his voice. “Just stop talking about it, okay? It’s a bad dream you’re having. That’s all.”
Nick turned, freeing himself from Sam’s grip. “I’ve been feeling so dizzy recently,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on. It’s been like this for a week now, every night. Ever since we had dinner last Friday.”
“Maybe it’s a touch of the flu,” Sam said. “The weather turned last week. It’s been pretty cold.”
Nick smiled wanly, recovering himself. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Sam gave his brother a gentle tap on the arm. “So where are you off to?” he said, brightening. “Why are you in such a hurry? It must be something important.”
Nick’s eyes brightened as well. “I met this girl,” he said. “I was going to tell you.”
“You like her, huh? She must be pretty special.”
Nick opened his mouth to tell Sam about Sara. Sam’s wolfish expression, though, silenced him.
“Are you okay, bro’?”
Nick remembered that Sara was waiting for him. “I’m fine,” he resolved. “Really. But I have to go.”
“You sure?”
Nick pulled away from Sam, twisting to slide through the open door into the Toyota.
“Do you want me to drive you?”
Nick inserted the key into the ignition. The engine turned over a few times, then ground to a halt. He tried a second time. Again, the cylinders sparked, then died. The battery sounded weak.
“Let me drive you,” Sam said again.
Nick felt a burst of adrenaline surge through his veins. With more time, he would have taken a taxi. He couldn’t have defined the feeling, but the last thing he wanted was to get into his brother’s new car.
“It’ll be better to show up in a car like mine anyway,” Sam said. “And like this, I’ll get a chance to see this girl of yours myself.”
chapter 6
Impossibly, Sara was even more beautiful than Nick remembered her.
He spotted her from the passenger seat as Sam navigated his new BMW through traffic. She stood out from the crowd at the bus stop downtown where he had arranged to pick her up, tall and slender, dressed in jeans and a short, shiny leather jacket. Her long blond hair was tangled slightly in a scarf laced with a metallic wool weave. Nick was aware of the look on his brother’s face when he pointed her out to him. Sam didn’t say a word, but simply stared at her.
Nick pulled the latch and jumped from the car, stepping up onto the red-painted curb to greet her. When their eyes met, he could barely contain his excitement.
Sara, though, hardly seemed to notice him. She was distracted by the sight of another driver. “I thought you’d be coming alone,” she said. “Who’s this?”
“It’s my brother, Sam.”
Sara squinted, trying to get a better view into the car.
“My car broke down. Sam offered to give us a ride.”
Waiting for her to turn back toward him, Nick watched, inexplicably shaken, his hands icy cold, as Sam and Sara peered at one another through the slightly tinted windshield.
Nick had been balling his hands into tight fists. It was only when he loosened his fingers that he realized how cold he was. Midnight in January in Madison, Wisconsin, the dead of a Midwestern winter. There were no streets anymore in the rural neighborhood, only gingerbread houses sagging beneath the weight of a heavy snowfall. The air was still. It was so quiet Nick could hear the muffled sound of snow dropping from branches and eaves blocks away.
I can’t watch TV with you, Nick. I don’t want to. Elizabeth Munroe’s voice rang in his ears. There’s a dance tonight. At Visitation.
Earlier that day, Nick had crossed the lawn separating his house from the Munroes’. Elizabeth Munroe had been waiting for him on her front porch. In his right hand, shoved into the pocket of his heavy parka, Nick was clutching a silver chain he had bought for Elizabeth the weekend before. At four o’clock, the sun was already disappearing from the low, heavy sky, throwing orange shadows across Elizabeth’s face. Nick considered the seventeen-year-old girl in front of him, aware of how warm the silver chain had become in his hand. He understood that this random moment was a turning point. I’ll go with you to the dance, then, he said.
Elizabeth’s eyes dropped from Nick’s. I’ve already asked someone else.
Who?
Elizabeth hesitated. That doesn’t matter, does it?
Nick wanted to protest. He wanted to remind her that they were boyfriend and girlfriend. But he couldn’t speak the words. Is this really what you want? he asked her weakly instead.
I’ve got to go, she said. I’ve got to get ready.
Nick let the silver chain slide out of his hand to the bottom of his pocket. He crossed the snow-covered lawn back to his house and lay down on his bed. Dropping onto his bed still in his school clothes, he fell asleep before dinner, ignoring the shout from his mother when it was time to eat. At ten it began to snow heavily. Nick had gotten into bed with his window wide open, and thick flakes of snow came swirling into his room, melting into the air as they met the heat.
Nick woke up in a sweat before midnight. His parents had already gone to sleep for the night, and the house was completely dark. He bundled up into his jacket and scarf and gloves, then trudged across the lawns separating his house from the Munroes’ next door. The lights were still on downstairs. When he saw Elizabeth’s mother cross through the foyer from the living room into the kitchen, he screwed up his courage and climbed the steps to the front door. Elizabeth’s mother shielded her eyes as she peered outside to see who was ringing the bell so late. She smiled when she flicked on the light. She had always liked Nick.
“Elizabeth’s not back yet,” she said to him, glancing at her wristwatch. “I thought maybe she was out with you.”
“No.” Nick avoided her eyes.
“I don’t know when she’s getting back. It is Friday night.” She stood with the door in her hand, scrutinizing Nick. “You’re welcome to come in and wait for a while if you’d like.”
“That’s okay.” Nick tried to conceal his embarrassment.
“I’ll tell her you stopped by.”
Nick walked back down the steps, then crossed the lawns again, retracing his tracks. He sat down on the short set of stairs that ascended the swell in the lawn halfway between his family’s house and the curb, in the shelter of two tall birch trees, hunching forward, trying to stay warm. Heavy snowflakes tumbled down toward him through the black sky, accumulating in a thin layer as powdery as baking soda. Time passed slowly, and Nick managed to forget about the cold until he loosened his fingers and then curled them back into fists, and sharp needles of pain shot through his fingertips.
Sometime
