The Trouble with Lexie Read online

  There was a startling silence on the other end of the line. Lexie dropped the boots to the floor and stood straight in the center of the room.

  “Mom?” Lexie said. “Dad’s not dead, is he?”

  “I thought I told you.”

  “You thought you told me that my dad was dead?” Here it was: evidence that Lexie was the genetic offspring of two people incapable of properly responding to death. Why was she surprised that she’d decided to leave Peter the day she found out about Dot’s death? Look who she’d come from!

  “Well, maybe I told you and you forgot.”

  “Are you kidding me?! We’re talking about my father!” Lexie put the phone on speaker and placed it on the floor. She pulled all her clothes out of the bag and flung them onto the air mattress. The mate to each boot was at the bottom of the bag. Lexie sat on the pile of clothes and put on her socks and boots.

  “Well excuse me if I didn’t know that you two had some sort of relationship!”

  “We don’t! Or, we didn’t.” Lexie swept the clothes off the air mattress and lay down. “I don’t even know where he lives. Lived!”

  “So why are you giving me all this crap about not telling you that he’s dead?!”

  Lexie breathed deeply, focusing on using her diaphragm. She wanted to take a Klonopin but she wouldn’t. This wasn’t a panic attack. This was . . . she couldn’t even name what this was—it was something brackish and foul—not grief, not regret, simply a general unsettled discomfort. Lexie often felt like this when she thought of her parents, although now she felt it more acutely than ever. “When exactly did he die?” Lexie’s voice had calmed. She was easing into the narrative: Her father had died. Her mother had forgotten to tell her.

  “About two or three months ago. Let’s see, we were doing the plum pie special, so it must have been summer.”

  “So during all these conversations we’ve had about him the past couple months, you were thinking of, and talking about, dead Bert?” Lexie tried to remember the last time they discussed him. Was it when her mother had last brought up the affairs? Had Mitzy used the past tense in referring to him?

  “You’re too damn busy with all them rich kids to remember that I already told you.”

  No point in getting into that. “Where did he live?”

  “In Omaha.”

  “So he never went to Reno?”

  “Fuck if I know. He didn’t keep in touch with me.”

  “Well how did he die?” Lexie stared at the spiderweb cracks in the ceiling. She wondered if Dot had ever noticed how crinkled the ceiling was. Did she care?

  “I dunno. They just found him in a chair in his apartment. Dead.”

  “Who found him?” Lexie always associated her father with the couch. It was hard to place him in her mind in a chair.

  “The supe.”

  “What kind of chair was it?”

  “I dunno! How would I know what kind of chairs he had?”

  “He was just sitting there? Was he doing drugs or something? How old was he anyway?” Bert had been gone so long, Lexie had never kept track of his age.

  “I guess he was fifty-three.”

  “Ugh.” The word came out without her realizing it. Bert was, or had been, the same age as Daniel. It was an idea that made Lexie a little queasy; an idea she didn’t want to explore further. Especially now.

  “Ugh what? Whatchu uggin?”

  “Nothing. Death. What was he doing when he died?”

  “He was watching TV.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “His cousin Gordy told me that the supe found him in his chair watching TV.”

  “I never met Gordy.”

  “No, you never met no one except his parents a couple times.”

  “What was he watching?”

  “How the fuck would I know?”

  “Well, do you know what station the TV was on?” Lexie imagined Bert watching an old movie on TNT. It would have been nice for him to have departed from the living while Audrey Hepburn was on screen. Or the Nicholas brothers were tap dancing.

  “Lexie, what’s your problem? No one else in the whole dang world gives a shit what station the TV was on when your dad died!”

  “Mom, I’m trying to process this, okay? It’s a lot to take in.” In truth, Lexie felt far less immediate grief over this loss than she did about Dot. She had mourned her father years ago, when he had left. After that his only appearances had been in the form of a birthday card her mother dropped off at the Simmses each year until Lexie went to college. By the time Lexie got the card (there was never a return address), the envelope had already been opened by Mitzy, and whatever cash he’d put in—usually mentioned in the note, Buy yourself something sweet with this!—had been removed.

  “How did his cousin Gordy find you?” Lexie slid off the mattress. She threw the scattered loose clothing back into the suitcase.

  “He called me at Heidi Pies.”

  “Was there an estate?” Lexie knew there’d be nothing coming her way. But she wanted to know what was left since her father had, in the words of Ethan Waite, disappeared off the planet. Who took the television? Where was the chair he’d been sitting on? Who was driving his truck, assuming he owned one? Was there someone who would be remembering him through the things he’d left behind?

  Mitzy laughed. “If he ever had anything, you can be sure he pissed it away. That was a man who’d spend ten bucks if he had five in his pocket, and forty bucks if he had twenty. Always in debt.”

  “Do you know if he had a girlfriend?” Lexie hoped he wasn’t lonely. She liked to imagine Bert ended his life in a relationship better than the one he’d had with Mitzy.

  “Honey, he always had a girlfriend. Even when he already had a girlfriend he had another girlfriend.”

  Lexie found it difficult to imagine that women were drawn to Bert the way Mitzy claimed they were. The sacks of loose flesh he’d prematurely had under each eye years ago could have only gotten worse. And he smelled like a litter-strewn back alley: cigarettes and booze. Though they were the same age, he and Daniel Waite were as similar as a warthog and a panther. But her mother had loved him once. So maybe, as Mitzy imagined, others could love him, too.

  There was a knock at the door. Lexie went to the living room and opened the door. Five Korean men nodded their heads and walked in with their painting supplies. They immediately started setting up.

  “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The painters are here and I have to show them where to paint.” That was a lie, but Lexie needed to get off the phone.

  “Whatchu getting painted? Bonnie Simms told me you were moving into the dormitory on campus.”

  “It’s an apartment in a dorm building on campus. The school is repainting the whole thing. They’re buying me new furniture, too.”

  “Well, aren’t you fancy.” Mitzy’s voice was sharp as razor wire.

  “Let’s talk later, Mom. We’ll plan your trip.” Lexie rolled her eyes. She’d rather plan her own funeral.

  “Bonnie Simms said I could change the dates. Go after the snow melts since I don’t have any of them moon boots or whatever you people wear out there.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about with the moon boots. But it’ll be a lot warmer in spring, so maybe you should come then. But I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Lexie hung up and stared at the phone. She shut her eyes and repeated the word compassion over and over again. It was the only sane approach when dealing with her mother. They were two grown women and Lexie had all the advantages. To resent or blame Mitzy for Lexie’s childhood would be a pointless act of adolescent whining. Lexie was in charge of her own life, and the past—how her parents had parented her—was no longer relevant.

  Lexie tapped out a text to Amy: Found out my dad died a few months ago. Feels like a splinter compared to the axe in my heart from Dot. Lexie copied the text and sent it to Daniel, too. How strange that she already felt as close to him as to Amy.

  Lexie
clicked back to the last text Daniel had sent her. Simply seeing words he had written gave her a feathery feeling in her chest. Impulsively, Lexie leaned in and kissed the phone right where the text lit up the screen.

  Spring

  SEMESTER

  15

  IT WAS MARCH 31 AND THE WEAK MASSACHUSETTS SUN FELL through Lexie’s office window like a drunk who had tripped on the curb. Lexie turned her head, caught the light on her face, and shut her eyes for a few seconds. She looked back at the computer and read over the email she’d written to Betsy Simms. Treacle. Bathos. Mawkish drivel. It was impossible to write about love without sounding like her brain was soaking in store-brand pancake syrup.

  Lexie erased it all. She started again: Hey! Things are great with Daniel. Please come visit with my mom in June. No way I can deal with her on my own. Love, Lexie P.S. The students are finding out about colleges in emails sent tonight after midnight. Reminds me of when you and I sat by the mailbox waiting, waiting, waiting. She hit send.

  Lexie picked up her cell phone and clicked through pictures of Daniel and herself. She had wanted to download them to her computer but the computer belonged to the school and Daniel implored her not to put anything personal on it. He’d seen too many cases in business and in life where personal information on company computers led to more trouble than one could imagine. Daniel was going to buy her a new computer soon enough—she could store all her photos on it and they’d be able to email freely. There were rumors about the next generation Apple, and Daniel was waiting for it to come out. In the meantime, everything was on Lexie’s phone—thousands of texts, hundreds of photos—the documentation of a courtship that had been so wonderful it made everything that came before it (the bad and the worse) worth it. Even Amy had given up doubting Daniel. Her initial distrust dissipated the day Daniel gave Lexie the log-in names and passwords to all his email accounts. It was his idea, something he insisted on, when Lexie mentioned in passing Amy’s skepticism. Lexie and Amy logged into Daniel’s email the next day. Amy clicked on and read the emails from Jen. Lexie refused to read them, her stomach clenched as she waited for Amy to complete the reconnaissance mission. “It doesn’t look like they’re married,” Amy had finally said. “It’s all about did you call the stone guy for the wall out front, did you know Ethan got an A on his apartheid paper, and Bob so-and-so called in regards to updating the wills.”

  The next day, when they were having lunch at the Inn on the Lake, Lexie handed Daniel an index card with the log-in names and passwords for her computer, her phone, and her email accounts. “What am I going to do with this?” Daniel had asked, and Lexie had insisted he file it away. If she had his passwords, he should have hers. Fair was fair. She knew then that he’d never open even one of her accounts and read anything. But after the breakdown of the relationship with Peter, total electronic transparency made Lexie feel secure. Neither of them had anything to hide.

  Lexie zoomed in on a picture of Daniel sitting up naked in bed. At the sight of his face, Lexie could feel her flesh light up. She was a chameleon. Or a glowing jellyfish. Or a firefly. Her skin went through a chemical reaction that changed her cellular structure. Finally, gratefully, at thirty-three, Lexie understood true love. Everything made sense now: Hollywood movies, crimes of passion, suicide even. Lexie felt bad for anyone who had to live without this feeling. She hoped Peter had it with his new girlfriend, Celeste. She was a guitar player they’d socialized with from time to time. Peter no longer talked to Lexie, but she and Celeste were Facebook friends and so Lexie had tracked the relationship, without a tinge of jealousy, through Celeste’s various postings.

  The schedule with Daniel worked like this: Wednesday nights, Lexie went to Boston and stayed with Daniel in his apartment. Amy, who had her own key, stayed in Lexie’s place at Rilke. On Friday nights, Daniel and Lexie checked into the Inn on the Lake, where Lexie stayed as late as she could, sometimes returning to Rilke around two or three in the morning. On Saturday Lexie was in charge of study hall and had student appointments so there was no time to meet, though sometimes they’d have a quick coffee or lunch at the Inn before Daniel returned to Boston. Often Daniel drove all the way into Ruxton on Monday morning so they could have breakfast at the Inn on the Lake after Lexie’s first period class. Lexie thought Daniel’s willingness to endure the traffic between Boston and Ruxton and back again showed his true devotion to her more than any words or gift ever could. Between their visits Lexie and Daniel texted innumerable times each day. Phone calls were less frequent, because Lexie was busy with students and Daniel was busy with work. At winter break, Lexie stayed for four days in the Boston apartment with Daniel before flying home alone to California for Christmas.

  How Daniel worked out his schedule with Jen, his in-laws, and Ethan, happened softly and quietly outside of his and Lexie’s time together. They had decided early on that Lexie wouldn’t get involved in the spindled intricacies of Daniel’s slow-motion divorce.

  Lexie’s phone buzzed with a text from Daniel. Let’s stay at the lake house while Jen and Ethan are in Ireland for spring break. We can swim! Have sex! Swim! Sex! Swim! Sex! Did I mention sex?

  Lexie replied, Jen okay with you in her house for the week?

  Not a problem.

  But what about ME in her house? I don’t want to sneak around.

  I told her about you. She’s okay with it. Not okay with Ethan knowing yet.

  Lexie paused. She reread the note. She read it once more. This, above all else—Daniel’s daily declarations of love, Daniel’s dreams for their future together, Daniel claiming he could barely breathe without her—made what they had feel real. Serious. Permanent.

  Spring break at the lake house! Woot woot! Xxxxx!

  Lexie went to the infirmary to talk to Amy. Abioye Balewa was there. He blushed when Lexie walked in.

  “Oh, excuse me,” Lexie said, and she stepped out and sat on the small front porch waiting for The Prince to leave. She tried to remember where The Prince would be going to school next year. She knew he’d gotten in somewhere early decision. Columbia or Penn. Or maybe it was Cornell.

  When The Prince came out he paused in front of Lexie. “How are you today, Miss James?”

  “I’m great. You excited about . . . Columbia?” Lexie hoped she was guessing right.

  “Yes, I’m looking forward to Columbia. But right now I’m suffering from the common heartbreak.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to come to my office one day this week to talk about it before everyone clears out for spring break?”

  “That might be good for me. I’ll think about it.”

  “Well, call me when you’re ready and we’ll make an appointment. Okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you very much, Miss James.” The Prince nodded and walked off.

  Lexie went into the infirmary and shut the door behind herself. “He okay?”

  “Broken heart. And I don’t want to give up any confidences but it looks like chlamydia’s going around the school. I’ve got six cases of it already.” Amy was unbothered by this. For Lexie, chlamydia was only a few symptoms away from leukemia.

  “Six!”

  “Well, it’s a teeny, tiny pool they’re all swimming in here. I suspect if six have come in, at least three times that many have it. I’m going to send out an email today.”

  “We should throw condoms at them as they walk down the halls.”

  “Hell yeah, Janet Irwin wouldn’t mind that, would she?” Janet Irwin was opposed to the school’s providing condoms for students.

  “So guess what?” Lexie sat on one of the beds and swung her legs so that her boot heels clanged against the iron bed frame.

  “Your mama’s staying two weeks instead of one?”

  “Ha, yeah, funny. We changed her ticket again so at least she’s coming once the students have all moved out.”

  “Well, bless her heart,” Amy said.

  “But listen. You know how I was going to stay with Daniel in Boston durin
g spring break?”

  “Uh-huh.” Amy looked down at her computer and started clicking. Her fingers moved rapidly, fluidly, while the rest of her body remained perfectly poised. Lexie figured she was writing the email suggesting that anyone who was sexually active be tested for chlamydia.

  “Well, we’re actually spending the week at the lake house where Jen lives.”

  Amy stopped typing and looked up from the computer. She swiveled on the seat so that she was fully facing Lexie. “Where’s Jen going to be?”

  “She’s taking Ethan to Ireland, remember?”

  “I can’t keep track of where these kids go. It’s like a world invasion by Ruxton students. When I was in high school in Alabama, you know where we went for Easter vacation?”

  “Georgia?”

  “No. Church! We went to church on Easter Sunday and other than that we roller-skated around the neighborhood, watched The Price Is Right on TV, did each other’s hair, painted our nails. These kids are knocking off a new continent each time they jump on an airplane.”

  “Yup. So, anyway, Ethan and Jen will be gone and Daniel and I will be in the lake house.”

  “And that’s okay with Jen?”

  “He told her about us.” Lexie waited for Amy’s reaction.

  “Huh.” Amy paused. She was calculating something in her head. “Did he tell Ethan?”

  “No. They’ll tell Ethan everything once he graduates.”

  “Did he ever tell his brother?” The calculations continued. Lexie knew there was a wrong or right answer to this question.

  “He did but I haven’t met him yet. He’s been so busy and Daniel himself hasn’t seen him since we started dating.”

  “He hasn’t been to California in all this time?”

  “Do you want to go into his email again and make sure everything’s on the up and up?” Lexie wished Amy would fully let go of her hesitations and relax. Lexie didn’t need an overseer.