Outside the ice-cream shop my phone started to ring. It was my father calling. I turned away from the others instinctively as I picked up, as if I were shielding myself. His voice was muffled, and there seemed to be some noise in the background. I started biting on my thumbnail while he spoke, feeling the grain of it with my teeth.
Is everything okay? I said.
Oh, very nice. Am I not allowed to give my only daughter a ring now and then?
His voice wandered up and down the tonal scale when he spoke. His drunkenness made me feel unclean. I wanted to shower or eat a fresh piece of fruit. I wandered a little away from the others then, but I didn’t want to leave them behind completely. Instead I lingered near a lamp-post while everyone else discussed whether to get ice cream or not.
No, obviously you can, I said.
So how are things? How is work?
You know I’m in France, right?
What’s that? he said.
I’m in France.
I was self-conscious about repeating such a simple sentence, even though I didn’t think anyone else was listening.
Oh, you’re in France, are you? he said. That’s right, sorry. How’s it going out there?
It’s been very nice, thanks.
Great stuff. Listen, your mother is going to give you the allowance next month, okay? For college.
Okay, fine, I said. That’s fine.
Bobbi signalled to me that they were going inside the ice-cream shop and I smiled what I felt was probably a maniclooking smile and waved them away.
You’re not stuck for money, are you? said my father.
What? No.
The old saving, you know? It’s a great habit to get into.
Yeah, I said.
Through the windows of the shop I could see a long display of ice-cream flavours beneath the glass, and Evelyn’s silhouette at the counter, gesticulating.
How much do you have saved now? he said.
I don’t know. Not a lot.
A great habit, Frances. Hm? That’s it. Saving.
The phone call ended shortly after that. When the others came out of the shop, Bobbi was holding two ice-cream cones, one of which she gave to me. I felt a terrible gratitude that she had bought me an ice cream. I took the cone and thanked her, and she scanned my face and said, are you okay? Who was that on the phone? I blinked and said, just Dad. No news. She grinned and said, oh, okay. Well, you’re welcome for the ice cream. I’ll have it if you don’t want it. In the corner of my eye I could see Melissa lift her camera and I turned away irritably, as if Melissa had wronged me by lifting her camera, or by doing something else a longer time ago. I knew it was a petulant gesture, but I’m not sure Melissa noticed.
*
We smoked a lot that night, and Nick was still kind of high when I got to his room, after everyone else had gone to sleep. He was fully dressed, sitting on the side of his bed and reading something on his MacBook, but he was squinting like he couldn’t see the text that well, or it was just confusing. He looked good like that. He was maybe a little sunburnt. I guess I was probably high too. I sat on the floor at his feet and let my head rest against his calf.
Why are you on the floor? he said.
I like it down here.
Oh hey, who was that on the phone earlier?
I closed my eyes and leaned my head harder against him until he said, stop that.
It was my dad on the phone, I said.
He didn’t know you were here?
I got up on the bed then and sat behind Nick, with my arms around his waist. I could see what he was reading, it was a long article about the Camp David Accords. I laughed and said, is this what you do when you get high, read essays about the Middle East?
It’s interesting, he said. So hey, your dad didn’t know you were over here, or what?
I told him, he’s just not a very good listener.
I rubbed my nose slightly and then put my forehead on Nick’s back, against the white cloth of his T-shirt. He smelled clean, like soap, and also faintly of seawater.
He has some issues with alcohol, I said.
Your dad does? You never told me about that.
He closed his MacBook and looked around at me.
I’ve never told anyone about it, I said.
Nick sat back against the headboard then and said: what kind of issues?
He just seems to be drunk when he calls me a lot of the time, I said. We’ve never talked about it in depth or anything. We’re not close.
I got into Nick’s lap then, so we were facing one another, and he ran his hand over my hair automatically like he thought I was somebody else. He never touched me like that usually. But he was looking at me, so I guess he must have known who I was.
Does your mother know about it? Nick said. I mean, I know they’re not together.