Chapter 18 #2
“You ready to go?” Sloane asked Ruth now, reaching for her purse and a pair of sunglasses that Ruth didn’t recognize.
“Um.” Ruth steadied herself against the doorframe. “Hi,” she said to the girl in the beanbag. “I’m…”
“You’re Sloane’s mom,” the girl said flatly.
“That’s Rachel,” Sloane said, glancing in the mirror behind her. “Let’s go.”
Ruth followed Sloane down the hallway to the staircase. They spilled into the beautiful light waiting for them on campus. Sloane spoke rapidly about her classes, her papers, and what she wanted to read next. Ruth felt as though she were swimming deep underwater.
For some reason, during that first trip to Yale, Ruth chickened out.
She couldn’t bring herself to ask Sloane about her friendship with Rachel Caldweck.
She couldn’t bring herself to ask Sloane what she knew, or what she thought she knew, or what she wanted to know.
Instead, she walked around with her daughter, making jokes and paying for things.
It was gorgeous. It was also a nightmare.
But Ruth didn’t know the extent of that nightmare till December, when Sloane called home and told her mother she wanted to spend Christmas on Nantucket Island.
“I beg your pardon?” Ruth asked. All the blood rushed to her feet, and she thought she might collapse.
Sloane grumbled into the speaker, as though she couldn’t believe her mother was making such a fuss. “Rachel’s family has a house on Nantucket Island, and they’re spending the holidays there this year. I don’t know. I thought it would be, like, fun. And Jimmy’s thinking of coming, too.”
“Who is Jimmy?” Ruth demanded.
Sloane was quiet for a moment before explaining, “Jimmy’s my boyfriend. I mean, we’ve been on-again, off-again since September, but yeah. We’re on right now.”
Ruth’s mouth went dry. She sat in her study chair and rubbed her temples. She never should have allowed Sloane to go to Yale. She never should have allowed her to run in these circles.
It felt like a machine she couldn’t turn off.
“You can’t go to Nantucket with Rachel,” Ruth breathed. “I want you to come home to Manhattan with me. I’ve missed you, honey.”
“Yeah, well.” Sloane sounded distant. “It’s just that…”
“What is it?” Ruth asked. She willed Sloane to say what she needed to say. She willed Sloane to yell at her about all Ruth had never told her.
But instead, Sloane took a shuddering breath and said, “All right. Sure. I’ll come home.”
It was not the coziest of Christmases. It was clear that Sloane wanted to be elsewhere, and she took frequent breaks from hanging out with Ruth to call either Rachel or Jimmy.
Sometimes when they rolled out Christmas cookies or ate mac and cheese in front of the television, Ruth fought for details about Jimmy, which Sloane gave out sparingly.
Apparently, he was from a prominent East Coast family called Mumford.
His father owned a Fortune 500 company, one that Jimmy would probably take over one day if he didn’t get his literary career off the ground.
It was clear that Sloane was smitten with him, that she thought he was brilliant and terribly handsome.
Ruth felt echoes of her own feelings for Quentin Caldweck.
She worried that the past would repeat itself, though she reminded herself that Sloane was smarter than she.
Toward the end of Christmas break, a day or two before Sloane was set to return to Yale, Ruth and Sloane went to their favorite soup-and-sandwich place for lunch.
Ruth peppered Sloane with questions about her new course load, and Sloane was eager to talk about it for a while, at least until another young woman from Yale came into the café and stole Sloane’s attention.
Ruth sat and crunched through potato chips, willing the young woman to go.
This was one of her final days with Sloane before she left again. These were precious moments.
The Yale student had long blond hair and dark green eyes, which she batted at Sloane as they talked about the classes they were taking this semester and what they’d been up to in the city.
Just before the woman left (finally!), she said, “I thought I’d see you in Greenwich the other night. Jimmy was there.”
All at once, Sloane’s cheeks lost their color. “Oh, yeah. He mentioned it,” Sloane said. “But I couldn’t make it.”
It was clear that Sloane was lying, that Jimmy had gone to a Manhattan party without telling her. Ruth’s heart leaped with hope. Maybe Sloane and Jimmy would break up soon. Maybe Sloane would get it through her head that these elite Yale guys weren’t good enough for her.
When the other Yale student vacated the café, Sloane studied her soup dispassionately, as though she couldn’t believe she’d been eating it. She slid a spoon through the top, then dropped it in. She looked glum.
Ruth felt a rush of panic. She knew Sloane was overthinking and worried that Jimmy was going to break up with her. “Honey,” Ruth murmured, unable to stop herself. “Maybe this is for the best?”
Sloane flared her nostrils. “What are you talking about?”
“Things with Jimmy? I mean, he’s one of those Yale guys. You know what I mean? He isn’t good enough for you,” Ruth said.
Sloane glared at Ruth. For nearly a minute, she didn’t say anything. Ruth sensed she was trying to come up with the perfect response, sharpening her blade. And then, Sloane said, “I don’t want to grow up to be you, Mom. I don’t want to be alone.”
The strike was clear and focused. Sitting there in the café with the only person she truly loved, Ruth could hardly breathe.