On the Friday before Palm Sunday, as she walked home from school, her heart began to race. Easter vacation had commenced; her moment of falling was suddenly at hand. She and Tanner had chosen Monday as the night. She’d wanted to make him something special and European for dinner, possibly a cheese soufflé, but after consulting with her mother, who actually knew how to cook, she’d settled on beef bourguignon. She’d already bought two long candles for the table and, boldly, at the liquor store, a bottle of Mouton Cadet red wine. For the night to be perfect, it had to be about more than just sex.
She came home to a house in the process of emptying for her and Tanner. Her father had left for First Reformed, and Perry’s duffel bag was packed and waiting by the door. The only sign of her mother was a note asking Becky to drive Perry to the church. Upstairs, she found Judson neatly packing his own suitcase for his Disneyland trip. He didn’t know where Perry was. Returning to the kitchen, she heard a dull clank from the basement. She opened the door and peered into its gloom. “Perry?”
No answer. She turned on a light and ventured down the stairs. From the far corner of the basement, where the oil burner was, came an odd huffing, another clank of metal.
“Hey, Perry, you ready?”
“Yes, I’m ready, can’t a person be alone?”
“If you want a ride to church, now is when I’m offering it.”
He came sauntering out from behind the oil burner. “Ready.”
“What are you doing down here?”
“The question seems more apposite to you. You’re supposed to be a creature of the light. Why aren’t you shining in the world where you belong?”
He skipped past her and up the stairs. She didn’t smell pot, but she wondered if he might be doing drugs again. For a short while, at Christmas, she’d enjoyed the novelty of hanging out with him, but their “friendship” hadn’t taken off. Since she’d added a shift to her schedule at the Grove, to earn money for Europe, she’d barely spoken to him.
Emerging from the basement, she saw him lugging his duffel bag into the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
“A moment of privacy, sister, if you would be so kind. Would do me that gentle favor.”
He locked the bathroom door behind him.
“Hey, listen,” she said, through the door. “You seem weird. Are you okay?”
She heard him huffing, heard the rasp of a heavy-duty zipper.
“If you’re doing drugs again,” she said, “you need to be open with me. Remember what we said about walking away? I’m not the enemy.”
No confession was forthcoming. Behind her, in the kitchen, the telephone rang.
She expected the caller to be Jeannie Cross, but it was Gig Benedetti, asking for Becky. She hadn’t known Gig even had her number.
“This is Becky speaking.”
“Ha, didn’t recognize your voice. How is our beautiful girl today?”
“She’s fine, thank you.”
“Do you have a second?”
“Actually, it’s better if you call me back a little later.”
“Reason I’m calling is—Tanner tells me he’s going to Europe with you. Were you aware of this plan? Did you know about this plan and not tell me?”
Her heart clutched. Apparently she’d betrayed their special understanding.
“I talked to him this morning,” Gig said. “I’ve been working my butt off, booking him into the Holiday Inn circuit, and what do I find out? He’s ditching the band and taking you to Denmark!”
“Well—yes.”
“Do you realize what a toilet Europe is, professionally? Do you know why his Danish pals are so happy he’s coming to Aarfuck? It’s because any act with half a brain can see it’s a freaking waste of time! I thought you and I were on the same wavelength!”
He was yelling, and she wanted to tell him not to. She couldn’t stand being yelled at.
“We are on the same wavelength,” she said. “This is only for one summer.”
“Only one summer—I like that. Only one summer. And Quincy and Mike? While the lovebirds are off on their honeymoon, Quincy and Mike are supposed to do what? Twiddle their thumbs and hope you send a postcard? It’ll take Tanner four months, minimum, to put together new backup and break them in. Suddenly we’re in 1973 and nobody remembers him. Does that sound like a plan to you? I thought you were smart.”
“There’s a huge folk scene in Europe,” she said stiffly.