31. Daphne
Daphne
It’s August, and the first apples are ripening, which means the farm is suddenly busy again. And my first semester’s tuition has come due in full, so I’m a little stressed out about money, even though I know Mom already wrote the check.
When you blow up your life, there’s a lot of damage control afterwards. I knew my summer would be complicated.
But then there’s Rickie, with his hot glances and surreptitious kisses.
As much as it kills me to admit I was wrong about someone, I’m a convert now.
Maybe it’s the sex we’ve been sneaking around to have in odd places.
Maybe it’s the way he sneaks into my room to kiss me good night every single evening.
I like him a little more every day. That doesn’t mean I find it easy to say so again. I’m still wary, and still wondering whether he’ll get sick of me. I hope it’s not soon, because Rickie makes everything more fun.
This morning he’s entertaining the whole breakfast table with a story about having a stare-down with a porcupine. And instead of scowling, I’m laughing along with everyone else.
“See, I didn’t know what they might be able do with those quills,” he says, his glass of iced tea sweating in the grip of his strong hand. “I thought—can he shoot them like guns? Can this porcupine turn me into swiss cheese?”
“No!” Dylan says, laughing. “That’s ridiculous.”
“But I didn’t know that,” Rickie explains. “And I wasn’t about to sign myself up for some accidental acupuncture. So I just stood there on the path, holding my ground, you know? I flexed my biceps, just to make myself as fearsome as possible. Just in case this porcupine was easily impressed.”
He flexes in his chair, and everyone howls.
“He wasn’t, by the way. He just stood there, and I was afraid to turn my back on him. Finally I sort of made a run for it around him. And that is why I was five minutes late for breakfast. At least you’re not planning my funeral, you know?”
“No one has ever been killed by a porcupine,” my mother says, dabbing her eyes.
“As far as you know ,” Rickie corrects, while Grandpa slaps his knee.
I get up and fetch the coffeepot, because I want another drop before we get on the road to Burlington. It’s Wednesday now—my favorite day of the week. When Rickie drives me to work and kisses me goodbye in the parking lot.
In the kitchen I grab both the coffeepot and the iced tea pitcher, because I’ve figured out that Rickie isn’t really a coffee drinker if there’s tea available. So I keep the pitcher full when I can.
Back in the dining room I pour coffee for Grandpa and myself, and then pass the pot to my brother. Then I refill Rickie’s glass, and I feel his fingertips graze the back of my knee. It’s just a discreet touch of gratitude.
But I love it. My pulse quickens whenever we’re in the same room, too. It’s been a long time since I let myself feel this kind of joy. It’s heady. It’s risky. But I can’t help myself.
“You’re done with your class now, right?” my brother is saying. “What will you do after you turn in the paper?”
“I’m picking up the keys to the house from the rental agent,” Rickie says. “My renter left town yesterday, and the house is all mine again. While Daphne’s at work, I’ll go to the storage unit and load up our boxes into your truck, and drive them back to the house.”
“Oh, man,” Dylan says. “You should have said something. You want help?”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Rickie says quickly. “I don’t mind moving your stuff around. It’s just a few boxes of books and clothes. You can carry it upstairs yourself, okay?”
“Of course,” my brother says. Then he glances up at me. “Any more thoughts about your housing situation, Daphne? Have you been looking for a place?”
“I looked at a couple listings,” I say casually. The truth is that I haven’t done much, and there’s only three weeks left. “There’s always the dorms.”
“Maybe you should stop by the Spruce Street house after work,” Dylan says. “Take a look at Rickie’s extra bedroom and see what you think.”
“What a great idea,” Rickie says brightly.
I don’t dare glance at him because I’d probably blush furiously. He’s mentioned the house a couple of times, but I keep deferring the conversation. If everything goes south with him, I don’t want us to be roommates.
On the other hand, I need somewhere to live, and I need a plan. Fast. “Sure, I’ll take a look.” Then I carry the coffeepot back to the kitchen to end the conversation.
* * *
On the way into town, I become absorbed with reading something.
So absorbed that I don’t notice we’ve arrived at the first delivery site until Rickie kills the truck’s engine.
I look up, startled. A whole hour has gone by while I ignored him? “Sorry,” I say quickly.
He snickers. “You used to fight me on who could drive the truck, babe. I’m not complaining that you’re busy reading…” He leans in to see my laptop screen. “A grad school application? UC Berkeley?”
“They just went live,” I explain, clicking my laptop shut. “It’s application season again. And since my transcript is going to look incredibly strange, I need to do an A+ job on the essays and supplements.”
“I see,” he says quietly. “California, huh?”
“Maybe. Or Baltimore. Cambridge. New York City. I need to apply to every top program and pray that one of them can see past my senior year transfer.”
He nods slowly. “Got a safety school picked out?”
“Sure. I could probably stay here in Vermont. My summer job—which will soon become my all-year job—means I can probably win over the Moo U crowd.”
Those gray eyes measure me. “But you don’t want to stay here.”
“I can’t stay here,” I say quickly. “I mean I could, but I just can’t.”
He cocks his head. “Come again?”
“Well, it’s just that I—” How to put this in a way that won’t make me sound like a snob or a bitch? Seconds tick by while I come to the realization that there isn’t a way. Maybe I am a snob and a bitch.
He waits.
“I’ve invested everything into this career path,” I say slowly. “Other girls had lots of fun. And other girls had boyfriends. I studied. I put all my chips on one thing, and that thing was an Ivy League education. My family invested in me, too. Dylan went part-time to school when I went full-time.”
“That was his choice,” Rickie points out.
“Yeah, mostly,” I concede. “But it kept costs down at home. And now he’s behind and trying to catch up so he can graduate and get back to taking care of business. I have to finish what I started. That means getting into a top program and getting great funding.”
“So this is about money?” He gives me the eyebrow quirk. “Burlington would cost more?”
“It’s unclear,” I admit. “But it’s not a top program.”
“What makes a top program a top program?” he asks.
“Um…” This is not a question I want to answer. “Bigger programs do more research. They have more connections. For later. Berkeley is a huge program.”
“I see,” he says calmly. But I hear something else in there. Like I’ve let him down somehow. “You like California?”
“I’ve never been,” I admit. “But it’s really far away from Harkness, Connecticut. And that’s the other reason I need to get into a top program. If I don’t, if I settle for second best, then he wins the battle.”
“Uh huh,” Rickie says flatly. “Course, if his actions send you five thousand miles away from people who love you, arguments could be made that he’s still driving this bus.”
My jaw drops. But before I can formulate a response, he opens the truck’s door, gets out, and delivers the first crate of liquor of the day.
I put my laptop away. And I’m simmering with irritation when he comes back to the truck. But I don’t say anything, because Rickie isn’t wrong. Everything I do is informed by My Biggest Mistake .
Not that it’s any of Rickie’s business.
And it’s not like I have a choice. My own mistakes got me here. All I can do is make the best of it. Berkeley, California would be the best of it.
Not that I really want to move five thousand miles away and start over making new friends. Again .
My thoughts fester as we make two more deliveries. And I’ve worked myself up into a Major Snit? by the time Rickie pulls into a parking spot right in front of the School of Public Health.
I grab my backpack off the floor and reach for the door handle.
“Hey, Shipley, hold up.” He pulls the keys out of the ignition and turns to face me. “I’m gonna need a kiss before I go.”
Even though I’m a little annoyed at him, my stomach does the same swoopy thing it always does when he trains those perceptive eyes on me.
But a glance out the window shows me that Karim is standing right in front of the building, his phone to his ear. And I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself at work. “Make it quick, McFly,” I say. “My coworkers can see us.”
He reaches up and cups my face in his hand. “See, I don’t have a problem getting you all hot and flustered in public places. But that’s just me.”
I roll my eyes, even though his touch feels so nice. “Trying to be a professional here. Stop making it difficult.”
He chuckles. Then he leans in and kisses me softly. It’s quick, and leaves me hungry for more.
“Damn, Shipley. When you look at me like that, it’s tough to let you walk away.”
I swallow hard. But then I open the door and climb out.
“Daphne!” Karim calls out. He’s watching me now with a smile on his face. Oh boy . “How’s it going?”
“Great,” I say as Rickie climbs out of the other side of the truck.
“We’re doing karaoke tonight at the Biscuit,” he says. “You guys should come.”
“What time?” Rickie asks, as if this were up to him. “I’m Rickie, by the way.”
“I know,” Karim says, walking closer and offering his hand for a shake. “I was in the psych seminar last year when you were a guest speaker.”
“Ah, yeah. It was fun to be the class freak for a day, I guess.” Rickie crosses his tattooed arms, and Karim blatantly checks him out.
“Hey, I thought your story was so cool,” says my coworker, Rickie’s new fanboy. “We head over to the Biscuit in the Basket from five-thirty onward,” he says. “First we eat two-for-one wings, and then karaoke starts up around six.”
I open my mouth to shoot down this idea. But not before Rickie says, “Awesome, we’ll be there.”
What the…?
“Cool!” Karim says, with a smile a mile wide.
And I can’t believe I’ve just been snookered into karaoke. Although Karim and Jenn have been hinting that I should join them, and it feels wrong to say no all the time. But karaoke ? That’s not something you do with new coworkers. Yikes .
I shoot Rickie an evil glare.
He smiles.
“I have to text my family,” I say stiffly. “In case I’m needed at home.”
“Get on that then.” Karim points at the building. “I’d better go in.”
“Right,” I say quickly. “Me too.” I shoulder my pack. “I’ll just be a second.”
I wait for Karim to walk out of earshot. Then I turn on Rickie. “What did you do that for?”
“Because karaoke is fun?” he shrugs, like this is so obvious. “I won’t drink more than one beer, so I can still drive home.”
“You can go ahead and drink,” I hiss, “Because there’s no way I would get drunk with a microphone in my hand in front of colleagues. Jesus.”
He laughs. “Okay. It’s a date. Before that—meet me at the house at five? To see the place. You remember where it is?”
“Yes,” I grunt.
“Great. See you then.” He tugs on my hand and gives me a quick kiss. “Later, gorgeous.”
My cheeks flame. “Later.”
He walks away, smiling.
Naturally, Karim is waiting for me by the door. “You sneaky Pete!” he crows as soon as I enter the building. “You told me you two were just roommates.”
“It’s complicated,” I grumble. “He’s hot, but annoying.”
“My heart is breaking,” he says, sneaking one more look through the glass doors at Rickie’s departing figure. “That boy looks tasty with a suntan.”
Damn it all, he isn’t wrong.
“Does he have a good voice? If he sings some kind of sexy ballad at karaoke, I may not recover.”
“I haven’t heard him sing,” I say. But then I realize I have.
Twice.