Freedom [129]
The female scene at school had not proved satisfactory thus far. Compared to Connie, the really attractive girls he’d met in Virginia all seemed to have been sprayed with Teflon, encased in suspicion of his motives. Even the prettiest ones wore too much makeup and overly formal clothes and dressed for Cavaliers games as if they were the Kentucky Derby. It was true that certain second-tier girls, at parties where they’d drunk too much, had given him to understand he was a boy to whom hookups were available. But for whatever reason, whether because he was a wuss or because he hated shouting over music or because he thought too highly of himself or because he was unable to ignore how stupid and annoying too much alcohol made a girl, he’d formed an early prejudice against these parties and their hookups and decided that he much preferred hanging out with other guys.
He sat holding his phone for a long time, for maybe half an hour, while the sky in the windows grayed toward rain. He waited for so long and in such a stupor of reluctance that it was almost like Zen archery when his thumb, of its own accord, hit the speed-dial for Connie’s number and the ringing dragged him forward into action.
“Hey!” she answered in a cheerful ordinary voice, a voice he realized he’d been missing. “Where are you?”
“I’m in my room.”
“What’s it doing there?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of gray.”
“God, it was snowing here this morning. It’s already winter.”
“Yeah, listen,” he said. “Are you OK?”
“Me?” She seemed surprised by the question. “Yes. I miss you every minute of the day, but I’m getting used to that.”
“I’m sorry I went so long without calling.”
“That’s OK. I love talking to you, but I understand why we need to be more disciplined. I was just working on my Inver Hills application. I also signed up to take the SAT in December, like you suggested.”
“Did I suggest that?”
“If I’m going to go to real school in the fall, like you said, it’s what I need to do. I bought a book on how to study for it. I’m going to study three hours every day.”
“So you’re really OK.”
“Yes! How are you?”
Joey struggled to reconcile Carol’s account of Connie with how clear and collected she was sounding. “I talked to your mom last night,” he said.
“I know. She told me.”
“She said she’s pregnant?”
“Yes, a blessed event is coming our way. I think it’s going to be twins.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just my sense. That it’s going to be especially horrible in some way.”
“The whole conversation was actually pretty weird.”
“She’s been spoken to now,” Connie said. “She won’t be calling you again. If she does, let me know, and I’ll make it stop.”
“She said you were very depressed,” Joey blurted out.
This brought a sudden silence, total in the black-hole way that only Connie could make a silence.
“She said you’re sleeping all day and not eating enough,” Joey said. “She sounded really worried about you.”
After another silence, Connie said, “I was a little bit depressed for a while. But it was none of Carol’s business. And now I’m doing better.”
“But maybe you need an antidepressant or something?”
“No. I’m doing much better.”
“Well, that’s great,” Joey said, although he felt that it was somehow not great at all—that morbid weakness and clinginess on her part might have provided him with a viable escape route.
“So have you been sleeping with other people?” Connie said. “I thought that might be why you weren’t calling.