were three friends who had put in for a triple. The good news was that the room was in Robinson Hall, the oldest dorm on campus, a brick tower that fronted the quad. All of the four-bedroom dorm rooms had built-in window seats, and a few had working fireplaces.
I arrived late in the evening on move-in day. My three new roommates were clearly a trio of close-knit friends, and had decorated the common room in posters from David Lynch films and the Smiths. I recognized them from freshman year but didn’t know them personally. They all had pitch-black hair and pale complexions: Goth versions of prep-school girls. To me, they looked like Winona Ryder from three different films. The most radical had spiked hair and wore only black, like Winona from Beetlejuice. The other two were preppier: Winona from Reality Bites (bobbed hair swept off the forehead) and Winona from Mermaids (cardigans, pearls, and bangs, maybe ironic, maybe not).
I don’t know how the Three Winonas viewed me that September night, as I arrived in Capri pants and a collared linen shirt, but, despite their dark lipstick and double-pierced ears, they were friendly, offering to turn down Joy Division as I unpacked. I had just accepted a glass of wine from Mermaids Winona when there was a rap at the door. It was Eric Washburn. I was so surprised that for a brief moment I thought he must be there for one of my new roommates. But he was there for me. He was wearing cargo shorts and an oxford shirt and smelled of cigarettes and whiskey. I went with him back to the Manor and straight up to his room. He told me how he’d thought of me all summer, how he’d tried desperately to find out where I lived. He even told me that he was sure he loved me. And, like a fool, I believed him.
CHAPTER 9
TED
Brad and I had started off by drinking beers, then had switched at some point to Jameson and gingers. We were sitting at a high-backed booth at Cooley’s, one of the few year-round bars in the Kennewick Beach area. The menus boasted that they’d been open since 1957. No one would doubt the truth of this claim. The back of the bar was cluttered with grimy knickknacks, delivered by a thousand liquor reps throughout the years. Schlitz wall sconces. A Genny Light mirror. A Spuds Mackenzie light-up dog. I was happy with the switch to Jameson and ginger—it made it easier for me to get myself a pure ginger ale when it was my turn to get the drinks.
After finding Brad at the house site getting ready to leave, I had been the one to suggest we get a beer. He happily accepted, offered me a ride, and took me the couple miles to Cooley’s at Kennewick Beach. It was just after five when we arrived, and we were the first customers. The bartender, a college-age girl in tight black jeans and purple tank top, said, “Hi, Braggett,” when we walked in.
“What did she call you?” I asked after we’d slid into a middle booth.
“Braggett. It’s my nickname around here. Brad plus Daggett. High school thing. First round’s on me, boss.” He slid back out of the booth and toward the bar. I didn’t know exactly what it was I was hoping to get from Brad by drinking with him, but Lily had asked me to gather information, so that was what I was doing. The more I knew about him the better off I would be.
For the first hour of the evening, Brad and I talked about the progress on the house. He struck me as he’d always struck me—80 percent consummate professional and 20 percent bullshitter, like the car salesman who honestly steers you away from the leather upholstery, but still manages to sell you the expensive navigation system. We drank Heinekens, and as we talked, I watched him closely. He was a serious drinker, consistently polishing off a bottle of beer in three long sips. And while he was still handsome, some wear and tear was starting to show. There were dark patches of sun damage on his tanned face, and the beginnings of a rosy drinker’s hue on both cheeks. Despite his muscular frame, there was a softness beginning under his chin that was only partly disguised by his salt-and-pepper goatee. His best feature was his dark brown eyes, and a full head of black hair that was