is the gossip columnist for the paper. She is the worst kind of gossip, mean and nosy. I do everything I can to avoid her. “How the hell would Charlene know?”
The answer comes to me almost immediately. Joel must have told Charlene, or maybe it was Weber. That fat jerk. He’s probably working his way through the phone book making sure all my ex-boyfriends hear the news, having the time of his life. I say, “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
Grayson’s hand is in his hair now, tugging at the curls. I used to tease him that he should break himself of that habit, because there was no way his Jewish hair was going to straighten out. He is staring at me, and I wish he would stop. He says, “Do you want to get married?”
“I told you Joel and I broke up.”
“Well, yes.” I can see how my news has caught him off balance. He is thinking out loud, something he never does. “But you could marry me.”
I shrink back until each rung of the chair digs into my spine. My voice comes out thin. “Do you think that’s funny, Grayson? That’s your idea of a joke?”
“No.”
“I don’t need pity. I’m going to be fine.”
“How are you going to be fine? You don’t make enough money. You’ll have to get a higher-paying job, and no one will hire a pregnant woman. Besides, what else are you qualified to do?”
I am close to tears. I can hear Gram in my head: Calm down, Gracie . I hear her say: I will take care of you and the baby. I say, “Back off, will you?”
“Why do you want to have this baby?”
“Stop it,” I say. “Stop interviewing me. I don’t have to answer your questions. I don’t have to explain anything to you. I’m going to have this baby. We’re going to be fine, just the two of us. You’ll see.”
I stumble on my way through the door. My legs have gone numb while sitting in the chair. I lurch into the hallway, my lower half full of pins and needles.
“You’ll need help,” Grayson calls after me. “You won’t be able to do this alone.”
I LEAVE Hackensack by way of Route 17. I pass the huge new mall, then the older smaller mall, and turn off at the exit for Ramsey. I am not headed home. There are only three places Joel goes in the course of a day, and I know all of them. At night he’s drinking beer at the Green Trolley. In the late afternoon he’s at the firehouse. During the rest of the day he’s doing spy work for Mayor Carrelli.
I drive in circles around the Municipal Building, slumped behind the wheel. I don’t see anyone I recognize. How dare Joel tell anyone my news? How can I be expected to walk around my own life if I have no idea who knows what? Gram is talking again, telling me to calm down. She calls getting upset “losing your head,” and she thinks I lose my head too often. She’s right. She must be right.
I drive a little faster now, turning the corners surrounding the Municipal Building so fast my tires screech. I go around six times, until I’m dizzy. I never see Joel. I see my father on the sixth go-round, sitting on the front steps of the building. I hear the bark of the mayor’s old Chow. I see a flash of red that could be Margaret’s hair. She and Charlene are best friends. She surely knows already. I cannot stop what’s already in motion, and I don’t want to get in Margaret’s way. What if she does hit Joel? She loves him; what would she do to me?
When I am forced to stop at a red light directly in front of the Municipal Building, I slump down further in my seat. A single fat bead of sweat runs from the nape of my neck underneath the hook on my bra, down to the waist of my pants. My back aches, and I keep shifting so the bottom of the steering wheel doesn’t push into my abdomen. The light stays red forever.
I hear a noise; there are footsteps beside my car. I look up praying feverishly that I am still alone and that no one has seen me. But I’m not alone. There is a three-year-old girl standing in front of the open car window in a lime green dress. As unbelievable