She strode alongside a ridge of plowed snow on Pirsig Avenue. “It had nothing to do with Tanner. It was just a mistake.”
“I always wondered if he smoked pot.”
“I can make my own decisions, Clem. I don’t need you to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong. What I need right now is for you to stay out of my business.”
She could see the drugstore ahead of her. Lights were on upstairs.
“Fine,” Clem said huskily. “I’ll stay out of your business. Although I must say…”
“What must you say.”
“I don’t know. I’m just surprised. I mean—Tanner Evans? He’s a good guy. He’s super nice, but … not exactly a live wire. He’s kind of the definition of passive.”
The sensation of hating Clem was new and overwhelming. It was like love ripped brutally inside out.
“Go to hell,” she said.
“Becky, come on. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. It’s just that you’ve got so much going on. You’re about to start college, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. And Tanner—I wouldn’t be surprised if he never leaves New Prospect.”
She stopped and wheeled around. “Go to hell! I’m sick of you! I’m sick of you judging me and my friends! You’ve been doing it my whole life and I’m sick of it! I’m not six years old anymore! You’ve got your amazing life-changing sex-loving girlfriend—why don’t you stop bossing me around and tell her what to do? Or is she not passive?”
She hardly knew what she was saying. An evil spirit had possessed her, and Clem’s shock was apparent in the streetlight. She struggled to regain her Christian bearings, but her hatred was too intense. She turned and ran full-tilt toward the drugstore.
Russ was happy with his Christmas present. He’d had more than six hours with Frances, enough to feel like an entire day, and every seeming setback had turned into an advance. She’d no sooner disclosed her affair with the heart surgeon than she contrasted him unfavorably with Russ, no sooner threatened to go to Arizona than pushed Russ to join her there, no sooner antagonized Theo Crenshaw than commended herself to Russ’s guidance. Even the accident on Fifty-ninth Street had been a boon. He’d wrestled with the Fury’s mangled bumper and its frozen lug nuts, displaying strength of body and coolness of head, and when a group of teenagers loomed up in the snow, causing her to clutch his arm in suburban terror, she’d learned an important lesson about racial prejudice: the young men were only offering to help. The accident had made Russ so late that he now had no choice but to tell Marion he’d been with Frances, thus sparing him from fretting that Perry would tell her. Frances still claimed to be in a hurry to get home, but when he proposed a quick stop at McDonald’s she’d admitted she was starving, and when they finally returned to First Reformed her reluctance to go inside with him had yielded, piquantly, to his insistence.
In his office, he’d handed her his blues records one by one, relating what little was known of Robert Johnson, what a tragic alcoholic Tommy Johnson had been, what a miracle that Victor and Paramount and Vocalion had made recordings of the early greats. The 78s were among his most valuable possessions, and she accepted them with appropriate reverence. She was sitting on his desk with her legs uncrossed, snowmelt dripping from her dangling feet. He was a short step away from standing between her legs, if he’d had the nerve of a heart surgeon.
“I’m going to go straight home and listen to these,” she said. “I’d ask you to join me, but I’ve already kept you way too long.”
“Not at all,” he said. “It’s been a rare pleasure.”
“The other ladies will be jealous. But you know what? Tough luck. Fortune favors the bold.”
He found it necessary to clear his throat. “I’m not sure I’d have time to listen to all ten of the records, but I could certainly—”
“No, I don’t want to be greedy. You should get home.”
“I’m not in any rush.”
“Plus, what if I decide to get high with Larry’s pot? They say it’s great for appreciating music, but I don’t imagine you’d consider that a meaningful reason to break the law.”
“Now you’re teasing me.”
“You’re such a square, it’s irresistible.”
“I already told you I’m open to experimenting with you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what to do with that.” She laughed. “Has the church ever had to excommunicate someone? I could see me being the first, if it came out I’d lured you into reefer madness. You’d see me down at the A&P, wearing a scarlet letter.”