Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
They’re smiling.
Daring each other.
His finger hovers over the screen. Moving closer and closer to Caroline’s name. Waiting for Jenny to stop him.
He’s almost touching it…
He breaks first, laughing as he tosses the phone on the bed. She watches it land.
Why can’t we do it? she wonders. Show them our true, whole selves. Just put it all out there.
It’s too risky, he says. If they knew the truth about us—not just this, but everything we hide, every unkind thought, every untoward impulse—they’d stop loving us. Plus, it’s impossible to show ourselves in full. Words are inadequate. Another person will never truly understand what’s going on in your mind. He taps his forehead. We’re alone in here. Inescapably partitioned.
She looks out the window, depressed suddenly. They’re alone. Not just the two of them, but everyone. A collection of separate souls, little self-pods, careening around the universe. Banging off one another, or missing one another completely. Never uniting. Always lying.
Why must they lie?
Because the truth is impossible.
Is it, though?
Let’s try, she says. Tell me something monstrous. Something you’ve never told anyone.
He leans back in the chair, yawning, thinking it over. He doesn’t resist, or imply by his expression that she’s a nosy pest. Has she worn him down, vanquished his balustrades? Not balustrades—she keeps forgetting his nerdy boat word. Is he starting to feel more comfortable opening up, confiding the secrets of his innermost heart?
I love jerking off to your author photo, he says.
She is speechless.
I do it a lot, he adds. And by a lot, I mean, a lot.
She bursts out laughing.
It’s such a great photo, Jenny. Do you even realize?
Did you buy a copy of my book?
Multiple copies, he says. One for every bathroom in the house. One for my car, my office, the backyard shed…
Nick!
I’m probably why you’re still on the bestseller list, he says.
You perv! They’re YA novels. I’m supposed to look kind, and friendly. Not sexy.
That’s what’s so fantastic about it. You’re so demure, but with this hint of sluttiness—
What?
The way your head is tilted, he says, that lacy collar on your blouse, good God, and how your hands are crossed in your lap—
You’ve really studiedit.
Two to three times a week, he says. Sometimes oftener.
She falls back on the bed and howls.
He comes over, stretching along the bottom of the bed at her feet. I can’t be alone in finding that picture irresistible, he says. Trust me—in bunk beds and bathrooms across the land, in camp cabins, school libraries, juvenile detention facilities, Young Adults are rubbing themselves raw to that toothy smile of yours.
She lifts her head. Is my smile toothy?
That’s your takeaway here?
She props herself on her elbows. Do people in real life know what a depraved horndog you are?
Alas, he sighs. Passing few.
Because God forbid you reveal your true self to someone, right?
Hey. He flicks the bottom of her foot. Be nice.
You wouldn’t know it to look at you, she says. You look so normal.
Tone it down with the compliments, okay? You’re making me blush.
It’s true, though. It always throws her when they run into each other out in the world. When he’s clothed, ironed and spectacled, dropping Jill at the town pool, holding a drink at a party. Seeing him that way, who would believe he’s such a filthy-minded, dirty-mouthed sex fiend? Ardent, endlessly inventive, so wholly, utterly intent on…
She shouldn’t be thinking about his sex fiendishness.
Or sex, period.
She’s stopping. Right now.
Stopping thinking aboutit.
Your turn, he says.
What’s that?
He’s inspecting her toes. Tell me your deepest, darkest secret.
Well, the choice is obvious. And impossible.
Though what if she did? What if she unloaded the biggie on him?
A few months after we started sleeping together, I fell seriously, ridiculously in love with you.
Preferably sexual, he adds.
I was completely infatuated. Then I started writing, to try to channelit.
She won’t tell him, of course. But imagine his reaction.
It would Blow. His. Mind.
Even more than the crypto thing.
Don’t worry, I forced myself to fall back out again.
But for about six months?
I loved the shit out of you.
You’re smiling. He holds her ankle lightly, gives it a shake. It must be good.
Well…
But of course she won’t. She’ll never tell him. That secret belongs to her alone.
He hasn’t let go of her ankle. Speak, woman!
Instead she glances at the television. Firemen are hurrying into the building. Is something happening? She sits up and reaches for his phone.
He sighs. You and that fucking phone.
She feels a flash of irritation. Right, I forgot, she says. You want me to be bothered by what bothers you, our chances of getting busted, but not what bothers me, our chances of dying.
Dying? Jesus, Jenny, we’re not dying.
She checks her go-to sites. No updates. She glances at the television. Was it nothing?
Hey, he says.
She’s scrolling through her social media feeds, looking for updates from a guy who’s been posting videos from outside the hotel. Maybe he saw something.
Jenny.
Hmm?
What say we screw?
She looks up from the phone. He’s lounging along the end of the bed, that unmistakable look in his eye. Behind him on the wall, Juliana speaks earnestly into her microphone.
How can you even suggest that?
Why the hell not? he says. You act like there are right and wrong things for us to be doing in this situation. Let’s do what we’re good at. You can have an orgasm, or fake having one, or fake not having one—ladies’ choice, okay?
Her irritation flares. Because he’s being a jerk.
And because she does want to sleep with him again.
Maddening!
Okay, but what if they did? A quickie. To distract, get the jitters out and what?No!
What’s wrong with you?
I’m trying Edvin again, she says.
Because that’s a much better use of your time, he says. Give him my regards.
She dials. It rings.
Once. Twice.
Then the ringing stops. The screen reads:
0:00
0:01
Edvin? she cries. Edvin!
0:02
call ended.
Nick! She jumps up, holding the phone in both hands. He answered! Then the call dropped. Is the reception bad in here?
She moves to the window. He’s off the bed, right beside her. She dials again.
It rings. Then:
0:00
0:01
Edvin! she yells. Edvin, are you there?
Silence. No, some kind of rushing sound. Breathing?
Nick leans close. Edvin! Can you hearus?
Auta, says a voice from the phone.
Edvin! she cries. Where are you?
No answer.
Where are you, Edvin? Are you okay?
Auta. The voice is weak and flat.
Tell us where you are! Nick shouts. We can call the fire department. They’ll send someone to help you!
They hear nothing in response. Just that rushing, windy sound.
Edvin? Edvin!
call ended.
Try him again, Nick says.
But before she can, it happens.
It. What is it ?
She can’t tell, not at first.
The room goes silent.
As if all sound has been sucked out of it. The air feels strange, almost charged, like—
Then comes sound.
A massive boom. Rolling up from below.
So loud, so horribly loud! Like a monster trapped in the center of the earth has broken free and is roaring, mouth wide open, sound pouring out.
It’s a blast of sound, an intolerable wall ofit.
She drops the phone and presses her hands to her ears. Nick is doing the same.
But the roar continues.
Then the room begins to move.
It doesn’t shake, or sway.
It shudders.
A single, slow and queasy shiver. The floor seems to rise, the ceiling to bear down.
Reeling, terror-struck, she turns to the television. People are running. The camera jerks and tilts to the side. Nick is watching, too, hands covering his ears.
Juliana is turning, looking up. Something is falling.
The picture freezes, then turns to snow.
The room is quiet. It’s stopped moving.
Is it over? Are they over?
Is everything about to fall down?
No. The ground holds. The noise is gone.
The lights, which had flickered, snap back full force, as does the television. The anchors in the studio look terrified.
Our live feed just cut out. We’re not sure what…Juliana?
Juliana can you hearus?
Juliana, are you there?
Jenny takes one stumbling step toward the door.
Then another.
Then she falls to her knees and wraps her arms around her head. Making a noise between a whimper and a howl.
Her fears come back, they come roaring back, like the roar that just filled her ears.
She is doomed.
They are dying. Here.
They are dying here tonight.