The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [41]
When I get a 95, we decide it has to be a major celebration. We invite Kate out for ice cream sundaes.
I’m standing in the Coles’ foyer again. It’s very different from the first time—I feel comfortable here now; there’s no chance I’ll be forgotten or ignored. I could have walked all the way inside if no one had been here to greet me. But that’s not what has happened today. Today I’m still in the foyer because I’m waiting to leave, and I’m working up a sweat under my winter coat. Kate is still getting ready because a few minutes ago, Mrs. Cole saw the three of us waiting for the elevator and said that Kate wasn’t dressed warmly enough. Kate didn’t like the coat Mrs. Cole wanted her to wear. So they disappeared into Kate’s room to negotiate what she’d been wearing underneath the lighter coat. Jeremy trotted after them. And so I’m waiting by the elevator.
Mr. Cole walks by and sees me.
“Connelly, how are you?”
“Fine. How are you?”
“Very fine indeed. You waiting for Kate?”
“Yup.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. She’s become pretty picky about what she wears since she lost her hair—I mean …” He seems flustered suddenly, to have said it so simply. I feel sorry for him and interrupt.
“Hey, twelve-year-old girls can be very stubborn about their sense of style,” I say, as though I don’t know that this is a bigger deal than that. But he seems to appreciate my feigned ignorance.
“Exactly.” He smiles at me. “Well, I’m sure they won’t be much longer. You might want to settle in, take off your coat, grab some provisions from the kitchen—just in case you end up camped out here, you know.”
I laugh at his joke and he moves past me, and I’m alone in the foyer again. I hear Kate yell, “No I won’t!” and I wonder what’s happened. She and Jeremy are walking toward me, Kate’s face obviously red from crying, but she’s wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing earlier.
“Come on, let’s get going,” Jeremy says. I press for the elevator.
Jeremy insists on taking a cab, even though the restaurant is just a few blocks away. I see that even though he’s allied himself with Kate in this fight, he’s worried about her getting cold too, and wants to spend as little time as possible outdoors.
It’s awkward in the cab. None of us says anything. Everything I can think of to say has to do with Kate’s outfit—like, Great coat; cute boots.
“What kind of sundae you gonna get, Connie?” Jeremy asks finally.
“I haven’t decided.”
“No fun. I know exactly what Kate’s getting.” The cab arrives, and Jeremy pays the driver, and Kate and I scoot out and into the restaurant. Kate doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t respond to her brother’s teasing her about her order. She stays silent, still angry at her mom. You’d think she was being a brat if you didn’t know the whole story.
Jeremy continues as we’re led to the table, ignoring the serious turn this outing has taken, still trying to joke. “Kate always gets scoops of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and coffee, with hot fudge, nuts, and whipped cream, and then swirls it all together until it is a very, very disgusting shade of dark pink.”
“God, Kate,” I say, trying to get in on the joke. “Can you eat all that?”
“Yes!” she says defensively.
“Well,” I continue, desperate to say something right, “I’ll be full after two bites. My eyes are much bigger than my stomach.”
“How about you, Jeremy?” I ask as we sit down. “What are you gonna get?”
“Hey, I’m on your side—I can’t finish one of those huge things. Want to split something?”
“Perfect.”
We split a hot fudge sundae. Kate’s sundae comes and she does in fact swirl it all together, and it does turn a gross color, and she does begin slurping it up, but after a few spoonfuls she loses interest. I wish Jeremy and I had never suggested this outing of ours. Kate looks like she’s about to cry. I nudge Jeremy, who’s up to his elbows in our sundae. He looks at his sister.
“Kate?” he says quietly.
“I don’t think I can eat this,” she says. She’s staring at the sundae as though finishing it is a matter of life and death: finish it and prove you’re