How to Build a House (16 page)

I could write to her.

It might be easier than talking. With writing nothing gets in the way.

It feels wrong that she doesn’t know anything about Teddy, or about my life down here, or about what I’ve learned to do and what I know now that I didn’t know before.

I start to compose imaginary letters. I think about the Mistress and the Maid. I think about what they might write on that blank piece of paper between them.

If I could write to her, I might write:

Dear Tess,

Wear goggles and gloves when you use a saw. Saws are dangerous and you can never take too much care with dangerous things.

Or:

Dear Tess,

When you build a house, you build the walls flat on the ground, and when they’re all done everyone gets together, because it take lots of hands, and you raise them, outside walls first, and in the space of an afternoon, what was once just a pile of lumber becomes a real home.

Or:

Dear Tess,

You can tell when a boy loves you. There’s no mystery to it. And it doesn’t have to do with words. I wasted too much time inventing a new version of love in which everything that didn’t seem to fit could be excused or explained, but all those excuses and explanations just meant it wasn’t love in the first place, it was something else.

Or:

Dear Tess,

My mother died when I was two. I’ve spent my life feeling guilty that I didn’t miss her more. The only reason I didn’t is because of Jane and Rose and you, and now that you’re not who you once were, I’m finally starting to miss her more.

PS: I’d take the guilt over the missing any day.

“We’re fomenting,” says Captain.

“A coup?” I ask.

“No, a plan. I looked it up, and I’m pretty sure you can foment a plan, as long as the plan stirs up some form of trouble.”

We’re sitting around in my room. I’ve just said goodnight to Teddy, who went back to the trailer, and Linus did his lights-out round of knocks, and it strikes me as a total waste that I’m breaking the rules by letting Captain sneak into my room.

Although some rules are still being honored: Captain sits in the armchair and Marisol stands in the doorway to the bathroom brushing her teeth. A grand total of four feet on the floor.

“The way I see it,” says Captain, “our time here is coming to an end and we’ve barely gotten out of this godforsaken yet charming town. We need a road trip.”

“The town
is
charming,” says Marisol. “And full of moxie!”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask.

“Memphis. A night out. I’m thinking a cool little club, hear some live music, drink too much, maybe puke on the sidewalk. I want to show Frances that fun can be had outside the limits of her precious city, the one with the capital
C
.”

“I know a great place, but I think the drinking is probably out. I went there with Teddy. The music was amazing. The food was even better.”

“Fine, so forget the drinking. We’ll
eat
so much we puke on the sidewalk.”

“Sounds irresistible,” says Marisol, coming out of the bathroom in her pajamas with the eggs and bacon on them.

“So let’s see if we can get permission to go Saturday night,” I say.

“Where’s the fun in that? Our curfew is ten o’clock. That’s just when things start getting going. We’d have to leave Memphis by eight-thirty to get back here in time. And also, and I know this is a foreign concept to you, but everything is much more fun when you do it without permission.” Captain takes in Marisol’s pajamas. “Adorable. But you might want to consider a wardrobe change.”

“Now?”
I say. “You want to go
tonight
?”

He jumps up from the chair. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t I make that clear?” He starts pacing the room. “The first thing we need is some mode of transport.”

“Wait a minute. Where’s Frances?” Marisol asks.

“She’s putting on something hot. I told her you need to look hot when you’re fomenting.”

As if on cue, a quick and quiet knock arrives at the door. Captain opens it, and as he stands aside to let Frances in, he points to her with both hands.

She does a little curtsy.

“So back to the wheels … I was thinking we might prevail upon Teddy to borrow his dad’s car.”

“I don’t think Coach Wes is going to go for this plan.”

“Permission,” snaps Captain. “This will be done without permission. Stay on the tour.”

“So you mean you want Teddy to
steal
his dad’s car?”

“If you want to get technical.”

Marisol starts searching through her clothes.

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

“I’m changing.”

Captain reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dime. He tosses it to me and I catch it.

“Go call Teddy,” he says.

“When is the last time you made a call at a pay phone? 1985?” I throw it back at him. “It costs fifty cents.”

“Jeez.” He digs his hand into his pocket and comes up with two quarters. “No wonder everyone has a cell phone.”

I sneak out into the hall and call Teddy, who goes for the idea right away. I was counting on him refusing, which would have meant I could have gone back into the room and shrugged and said something like
Oh well, I tried
, and then I would have happily climbed into bed.

Now we’re all piled into Coach Wes’s car and we’re flying down the dark, half-empty interstate, toward Memphis.

“Dude, thanks for doing this,” says Captain from the backseat. He puts a hand on Teddy’s shoulder. “You are seriously brave.”

“What do you mean?” asks Teddy.

“My old man would tear me a new one if I stole his car.”

“You’d probably be stupid enough to get caught. Anyway, as long as we’re back before five in the morning we’re good. That’s when Dad gets up for his workout. Until then he sleeps like a bear in winter.”

Teddy looks over at me, sniffs out my low-grade panic and smiles.

“Everything is going to be fine, Harper. Try and have a little fun.”

“I’m having fun,” I offer lamely, and then turn up the radio.

But as soon as we step into Alicia’s, I relax. It feels good to come back here. Even though it’s late on a Wednesday night, it’s crowded and we have to wait a few minutes for a table. Captain strides over to the bar to order a drink, but returns carrying a Sprite.

“Told you,” I say.

“Nobody likes a know-it-all,” he shoots back. He reaches into his Sprite, pulls out the maraschino cherry and glares at it.

“Like it isn’t enough for the bartender to turn me down. He had to give me a cherry. It’s like an extra kick in the nuts.”

Teddy grabs it, pops it in his mouth and smiles. “Who knew a kick in the nuts could taste so good?”

We squeeze five chairs around a table for four right in the middle of the room just as the band is coming back to the stage from their break. Tonight there’s a different trio playing drums, a guitar and keyboards, and the guys in the band look to be about a third the age of the jazz musicians Teddy and I heard last time. All three, including the white guy on keyboards, are wearing hip-hop baggy jeans, dark glasses and lots of gold, but their sound is a combination of soul, rock and jazz with just a hint of hip-hop thrown in for good measure.

They’re really, really great. Did I waste my summer on Jesus radio?

Alicia comes over and smiles at Teddy and says, “So you brought some friends back, did you? Some
hungry
friends?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good thing,” she says, and she heads for the kitchen.

“We just ate dinner a few hours ago,” says Frances. “I am
so
not hungry.”

“All the better for puking on the sidewalk,” says Captain. He pulls her onto his lap and he kisses her neck and whispers something in her ear.

She hits him in the chest and laughs.

We get lost in the music and our conversation falls away. I watch Teddy watching the band. His eyes are big and unblinking and he’s subtly moving his body to the rhythm of the music and every now and then he shakes his head and breaks into this huge grin, like they’ve just let him in on an inside joke.

“These guys are outrageous,” he shouts in my ear. “Amazing. I can’t believe I was about to go to sleep for the night. If you hadn’t called I would have missed this.” He puts one arm around me and his other arm around Marisol and squeezes us.

Alicia comes back with our food, and despite the fact that, like Frances, I’m not hungry, I clean my plate. We all do.

The band breaks again just after one.

“We’ll be back,” says the fat guy on guitar, who also sings lead vocals. “Thanks!”

Frances looks at her watch. “They’re coming on
again
? I’m impressed.”

“Good luck finding a club in Providence that rocks like this on a Wednesday night,” says Marisol.

“Providence?” asks Captain.

“That’s where Brown is,” says Frances.

“Oh, right.” His face falls for just a second, but then he perks up. “Question: When Brown hears about how you spent your summer, and they admit you because they’re stupid enough to think you did it out of a sense of greater good, and you move to Providence, does Providence officially become the city, or is that title still reserved for New York?”

I don’t hear her answer, because an idea comes to me that’s like thunder in my head.

A fabulous and slightly crazy idea. If I voiced it to the group I know how it would play out: Frances and Captain and Marisol would cheer me on and Teddy would say,
No way, uh-uh, not a chance, don’t even think about it
, and then I’d have no choice but to listen to Teddy.

So instead what I do is excuse myself from the table and make like I’m going off to the bathroom.

I find the band sitting on some sofas in a small private room in the back. There’s a velvet curtain I have to push aside and I stick my head in. It takes more courage than anything I’ve done tonight, but I take a deep breath.

The fat guy on guitar and lead vocals is called Phantom. He follows me back to the table and I introduce him to Teddy, who stands up and shakes his hand.

“You guys kick ass,” says Teddy.

“Thanks, Dog,” says Phantom. “So, your lady friend says you play a mean guitar.”

“I’m all right,” he says.

“He’s awesome,” says Captain. “And way too modest.”

Phantom pushes his dark glasses up on his head.

“I was thinking you might want to sit in for a song or two. I’m really more of a singer, you know what I’m sayin’? I like to give it all to the vocals, so why don’t you come on up and give me a break on guitar.”

“No way.” Teddy’s look is a mix of panic and elation, but Phantom is already pulling him by the sleeve, back toward the private room.

About fifteen minutes later they take the stage. Phantom introduces Teddy, and Teddy strikes the first few chords of a song that everyone seems to know but me. It must be a cover, because he plays effortlessly, and he’s even singing some of the backup vocals.

It’s late now, really late. The place is empty save for three tables and a few people sitting at the bar. I’m as excited as if Teddy were playing a sold-out show at the Staples Center.

On the way home our friends fall asleep in the backseat of Coach Wes’s car.

I’m not tired.

Teddy watches the road. I watch him. He looks over at me and smiles. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say, even though tonight was as close to the opposite of nothing as I can imagine.

We aren’t home yet, the night hasn’t ended, and already I’m reliving it. The sneaking out and the food and the music. Teddy on the tiny stage. The standing ovation we gave him when he returned to our table. Phantom punching Teddy’s cell-phone number into his own. How Frances said this was the best night out she could ever remember having, and the extravagant bow Captain made following this pronouncement.

I think about how we can’t always live in the moment because moments pass, and when we’re lucky, we have the kind of moments that we can’t help wanting to go back to. We think about them, remember how they felt, and when more time passes we tell stories of these moments that are worth reliving, and we tell those stories to the people we love, and tonight I find myself wishing that I could go home and tell this story, and relive this moment, and I think of Tess.