than Hannah Murphy could hurt me.”
“Christ, Mary, if I were interested in a relationship, it wouldn’t be with somebody who tells half of everything.”
“If I said I’m not afraid of Hannah? Could we hang out then?”
Why can I not get through to you?
“Paulie, I want to be with you. I need to be with you.” It’s that voice he heard the other night when she wanted to know if she was good.
“Are you not listening? Mary, I don’t even know you.”
She smiles. “You know at least one thing about me,” she says. “And you said it wasn’t so bad.”
Paulie stares straight ahead.
“Come on, Paulie. You don’t have to tell anybody we’re . . . you know.”
“We are not ‘you know.’”
Mary takes a deep breath. “Then hang out long enough to get to know me,” she says. “Then you can decide.”
Paulie doesn’t answer. He’s quiet a few more miles, then, “You know, Mr. Logs says when we don’t understand something, it’s because we don’t have enough information; that there’s almost nothing we can’t figure out with knowledge. You agree with that?”
“I guess.”
“Okay, so I don’t understand this. You act all one way, like you’re an icon for celibacy. You could be queen of YFC. Then you, like, offer yourself up. I can see you fooling your dad and having maybe a secret relationship with somebody you love and keeping the personal stuff on the down low, but I swear to God it’s like you’re two different people.”
Mary pulls the car into the reservoir parking lot and turns to face Paulie. “I was on something that night I ran into Hannah,” she says.
“Something like drugs?”
“Something exactly like drugs,” she says. She looks at her lap. “Oxys.”
“Oxycodone? Are you shitting me? Where did you get oxys? And why? That shit will kill you.”
“I know, I know,” she says. “It was stupid. I still don’t even know how I got to Hannah’s house. I barely remember getting into her car.”
“Who gave you that shit, Mary?”
“I can’t tell you that. I know what you’d do, and it was my fault. It was just once. I haven’t taken anything since. And I won’t. I promise.” She leans back in the seat. “So can we?”
“Hang out?”
“Yes.”
“We can talk, Mary, but we are not together and we are not messing around. Despite what Justin Chenier says about guys, I don’t play. Not anymore.” He turns sideways, facing her with his back as far against the door as the seat belt will allow. “And you avoided my question. I asked about you being two different people, you said you were on oxys the night Hannah found you, not the night you were all over me.”
Mary grips the wheel. “Listen.” Her voice is serious, almost aggressive. “If I get another shot at you I’m going to take it. And I’ll teach you things you haven’t even thought of. Plant that in your brain.” She drops her arms. “But if I can’t have that, I need you to do something for me.”
Fuck. “I don’t even know why I’m asking, but what?”
“I need you to make it look serious. Nothing has to happen.”
“I’m not going to make it look serious. People think I’m enough of an asshole as it is.”
The desperation returns to Mary’s voice. “Then make it look like it could be. Down the road. I know I’m going to make you mad again because I can’t tell you why, but it’s almost life or death.”
“Give me a fucking break. Life or death for who?”
Mary simply shakes her head.
As he watches Mary drive away, Paulie drops into the driver’s seat of his Beetle, lays the seat all the way back, and stares at the ceiling, one leg in and one leg out of the car. What is fucking wrong with me? I’m talking to Mary Wells like she didn’t just ruin my life. Can we hang out? Can we fucking hang out? He takes a deep breath. The answer is no, you dumb asshole, not “we can talk, but blah blah blah.” It’s NO! He hits the back of his head softly against the headrest. But Hannah and Arney . . . Goddamn!
He brings the seat back up, closes the door, and starts the engine. Nothing to lose is not a good place for him to be.
“Tell me where I went wrong.”
Mary Wells drops her backpack onto the bar in the dining room and sits on a stool in front of it. “You didn’t go wrong, Mom. It had nothing to