess.” Brushing back the hair from his forehead, he smiled. “What brings you here?”

She looked over at Charlie, wondering if Charlie thought this was an odd reaction from a former boyfriend. But Charlie hadn’t seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. “Papers,” Tess said and gestured inside. “From my father. I gave them to a guy …”

“Great. Thanks.” His gaze shifted to Charlie.

“Charlie, this is Peter,” Tess said, “Peter, Charlie.” As Peter’s eyes scanned Charlie’s face, Tess saw his cheeks begin to redden. Her heart moved to her toes.

Peter extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Charlie shook his hand with a nod.

She loves this
, Tess thought.
She’s used to making guys blush and she loves it.
She nudged Charlie’s arm. “Come on, Charlie, we can get the next bus back.”

“You came over on the bus?” Peter asked. “I’ll take you back in my car.”

Tess shook her head. “Thanks anyway, but my friend here loves the bus.”

Peter laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just had my last class and I could use a break.”

Tess looked at Charlie, trying to signal her to help come up with an excuse. Charlie wasn’t looking at Tess; she was looking at Peter, and the words that came out of her mouth were “Actually, a ride
would
be much nicer than the bus.”

    Tess stared out the window on the ride across Route 9 and wondered if it was legal for three people to be scrunched inside a Corvette. Peter and Charlie talked, about Smith, about Amherst, about … all kinds of stuff. It wasn’t surprising. Of course Peter would like Charlie. Everyone liked Charlie. Every guy, anyway. Charlie always knew what to say, how to act, when to talk and when to shut up. It was as though she’d gone to some exclusive girls’ school for training in effective communication with the opposite sex. Surely she’d gotten all A’s.

Besides that, Charlie was
pretty
, for godssake. She had long legs that gave off signals that they wanted to be stroked. She had a beautiful smile. And, Christ, she had perky tits. Perky tits. The answer to every Amherst male’s
dream. Tess looked down at her own tits. Beneath her jacket, beneath her sweater, she knew they were hardly perky. They were round, fleshy, and probably poking out of either the top or the bottom of her 38C.

At that moment, Charlie laughed her beautiful laugh at something Peter had said. Then she moved one of those long, sinful legs close to the stick shift, the four-on-the-floor. Peter flashed an appreciative, ga-ga smile.

Tess wanted to get home, puke, and go to bed. It was the longest ride she ever remembered.

    After dinner that evening, Charlie came to Tess’s room. “Can we talk a minute?” she asked.

Tess was seated at her desk, pretending to study. “I’m trying to get ready for finals.”

“Tess, finals aren’t for three more weeks.”

Tess shrugged. “I like to cram ahead.”

Charlie pushed aside a heap of clothes and sat on the edge of the bed. “How was your Thanksgiving, anyway? You were so worried about seeing Peter you never mentioned it.”

“Same old stuff. How about yours?”

Charlie pulled her feet in underneath her. “Not great. My dad lost his job, you know.”

Tess turned in her chair. “No. I didn’t know.”

“He still hasn’t found work. I might not be able to come back next semester.”

“Not come back to Smith?”

Charlie shook her head. “I might have to stay in Pittsburgh. Go to work.”

“Oh, God, how awful.”

“Yeah. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Tell me about Peter.”

“Peter?” There was a catch in Tess’s throat.

“Why did you break up with him? Is he a jerk?”

Tess turned back to the open book on her desk. “No. I told you. He was gone a long time. He changed. I changed.” She surprised herself that the lies flowed so readily, one melting into another like raindrops into puddles. “I realized our parents wanted us to be together more than we did.”

“Oh. Well, how do you feel about him?”

Tess shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s okay, I guess. But like I said, he’s no longer my type.” Even as she said the words, a knot formed in her stomach. She did hate lying to Charlie, yet it was too late to turn back.

“Are you sure you’re not in love with him?”

Tess slammed the book and turned around again. “Look, I said he’s not my type. He’s not a jerk, but, no, I’m not in love with Peter Hobart. Why all the questions?”

Charlie shrugged. “Last year it seemed you were. It was like you couldn’t wait for him to come back to Amherst. If you remember, you wouldn’t even date.”

I wouldn’t date because nobody asked me
, Tess wanted to scream. “I guess that thinking about him was better than being with him.”

“Oh,” Charlie said, and started picking at the ribs of her kneesocks. “You’re sure?”

“Jesus, Charlie. What’s the big deal?”

“Well, I didn’t know what to say. But he asked me out.”

The knot in her stomach turned into a knife. “He what?”

“He asked me out. He called after dinner.”

“Oh.” It was all Tess could say.

“I didn’t say yes, because I didn’t know how you felt.”

Tess rubbed her stomach. “Do you like him?”

“I think he’s nice.”

Angry seeds of jealousy rooted. “And he’s rich,” Tess said.

“Well, yes, I suppose.” Charlie smiled. “But you know that better than I do.”

Tess nodded. “Trust me. He’s rich. And I know that’s important to you.” Her last words sizzled like spit on a flat iron.

Charlie ignored the comment and stretched out her legs—those long, lean legs, the kind Tess knew that, but for genetics, she might have had. If she had, she also might have had Peter.

“He asked me to go skiing.”

“I didn’t know you skied.”

“I don’t. But I could learn.”

“It’s not easy,” Tess replied, as if she’d ever tried it.

“He said he’d teach me.”

Her eyes watched Charlie pick at her kneesocks. She wanted to rip them off her and stuff them down her throat.

“So are you sure it’s okay?” Charlie asked.

Tess threw up her hands. “It’s great. I said it’s fine. When are you going?”

“Saturday.”

“Wonderful. Now, will you please let me get back to studying?”

Charlie stood and put her hand on Tess’s shoulder. “Thanks, Tess. I knew you’d understand.”

She left the room and closed the door behind her. Tess looked at the book on her desk, then shoved it on the floor. She put her head down and cried. And cried. And cried.

    As if things weren’t bad enough, there were snow flurries on Saturday morning—the perfect backdrop for a skiing date. Tess sat in the chair by the window of her room, looking out, waiting to see Peter arrive. Earlier she had heard Charlie’s knock on her door; she hadn’t answered. The last thing she needed was to appraise Charlie’s appearance. Of course Charlie would look gorgeous. She knew Peter would think so, too. As each snowflake melted against the glass, Tess felt another tear come. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Charlie had everything, that Tess had nothing. She watched out the window and waited. She didn’t have to wait long.

Peter’s black Corvette glided down Green Street and slipped into a parking space. Tess held her breath as she watched him get out. He was dressed in a royal-blue ski jacket. Snowflakes dotted his hair; his cheeks were already pink. Tess folded her arms and watched him cross the frosted lawn toward Morris House. She wondered what had ever happened to Lydia.

He disappeared onto the porch. Tess waited, the ache inside her growing. She couldn’t seem to move; she wondered if she’d sit here all day and wait for them to come back.

There was movement four floors down. Tess looked again—it was Peter. And Charlie. Charlie—her
friend
—wearing Marina’s white parka and looking like some kind of snow goddess. From here, it looked as though they were laughing. They walked toward Peter’s car; he opened the
door for her. She said something close to his face; they both laughed. Tess cried.

In a moment, the black Corvette was gone, leaving only an empty parking space. And then she realized she now had her answer: Tess Richards was not a lesbian. Tess Richards was in love with a man she could not have. She was a loser, but not a lesbian. She wondered if being a lesbian would have been easier. She watched the place where the car had been, watched the pavement slowly turn gray, then white with snow.

Some time later, Marina was at her door.

“Open the door, Tess,” she called. “I need your help.”

Tess remained in her chair by the window.

“I know you are in there, Tess. Open up.” She banged on the door.

Tess slowly rose from her chair. She stopped at the mirror—her eyes were red and swollen. She couldn’t let Marina in.

“Open the damn door, Tess. I can hear you moving around.”

Tess touched the corner of her swollen lid. “Go away,” she said. “I have a headache.”

“Bullshit,” came the voice from behind the door.

Tess looked at the back of her door. She’d never heard Marina be so persistent. She went to the door, unlocked it, and let her in.

“What’s up?” she tried to ask casually.

“You,” Marina said. “I was outside. I saw you sitting in the window. What were you doing? Waiting for Charlie and your boyfriend to come back?” Marina had her hands on her hips. She stared at Tess, her dark eyes flashing.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Marina. I broke up with him.” She turned to walk away. Marina grabbed her arm.

“Look, Tess, I know we always do not get along. But you cannot sit in here forever. Believe me, it does not work.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing since last year. Since Viktor left.”

“Because I am a stupid fool. You are too good for this crap. Now put on some decent clothes and come into town with me. Do something. Just get off your ass. I will even go to Dell’s with you if you want.”

Tess laughed. “You? You’ll go to Dell’s?” Though Marina
had been to the bookshop on Mountain Day, it was obvious that Dell was not her favorite person since the Viktor Coe incident last year.

“Sure I’ll go. Maybe she can talk some sense into you.” Marina pushed the thick black hair from her face, and waited for a response.

“Men are such assholes,” Tess said.

“Now you are talking sense. Get dressed. I will meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”

    Inside the shop, Marina swept past Dell with merely a nod and escaped to the book racks in the back. Nicholas joined her. Tess resisted shouting at Marina to grow up, to forget about Viktor Coe, and to realize that whatever he and Dell had or had not “done” together was ancient history. Unlike Tess’s life, Marina’s was far from ruined. She was beautiful, she was a princess, and she would always have men kissing her feet. She also did not have to answer to Sally Richards.