requested the Galloway dorm, where she was sitting right that moment. It was where she’d spent her freshman year and she remembered the kindness of the RA she’d had back then. She wanted to be that helpful, nonjudgmental sort of RA for a new, green group of students.
The grad student was sifting through sheets of paper and Noelle knew they were the lists of students on each floor of the various dormitories.
“Noelle?” he said, holding one of the sheets toward her. “You’ve got Galloway. Third floor.”
“Excellent.” She stood to take the paper from him, then sat down next to Luanne again.
The grad student handed Luanne her list.
“I have Galloway, too,” Luanne said, studying the sheet of paper. “Cool.”
“What floor?” Noelle asked.
“Fourth.”
Noelle bit her lip, surprised when she felt a little seed of longing forming in her chest. “That’s where I lived my freshman year,” she said.
“Are you sentimental about it?” Luanne smiled at her. “I don’t have any big preference if you want to switch.”
She realized that she did want to switch. She couldn’t have said why. That year had been so good for her. She’d come into her own—away from home, living in a city for the first time in her life and loving every minute of it. The floors of the Galloway dorm were nearly identical, so it seemed silly to switch, and yet.
“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked.
“Uh-uh.” Luanne started to hand her the list of fourth-floor students, but as Noelle reached toward her with her own list, she noticed one of the names near the bottom of the paper and stopped. She looked hard at the name, her eyes narrowed as she tried to make sense of what she was reading. She drew the sheet of paper back.
“I’ll keep the third floor.” She heard the tremor in her voice. “I was just being silly. They’ve got our floors recorded and we’ll mess everything up if we trade.”
Luanne frowned at her. “I doubt it would be any big deal,” she said.
“No, this is fine,” Noelle said, and she pressed the list to her chest as if it were a long-buried treasure.
11
Tara
Wilmington, North Carolina 2010
I knocked on Grace’s door and heard her scramble a little, as though she might be doing something she didn’t want me to know about.
“Come in,” she said after a moment.
I opened the door and saw her sitting at her desk, a textbook open in her lap. She’d probably been on Facebook or answering email but was trying to convince me she was actually working. I didn’t care. I really didn’t. I just wanted her to be happy and okay. She looked up at me as she sipped from her favorite black mug. High-test coffee, no doubt. I couldn’t even drink the stuff she and Sam would make.
“Just wanted to see if you need any help with the sewing machine,” I asked.
“I don’t have time to do it now, Mom,” she said. “I’m studying.”
“Well, whenever.” I sat down on the edge of her bed, longing for a real conversation with her. Longing for contact. Twitter rested his big head on my knee and I ran my hand over his back. “Noelle would be so pleased you’re helping with the babies program.”
“Uh-huh.” She lifted her backpack from the floor and dug around inside it, pulling out a notebook. She looked everywhere in the room except at me. I hated the strain I felt between us. Just hated it.
I smiled at her mug. “I don’t know how you can drink coffee this late in the day,” I said.
She flipped open her notebook with an exasperated sigh. “You say that every single time you see me with a cup of coffee in the afternoon,” she said.
Did I? “It reminds me of your dad,” I said. “You two were so much alike that way.”
“Speaking of Dad,” she said, now looking directly at me, “how was your big date with Ian?”
I frowned, surprised by the question. Sarcasm wasn’t her style at all, and she’d caught me off guard. “It was not a date, Grace,” I said.
She looked out the window, her cheeks reddening, and I thought she’d blurted out the question before she’d been able to stop herself. “I think of Daddy being dead while you’re out having fun,” she said. “I don’t know how you can do that to him.”
“It wasn’t a date,” I said again. “Not the way you’re implying, anyway. It’ll be a long time before I’m interested in a man other than Daddy, but I need to be able to go out to dinner or a movie with a friend sometimes, the way you go out with Jenny. We both need to get out.” I leaned forward and lowered my head, trying to get her to look at me again. “Can you understand that?” I asked.
“It’s fine.” She didn’t sound convincing.
“I know you miss Cleve,” I said, straightening up again.
She looked down at her notebook and I had the feeling I’d touched an exposed nerve.
“It’s no big deal,” she said.
I’d never been certain how far things had gone between Grace and Cleve. Had they had sex? They’d gone out together for eight months and although I couldn’t picture it—I didn’t want to picture it—I suppose they had. The one thing I knew for sure was that she’d loved him. Even now, his pictures dotted her dresser and desk and the bulletin board behind the computer. She still loved him. I wished I could make the hurt go away.
“I remember what it was like when your father and I were separated,” I said.
“Separated? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I don’t mean while we were married,” I said. “I mean when he went away to college while I was still in high school.”
“Well, the big difference with you and Daddy being separated was that Daddy didn’t break up with you before he left.” She looked surprised at herself for giving me a glimpse into her emotions. I needed to capitalize on that glimpse.
“I know, honey,” I said. “I know how hard it must be.”
“No, you don’t,” she muttered.
“I know it’s different than it was with your dad and me, but the way I dealt with being apart from him was to get busy. Get involved with things. Take action.” I leaned toward her. “I wish you could see how that would help you, Grace.”
“I am totally involved with things!” she snapped. “I’m working at the Animal House and going to school and now doing the stupid babies program. What more do you want?”
“All
