“Oh, I guess so,” Caroline said.
“I didn’t realize you were mugged in Portugal,” Van said, surprised.
“It wasn’t a big deal. I got a scrape on my elbow,” Caroline explained.
“I just thought yourNew Yorkerstory was made up.”
“Oh, the story wasn’t exactly what happened, I just sort of took something real and then ran with it.” Caroline smiled.
“You were always creative.” Gregory nodded. “I had this great idea for a novel once, but then when I sat down to write, I realized it was the plot ofShawshank Redemption.I think I even gave the characters the same names.” He laughed but Van looked pensive.
Back at theLash apartmentCaroline changed into her pajamas and Van stripped off his tux, flopping down beside her on the bed in his undershirt and boxers.
“That was horrendous,” Caroline groaned, snugging herself up against him. Van smelled so good to her, some mysterious elixir made from deodorant, shampoo, and whatever amazing pheromones his body created.
“Aw, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Liar. You’re just a good sport.”
“All good,” Van said absently.
“You know, you were amazing at the table.” Caroline turned on her side to face him, his perfect profile, his chest against the cotton undershirt. “I love that you had a poem memorized and ready.”
“Ah, yes, the great poet Ronnie Van Zant,” said Van with a laugh.
“Who is that?”
“Caroline, I was reciting the lyrics to ‘Freebird’ by Lynyrd Skynyrd.” Van beamed. He began to sing the poem aloud and it suddenly clicked why the verses had sounded so familiar. It was a song played on a thousand classic rock stations for fifty years. Caroline pulled her hair across her face and laughed with embarrassment—for herself and for Van at the same time. God. Van turned back to his phone. “I’m trying to figure out if Dylan has diaper rash or eczema. The rash is mostly on the inside of his butt. Here, look at this picture.” He turned the screen for Caroline to see.
They slept tangledup in her childhood bed that night and woke at nine, Caroline momentarily disoriented by the sounds of New York, the wheeze of a bus on the avenue, the wail of a siren across town. “We’re meeting Nina downtown for brunch.” She rubbed her eyes sleepily.
“I’m not sure…” Van looked at his phone. “There’s an Acela at ten thirty but then the next one isn’t until noon…”
“You want to head back right away?” Caroline asked, offended. “Let’s get brunch with Nina and then grab an afternoon train if we have to.”
“The noon wouldn’t get us home until almost five and Dylan goes to bed at six.” Van looked sorry, but not sorry enough. “If you want to have brunch with Nina you should stay. You could take the later train.”
Caroline frowned. The idea that Van was going back to Greenhead with or without her stung.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Caroline said tightly. “We’ll just get bagels at the train station.” She got up and went to take a shower and texted Nina from the bathroom.
Oh shit we can’t make brunch. Van has to get back for Dylan.
Noooo!
I’m so sorry
Honestly it’s fine but I’m a little worried about you
What? Why?
I think you and Van are in really different places in life
I know. But it’s like when your boyfriend goes away to college and you’re still in high school. It feels like a big difference but it’s not.
Lol you say that like you had a boyfriend in high school
So you ARE mad!
