No—this time, Alice was going to do better. The party didn’t matter, the SAT class didn’t matter, none of that mattered. He’d quit smoking—that was good, she could do that again. Now she wanted to make sure that he started to exercise, that he went to the doctor when he was sick, that he actually took care of himself. What mattered, too, was making sure that she and Sam said what they said at the ice cream shop. If Sam didn’t say it, then Leonard wouldn’t write it. And today, Alice knew that she didn’t have much time. There was that word again! No wonder there were so many songs about time, and books about time, and movies about time. It was more than hours and minutes, yes, but Alice could see how much each of those mattered, all those tiny moments added together. She felt like a walking needlepoint pillow—The way you spend your days is the way you spend your life. She wasn’t a teenage detective; she was a scientist. A baker. How much of this did she have to add, and how much of that? Whatever happened, she would see her results in the morning. It had been strange to wake up in the San Remo, but it had also been entertaining, if voyeuristic, like walking through a fun house mirror and getting to see what life was like on the other side. Everything was undoable, give or take. It wasn’t like Alice could live anyone’s life—she couldn’t decide to be a Victoria’s Secret model, or a nuclear physicist, but she could start herself and her dad down a path, and if it turned out to be a bad choice, she could always double back.
“Birthday girl? You awake in there?” Leonard called from the hallway. Alice heard him knocking around, getting something out of the closet, then shuffling into the bathroom. The door clunked behind him, and Alice could hear the whir of the fan. Alice had never really loved her birthday—too much pressure to have a good time—but she knew that she would have a good one today. Ursula jumped down to the floor and started playing with a hair elastic, batting it back and forth. Alice kicked back the cover and let her feet touch the familiar mountain ranges of clothing—maybe the Dolomites this time instead of the Andes, but mountains all the same. She was still in her Crazy Eddie T-shirt. Alice gave herself a hug and smiled.
Leonard knocked on her door, nudging it open. “You decent?” he asked.
“Never,” Alice said. “Yes. Come in.”
The door swung all the way, knocking into the thin wall between their bedrooms.
“So, what’s on the docket for the day?” Leonard asked. He had a can of Coca-Cola in his hand.
“Did you just brush your teeth while drinking a Coke?” Alice asked. She stood up and took the can out of Leonard’s hand. “We’re going jogging. Or at least walking. A walk, with a light jog in the middle. And then we’re going to have lunch at Gray’s Papaya. I’m skipping the SAT class, because, seriously, who cares. Sound good?” She didn’t wait for a reply, and walked the can back to the kitchen, where she poured it down the sink.
45
Cheever Place. Alone. A birthday gift from Serena, a small pouch full of polished crystals and a lengthy list of instructions about how to use them.
* * *
? ? ?
Melinda packing up her office. Alice threatening to quit. You had to ask, you had to try. She wouldn’t wait to see how it went, but it was good practice.
* * *
? ? ?
A treadmill in her bedroom at Pomander, vegetables in the refrigerator. No ashtrays. Fridge fully stocked with Coke Zero.
* * *
? ? ?
Debbie at Leonard’s bedside. No change.
46
Alice always made sure that Sam told Leonard her idea, even when the conversation didn’t naturally go there. Alice liked his future full, less lonely, and so she figured out how to swerve when necessary, to get Sam to say the thing. Leonard’s eyes always opened wide when she said it, the same lightbulb going on, over and over again.
* * *
? ? ?
Alice and Sam dressed in anime costumes that they cobbled together from Alice’s closet and flirted with Barry Ford at the convention. They didn’t actually let him touch them, but they threatened to call the police when they told him how old they were.
* * *
? ? ?
She did have sex with Tommy again, just because she wanted to, in his bedroom in his parents’ apartment. It was in between lunch and dinner and his parents were out of town. He had a Nirvana poster on one wall, hung neatly with thumbtacks, and a poster of a Ferrari right next to it, which was the whole problem, really.
47
Cheever Place.
* * *
? ? ?
Instead of Barry, Andrew McCarthy in the Centrum Silver commercials.