limits, but I was curious. How far would he go to get me to like him?
"Look," I said, hanging his keys on the rack in the kitchen, "I'm sorry I was gone so long. Something came up."
I went to the fridge and got out a can of beer and sat across from my mother at the table.
"We've decided to move," my mother said. She never was good at having difficult conversations, and I knew she was nervous and serious when she came right out and said something.
"Mack's family has money," she said. "And now he does too."
I didn't say anything. I got up and looked in the fridge. I was ravenous; over the weekend, while I'd been sick, I had hardly eaten and I was suddenly so hungry I could barely get the food out of the fridge fast enough. I started planning a sandwich in my head.
"We've picked out a house in Northville. It's beautiful. Five bedrooms, Michael. Can you imagine that? Three baths!"
I took out a loaf of Italian bread Mom had bought at Beirut Bakery that morning. I cut the loaf of bread in half, right down the middle. Then I cut that half down the middle, lengthwise, so that the bread made one giant submarine bun. I got out the mustard and mayonnaise, spread them on the bun.
"It's on two acres of land, at the end of this beautiful gravel road that's completely covered in oak trees. In autumn, my God, it will be breathtaking."
I found some turkey and some bologna and lined each half of the bread with meat. I layered slices of American cheese on top of each half.
"I mean, I never, ever imagined that I would live someplace like that. Kolya will go to one of the best high schools in the state."
My head in the fridge, I found pickles and olives, half of a tomato, a cucumber, and some wilted lettuce that was still edible. I brought them to the counter.
"He's excited. I talked to him this morning. He might be on the swim team and maybe in the jazz band or ROTC or whatever. They don't have any of those things at Maple Rock."
I added some banana peppers, a little salt, and another layer of cheese. When I put the halves of the sandwich together, it stood almost eight inches tall. I garnished the side of my plate with one handful of potato chips, and then a second.
"And Mack and I plan to get married," she said.
I brought the enormous sandwich to my mouth and took the biggest bite I could. My mother stared at me. I flashed her the thumbs-up sign and chewed and chewed.
"Of course, you don't have to come," she said. "I suppose you could stay right here."
I gave her another thumbs-up, took another bite as soon as I had swallowed my first. My mother left the room.
That night the phone rang. I figured it was Nick or Tom, wanting to go out and get drunk.
"Hello," I said.
"You never called me," a woman's voice said.
"Holly?" I said.
"Hello," she said.
SUNDAY I WENT TO Holly's house, a small brick ranch in Redford. The yard was neat, with a few abstract, curvy sculptures and some flowers lining the front of the house. A statue of Buddha sat on the front porch, under the mailbox. The welcome mat didn't say WELCOME , it said PEACE . It was hot, and the air smelled like fresh-cut grass and heated asphalt. I remember that, because when Holly opened the door, everything smelled different. A lavender and peppermint scent washed over me, and I almost floated inside.
I might as well say it: I was taken with her beauty so suddenly, I was having a hard time keeping my basic bodily functions in order. She looked different than I remembered—taller. And her red hair seemed darker and deeper, almost auburn, and her gray-green eyes looked pale, almost silver. Even though it was summer, her skin was still very fair, and she had a tiny band of freckles dotting her nose and high cheekbones. When she smiled, her big eyes would get suddenly smaller and brighter, so it looked like two tiny gems of light were hidden under her eyelids. Her body was full of curves, with fuller breasts and hips than I remembered. Talking was hard enough, but
"Look," I said, hanging his keys on the rack in the kitchen, "I'm sorry I was gone so long. Something came up."
I went to the fridge and got out a can of beer and sat across from my mother at the table.
"We've decided to move," my mother said. She never was good at having difficult conversations, and I knew she was nervous and serious when she came right out and said something.
"Mack's family has money," she said. "And now he does too."
I didn't say anything. I got up and looked in the fridge. I was ravenous; over the weekend, while I'd been sick, I had hardly eaten and I was suddenly so hungry I could barely get the food out of the fridge fast enough. I started planning a sandwich in my head.
"We've picked out a house in Northville. It's beautiful. Five bedrooms, Michael. Can you imagine that? Three baths!"
I took out a loaf of Italian bread Mom had bought at Beirut Bakery that morning. I cut the loaf of bread in half, right down the middle. Then I cut that half down the middle, lengthwise, so that the bread made one giant submarine bun. I got out the mustard and mayonnaise, spread them on the bun.
"It's on two acres of land, at the end of this beautiful gravel road that's completely covered in oak trees. In autumn, my God, it will be breathtaking."
I found some turkey and some bologna and lined each half of the bread with meat. I layered slices of American cheese on top of each half.
"I mean, I never, ever imagined that I would live someplace like that. Kolya will go to one of the best high schools in the state."
My head in the fridge, I found pickles and olives, half of a tomato, a cucumber, and some wilted lettuce that was still edible. I brought them to the counter.
"He's excited. I talked to him this morning. He might be on the swim team and maybe in the jazz band or ROTC or whatever. They don't have any of those things at Maple Rock."
I added some banana peppers, a little salt, and another layer of cheese. When I put the halves of the sandwich together, it stood almost eight inches tall. I garnished the side of my plate with one handful of potato chips, and then a second.
"And Mack and I plan to get married," she said.
I brought the enormous sandwich to my mouth and took the biggest bite I could. My mother stared at me. I flashed her the thumbs-up sign and chewed and chewed.
"Of course, you don't have to come," she said. "I suppose you could stay right here."
I gave her another thumbs-up, took another bite as soon as I had swallowed my first. My mother left the room.
That night the phone rang. I figured it was Nick or Tom, wanting to go out and get drunk.
"Hello," I said.
"You never called me," a woman's voice said.
"Holly?" I said.
"Hello," she said.
SUNDAY I WENT TO Holly's house, a small brick ranch in Redford. The yard was neat, with a few abstract, curvy sculptures and some flowers lining the front of the house. A statue of Buddha sat on the front porch, under the mailbox. The welcome mat didn't say WELCOME , it said PEACE . It was hot, and the air smelled like fresh-cut grass and heated asphalt. I remember that, because when Holly opened the door, everything smelled different. A lavender and peppermint scent washed over me, and I almost floated inside.
I might as well say it: I was taken with her beauty so suddenly, I was having a hard time keeping my basic bodily functions in order. She looked different than I remembered—taller. And her red hair seemed darker and deeper, almost auburn, and her gray-green eyes looked pale, almost silver. Even though it was summer, her skin was still very fair, and she had a tiny band of freckles dotting her nose and high cheekbones. When she smiled, her big eyes would get suddenly smaller and brighter, so it looked like two tiny gems of light were hidden under her eyelids. Her body was full of curves, with fuller breasts and hips than I remembered. Talking was hard enough, but
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