Anthropology of an American Girl: A Novel - By Hilary Thayer Hamann Page 0,216

force his own hand, force himself to come back. And he did. What did he last in Jersey, like, two weeks before turning back to get you?”

“Fifteen days,” I say.

“Fifteen days,” Rob says with a smile. “Well, he trained hard for fourteen of them, sparring every night, wiping out the entire local roster. Everybody’s going crazy—radio, newspapers, the whole boardwalk is coming to life. On the fourteenth day, we set up a fight—very casual. He kicks the shit out of Chester Honey Walker, who hasn’t missed a day in the ring since he was born. Harrison cracks his jaw, right in the second round. You could hear the snap through the auditorium, and we had a couple hundred people there, then he lays him out with a body shot—Rourke’s impeccable on the inside.

“Next day he says to me, ‘Let’s take a drive.’ I’ll never forget it. ‘Let’s take a drive. Two cars.’ Okay, I say. We go to Montauk, East Hampton, we show the girls around—the beach, the town, shopping. We go to your house. Just me and Harrison. You’re not home. Your mother is—nice lady, by the way. She sits on the back of the little couch there and folds her arms. She says to Harrison, ‘Eveline hasn’t left the house for two weeks. Are you the one she’s been waiting for?’ Harrison just goes, ‘Yeah, I’m the one.’”

You have a mother, Rourke said to me the last night in Montauk, I’ve met her.

“She tells us where she thinks you are, at Alicia Ross’s party, that some girl from school drove you over. Harrison realizes Mark’s involved and he shuts down. Before we go find you, I make him stop at the beach. You know, toss a ball, cool off. I figure with the way he’s been fighting, he might take lives. What happens? You pull up with Mark—in that freakin’ car.” Rob looks at me. “I will tell you what I was thinking at that moment. I was thinking, This girl’s dangerous.”

“I never would have—”

“That was obvious. How you felt was obvious. Obvious as how Harrison felt. Obvious as what Mark was doing. The whole situation was painfully fucking clear. Remember I told you that night in Jersey—Be careful?” He points to the counter. “This is what I was talking about. This very day. Mark made his decision the first time he laid eyes on you. He mastered the obvious. Here we are. Four years later.”

Pinky hands me a half-empty soft pack of tissues. I thank him.

“The rest is history. You come to Jersey for a couple days. Harrison goes to Montauk for the summer. And who could blame him? No sense rushing out to get hammered when you got a thing—a girl—you know, whatever.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “We had a lot of fun that summer, didn’t we?” His voice darkens. “Sooner or later, a man’s mind turns back to money, usually from some money to big money. Harrison had to get back to reality. What was he supposed to do that would’ve been better or faster than fighting? Maybe he didn’t want you watching him get beat up—it’s not pretty stuff. Maybe he thought you should focus on your own life, school, what have you. Maybe he didn’t do the right thing. Maybe he didn’t know what to do. He just figured you’d be okay. I guess he had more faith in you than he did in himself. That’s what I mean by saying he had no choice.”

He takes a tissue from me, “Fucking allergies.” He blows his nose hard. “The part that threw me was him going alone. At first I was pissed. You were there—on my birthday, out at Surfside in Montauk. He told me that night he’d bought a ticket to Miami, that Jimmy Landes hooked him up for four months with some killer Cuban coach. Right off with the way he was talking, I knew I wasn’t part of the plan. ‘We’ll meet up later,’ he said. ‘A couple months.’ I wanted to fuckin’ kill him.” Rob shakes his head. “Miami.”

He tears open a pack of Halls and tilts it in my direction. I decline. He pops one out, unwraps it, sets it in his mouth. “Eventually I chalked it up to a misunderstanding. I mean, no promises were exchanged. I never asked anything; he never said anything. He’s not exactly chatty—as you know.” The cough drop flips around between his teeth. I hear it click; I smell eucalyptus. “But