The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [23]
“I just really love her, you know?”
Jeremy is still looking down, so I stand nearer to him—he’s taller than I am, so even if he is looking down, if I stand close enough, he’ll be looking at me.
“Jeremy?”
“What did you do? I mean, I know it’s totally different, but you’re all right, you’re here and you’re fine, so it must be okay, somehow. There must be a way to make it okay.”
I am so confused that it’s making me nervous. My hands are sweaty, even though I’d been so cold before.
“Jeremy, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
“When your dad was sick—I know you were young, but you must remember. What was it like?”
What was it like. When my dad was sick. I have no clue. But I can’t let Jeremy see that I don’t know. I will have to think about that later. So I just say, “I’m sorry, Jeremy, I was two years old.”
Jeremy looks straight at me.
“But you’re okay now.”
He seems to need me to affirm this, so I say, “Yes. I’m okay now.”
I should say something more; something comforting. But I can’t think of anything else. I must have said something right, because he nods, and then he smiles at me. He reaches his arm toward me, and for a second I think he’s going to take my hand. But instead he takes the cigarette from my fingers, which seems even more intimate. It’s gone out—I hadn’t even noticed. Rain must have fallen on it.
“I better go,” he says, crushing the cigarette in his fingers. “It’s getting late, and you’ve got school tomorrow.” He grins.
“Yes, sir, and I have to get my beauty rest.” Like I’m royalty too.
I shuffle away in my slippers, go back to bed to stare at the ceiling. My father was sick. My father had an illness. Why is my mother so scared to tell me that? It’s so normal. It’s so banal. I think I might be disappointed.
I am nearly asleep when I realize what I missed: Jeremy was talking about Kate.
9
In the morning, every decision seems fraught. Cereal for breakfast? Moisturizing shampoo or deep-cleansing? Should I put on makeup? What should I wear? Because whatever else I do, I must wear the right thing today. I’m convinced that the right outfit will show Jeremy I’m sympathetic, but the wrong one will somehow have the power to tell the entire student body that something is wrong with Kate.
Because I’m fairly convinced that this is something of a secret. Maybe the family is trying to keep it secret; maybe he hasn’t told anyone, and maybe he’s trusting me. Maybe whatever Kate has is whatever my father had, and maybe her family is just as ashamed as mine.
I try to think of illnesses that people associate with shame. All that occurs to me is AIDS, and that was only in the 1980s, before people knew what they know now. I mean, sure there are people who would still think it’s shameful, but not the Coles. They’re a liberal New York family. They hold fund-raisers for Democratic candidates in their apartment. I remember that in one of my favorite childhood books, there was a girl with diabetes and she kept it secret because she was scared of what her friends would think. But of course, the lesson was always that no one would care; they loved her anyway. And everyone would rally around Kate. She’s every bit as beloved a princess as Jeremy is a prince.
I ransack my closet and I wonder why Jeremy said what he did exactly—that I got through it, that my father died but I’m okay now. Whatever Kate has, even if it’s what my father had, surely there’s some treatment now, some way to make it something she can, at least, live with. Whatever it is, it won’t kill Kate—the Coles can afford the best doctors in the world; fly her to Switzerland for the most cutting-edge treatment; hire twenty-four-hour-a-day home care; give her anything she needs.
In the end, I wear jeans. Jeans are so innocuous, and I think it’s innocuous that I’m going for. I pull them on—tight over my hips, looser around my ankles. I even choose the pair that I’ve decided is a particularly ordinary shade of blue, even though they’re last year’s jeans, and not nearly stylish enough.