He wakes up when I climb into bed. “You smell like a campfire,” he says.
“We had a campfire,” I say.
He wraps his arms around me, and he is so warm, and my eyes are so tired, and when I close them I can still picture the water lapping at the shore, and the way we were wild. Nothing about me feels wrong.
— Chapter 28 —
I have the day off, so I go to Wegmans to get food for Christmas. My ears are still waterlogged from the lake and ringing from the concert. It makes everything a little surreal.
There’s a list to follow. Adam and I planned meals for the whole weekend over breakfast.
“Sweet potatoes!” I shouted.
“Marshmallows or no marshmallows?” Adam asked.
“Duh,” I said, laughing.
Adam wrote marshmallows on the list. “How do you feel about cranberry sauce?”
“I could take it or leave it.”
“I like the kind that comes out shaped like the can.”
“Write it down!”
I grab all of it—every last thing we want. Adam never lets me pay for anything, but I’ve been saving for our feast. Adam promised Billy he’d help with the Christmas Eve rush at the tree farm, and his plan was to pick up groceries on the way home. I swiped the list from his messenger bag when he was in the shower and when I get home I’ll call him at Billy’s to say it’s already done.
When the groceries are bagged and ready to go and the cashier tells me it will be ninety-seven dollars, I reach into my purse to grab my wallet and it isn’t anywhere. I’m calm for like five seconds because my stupid bag is huge and things get lost in there, but then I remember how everything ended up all over the bathroom floor at The Haunt and I start sweating. Like crazy sweating. Like I can’t get out of my coat fast enough and everyone is staring at me because instead of paying, I’m tearing my coat off in the middle of the store. And then I think about why everything ended up on the bathroom floor to begin with and I start crying. Big fat tears and my lip is shaking and it’s all so embarrassing I can’t even handle it.
“I’ll be back for it,” I say between sobs, looking at my hands, avoiding eye contact with the checker. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.” And I just walk out of the store.
I get in my car, shaking all over like I’m made of rubber bands. My wallet could have been lost in the bathroom. It might have skidded across the floor under one of the stalls, or to the far corner by the sink, under the radiator, or behind the garbage can. But I know that’s not what happened. I know where I have to go to get it back.
— Chapter 29 —
I pound on the door to Rosemary’s apartment hard with my fist and don’t stop even though my hands are freezing and every hit hurts. There’s a grey Saab in the driveway, and I’m sure it’s hers. I’m sure she’s home. I punch at the door like maybe I’ll just break it down. She still doesn’t answer. I start kicking.
When Rosemary finally answers the door, she sighs hard like this is boring for her, but I see the tremble in her cheek.
“Give back my wallet,” I say.
“Wait here.” She’s wearing a huge grey sweater and goldenrod-colored tights that make her knees look like doorknobs.
I follow her into the kitchen. There are dead roses in a coffee mug on the counter. Dishes piled high in the sink. Carly must have been the one who cleaned.
“I didn’t invite you in,” Rosemary says.
“I didn’t give you my wallet as a present.”
Her hands shake as she grabs the wallet off the counter. I snatch it from her and count my money.
“Oh, it’s all there,” she says. “I don’t need your tip jar change.”
I turn to leave and I’m almost to the door when she says, “There is one thing. I mean, I’m curious. What’s a child doing running around with a college student? There are laws about that.”
“What are you talking about?” I say, trying to keep the shock from my face even though my pulse is pounding so hard she can probably feel it.
“I washed your license. Chalk came right off.”
“It was a mistake,” I say. “They messed up at the DMV.”
“Bullshit.” Rosemary isn’t shaking anymore. “You’re just some random trashy kid and you need to go back to whatever hellhole Little River is and leave us alone.” Her eyes meet mine and even though she’s trying to be furious I can see her heartbreak. “We would have worked everything out,” she says. “Carly wouldn’t have left if you didn’t push your way in.”