Justin Kramon Page 10

  Once, she reached down to her own underwear and felt they were soaked, she’d become so aroused.

  “Oops,” she said to Earl.

  “Well, you can always wear mine,” Earl said.

  And they laughed together. She didn’t need to hide or explain with him. She wasn’t worried about him judging her. With Earl sex could be funny, and Finny saw how important that was, too. When she got home that day, she looked at her underwear and saw a few dots of blood, he’d reached so far into her.

  One day, when they were lying in the vineyard, Finny said to Earl that she thought he’d make a good dad.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked.

  “Just a way you have. Of making people feel good for the things that make them who they are. The important things. I don’t think you’d make a fuss over test scores and being the best on the soccer team.”

  “Well, since my test scores aren’t so good and I can’t kick a ball straight, I don’t think that would make sense.”

  “That’s what I mean,” Finny said. “You’re not stuck-up.”

  “I’m very proud of my ability to prevent car accidents when my dad falls asleep at the wheel.”

  Finny laughed. “That’s important.”

  “Especially for me,” Earl said.

  “Do you think you’d want to be a dad sometime?” Finny asked.

  Earl was silent a moment. Then he said, “Yeah, I think so. It’s just hard to know how your life will turn out.”

  Finny wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell her, so she asked him, “How do you want it to turn out, Earl?”

  He thought for another moment. “I think I’d like to be a writer.”

  And though Finny wasn’t sure what this had to do with the issue of children, she asked him why.

  “Because there’s so much stuff you never get to say. Or never take the time to figure out how to say. There’s so much in the world, and I want to get it down somewhere. I just don’t know if I’d be any good at it.”

  “I think you’d be a great writer, Earl. You’re more sensitive than anyone I’ve ever met. I’d read anything you wrote.”

  “Thanks,” Earl said. “Then I know I can sell at least one copy.”

  “And it better be signed.”

  “I’ll write you a personal letter.”

  “Deal,” Finny said.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention it,” Laura said to Finny one morning at breakfast, “but we can’t afford Thorndon anymore.”

  “Why?” Finny said. Though she’d had a feeling this news was coming. She’d be sad to leave Judith and Poplan, but she’d be closer to Earl and Mr. Henckel. It had to be one group or the other. Sometimes she wished she could just round up all the people she loved and move to a commune.

  “You’ll be going back to the Slope School in the fall, with Sylvan. They offered you some assistance.”

  “Assistance?”

  “We need it,” Laura said.

  Judith came to visit Finny the last weekend of Thorndon’s spring break, even though Judith knew Finny wasn’t coming back to school with her. She’d already gotten her tickets, and figured Finny could use the company anyway. Finny, Laura, and Sylvan drove to BWI to pick her up.

  Judith stepped off the plane with her hair back in her usual ponytail. She was wearing a black sweater that hugged her well-formed curves, revealing the tiniest sliver of belly when she lifted her arms. She had a brush of makeup on her cheeks. She looked gorgeous, Finny thought, like some starlet, and Finny was struck once again by the thought that she didn’t deserve this beautiful girl’s attention. Finny was about to introduce her friend to her mother and brother, when Judith said, “Hi. I’m Judith Turngate. I’m very pleased to meet you. I was so sorry to hear about your family’s loss. Mr. Short was so wonderful to me when he came to visit Thorndon. I have the nicest memories of him.” She spoke with the poise of a woman twice her age. She held out her hand and shook Laura’s and Sylvan’s hands in turn. Then she stood there with her shoulders back, smiling sympathetically at Finny’s family.

  For a moment they were speechless. There was a beat of silent appreciation, until Laura finally said, “We’re pleased to meet you, too, Judith.”

  Finny understood they were both a little awed by Judith. She knew what that was like. It was the usual response, and she forgave them for it.

  In the car they asked Judith where she was from, and about her family. She spoke about her life in New York in a completely different way from how she had to Finny. She explained that her father traded bonds, how he loved to play bridge and go for jogs in Central Park in the afternoons. “A pretty easygoing guy,” she said. Her mother was “a philanthropist.” Judith said she was working to try to make arts more affordable and accessible in the city, and she’d butted heads with a few politicians as a result. Her mother was tough, “but I know she’s a good person and has everyone’s interests in mind. Everyone but herself, I guess.” Judith laughed.

  At dinner that night everyone seemed more animated than they’d been in the last couple weeks, like the colors and sound had been turned up on a television. They ate and talked in the bright dining room, in front of the wide windows that looked across the valley, the constellations of lights from the neighbors’ houses, the stretches of dark fields and trees. Finny laughed at how attentive Sylvan was to Judith, asking her if she needed more salad or bread. She’d never seen her brother so cowed by someone his age. But now he mumbled and blushed, smiled too much, asked awkward questions about the weather in Boston and what Finny and Judith had done on the weekends. Finny knew he was trying to figure out if Judith had a boyfriend. But it felt good to Finny, like her family was coming back to life.

  Saturday was a lazy day. Laura made toaster waffles and eggs for brunch. Finny and Judith watched videos and read magazines and ate microwave popcorn. By dinner they were all feeling antsy. They went out for Chinese food, and then ice cream, and the whole family was in bed by ten o’clock.

  After Finny and Judith had settled into Finny’s bed, Finny said to Judith, “I heard you were pretty close with your roommate before me. Jesse, right?”

  Finny felt the covers rustle. “We had fun,” Judith said. “Actually, I can tell you this now: the reason she left is we got caught drinking together, and my parents bailed me out. But I’m really glad you came, Shorty Finn. You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had.”

  On Sunday, Finny woke up before Judith. She knew she had a couple hours before her friend would want to get up. Her brother was already downstairs in the family room, seated on the couch, hunched over a large book, his hair flopping in front of his face. He was working on an English paper about Walt Whitman that was due in two weeks.

  “Dork,” she said, pointing to him.

  “Argument for birth control,” he said, pointing to her. It was pretty funny, Finny had to admit. Now that Judith wasn’t in the room, Sylvan was free to take up their usual arguments.

  “You going to be working the whole day?” Finny asked him.

  “Mom went out,” he said.

  “Um,” Finny said, not knowing how to make the request she had in mind.

  But Sylvan cut her off. “It’s okay,” he said. “Go see your boyfriend.”

  “I’ll make a pie for you later,” Finny said, and hugged her brother around the neck.

  “How about you just give me the money you’d use to get the ingredients?” Sylvan said. “I’ll tell Judith you’re out.”

  “I’ll bet you will.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Just don’t go making kissy faces while she’s asleep.”

  “You want me to tell Mom where you went?”

  “Okay, okay,” Finny said. “Thanks!” And she ran out of the room.

  At Earl’s house, Finny and Earl had a cup of coffee with Mr. Henckel. He told Finny a story about how, after his concert career had collapsed, he’d joined a traveling act.

  “A kind of cabaret, shall we say,” he confided to Fi
nny with a half dozen smile-frowns. “But the costumes were very expensive, especially for the ladies. So they came upon this formula. Which is to say they realized the gentlemen patrons would pay more for less costume. A win-win, if you will. So the ladies’ costumes were gradually, shall we say, removed from the budget.” Mr. Henckel was practically drenched by the time he finished this confession. He mopped his face with the yellow handkerchief, but it was like trying to stop a waterfall with a dish sponge.

  Finny couldn’t believe that Mr. Henckel was telling her he’d worked in a strip show. “What kind of music did you play?” she asked.

  “The classics, mostly,” he said. “It was a rather arty production. There was a grand finale involving the William Tell Overture.”

  “How did they dance to that?”

  “You see, young lady, the music is of very little consequence in this sort of performance.”

  “I guess so.”

  “We’d been on the road for nearly three months when I realized that possibly this wasn’t the greatest use of my talents.”

  “Of course not, Mr. Henckel. But what did you do?”

  “Thus began the long and cold decline into the life of a teacher, my dear.”

  “Dad,” Earl said, “I think Finny and I are going for a walk.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Henckel said, offering a single smile-frown, like he’d just told them about his first time on a Ferris wheel.

  Back at home, Finny went upstairs to meet Judith in their room. She pushed open her door without even thinking to knock. Finny was three steps into the room when she looked up and saw something that made her stop: it was Judith, lying on Finny’s bed, next to Sylvan. They were kissing, and Sylvan had his hand on Judith’s breast.

  “I’m sorry,” Finny said. “Oh my God.” And she started out of the room.

  “Finny,” Judith said, sitting up.

  But Finny wouldn’t stop now. She heard Judith call her again, but she just kept walking, out the door, down the hall, down the stairs, into the kitchen, where Laura was scrubbing some dishes.

  “You look like you just saw a ghost, sweetheart,” Laura said.

  “No, I didn’t,” Finny said, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  They spent the rest of the day with Finny’s family—whom Finny used as a kind of shield—and Judith left in the evening. She called the next week to try to explain about Sylvan, but Finny said, “Look, I don’t want to get between you and my brother. I just think I’d prefer not to hear about it, if that’s okay with you.”

  And when Sylvan broached the subject, Finny said, “You two can do whatever you want. But if you ever ask me for condoms, I’ll kill you.”

  Chapter13

  Another Visitor

  April to June was a busy time for Finny. Since her mother couldn’t afford the room and board at Thorndon, Finny completed her classes by mail, with a few phone calls to teachers and one conversation with Mrs. Barksdale, during which Finny had to hold the phone several inches from her ear. Mrs. Barksdale told Finny again how sorry she was for Finny’s loss, and assured her that everyone had missed her during the final months of classes.

  Poplan called. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” she told Finny.

  “Where are you?” Finny asked.

  “At my cousins’. In Virginia. Remember?”

  “What’s that in the background?”

  Finny heard some brassy, syncopated music playing, and a squeaky voice saying, “Cha-cha-cha, cha-cha- cha,” to the beat of the song. She couldn’t tell if it was the voice of a woman or a young girl.

  Then Poplan said to someone in the room, “Alana! Put down that maraca right now.”

  After a brief pause, Poplan said, “Sorry,” to Finny. “They get so wound up when they hear a good mambo.”

  “Understandable,” Finny said. She was just so pleased to hear Poplan’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “It might be my vacation,” Poplan continued, “but I remain vigilant.”

  “Of course.”

  Poplan then told Finny she was going to be passing through Maryland on her way back to Thorndon, where she’d be spending the summer. “I thought maybe I would stop by to say hi.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Of course, it would be impossible to do that without proper directions and an ETA.”

  “ETA?”

  “What time do you want me to get there?”

  “Oh. Sorry,” Finny said. “Noon? But it’s still a little weird here. Maybe we could meet at my friend’s house …”

  Finny was at Earl’s house at eleven, and she heard Poplan’s decisive knock at 11:42. Finny started up out of her chair. Mr. Henckel snorted awake.

  “No,” Earl said to Finny. “Sit. Let me get it. I’m so excited to meet your friend.”

  Finny sat back down, and Earl went to the door.

  When he opened it, Poplan was standing there, wearing a bright shawl made from a red and gold fabric that looked Indian. She had on lipstick, and some dangly gold earrings. Earl invited Poplan in, and when she strode into the small living room, Finny heard Mr. Henckel let out a gasp. Finny looked at him, and noted that his face was nearly white, his lips parted and trembly, like he had something important to say. Finally, after several seconds, he gathered himself enough to whisper to Finny, “She … she’s radiant.”

  “Who?” Finny said. “Poplan?”

  “Poplan,” Mr. Henckel repeated, as if Finny had taught him the name of some rare and delicious fruit. And in truth, Poplan did look striking in her red-gold suit. Her hair was pushed off her forehead from the breeze outside. Her cheeks glowed. Finny could see how with a little imagination someone could even call her “radiant.”

  Finny walked over to Poplan, and just as she was about to speak, Poplan said, “Now tell me you’ve washed your hands.”

  “Of course!” Finny said.

  “Then give me a hug.”

  Finny put her arms around Poplan, and the two women held each other for what felt like a full minute. Finny had to check herself from getting teary. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed Poplan, how much this older woman meant to her.

  After their hug, they all got down to the business of the visit. What Finny had known about Mr. Henckel but hadn’t quite had the opportunity to observe in full effect was how intensely and painfully shy he was around new people. Earl and Poplan had introduced themselves at the door, and now Poplan looked to Mr. Henckel, who was standing by Finny’s side. Any other adult would have taken the opportunity to introduce himself at this juncture, but Mr. Henckel, who was not like any other adult, was silent.

  “I’m Poplan,” Poplan said.

  Mr. Henckel nodded and thrust an elbow into Finny’s side. Taking the hint, Finny said, “This is my friend, Mr. Henckel.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Poplan said.

  Mr. Henckel nodded again, and offered a quick smile-frown as his only response. They all sat down at the kitchen table.

  Then began a long series of proddings and gesturings by Mr. Henckel, for the purpose of getting Finny—who had the bad luck of being seated next to him—to perform various tasks for Poplan. First she was offered a better seat at the kitchen table. Then, when it was observed that she might not be comfortable enough, Finny received an elbow to her side to inform her that a cushion should be brought from one of the living room chairs. Once this was done, the coffeepot was nodded at, and then the cream pitcher and sugar bowl successively. Finny poured the coffee, then added the cream and sugar in turn. After one spoonful was added, Finny received another painful jab from Mr. Henckel to suggest that Finny should ask whether Poplan preferred one spoonful or two.

  “Two,” Poplan responded, after Finny asked, and a completely unnecessary jab informed Finny that she would have the honor of adding the spoonful to Poplan’s cup.

  Because of Mr. Henckel’s reluctance to speak, conversation was somewhat strained. But Earl and Finny made do, talking about some
of the walks they’d taken recently. Then Finny explained how Poplan loved to play Jenga, and was the best player at the school. Mr. Henckel looked impressed, and nodded appreciatively, signaling his admiration with an extended series of smile-frowns.

  After several minutes of conversation, Poplan stood up and stated that she had brought a gift for her hosts but had waited for the proper moment to present it. Now was that moment.

  Poplan returned to the house carrying a beige tote bag with the words Buloxi Regional Square Dancing Championships in green letters on it. Inside the bag was some round, heavy object, about the size of a human head. Poplan set the bag down on the living room floor. Immediately, a smell of rotting meat filled the room.

  “What is that?” Finny said.

  “What is what?” Poplan said.

  “That smell.”

  “It’s our snack.”

  “Is it alive?” Finny asked.

  “Not anymore,” Poplan said. “I suggest we repair to the kitchen. By the way, Mr. Henckel, do you own an extremely sharp knife?”

  Finny and Earl looked at each other. Earl’s forehead was creased, like he was trying to figure out a difficult math problem.

  But Mr. Henckel nodded eagerly, and took Poplan by the hand into the kitchen—a very bold move for him—to show her where the knife was.

  “Mr. Henckel, have you washed that sweaty hand you’re holding me by?” Poplan asked.

  Mr. Henckel nodded, still unable to speak. Finny had warned him to wash his hands before Poplan arrived.

  Finny and Earl followed them to the kitchen. By now the scent had filled the entire house. To Finny it was like the smell of a garbage bag that should have been taken out the day before. They saw Poplan examining the knife blade. Approving it, she fetched the tote bag from the living room floor and placed it on the kitchen counter.

  “Is this going to be bloody?” Finny asked. She and Earl were standing behind Poplan, a few feet away from her in case anything sprang out of the bag.

  “Not if it’s done right,” Poplan said.

  Then she opened the bag. The first thing that struck Finny was the smell. It was overpowering, like someone’s old gym socks. She coughed, hardly able to breathe, and covered her nose and mouth with her shirt. She could see that Earl had the same reaction. He didn’t want to seem rude, Finny knew, but he was taking small breaths from his mouth like he was sipping from a straw.