Justin Kramon by Finny (v5) Page B

was gentle and kind. She seemed to be able to shed her official manner as easily as her kimonos and wraps.
    In the room Finny lay down on the bed. “I don’t understand,” she said, turning on her back, her hands over her eyes, shaking her head like she just couldn’t believe what was happening. “He seemed completely fine when he visited.”
    “I’m sorry,” Poplan said. She sat down next to Finny and stroked her arm as Finny cried.
    In a little while Poplan suggested, “Maybe you should try calling your mother.”
    “That’s another thing I don’t get. Why wouldn’t she tell me herself?”
    “Maybe it was too hard right now. Maybe she tried to call you and couldn’t reach you and was just too tired and stressed out to keep trying.”
    “Maybe she was being a thoughtless bitch,” Finny offered.
    “You don’t know that,” Poplan said.
    “You don’t know my mother.”
    Poplan stayed in the room while Finny packed, sitting on Finny’s bed. Every once in a while Finny would say, “It’s okay, Poplan. You don’t have to sit here all day.”
    “I don’t mind,” Poplan said. “It’s good to have company.”
    Soon Finny could hear the girls coming back from their classes, chatting about their scores on quizzes, how much homework they had.
    “Karina farted in humanities,” Finny heard Nora say.
    “She’s a humanitarian,” Brooke answered. And then some laughing and snorting.
    On other days Simone or Jean or Nora might knock and come visit Finny for a little while, but today nobody knocked. The voices seemed to get quieter as they approached Finny’s door, as if the girls were observing some sort of decree. Finny had the sense that word had gotten around about her dad, or at least that the others knew something was wrong with her, since she hadn’t been to any of her afternoon classes. She had an odd feeling of being isolated by her grief, the way Poplan quarantined girls who had caught a cold or the flu. Finny felt sick herself, like no one would want to touch her or be near her. Loss always did this to you, pushed you in a corner where no one wanted to go.
    Later Judith came in, after her lacrosse practice. She was sweating, and had a purple bandana tied around her hair. She looked lovely, and for the first time Finny resented her for it.
    “I heard,” Judith said. “My God, Finny, I’m so sorry.” Then she noticed Poplan on the bed. “Hi,” Judith said to her.
    “Hi, Judith,” Poplan said, and Finny heard the effort Poplan was making to be friendly. “You know, I think Finny might want some time to herself, to get ready now.”
    Judith looked at Finny. There was a moment of silent struggle between Poplan and Judith, over who would get to stay with Finny.
    Finally Finny said, “If you don’t mind, Judith, I’m just not up for talking now.”
    Judith took the hint. “Oh,” she said, and Finny could see she was surprised, and a little offended. Judith hated losing, no matter the circumstances. “Actually, I was planning to head to dinner early anyway. I just needed to grab some clothes.”
    Judith gathered an outfit from her closet. Before she left the room, she walked over to Finny, who was standing in front of her own closet.
    “I am so sorry,” Judith said, and gave Finny a long hug. “Look, I know you’re not up to discussing anything now, but give me a call when you feel up to it. I hope you can come back soon. I’ll miss you, Shorty Finn.”
    Finny felt her eyes fill up again. “I’ll miss you, too,” she said.
    Then Judith took her hand like she was going to shake it. But instead Finny felt a cold metal object placed in her palm. She looked at Judith, and Judith smiled sadly. Finny knew it was the black lipstick.
    “Thanks,” Finny said.
    She didn’t call her mother that afternoon. She knew Laura was too overwhelmed to deal with anything, and she figured she’d get all the information from her brother when she got home. Poplan said she would drive Finny to the