in the world,” he said. “Sometimes it goes well, and it’s all you think about, and then, it’s gone. It’s like you’re taking a ride down a river really fast, and then all of a sudden, there’s no water. You’re just sitting in a raft, trying to push it along in the mud. And then you’ve become me.”
“But you seem to be writing now,” she said.
“Yeah, and if I talk about it, it will all go away.”
He had finished talking, leaving Stevie with her thoughts. Her thoughts would not settle. The more she was alone with them, the more they whistled and spun.
There was no point in trying to eat. Stevie composted the remains of her dinner and went back outside, loosely trailing Gretchen. She headed back to the art barn, and Stevie followed. Once inside, she lost track of Gretchen, but a few moments later she heard thunderous piano playing coming from one of the rooms. Stevie peered along the hall until she saw Gretchen at one of the pianos. She played wildly, percussing against the elements themselves. She wore tight athletic clothing to play, sort of like something dancers might wear—black tights, ballet-style slippers, a tunic top that tied at the waist.
Stevie knocked at the window and Gretchen stopped playing abruptly. Stevie stepped into the practice room. She hadn’t planned what to say. Luckily, Gretchen spoke first.
“You were with Hayes the other night,” she said. “You’re Stevie, right?”
“Yeah,” Stevie said. “Sorry. I heard you playing and . . . could I talk to you?”
“Weren’t you the one who found him?” Gretchen said.
“I didn’t find him. I was just there when they did.”
Gretchen nodded absently and looked at her salad container on the floor. She hadn’t touched it.
“The other day,” Stevie said, “I walked in on you guys talking . . .”
“Yeah,” Gretchen said. “Not a great last conversation to have. I was pissed.”
“I know you dated him,” Stevie said. “And I know you broke up. But I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Gretchen said. “Yeah. It’s weird, being the ex-girlfriend of the guy who dies. You’re actually the first person who’s said sorry.”
“Can I ask you about Hayes?” Stevie said, sliding in and sitting on the floor.
“What about Hayes?” Gretchen said.
“I just . . . I’m confused after what happened, and I feel like maybe if I knew more about him, I wouldn’t be.”
Gretchen considered this for a moment.
“You know what I am?” she said. “I’m pissed. I’m pissed that I can’t be pissed at him. It’s like he’s done it again.”
“Done what again?” Stevie said.
“Played me,” she said, shaking her head. “I feel stupid. And if I ever say anything bad about him, I’ll be a monster. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
“I don’t think it makes you a monster to tell the truth about someone.”
“It does if that person dies in a weird, tragic accident.”
“What was it he took from you that he wasn’t giving back?” Stevie asked. “That thing I walked in on?”
“Oh,” she said. “He borrowed five hundred dollars from me in the spring. That five hundred was money I got from teaching piano at a summer camp. It was pretty much all the cash I had. I wanted it back when we got back to school this year. I know he made money off that show. He’s been promising to pay it back, but I don’t think that was ever going to happen. You know, like . . .”
She shook her head and wiped away a tear quickly.
“God,” she said. “Why am I crying? I’m so mad.”
Stevie looked away as Gretchen settled herself.
“Hayes was one of those people who seemed like he had it all together,” Gretchen said, wiping her face. “He could act; that’s how he got in. But inside? There was no there there. People did things for him because he was handsome, and he has—had—that voice. You’d do him favors. You know when you like someone. You do dumb stuff. You do stuff you know makes no sense.”
Up until very recently, Stevie would not have known that. But now she had a pretty good sense of it. Maybe you go through their stuff, for instance.
“I was just so into him,” Gretchen said. “But last year . . . he used me. Like, really used me. First, he asked for a little help with his paper on Jonathan Swift. He asked me to read it, maybe make some edits. So I did that. Then he was doing a production of The Glass