Amy Inspired - Bethany Pierce [66]
Late in the evening a copy of Zoë’s story finally began to circulate. People sat on the couch in a tight-wedged row to read the magazine over each other’s shoulders. Zoë couldn’t hide her pleasure at the attention. I worried I would be as unable to hide my jealousy. I took myself out to sit on the roof, just to be on the safe side.
Down below, Valerie and Everett were sitting side by side on the old picnic table that sank a little more into the lawn each month. At least Everett had the decency to smoke outside. They were arguing good-naturedly about constellations. Valerie’s husband was too softspoken and passive for argument. She liked to disagree with Everett once in a while to get the fight out of her system.
“There’s no Orion’s Oxen,” Valerie said.
“It’s right there. By his belt.”
“I don’t see it.”
He leaned over until his head was aligned with hers and pointed with the burning butt of his cigarette. “Follow the left star there, over five degrees, and you’re at the tip of the horn of the giant water buffalo, otherwise known as Orion’s Oxen. Why would he have that belt if not to whip his beast of labor into submission?”
Valerie asked if he was on crack.
I sat on one of the lawn chairs scattered on the porch and leaned back to consider the stars. I closed my eyes, rubbed them vigorously until constellations of red blossomed on the backs of my eyelids. I should take an Advil for the headache. I felt irritable and tired. Maybe I just felt thirty.
“Forget something?” Eli handed me my coat.
“Thanks.”
“You all right?”
I sat up. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You’ve been quiet all night.”
“I just need some air. It’s so crowded and loud. I guess I got a little claustrophobic.”
Below us, Valerie was laughing. No one could make her laugh like Everett. For a moment I entertained the idea that Eli and I could be comfortable with each other like that. There wasn’t anything wrong with his having a friend outside of Jillian. I had to tell myself this quite often.
“Amber’s talkative,” I said.
“She’s something.” He pulled up a lawn chair, unfolded it, examined its torn and frayed underside, and set it aside in exchange for another. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with her. Sorry about that.” He sat down with a quiet, contented sigh. “Jillian’s girlfriends are very vocal.”
“She was worried about Jillian.”
“Amber doesn’t worry about anybody. She likes drama; it makes parties more interesting.”
“She doesn’t have to open her mouth to make things more interesting—she could just walk in a room.”
“I’m glad I caught you alone,” he said to change the subject. “I haven’t had a chance to wish you an official happy birthday yet.” He reached in his pocket and produced a small gift wrapped in baby blue paper, tied neatly with a delicate white bow.
“You’re not supposed to get me a gift.”
“It’s not much, but when I saw it I thought of you.”
Inside the blue wrapping paper was a jewelry box, and inside the jewelry box, on a bed of cotton, lay a pair of glass earrings shaped like flowers. The pit of each had been made of tiny, golden beads that together resembled a sunflower’s eye.
“Kevin’s ex makes jewelry,” he explained. “Do you like them?”
“They’re gorgeous. But they’re almost too pretty. I usually don’t wear things like this.”
“Put them on.”
The earrings were heavy. I tilted my head to model. The way he looked at my hair, eyes following a ring of curls from my brow to the nape of my neck to my chest, it was as though he’d reached across and touched me ever so gently.
I hurried to take the earrings off.
“Thank you,” I said. “These are the nicest thing anyone’s given me in a long time.”
The screen door flew open. Amber shouted, “Eli Morretti, what are you doing! We are bored to death in here without you!”
“So come out here.” He folded the blue wrapping paper and hid it in his pocket.
Amber came and sat right in Eli’s lap.