The Trouble with Lexie (21 page)

I
'M SO, SO SORRY,” LEXIE SAID TO JEN. IN HER HEART SHE WAS
sorry for much more than having fallen asleep on the bed.

They were at the open front door. Daniel was halfway across the stone, circular driveway, headed toward Lexie's car.

“Excuse my husband,” Jen said. “We landed in Boston from Athens and drove two hours to get here because he wanted to wake up on the lake and . . . I think he's a little jet-lagged and cranky.” Jen formed a pouty face, like she was talking about her child.

“Did you have a good trip?” Lexie hoisted the purse higher on her shoulder.

“It was our anniversary so, you know, we went for the romantic thing, a European cruise.”

“That's so nice.” Lexie forced herself to smile.

“If we find your shoe, I'll drive it to campus for you.” Jen pointed at Lexie's bare foot.

“I'm almost certain I left the apartment without it.” Lexie
stepped off the porch and onto the driveway. “Ambien! That stuff's supercrazy, right?!”

Jen smiled and waved, and Lexie hobbled to her car. Daniel opened the door. The keys were sitting in the ignition. He shut the car door once Lexie was seated, but stood there as solid and firm as a steel column. She turned on the car and rolled down the window. Daniel leaned his head in. He pointed toward the road. Lexie figured he was making it look like he was giving her directions home.
“
The fuck are you doing here?”
Daniel whisper-yelled.

“I'm sorry. It was a mistake.”

“It was a mistake that you took an Ambien, drove to my house, and went to sleep on the bed I share with my wife?” Daniel was actually gritting his teeth. Lexie felt disoriented, as if maybe this wasn't Daniel. Her Daniel didn't share a bed with his wife. Her Daniel loved her and wanted to marry her. Her Daniel had that very morning sent her a text from Asia saying he missed her so much his gums hurt!

“You said you were in China and wouldn't be home until Monday.”

“I said I'd call you on Monday. I didn't say when I'd be home.”

“I thought you were separated. I thought you had told her about me. I thought you loved me.”

“We'll talk about this later.” Daniel stepped back from the car, pointed toward the road once more, then turned and walked away.

Lexie rolled up the window. She watched Daniel shoulder his way past Jen Waite, who remained in the doorway, staring at Lexie.

Lexie lifted her left hand to wave and knocked her knuckles
against the glass. She gasped and nervously laughed. Once she'd put the car in drive it took immense concentration to stay within the borders of the driveway.

Lexie edged the car slowly forward until she was closer to the house. Right in front of Jen Waite, who was watching her the way you might watch a bobcat prance across your lawn. Lexie waved again—with deliberate control so she wouldn't knock the window. Then she putted past Jen and out onto the road.

A couple minutes later, Lexie pulled over. She rolled down the window and hung out her hair. Then she rolled up the window, keeping as much hair trapped against the frame as possible. It was a trick she'd seen a friend do in college, a way to be jerked awake if you accidentally nodded off while driving. Naturally, for the system to work, your head would have to fall forward or toward the passenger seat. A tilt to the left and you'd have to hope that the bonk against the glass would wake you.

Lexie talked while she drove. “That's a stop sign, so stop . . . Daniel doesn't love me . . . yellow line to the left . . . he's been lying to me all along . . . yellow line to the left . . .” Pangs of breath went in and out in short, uneven spanks. The idea of crying flashed in Lexie's head, but the whooshing fogginess of the last Klonopin tablet blotted out her ability to cry. It was like Lexie's heartbreak, shame, and shock were in a bottle floating out in the ocean, a couple yards ahead of her. Every time Lexie swam toward the bottle, trying to reach it, a giant wave slapped her down and washed her clean of even the idea of it. She could no longer get close enough to her feelings to experience them.

Back on campus, the walk from the parking lot to Rilke proved difficult. Lexie tripped and plummeted to the ground on the brick
pathway. Her purse fell off her shoulder and the vibrator tumbled out. Lexie put the vibrator back in her bag and then rolled to her back and looked at the starry sky. It was well past midnight, past curfew; any student who was out of his or her dorm room would be hiding so as not to be seen by faculty.

Lexie kicked off the remaining sandal and watched it sail into the hedge beside her. She noticed a thin line of blood running down her knee. With her knee bent, Lexie lifted her head and licked the wound. When she pulled away, blood appeared again, like a Magic Marker that couldn't be erased. Lexie licked her knee once more before rolling over and hoisting herself upright.

When she reached the front door of the building, Lexie spotted Ethan Waite sprinting across the lawn. He didn't see her until he scrambled to a stop.

“Shit.” Ethan bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“I have no idea what time it is, but I know it's past curfew.” Lexie tried to adjust her face into that of a stern disciplinarian.

Ethan straightened and stared at her. He appeared more like a hologram than an actual person: his face shifting back and forth between himself and Daniel. “Can we talk about this before you write me up?”

“Sure.” So much for the disciplinarian. The tip of the vibrator jutted out of Lexie's purse again. She shook it down. “Do you have your key card?”

“Yeah.” Ethan pulled his ID from his pocket and scanned open the door. He followed Lexie down the hall to her apartment. Lexie blindly rummaged through her purse, searching for her keys. When she found them, she unlocked the door.

“You okay?” Ethan followed Lexie into the apartment.

“It's only a little blood.”

“What blood?”

“Oh, my temperature?” Lexie turned around so she was facing Ethan. He had been closer behind her than she had realized. Their chests almost touched.

“No, you were sort of wobbling.”

“Was I?” She had thought she had her body fairly under control. Lexie looked toward the chair. She didn't want to cross the room to it, or the couch, lest she wobble even more.

“Yeah. Are you drunk?” Ethan started laughing.

“I think you're drunk,” Lexie said, trying to distract him.

“Not as drunk as you.” Ethan stuck his finger out as if to point and gently poked Lexie right at her collarbone, directly above her heart.

“Oh, shit, I think you're right.” Lexie wobbled to her sleek gray couch and sat. “Don't tell anyone that you were with me and I was drunk.” She leaned forward and licked her bleeding knee again. This time, the blood didn't reappear.

“I'd never tell.” Ethan dropped down beside her. They were silent for a few seconds. Then Ethan said, “I'm glad we picked this couch.”

“Yeah, you decorated the whole apartment with me.” They lifted their heads and simultaneously looked from side to side, like a pair of birds.

“Where are your shoes?”

“Ha!” Lexie lifted one leg and pointed her toe. Ethan dropped to his knees on the floor and captured the moving foot as if it were a jumping fish. The tickling sensation felt so bubbly and good that Lexie forgot she was miserable.

“Your foot is filthy.” Ethan held Lexie's leg aloft.

“I'm filthy.”

“I'm serious! You have to see the bottom of your foot. It's completely black!”

Lexie tried to bend her leg to see her foot, but Ethan had a firm grip. She went for another tactic and bent her body to see the foot in Ethan's hand but tumbled off the couch, landing on the floor beside Ethan. They broke apart laughing, each of them lying on their back, side by side.

“Oh my god,” Lexie said. “I had such a shitty night. I can't tell you how good it feels to laugh.”

“Me, too.”

“Oh yeah, your birthday.” Lexie turned to one side and looked at Ethan. In profile he was less Daniel and more Ethan, although there was a soluble wavering happening.

“I'm eighteen now.”

“Yup. Prison. Cigarettes.”

“And I can buy porn.”

“Because no one under eighteen ever watched it online before, right?” Lexie started laughing again.

Ethan rolled to his side and put his face a couple inches from Lexie's. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why would you kiss me?” The question was sincere. Lexie knew there was a reason they shouldn't kiss, but like a lost memory, that reason was currently inaccessible, hidden in the folds of her wet, doughy brain.

“Because you're beautiful.”

“Okay.” Lexie stopped searching for the reason not to kiss Ethan and pleasantly fell into the moment. A kiss sounded like a
good thing. Something to erase Lexie from Lexie. Something to wipe out the night like a wet sponge on a chalkboard.

They kissed. Ethan's leg pushed in between Lexie's legs and she closed her eyes and responded by rote reaction. It all felt familiar. And it smelled familiar, too, the scent of Ethan's neck boyish and grassy. Lexie's head was awash in drugs and alcohol; the sloshing was so intense she could barely hear her internal voice. One thought floated up however:
I am barely human, just a skin-bundled mess of sensation.

Ethan tried to pull Lexie's dress off over her head but instead trapped her in it as her arms were crossed in front of her face. Lexie thought she probably looked ridiculous and this made her laugh. Ethan laughed, too. He tugged hard and the dress came flying off. Ethan fell back on the rug with it. Without missing a beat, he pulled himself up and they continued to kiss.

Before she had realized what he was doing, Ethan had unhooked Lexie's bra, skillfully, and removed it. A small shower of Klonopin tabs fell from Lexie's breasts. Several were stuck to her skin like pale yellow moles. “What's this?” Ethan plucked a Klonopin off Lexie's breast.

“Oh, don't touch that.” Lexie took the pill from Ethan's hand and swallowed it.

Ethan leaned forward, kissed Lexie's nipple and licked off a Klonopin.

“Did you eat one?” Lexie asked.

“Yeah.” Ethan brushed off the remaining pills.

“Don't eat any more. And don't tell anyone.”

“But what is it?”

“Baby aspirin.” Lexie lifted his chin so they were face-to-face
and started up the kissing again. She felt like she was moving in and out of consciousness, seeing herself in a series of jump cuts, like a movie that needed to push the action forward without much explanation. One second she was kissing Ethan and the next his face was between her legs. Without any transition, he was on top of her and then she blinked and she was on top of him.

“It's more like marble or granite than flesh,” Lexie said.

“What?”

“Was I talking out loud?”

“Yes.” Ethan's hands were on Lexie's hips and he was moving her slowly across himself, as if she were a block of cheese he was grating. “You said it's more like marble or granite than flesh.”

“Your dick. It's not like that when you're older.”

“I'm not older.” Ethan put his hand on the center of Lexie's back and pulled her toward him so they could kiss more.

LEXIE OPENED HER EYES AND SAW THAT SHE WAS IN BED. SHE
strained to read the clock on the nightstand. Was that a five or an eight? There was a warm body behind her making the soft ocean sounds of sleeping; an arm was wrapped around her waist. Lexie looked down at the hand on her belly. She had a vague idea that it might be Ethan's hand but she wasn't sober enough to think about what that meant. Ethan was a student. He was in her apartment. That was normal enough. Lexie closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

T
HE NEXT TIME LEXIE OPENED HER EYES AMY WAS STANDING
beside her bed holding a cardboard box with two cups of coffee and two croissants. She was wearing a blue floral dress and had a blue headband woven through her thick blond (seeming) hair.

Lexie looked from Amy to the clock. She remained too numb, drugged, and drunk to read it. She looked behind herself and saw Ethan but couldn't quite get why he was there.

“Get dressed!” Amy whispered. She put the cardboard box atop the books stacked on the night table and pulled Lexie out from under Ethan's arm. “Quick, before he wakes up.”

Lexie stumbled naked around the room. She instantly forgot that she was looking for her clothes.

“Here!” Amy handed Lexie a pair of jeans, a bra, and a T-shirt.

“I need a bra.”

“I gave you one!”

Lexie looked down at the bundle in her hands. “I mean I need panties.”

“Go in the bathroom.” Amy gently pushed Lexie out of the room.

In the bathroom, Lexie turned toward the mirror. She couldn't see herself, couldn't see anything. Everything that had happened in the past fifteen hours felt blank, too. Lexie pushed her eyes shut for several seconds and then opened them again. She saw her face: eyes red and puffy, black crumbs of mascara on her cheekbones, lips dry, and slightly swollen. As she leaned closer to examine her face, the image of herself in the Waites' bed, Jen hovering beside her, came charging into her head like a full-speed train. Lexie blinked. She saw herself naked, sitting atop Ethan Waite.

The train crashed.

Lexie gasped. She put one hand on the vanity to steady herself. She looked at the toilet, flipped up the lid, held her hair away from her face, and vomited.

Lexie washed her face. She cupped her hand under the faucet and fed herself a palm-full of water and then rinsed her mouth. Amy knocked once on the door before letting herself in. She had a pair of Lexie's underwear in her hand. She shook her head, her eyes big and rigid.

Lexie turned to the toilet and vomited again.

“Stop that and get dressed!” Amy said.

Lexie washed her face once more, this time with icy cold water. Amy handed her the bra. Lexie put it on. Amy handed her a T-shirt. Lexie put it on. Amy handed her the panties. Lexie put them on. Amy handed her the jeans. As Lexie was putting them on, there was a knock at the door to her apartment.

“Make sure Ethan doesn't come out of that room.” Amy rushed from the bathroom.

Lexie pulled on the jeans. They felt enormous, and were dragging on the ground. Had Lexie herself shrunk in the night?

Outside, Lexie could hear the voice of Cole Hanna, the dorm proctor. She opened the bathroom door, stepped out into the hall, and looked at the closed bedroom door. She opened it carefully, hoping no one would be there. Maybe she had hallucinated having sex with Ethan Waite last night. Maybe Amy was hallucinating, too.

Lexie stuck in her head. There Ethan was, naked and sound asleep on his belly with the sheet kicked down to his ankles. She wanted to vomit again, but breathed it away. Lexie quietly shut the door and went to the living room, joining Cole and Amy.

“Hey, Miss James. I'm so sorry to hear you've got the flu, too.” Cole's cheeks looked like he'd been slapped. Lexie figured that for the ultraupstanding Cole, a barefooted Lexie, dressed casually as she was, might as well have been naked.

“Thanks. I'm sure I'll be fine.” Lexie bent down and rolled up the bottom of the extralarge jeans.

“Cole was worried about Ethan Waite, who went missing from his room last night. I was explaining to him that he spent the night in the infirmary.” Amy scanned Lexie's jeans from the hem to the waist. She and Lexie locked eyes and Lexie read her mind. She was wearing Ethan's jeans.

“He was there at nightly check-in,” Cole said. “But then Kennedy texted this morning and said she was with him later on and,” Cole blushed again and dropped his head. He was ratting out both Ethan and Kennedy who clearly had slipped out together after curfew.

“Honey, make sure Kennedy stays away from the infirmary.
Tell everyone to stay away. This is a mighty awful illness and I don't want it spreading through the whole school on the last week y'all have to hang out together and have fun.”

“Okay.” Cole looked up from his phone. “Sorry to bother you when you're sick, Miss James.”

“Not a problem. Thanks for doing your job.” Lexie pushed her face into a smile and waved as Amy walked Cole to the door.

After the door closed, a silence vibrated in the air. Lexie didn't know what to say. Finally, Amy spoke.

“Is there any chance he was too drunk to remember what happened?” All that Southern sweetness was gone. Amy might as well have been a New Yorker.

“I'm not entirely sure what happened.”

“You woke up naked in bed with the boy and now you're wearing his pants.” Amy forcefully jabbed her finger down, as if she was indicating toward the rolled hems.

“I know.” Tears flowed down Lexie's face. She had never felt so stuck, so failed, so bottomlessly horrible.

“There is no time for crying.” Amy spoke with an unsympathetic staccato. “We've got to convince this kid that he took off his own clothes, put himself in your bed, and that you slept on the couch.”

“Okay.” Lexie sniffed. “Whatever you say.” Lexie didn't trust that she herself had a right thought in her head.

Amy rushed to the bedroom. Lexie followed. Amy opened the door carefully, pulled Lexie's jeans out of the wicker hamper and handed them to her. Lexie changed quickly, right there. Once she was dressed, Amy threw on the bedroom light.

“Ethan, honey,” Amy said, fully Southern-smooth again. Ethan opened his eyes and looked from Amy to Lexie. His eyes
were blinking and soft. “I know you weren't feeling well last night and that you chose to crash here, but that isn't proper. So for the record let's say that you had the flu and you slept in the infirmary last night. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ethan rolled to his back and then sat up, fully exposed. “Can I have one of those coffees?” Was it possible that he didn't remember what happened last night? Lexie wondered.

“Sheet,” Amy said, pointing to where it bunched at his feet. Ethan reached down and pulled it up, covering himself. Amy handed him a cup of coffee. “Ethan, it is real important that you never tell anyone that you slept in Miss James's bed.” Lexie stood silently beside Amy like her witless child.

“Yeah, I get it. Can I have a croissant?” Ethan took a long, slurping pull off the coffee.

Amy handed him a croissant. “So what are you going to tell your friends when they asked where you slept last night?”

Ethan lopped off half the croissant in one bite. “I slept in the infirmary.” He caught Lexie's eye and winked at her with a sly, crooked smile. Lexie's stomach tumbled.

“When you came here and said you were sick, I wasn't thinking right. I should have put you to bed in the infirmary instead of in my bed. And boy, I'll tell you, that couch was not comfortable.” Lexie's voice rushed out off-kilter, but at least she was able to speak.

Amy and Ethan both stared at Lexie. Ethan had a disbelieving smile. He knew exactly where Lexie had slept last night.

“Do you promise me that you'll never tell a soul?” Amy said sternly. “You have to promise me on Miss James's life.”

“I promise.” Ethan shoved the rest of the croissant in his mouth, smiling at Lexie.

“I'm sorry this happened,” Lexie said. “I'm sorry we're asking you to lie.”

“It's not much of a lie,” Amy said, sharply. “Stick with the story, okay? You were sick. You slept in the infirmary.”

“I totally get it.” Ethan took another slurping sip of coffee. “This is good coffee.”

“You're gonna have to get dressed and leave real soon. Do you have activities today?”

“Intramural.”

“You feeling fit enough to play?”

“Hell, yeah.” Ethan's smile was so big it was cartoonish. “I feel great! What about you, Miss James, do you feel okay?”

“I'm a little fluey.” Lexie put her hand on her stomach. “We'll be in the living room. Why don't you get dressed and meet us there.” Better start acting like a grown-up.

“Tell people it was a quick recovery,” Amy said, to Ethan. She picked up the cardboard box with the other coffee and croissant and went with Lexie into the living room. They sat on the couch side by side and shared the coffee. Neither one touched the croissant. Neither one spoke.

Finally, Amy said: “You have to thank the good lord that that boy turned eighteen seconds before you fucked him.”

Ethan walked into the living room holding his flip-flops and wearing boxers and a T-shirt. “I can't find my jeans.”

“Maybe I put them in my hamper.” Lexie rushed into her room and came out with Ethan's jeans. He put them on right there, as if there were nothing unusual about this scene.

Amy stood and walked Ethan to the door. “Not a word, okay?” she said.

“Promise.” Ethan looked back at Lexie with adoring eyes. Lexie tried not to respond, but she couldn't stop herself. He was so unaffected, so genuine; as if what had gone down between them had been an act of love rather than flailingly blind insobriety. Lexie winked at him. Hopefully, Amy didn't notice.

Amy locked the door behind Ethan. She turned to Lexie. “Put on some shoes. You can tell me everything in the chapel.”

THEY WERE ALL ALONE IN THE MUSTY, INCENSED CHAPEL. AMY
pushed down the padded kneeler in the third pew and lowered herself. Lexie knelt beside her. They both put their hands in prayer. Normally when they went to chapel together, Amy prayed and Lexie sat by and spaced out. She liked the peace and quiet of the chapel. She liked the smell of it. She liked the shots of color from the long panels of stained glass that lined the upper half of the stone walls. And she liked the warm wooden benches that undulated from two hundred years of bodies in them.

“We're both going to ask for forgiveness,” Amy said sternly.

“You start.” Lexie was willing to seek help from any channel at this point, but she had no idea how to formulate a proper prayer. Her beliefs had always centered around hope, karma, and, over the past three years, the Yahtzee God.

“Please God, forgive me for having an affair behind my husband's back. Forgive me for sleeping with his best friend, betraying my friend—his wife, humiliating my family, humiliating my husband's family, humiliating myself, and for laying down so much unkindness on so many good human beings.”

“Amen,” Lexie whispered.

“Your turn.”

“Okay.” Lexie inhaled and exhaled like she was in a yoga class. “Forgive me for having sex with Ethan Waite, even though I don't remember it. Forgive me for having sex with Daniel Waite. I sure as hell remember that. Forgive me for betraying Peter, leaving him suddenly, canceling the wedding, and screwing him over . . .” Lexie could no longer speak. Had she really done all those things? And yet there was more. She took a breath. “Forgive me for breaking into the Waites' house last night—”

Amy dropped her hands and turned toward Lexie. “Are you kidding?” She moved up to the bench. “What happened to that cab I put you in?”

Lexie scooched in beside Amy and put her feet on the knee rest. “I saw Peter and Celeste go into the bar and I had to follow them.”

“Did you talk to Peter?”

“No. Celeste was wearing my wedding dress.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. But she made it all funky and cute with cowboy boots and a denim jacket. I mean, why couldn't I ever think of wearing a dress like that with cowboy boots and a denim jacket?”

“Honey, you must still be wasted. No sane person would obsess about a pair of cowboy boots and a denim jacket after fucking a student.”

Now Lexie had another thing to add to her list of shames: irrelevant thoughts about cowboy boots and a denim jacket. “Peter had this look on his face . . . it was like I had gutted him with one of those medieval spiky balls.”

“So you took the cab to the Waites'?”

“No, I drove there.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Thank god you didn't kill anyone on the road—yourself included.”

“Yeah.” Lexie's body sizzled with panic as she tried to remember the drive there and home. She hoped that if she had hit someone it would have been jarring enough to lodge into her muggy brain. For the time being, she was going to assume no one was killed.

“Did you climb in a window or something?” Amy was sounding less angry and more sad. She felt sorry for Lexie and this made Lexie feel only worse about herself.

“I used the hidden key Daniel had used the week we stayed there. I don't remember it too clearly, but I do know that I took some of Jen's Klonopin that I found in the medicine cabinet. And I fell asleep on their bed.”

“Well, good thing they won't be home until Monday. I hope you cleaned up after yourself.”

“They came home last night while I was there.”

“No!” Amy's hands went up in the air as if a gun was being pointed at her.

“Yeah. They found me in their bed.” Lexie felt bile rise in her throat and swallowed it down. She blinked back tears.

“Were you dressed?”

“I was in that red dress I was wearing last night—” Lexie paused as she remembered the wet underwear left behind on the bathroom floor. Maybe she could keep one detail to herself. “Anyway, I haven't shaved for two weeks and there's bristly hair—”

“Hair? Cowboy boots? Why are you even thinking about these things? So does Jen know everything now?”

“No.”

“Did she know who you were?”

“She recognized me from Parents' Day. I told them I took Ambien and somehow ended up there—sleep-driving, I guess.”

“And they believed you?” Amy's voice held a snarl of incredulousness.