The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [38]
The Coles eat small portions—all except for Jeremy, who, like most teenage boys, could eat anyone under the table. Mrs. Cole has one helping of rice and one Peking duck pancake. She takes longer than I do to finish, and I think she must be starving by the time we get up from the table.
“Kate,” Jeremy says, “want to come watch movies with us?”
She nods, and we settle in the den to watch TV. Kate falls asleep lying across our laps on the couch. I’ve never, that I can remember, had someone lie on me while sleeping, and Kate’s weight across my thighs is warm. We’re watching our second movie when Jeremy’s parents stick their heads in to say good night, and his father lifts Kate off the couch to take her to her bedroom. I feel her absence on my legs. The Coles, extraordinary though their circumstances may be—the money, the ill daughter, etc.—seem the picture of a family to me. Like something out of a storybook.
Jeremy surprises me by coming home with me and lighting up outside my lobby like usual.
“You know, my mother said we could smoke upstairs.”
“God, my mom would go nuts.”
“Well, I think the thrill of having a Cole regularly at the house …”
“Shut up.” It’s the first time I’ve said anything to him about his royalty, his social status compared to mine. Jeremy and I grin at each other. I bring my cigarette to my lips.
“Jesus Christ, Sternin, you barely inhale.”
“Hey, I’m here for the company, not the nicotine.”
Jeremy begins to laugh, but his smile drops abruptly and he presses his temples with the thumb and middle finger of his left hand. “Thanks for coming to dinner.”
“My pleasure.”
“I mean it; it was nice having you there.”
I smile, and Jeremy smiles back at me.
While I’m getting ready for bed, I feel like there’s something terrible I’ve done, but I can’t remember what. Like I said something wrong at dinner, or stole an ashtray or something.
It’s awful, but I’m jealous of Jeremy. It’s so wrong to be jealous of someone when the person he loves most in the world is so sick, but I’m jealous of him for having Kate to love. I’m jealous of the way that his parents said good night to us, and I’m jealous of Kate’s legs across his lap. Worst of all, I’m grateful for Kate’s illness. Without it, Jeremy and I wouldn’t be friends.
I get out of bed, walk over to my bookshelves. Without turning on the light, I locate my copy of A Farewell to Arms, open it to where I’d stuck that picture of my parents. In the darkness, I can just make out their shapes. I wonder if this is what Jeremy’s parents looked like when they were that age. I put the picture back, put the book back on its shelf, get back into bed.
I remember how empty my lap felt when Kate was put to bed. I imagine Jeremy walking around with that emptiness every day for the rest of his life.
And I’m still jealous.
14
On Saturday, I wake up frantic, my skin itching. Why haven’t I figured it out yet? How much longer will I walk around without knowing the truth about my father?
Jeremy comes over in the afternoon to help me cram for the physics midterm on Monday. My mother’s not home, and for a change we sit in the living room, textbooks spread out on the coffee table. Jeremy’s up on the couch. I’m down on the floor, my legs under the table, and I’m trying to work on the vector problem in front of me, but I can’t concentrate.
“Sternin. Dude.”
I blink. “Huh?”
“You’ve been staring at that problem for hours. Do you want me to walk you through it?”
I look down at the textbook. I actually know how to do this problem. That’s not why I haven’t finished it.
“Sternin?”
I look back up at Jeremy.
“I can’t concentrate.”
“I can tell.”
How come Jeremy can concentrate when his sister is so sick and I can’t concentrate when my father has been dead for years?
“Sternin?”
“I’m sorry, Jeremy. It’s very nice of you to be here helping me, but I’m not paying any attention. You must have somewhere else …” I trail off, because I think he knows what I’m thinking: Why waste any time here with me when you could be soaking up time with Kate?
“I don’t want