“I haven’t studied,” he said. “I might not pass.”
He was testing him. Conrad had never “not passed.” He’d never gotten anything below a B, and even Bs were rare.
“Then no deal,” Mr. Fisher said. “Those are the terms.”
Urgently, Jeremiah said, “Con, just say yes, man. We’ll help you study. Won’t we, Belly?”
Conrad looked at me, and I looked at my mother. “Can I, Mom?”
My mother nodded. “You can stay, but you have to be home tomorrow.”
“Take the deal,” I told Conrad.
“All right,” he said at last.
“Shake on it like a man, then,” Mr. Fisher said, holding out his hand.
Reluctantly, Conrad extended his arm and they shook. My mother caught my eye and she mouthed, Shake on it like a man , and I knew she was thinking how sexist Mr. Fisher was. But it didn’t matter. We had won.
“Thanks, Dad,” Jeremiah said. “Really, thanks.”
He hugged his dad again and Mr. Fisher hugged him back, saying, “I need to get back to the city.” Then he nodded at me. “Thanks for helping Conrad, Belly.”
I said, “You’re welcome.” But I didn’t know what I was saying “you’re welcome” for, because I hadn’t really done anything. My mother had helped Conrad more in half an hour than I had in all my time of knowing him.
After Mr. Fisher left, my mother got up and started rinsing dishes. I joined her and loaded them into the dishwasher. I rested my head on her shoulder for a second. I said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You were a real badass, Mom.”
“Don’t cuss,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning up.
“You’re one to talk.”
Then we washed the dishes in silence, and my mother had that sad look on her face and I knew she was thinking of Susannah. And I wished there was something I could say to take that look away, but sometimes there just weren’t words.
The three of us walked her to the car. “You boys will get her home tomorrow?” she asked, throwing her bag onto the passenger seat.
“Definitely,” Jeremiah said.
Then Conrad said, “Laurel.” He hesitated. “You’re coming back, aren’t you?”
My mother turned to him, surprised. She was touched. “You want an old lady like me around?” she asked. “Sure, I’ll be back whenever you’ll have me.”
“When?” he asked. He looked so young, so vulnerable my heart ached a little.
I guessed my mother was feeling the same way, because she reached out and touched his cheek. My mother was not a cheek-touching kind of person. It just wasn’t her way. But it was Susannah’s. “Before the summer’s over, and I’ll come back to close the house up too.”
My mother got into the car then. She waved at us as she backed down the driveway, her sunglasses on, the window down. “See you soon,” she called out.
Jeremiah waved and Conrad said, “See you soon.”
My mother told me once that when Conrad was very young, he called her “his Laura.” “Where is my Laura?” he’d say, wandering around looking for her. She said he followed her everywhere; he’d even follow her into the bathroom. He called her his girlfriend and he would bring her sand crabs and seashells from the ocean and he would lay them at her feet. When she told me about it, I thought, What I wouldn’t give to have Conrad Fisher call me his girlfriend and bring me shells.
“I’m sure he doesn’t remember,” she’d said, smiling faintly.
“Why don’t you ask him if he does?” I’d said. I loved hearing stories about when Conrad was little. I loved to tease him, because the opportunity to tease Conrad came up so rarely.
She’d said, “No, that would embarrass him,” and I’d said, “So what? Isn’t that the point?”
And she’d said, “Conrad is sensitive. He has a lot of pride. Let him have that.”
The way she said that, I could tell that she really got him. Understood him in a way that I didn’t. I was jealous of that, of both of them.
“What was I like?” I’d asked.
“You? You were my baby.”
“But what was I like ?” I persisted.
“You used to chase after the boys. It was so cute the way you’d follow them around, trying to impress them.” My mother laughed. “They used to get you to dance around and do tricks.”
“Like a puppy?” I frowned at the thought.
She’d waved me off. “Oh, you were fine. You just liked to be included.”
Chapter thirty-seven
jeremiah
The day Laurel came, the house was a wreck and I was in my boxers ironing my white button-down. I was already late for senior banquet and I was in a foul mood. My mom had barely said two words all day and even Nona couldn’t get her to talk.
I was supposed to pick up Mara, and she hated it when I was late. She’d get all pissy and she’d sit and sulk for about as long as I’d made her wait.
I had put down the iron for a second so I could turn the shirt over and I ended up burning the back of my arm. “Shit!” I yelled. It really freaking hurt.
That was when Laurel showed up. She walked through the front door and saw me standing in the living room in my boxers, holding the back of my arm.
“Run some cold water over it,” she told me. I ran to the kitchen and held my arm under the faucet for a few minutes, and when I came back, she had finished the shirt and gotten started on my khakis.
“Do you wear yours with a crease down the front?” she asked me.
“Uh, sure,” I said. “What are you doing here, Laurel? It’s a Tuesday.” Laurel usually came on weekends and stayed in the guest room.
“I just came to check on things,” she said, running the iron down the front of the pants. “I had a free afternoon.”
“My mom’s asleep already,” I told her. “With the new medicine she’s taking, she sleeps all the time.”
“That’s good,” Laurel said. “And what about you? Why are you getting all dressed up?”
I sat down on the couch and put my socks on. “I’ve got senior banquet tonight,” I told her.
Laurel handed me my shirt and pants. “What time does it start?”
I glanced at the grandfather clock in the foyer. “Ten minutes ago,” I said, stepping into my pants.
