Wonder Boys - Michael Chabon [78]
“The woman in question,” I said, after a moment, slowly letting out a deep breath. “The one you didn’t tell Emily about.”
She wrinkled her lip and blew a long gray strand of smoke toward Pittsburgh. “The Chancellor.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“Holy shit. Does Emily know that?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I just found out myself. That’s kind of why I came up here.”
“Huh? Are you planning to announce it at the dinner table?”
“There’s an idea.”
She shook her head, looked at me for an instant, then away. She picked a flake of tobacco from her lower lip.
“She’s married, isn’t she, your friend?”
I nodded. “To my chairman. My boss, more or less.”
“So is she going to have it?”
“I don’t think so, no. I hope not.”
“Don’t tell Emily, then.”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t. Not tonight, anyway. Fuck, what difference could it make, Doc? Wait a while. I mean, see what happens, you know? Why should you tell her if there isn’t even going to be a baby? It’ll hurt her feelings so bad.”
I was impressed. Although I knew she and Emily were fairly close, it was rare to see Deborah actively displaying such concern for her sister. Part of the way she’d learned to deal with being dumped into middle of the Warshaw family was never completely to surrender the pretense that they were all a bunch of relative strangers, well-meaning but ultimately beneath her, a boatful of rude fishermen who had rescued the only survivor of the wreck of an imperial yacht. She put a hand on my arm, softly, and I wondered if perhaps she didn’t have a point. Why should I hurt Emily’s feelings any more than I already had? Then I reminded myself that I was always willing to listen to arguments in favor of avoiding an unpleasant chore, and I shook my head.
“I really have to. I promised I would.”
“Promised who?”
“Oh,” I said, “myself.”
Then what’s one more broken, more or less? said her look. “Are you going to stay the night?”
“I don’t know. Probably not, the way things have been going.”
“Then let me tell her for you. After you leave.”
“No!” I regretted now that I had said anything at all to Deborah, who, along with all her genuine affection for Emily, had also acquired, like any good elder sister, a healthy urge to see her younger sibling’s jaw drop in horror. “God, you have to swear to me you won’t say anything to anyone, Deb. Please! I just haven’t figured out what I’m going to do yet, is all.”
“That’s what you’re waiting for?” she said, looking pointedly unhopeful.
“Hey, fuck you,” I said, “I’ll figure it out. Now, come on. Do you swear?”
“Sure,” she said, and her soft Korean accent fluttered in the corners of her voice. “No problem.”
“Okay.” I nodded, once, firmly, as if I believed her.
“Jesus, Doc,” she said. “How do you manage to fuck things up so good?”
I said that I didn’t know. Then I turned and faced the house.
“I’d better go rescue James from Philly,” I said. “Coming?”
She looked as if she was about to say something else, but in the end she just nodded and followed after me. We walked back up the driveway toward the house, gravel crunching under our feet. “Who is that kid, anyway?” she said. “That James?”
“He’s a student of mine.”
“He’s cute.”
“Please leave him alone.”
“He told me he liked my dress.”
“Did he?” I said, giving the dress a look of mock skepticism. “He’s very polite.”
“He’s—? Hey, fuck you,” she said, sharply, her tone no longer bantering, and I saw that I had hurt her feelings again.
She stopped in the middle of the side yard and looked down at herself. “It is ugly, isn’t it?”
“No, Deb, it’s—”
“Shit, I can’t believe I bought this thing.” Her voice had grown shrill. “Look at this!”
“I think it’s beautiful,” I told her. “You look gorgeous, Deb.”
She went past me to the back door and opened the screen but didn’t go immediately inside, and coming up behind her I saw that she was trying to catch her faint reflection in the long rippled pane of the door.
“I’m going to change,” she announced,