Marianna Baer - Frost

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I guess if you guys wanted to be together it would

have happened by now. Right?” She turned so she could see

herself in side view. “Maybe I tried too hard to push you together,

for selfish reasons. Maybe you’re not his type. I made it all up in

the beginning, saying that he liked you. He’s that way with

anyone who has boobs.”

“Oh. Maybe,” I said, just to end the conversation.

216

This new attitude of hers was completely bizarre. And the

only possibility for what caused it, that I could see, was that she

was jealous. She was used to being the center of David’s universe.

As much as she said she didn’t want so much attention from him,

maybe now that David was acting blatantly interested in me she

was having second thoughts.

“Do you think my bruises are too obvious in this dress?” she

asked.

“It’s a bit short,” I said. “You could wear leggings under it.

Although, not over your cast, I guess.”

“Too short? You mean, too sexy?” she said. “I’m just

following your lead.”

She was jealous. For a minute I considered not wearing the

wrap dress, so I wouldn’t be the target of these digs all night.

Then I remembered the expression on David’s face. Forget it. Let

her deal. I sat on my bed, shoved my foot in my boot, and pulled

at the laces.

When I finished tying up both boots, Celeste was still looking

at herself in the mirror, holding the dress up a little bit so her

thighs were bare. After a second she let it drop, then turned to

face me. I was dreading her next comment about David, but

instead she said, in a strange, tight voice, “What do you think’s

happening in Frost House right now?”

217

After the six of us convened downstairs all dressed and

ready, we called a car service—the Brooklyn version of a cab—to

take us to the bar. We split into two groups; I went with the

Lazars. Somewhere during the ride, I wondered if Celeste and

David were members of a Mafia family and their little private talk

had actually been about setting me up for a hit. Because after

driving through a couple of normal neighborhoods, our car

crossed under an expressway, into an area with warehouses and

dilapidated liquor stores. Eventually, we turned onto a

cobblestone street.

“I didn’t know cobblestone streets still existed,” I said as the

car jostled forward. “This area’s pretty desolate, huh?”

A pair of skinny dogs trotted alongside us for a minute before

sliding through a gap in a barbed-wire fence into an abandoned

lot.

“I bet I could find some great stuff for projects here,” Celeste

said. I prayed she wasn’t going to tell the driver to stop so she

could pick up a desiccated rat carcass or something.

Earlier, when she’d asked me what I thought was happening

in Frost House, I’d been spooked by her tone. And by the

question.

“Nothing,” I’d said. “Seeing as it’s empty. Right?”

She’d seemed surprised I’d even answered, like she hadn’t

meant to ask it at all. “Of course,” she’d said. “I was kidding.”

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The driver took a left on a street that was lined with parked

cars. On one side was the water. On the other side was a small,

dark storefront with a neon sign of a dolphin curved around an

anchor. Above it was a sign that said BAR. We tumbled out of the

car and walked up to the door. As David held it open, warm light

spilled out along with the sounds of low voices and live music.

Bodies filled the long, narrow space; a band was squeezed in the

middle of the crowd. We worked our way inside and found Abby,

Viv, and Cameron just taking off their coats.

David and Viv said they’d get our drinks. The rest of us

pushed through the room, past where the four-man band was

playing Johnny Cash–type music. No one seemed to give us a

second look, but we were definitely the youngest people there.

We ended up in a back room that was a little less crowded and

noisy. A group was just leaving a round, red leather booth, so as

soon as they got up we claimed it. The space and everything in it

seemed to have been here for a hundred years—walls and

shelves were filled with artifacts: from delicate models of old

clipper ships, to figurines of the Marx Brothers, to real shark jaws.

I loved that everything about it felt genuine. Not at all what I

expected from a bar in New York.

David and Viv appeared minutes later with an assortment of

beers. I waited until Celeste and Abby had picked, knowing they’d

be the two to make a fuss if they didn’t get what they wanted.

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“So, is everything okay?” I asked David quietly, during the

first lull in our group conversation. He was sitting on my left, solid

against me. “Whatever you needed to talk to Celeste about?” I

glanced over; she was talking to Viv. “She seemed upset earlier.”

“Sort of okay,” he said, tugging on the corner of his beer

label. “I got a call from our mother. Our father’s not doing too

well.”

“I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”

“Bad reaction to a new drug,” he said. “Something for a

trial.”

I studied my dress. How long ago had Mrs. Lazar worn it?

When her husband looked at the red-and-black pattern, had his

brain seen it the way mine did? Maybe he was already seeing

things differently, finding meanings and messages in the

geometric forms, instead of just thinking how good the dress

looked on his wife.

“I don’t want to talk about it tonight,” David said, startling

my mind off the track it had been going down.

He reached over and smoothed my hair behind my ear. Our

eyes met and a whole conversation seemed to pass between us in

an instant. I was only snapped out of it by a clunking noise on the

other side of the booth.

“Back in a minute,” Celeste said as she hopped off.

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My hands rested on the table. David reached over and began

fiddling with my bracelet. His thumb brushed against my wrist.

“Have I told you how great you look?” he said, his mouth by

my ear.

“Yes,” I said. More a breath than a word.

“What are you guys talking about?” Abby called from across

the table.

“Nothing,” I said. “David was just saying he misses Barcroft.”

“Yeah, right,” Cameron said. “How do people live through

senior year? The freedom is so damn close. I swear, I’m not going

to make it.”

“We make it through by having weekends like this one,” Viv

said, giving him a big kiss on the cheek.

Cameron lifted his beer. “To weekends like this.”

“To weekends like this,” we all echoed, clanking our bottles

together.

We went around making several other toasts until our

bottles were drained. Viv and Cameron got up and took our

orders. With nothing to drink, the natives were restless.

By the time they returned with beers, so was David. Twenty

minutes had passed; there was no sign of Celeste.

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Chapter 22

“ I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM ANYWAY-” I said

to David. “I’ll find her.”

I made my way up and down the narrow front space, pushing

myself between people and dodging the band members’ guitar

necks. I checked all of the seats. I figured out where the women’s

bathroom was and knocked on the door. From inside, I could hear

the sounds of someone being sick. Damn.

“Celeste?” I knocked again.

After a bit, a voice that was definitely not Celeste’s called

out, “Can you wait a minute?”

Finally, I asked the bartender if he’d seen the girl on crutches

recently.

He nodded as he squeezed a lime into a cocktail shaker. “She

was talking to a guy. He bought her a drink. Everything okay?” He

gave me a funny look, and I got the sense he was about to ask for

my ID.

“Yup,” I said, turning around. I wasn’t sure it was okay,

though. What the hell was Celeste doing? Who was this guy who

bought her a drink? She’d been in such a strange mood earlier.

And all she had on was that borderline-pornographic dress.

222

I made one last round of the front room, then pushed open

the heavy wood door to the street. A thick mist and the briny

smell of the harbor hung in the air. I heard the clank of a bottle.

A girl and a guy sat on the pavement to the right of me,

leaning against the wall.

“You waiting for a car service, too?” the guy asked me.

“I’m looking for my friend. She’s on crutches.”

The woman pointed toward the water, bracelets jangling on

her arm. “They went that way. To the pier.”

I started walking down the cobblestone street, trying to

ignore my nervousness. In the middle of nowhere, in a

neighborhood that didn’t seem particularly safe, and Celeste off

with some guy. I kept thinking about what David said about her

self-destructive decisions. I kept thinking about those bruises.

Then I thought about her strange fit of jealousy. Maybe my

flirting with David had pushed her to get together with some

random guy, just to feel wanted, or to get David’s attention back.

I came to the end of the street and heard rustling noises

from down by the water. A damp, fish-scented breeze blew my

hair across my face. I hoped to God the noises were from Celeste

and not some waterfront rats. Or rats climbing all over Celeste’s

body.

“Celeste?” I said loudly enough to scare them off.

223

More rustling. “Mmm?”

I could now make out her shape, sitting next to someone else

on a big slab at the edge of the shore. I picked my way over rocks

and chunks of concrete and waterlogged scraps of wood.

Surprise and relief hit me at the same time when I saw whom

she was sitting with. “Whip! Hey! How did you get here?” I asked.

“This amazing innovation,” he said, lifting a cigarette to his

lips. “It’s called a cab.”

“I think I’ve heard of that.” I turned to Celeste. “I was just

checking to make sure you were okay.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “David sent you.”

“No. We were all wondering.”

“My brother,” Celeste said to Whip, “has an irrational fear

that if I’m ever out of his sight, I’ll do something stupid like sit on

a darkened waterfront with a totally untrustworthy male. While

drinking alcohol. And smoking. So he has to send out his little

minion to check up on me.”

“You said you’d only be a few minutes,” I pointed out,

annoyed.

Celeste ignored me and kept talking to Whip. “Maybe she’ll

get to give him a blow job for the information she brings back.”

My mouth fell open. “I—”

224

“The word’s always been Leena doesn’t do stuff like that,”

Whip interrupted. “I know plenty of guys who’d be happy to hear

otherwise.”

“David did not send me out here,” I snapped. I wasn’t even

going to address Whip’s comment. “I came on my own because I

couldn’t find you inside and I was worried. I don’t know where I

ever got the idea that Celeste Lazar couldn’t take care of herself.

Maybe it’s because every time I leave you alone in the dorm I

come back and some horrible thing has happened to you.”

“God, Leena,” Celeste said. “I must have really hit a nerve.

Did you already service David tonight? In the bar bathroom,

maybe?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Is that your job?”

Oh my God.

The words rang in the air. I could not believe I’d said them. I

didn’t know where they’d come from.

“Snap!” Whip said.

Celeste didn’t say anything. I was about to apologize when

she starting making a strange noise. It took a second, but then I

realized what it was. It was laughter. She was practically

convulsing.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she said once she’d calmed down. “I had

no idea you could be so funny.”

225

Was she being serious?

“I shouldn’t have said that,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said. “It was funny. Real y. I’ll tell David. He’ll think

so, too.”

I knew perfectly well David wouldn’t think it was funny. And I

had a feeling Celeste knew he wouldn’t think it was funny, too.

“Look, just forget it. It wasn’t funny. Anyway, do whatever

you want. I’m going back inside. It’s freezing out here.”

I tugged open the door just as David was coming out.

“What’s going on?” he said. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah. She’s okay.” Seeing David made me feel bad for what

I’d said to Celeste, the tasteless joke. I prayed that she’d forget

and wouldn’t repeat it to him. “She’s down by the water, with,

uh, Whip.”

“Whip? What the hell is he doing here?”

“I guess she called him,” I said.

“You just left her out there with him?” David started to brush

by me. The door closed behind him.

“David.” I gripped him by the forearm. “She’s fine. They’re

just sitting there.”

“Are the bruises not enough proof for you that this is a really

bad idea?” he said.

226

“Isn’t telling her not to do something the worst approach?” I

said. “The more you tell her not to be with Whip, the more she’ll

push it with him. Right?”

“That’s your assessment?” David said. “Reverse psychology.

Very tricky.”

I took my hand off his arm. “Don’t be such a jerk. I’m just

trying to help. If you want to know the truth, I don’t really feel like

being in the middle of this sibling drama. But I don’t want to see

you getting all upset at each other, either, especially when you

might just be being overly protective.”

David looked out toward a bell clanging in the fog on the

water.

“She likes to do the unexpected,” I said. “It’s too obvious for

her to date some artistic, emo guy.”