18
T o accommodate so many people for Thanksgiving dinner, Conrad and Gabby had pushed together several tables, including their dining table, a folding table, and their dad’s old card table, a zigzagging arrangement that stretched from the kitchen to the living room.
But the haphazardness was charming; it gave the house a cheery, stuffed feeling that MC remembered from the dinner parties her parents had hosted when she and Conrad were little.
Everything had felt so stable back then. Not perfect, but predictable.
She would’ve enjoyed the nostalgia more if she weren’t seated between her mom and Nora.
The spread was impressive. Conrad had cooked a huge turkey and carved it into neat plates of white and dark meat, which were joined by various potluck dishes that ranged from the traditional mashed potatoes to a raisin-gravy vegetable medley that no one touched.
The wine and beer were flowing. Conversations had risen to their highest pitch yet.
Which was helpful, because they provided cover for MC’s dazed silence.
“So,” her mom said with a little too much enthusiasm, “I hear things are going very well for Joe.”
MC stared down at her plate. “Yep, they are.”
“Seems like that literary magazine you did together had a big effect on his career path.”
“I guess it did.”
MC was trying to figure out how to change the subject from the revelation of Joe’s work at Jawbreaker—she was convinced it would tip Nora off to MC’s true purpose in Green Hills—when her mom leaned forward and spoke to Nora directly: “Weren’t you in the club too?”
“I was.” Nora ate a bite of marshmallow topping from her sweet potatoes, turning away from a conversation a little farther down the table about the school’s English curriculum, in which Lois was telling Conrad that Shakespeare was overrated.
“Nora was basically a co-editor,” MC said in a rush.
“And what do you do now, Nora?” her mom asked. “Do you also write?”
Nora smiled. “No. I’m just a librarian.”
And then Conrad was clinking a fork against his wineglass.
“No one panic,” he announced, running a hand through his hair and flashing his signature half grin.
“I’ll make this short. I just wanted to thank you all for being here and pretending to like my cooking.
” Several people groaned. “Seriously, it means a lot to me, sharing the holiday with you all. Sometimes I roll my eyes at the forced gratitude stuff. But I think that’s just because it’s embarrassing how much I actually have to be grateful for. Cheers.”
Everyone clinked glasses, murmuring in agreement.
“And speaking of gratitude,” Gabby said, standing up next. “I want to second everything my smooth-talking husband just said... and add a little something extra.” She looked over at Conrad. Her face was flushed and eager, but unsteady too. “A piece of timely Thanksgiving news.”
MC saw Conrad’s eyes widen.
“I’m pregnant!” Gabby said.
The table erupted. MC saw her brother school his face into a smile. She was probably the only one who could recognize the effort he was making. Even her mom was shrugging in happy surprise, putting a hand on MC’s shoulder. “I’ve always been fascinated by babies,” she said.
But MC couldn’t get herself to put on a show of good cheer.
Her heart had sunk down to her stomach, everything she’d just eaten turning curdled.
All she could see was how happy Gabby looked; how Conrad was standing too stiffly beside her, his hands behind his back, like he couldn’t unclench them.
And of course, she saw Jae, standing up from her seat and leaving the room, while everyone else made their way toward the parents-to-be.
“How far along?” Jim’s wife was asking.
“Almost at the end of the first trimester,” Gabby said, “but we didn’t realize until last week.” She laughed. “I was like, wait a minute...?”
MC did her best to tune the conversation out. She needed to regroup. Figure out how she wanted to deal with this new development.
But it was hard to think with her mom right beside her, a living reminder of the damage cheating could do to a family.
Or at least the damage it could do when it stopped being a secret.
“I need to get some air,” MC mumbled.
She lurched up from the table, grabbed her jacket from the mound on the bed in the guest room, and went out into the cold.
The afternoon rain had turned to snow. Tiny flakes floated through the night air, glinting in the floodlight that snapped on when MC walked out of the garage.
Her breath puffed in front of her as she crunched into the backyard, the grass frozen underfoot.
She hadn’t come out with a plan, but her feet led her to the old elm tree next to the gardening shed, where she stood under the bare branches and stuffed her hands in her pockets.
Snow melted on her cheeks. She closed her eyes and wished for a version of the past three months where none of this had happened. Not Nora’s book, or MC’s assignment for Joe. Not reconnecting with Conrad and Gabby.
She wanted everything to feel simple again. Safe.
“Hey.”
MC opened her eyes. Nora was crossing the lawn, like it was the reading night after-party all over again.
“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up about this,” Nora said, coming to stand in front of her. “It’s Conrad’s bullshit, not yours.”
“I know. But he’s still my brother. I feel like I’m supposed to talk to him about it.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
“Part of me feels like it’s none of my business. But a bigger part of me is... I don’t know, scared.”
Nora folded her arms across her chest. “Scared of what?”
“Upsetting him.”
“He’s probably already upset.” Nora shrugged. “He deserves to be upset.”
MC finally met her eyes. “What would you do? If you were me.”
“I’d leave it alone.”
“Seriously?” MC laughed. “I think of you as the epitome of painfully honest.”
“But we’re talking about if I were you, and if I were in your position. And I get that he’s your brother. But you haven’t been around. You don’t know what’s really happening, and you haven’t had time to earn his trust. So, what do you hope to accomplish?”
“I don’t know.” MC bowed her head. “I just wish he wasn’t doing this. Whatever it is.”
Nora glanced back at the house. “Desire is complicated.”
“What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you ever wanted something you can’t have?”
MC looked up. “Yeah.”
“And doesn’t it make you wonder how much of that is just because it’s unattainable?”
“I guess.” MC waited until Nora had finally met her gaze again.
“But for me, it’s more about feeling like what you really want is something you don’t deserve.
And that’s why it’s unattainable, right?
Even if it was being handed to you on a silver platter, you’d be too scared to go for it, because you know you’d screw it up.
” Her words made her realize she’d had a little too much to drink.
But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Like, for example, I’ve spent the last three weeks thinking about you pretty much constantly. But I can’t do anything about it.”
“MC.” Nora sighed. But she didn’t say anything else, just hugged herself tighter.
“I’m not exaggerating.” MC shook her head, smiling ruefully.
“I can hardly sleep anymore. I just lie there, running all our conversations back in my mind, or scrolling through our texts, so I can pick apart everything you said. Get a kick out of your jokes again.” Nora put a hand on her forehead, but she was smiling. “That probably sounds weird.”
“It doesn’t,” Nora said quietly.
“And I think back to high school, because how could I not?” She started pacing, back and forth, in front of the tree.
“Being here, spending time with you, and with Gabby and my brother, and even with Jae, and Jen, and everyone else who was part of that time in our lives. It’s made me realize there’s a lot of stuff I’m remembering wrong.
Or only remembering partially. But one thing that feels pretty clear is that you were just.
.. so out of my league. Like up on this higher plane.
” Nora was shaking her head now, her lips pressed together.
But MC had to keep going; she realized she’d been wanting to say this for weeks.
“I mean, you wrote that poem, didn’t you?
Senior year. ‘On the Look.’” It wasn’t Girl Next Door , but right then, with the past and the present overlapping in such strange ways, MC told herself it might as well have been.
She stopped pacing and stepped closer to Nora.
“You tried to tell me. But it should’ve been obvious. ”
“Why?”
MC took Nora’s hand in hers. “Only you could’ve written something that good.”
Nora bit her lip, but she didn’t pull away. “I hate poetry.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“Are you seriously going to make me spell it out?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Nora’s voice was soft when she finally answered. “Because I wanted you so bad.”
For a moment, all MC could do was listen to the sound of their breathing, the blood roaring in her ears, the alarm bells going off in her head.
“Nora!” Lois called sharply. “Are you out there?”
Nora stepped back, breaking contact, an icy wind cutting between them.
“Just making sure MC’s okay!” Nora yelled. She cleared her throat. “I think she got a little dizzy.”
It was true. MC had to put a hand on the trunk of the elm tree to steady herself.
“Come eat dessert!” said Lois. “I made éclairs!”
Nora took MC’s elbow, an unreadable look in her eyes, and tugged her back to the house.