I threw in my toiletries and hair dryer, and was tucking my birth control pills into a side pouch when my grandmother spoke from the doorway.
“You going somewhere?” She wore a robe and slippers, her shrewd black eyes drifting over the contents of my suitcase.
Frantically, I slammed the top and snapped the latches. Had she seen the pills? My heart jack- hammered as I tried to make my voice sound normal. I was twenty-eight and shouldn’t have cared if my grandmother knew I was on birth control, but I did. “You startled me, Sitty. Yes. Um, I’m going somewhere with Erin for the weekend.” Sitty had actually been fond of Nick, and hadn’t really said much when I’d told her we’d broken up—a heavy sigh followed by “Well, you’re still young. You could find someone else” (which she never said to me anymore, by the way). But if I told her I would be with Nick this weekend, she’d tell my parents, and that was not a situation I wanted to deal with. Not that they could tell me what to do, of course. Despite their tendency to treat me like a child, I was an adult that made my own decisions, but I was living under their roof at the moment, which gave them the opportunity to make my life unbearable, if not the right.
“Where are you going with Erin?” Sitty asked.
“Where? Uh, her cottage. I mean, her parents’ cottage. On Lake Michigan. They invited us. For the weekend.” My choppy sentences were awkward, obvious lies, but I was careful to keep my head down so she wouldn’t see my face.
“I thought her parents got divorce.”
“They did. Yes. Um, they’re not going to be there. Just Erin and I will be. They invited us to use it. I mean, her mom did. She owns it now.” Rising to my feet, I knew I should get out before I made it worse. “Well, I better go.”
Sitty stepped aside and let me pass. “OK, habibi. You go for your weekend. With Erin. With fancy underwear. I think it’s nice.”
I stopped moving halfway out the door and looked back over my shoulder. Her eyes told me she was no fool, even if she pretended to be one. “Thanks. Can you tell my Mom and Dad?”
“I will tell them. You have fun. But don’t get another one of those scars.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re tattoos, Sitty. Not scars.”
She sniffed. “What’s the difference?”
I almost answered the question but realized she could keep me there arguing with her twisted old lady logic forever. There was no way to win an argument with her. “OK, no new scars this weekend.”
I rushed down the stairs and out the door, hoping I was right.
#
On my way to Nick’s apartment, I called Erin. I was sort of hoping it would go to voicemail so I could just tell her my plans in a message and avoid a talking- to, but she picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Are you at the movies?”
“Yes, waiting in line for snacks. Where are you? Did you see him?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
I filled her in on my evening so far, leaving out the wet panties, urges to lick him, and various other sordid details that would make what I was doing a Very Bad Idea. But Erin wasn’t stupid, and sure enough, when I got to the part about spending the weekend with him, she gasped.
“You didn’t say yes, did you?”
“I had to! He wasn’t going to do Angelina’s party otherwise.”
Silence. “I don’t think you need me to tell you what this sounds like.”
“I know it’s a very bad idea, Erin. I’m just choosing to ignore that.”
“Oh for God’s sake. So you’re doing it?”
“I’m doing it. But my parents think I’m away with you this weekend. And if Mia asks, tell her I went to Cleveland to see my brother.” Jesus, this was a mess. It made my stomach hurt, it was such a mess.
Somehow I just had to put the lies from my head for now—I had more immediate problems to deal with, like how to keep myself from tearing Nick’s pants off for two days.
She laughed. “You really are a teenager again. Telling lies. Sneaking out with your boyfriend.”
Frowning, I exited the freeway at Mack Avenue and headed toward Grand Circus Park. “He is not my boyfriend.”
“Any chance you guys would get back together?”
“No,” I said emphatically. “This is strictly a business arrangement.” With possible meetings conducted in the buff.
“OK. Keep in touch—I’ll worry if I don’t hear from you.”
“I’ll text you, I promise. But right now I gotta figure out where to park down here, so I’ll let you go. Tell your mom I said happy birthday.”
“I will. Bye.”
I tossed my phone into my purse just as I reached the entrance to the parking structure adjacent to Nick’s apartment building. Formerly offices and retail space, it had been built in the 1920s and renovated in recent years, transformed into luxury residences.
As I searched for a parking spot, I wondered what Nick drove these days. In college he’d driven a rickety old pickup truck that always had a taillight out or squeaky brakes or a window that wouldn’t go down. It was rusty and dented and not terribly reliable, but Nick had loved it to death because it was the first big purchase he’d made with the money he’d earned busing tables in high school. Given that his income had increased substantially, he probably drove something much nicer now, although he’d never been the kind of guy who craved luxury brands or designer labels.