“Ralphie and Errol think you’ll be there,” he said. “But you don’t have to actually be there. You can stay home, stay safe.”
“I know it might sound crazy, but I need to get back into comedy,” I said. “You saw me do my stand-up at Job Talk Tuesday. This is my calling. Besides, if the ATF is there on the ready, it’s not gonna be hugely risky.” I was trying to convince us both.
Nate rubbed the top of his head with his hands, which messed up his hair, which made him look even cuter. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll call my supervisor and see what we can put together.”
“It’s short notice,” I said.
He shrugged. “We’re trained for this. It’s what we do.” He said it so confidently. Maybe Layna had been wrong. Maybe he would rescue me.
“Thank you. I have one more thing to tell you,” I said. “It’s the reason I was acting so weird after we had such awesome sex.”
“You thought it was awesome?” he said, with such hope and innocence I wanted to lean across the table, grab the back of his neck, and pull him in for a kiss.
“Of course!” I said. Suddenly my mouth filled with sand. I wasn’t sure I could force words out of such a Sahara. But now was the time for me to do the hardest thing I’d ever done. “It’s just that when you got up to go to the bathroom, I saw you have a birthmark in the shape of Florida on your lower back,” I said, my voice a dusty whisper. “And Phoebe has the exact same birthmark. In the exact same place.”
He looked confused. “Okay?”
“I know this is gonna sound nuts. But birthmarks are genetic.” I was talking really fast now. “You also all three have those double-jointed elbows. And the cloverleaf tongue thing.” I paused. “I think you might be the twins’ sperm donor.”
He did not have the look of a man who’d heard joyful tidings. He looked catatonic. After what felt like the length of one of theDunemovies, I waved my hand in front of his face, but he didn’t respond. I started to worry he was having a mini-stroke.
“Are you all right?” I said.
“I get it. You’re a comedian and this is a joke. Ha. Ha.” He was forcing air out of his lungs in a disturbing imitation of laughter. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“Not a joke,” I said, softly. “I have a paternity test I ordered off the internet. If you want to take it.”
When he finally spoke, it was with the sort of fake cheer I’d use when convincing the twins it would be fun to go to the dentist. “Let’s bust this ring of white supremacists who want to overthrow the stategovernment—because apparently these guys think the current political situation isn’t dystopian enough! Then we can figure out what to do next about... about this theory you have.”
Feeling rebuffed, and with an aching heart, I told myself it was my turn to be patient with Nate.
I didn’t have time to ruminate on the fact that Nate bolted five minutes later. I had a million things to do. Check in with Cheyenne. Warn Miley O’Riley about the situation. Find a babysitter for tomorrow. Finish my stand-up set. It’d still be rough by the time I hit the stage, but at this point I needed to focus on progress, not perfection.
But before I tackled any of that, I had an amends to make. I printed a flyer for the festival and headed over to Emmylou’s. When she didn’t answer my knock, I scrawled a note on the back and slipped it under her door.
Dear Emmylou,
I’m so sorry I blew up at you. You’re a light in our lives and we miss you. Hopefully I can apologize to you IRL soon. If you want to see me perform at the Winter Will Never End Festival, please stop by. I’ll be doing a comedy set about pole dancing tomorrow, Saturday ??. If it weren’t for you, I’d never have material for a “comeback.” Thank you.
Lots of love,
Tilly
Forty-Six
Saturday
The day of the Winter Will Never End Festival dawned cloudless and springlike. For the first time in almost four months, the cap of gray clouds over the Treasure Valley had disappeared to reveal a deep dazzling sky. I should’ve been elated. But after so much bleakness for so long, the bright blue above disoriented me. By two o’clock it was warm enough for shorts, and even though I wished I knew where Connor’s body had disappeared to, for now I was just relieved it wasn’t thawing out in my yard.
In the park in front of the domed Idaho State Capitol, ice sculptures of yetis and pine trees dripped dramatically. A hydraulic pump pulled snowboarders and skiers at lightning speed so they could launch off a rapidly melting snow ramp. In the Kids’ Tent, volunteers put their face-painting skills to work turning sweaty children into snow leopards and ice crystals. It was a small town doing its best to celebrate big.
When I’d called Layna the night before for babysitter ideas, she’d hooked me up with a pal’s daughter. Alma was a senior at Boise State who was more than fine with being paid with a gift card to Ruby Lou boutique I’d bought for my mom but hadn’t had the chance to give her. She’d shown up ten minutes early with tiaras from the Dollar Store. For the twins, it was love at first sight. The three of them told me not to hurry home.
At the northwest corner of the park, I met up with Nate, Agent Mozzarella (who’d gotten an ill-advised spray tan and now looked more like Agent Cheddar), and several of their colleagues in SWAT vests andATF T-shirts. I told myself my impending set—not Nate’s proximity—was the cause of my rapid heartbeat.
He glanced at me shyly. “I guess we’re really doing this?”
“I’m not wearing velour pole shorts under my jeans for nothing,” I said.
