A Sense of the Infinite

I wasn’t expecting Pauline to be angry. I lay there, stu

I pulled the blanket up to my chin. I wasn’t sure which was worse: the grief I imagined in my mother’s voice when she said this, or the love. I didn’t want to be responsible for either. I just wanted to disappear.

“I’d like you to sleep here tonight,” Pauline said when she came back. “Can you call your cousin to let her know?”

Knowing better than to argue with her, I pulled out my phone.

65

BEFORE SAYING GOOD NIGHT, PAULINE gave me an ultimatum.

“I want you to tell her,” she said. “It’s not the kind of decision you’re supposed to make for another person, and you can call me a blackmailing bitch, but there is no way I’m putting you on a bus tomorrow in your condition. We’ll call her in the morning and you can explain.”

Pauline looked tired. She stood in the doorway of the den with her arms folded.

“You can hate me if you need to,” Pauline said. “If I was your age I’d hate me too. Leslie would never forgive me if I let you keep this a secret from her. I guess that’s more important to me than being the cool auntie, even though I wish there was a way I could be both.”

She smiled sadly. I dropped onto the foldout couch and felt my world sink like a flooded canoe. Pauline came over and gave me a half hug.

“She loves you,” Pauline said. “I love you too.”

The pattern in the floor danced and flashed. I thought forlornly of the flowers on Ava’s desk. I nodded, and Pauline went away.

66

EVEN THOUGH I WAS ALMOST DELIRIOUS from exhaustion, there was no way I could sleep with the phone call hanging over my head. I woke up Pauline’s computer and browsed distractedly. I started looking at old photos of Noe and me, the ones I used to upload religiously: Noe and A

hey doll. how’s it going?

good, I typed. well—

yeah. good.

what’s up?

I hesitated, my hands hovering over the keyboard.

remember how you said the pill still worked if you took half? I typed.

well

it doesn’t.

It took a few seconds for Noe to reply, and when she did it was first just a stream of exclamation points.

!!!

!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!

ohmigod!!!!!

i know, I typed.

what are you going to do?!?!??

i already did it

this morning

are you ok?!?!?

yeah

are you sure???

oh bethy. i want to give you the biggest hug right now

this year has been so crazy

i know, I typed.

i want to wrap you up in a warm blanket

and rub your ears

and tell you everything is going to be okay

it is ok

i had my cousin

and all her friends were really nice

i’m so relieved it’s over

you should have told me

we could have talked about it

how far along were you?

nine weeks

ohmigod

so you were pregnant on halloween

and thanksgiving

and nobody knew it

crazy, right?

i need to go

can we talk in the morning?

might be hard

but i’ll try

are you sure you’re ok?

i just can’t—

god. wow.

i am sitting here in shock.

see you soon

yes! soon. i can’t believe we have school on monday.

i can’t believe it either

oh bethy. oh dear.

talk to you tomorrow, k?

ok

After talking to Noe, I still couldn’t sleep. I got up from the computer and started rummaging through Pauline’s books. The den seemed like more of a storage room; Pauline had moved cardboard boxes of books aside to fold out the bed. I pulled down one book and then another one, making a little stack to take to the couch with me. The cardboard boxes were mostly photography books; I dug through them and pulled out one about the boreal forest and one about polar bears. I was at the bottom of the photography box when my eye fell on a spine that wasn’t like the others. It was a scruffy journal held together by sagging elastic. I slid it out from between its neighbors and flipped it over.

Nature Notes, said the cardboard cover. I slid off the elastic and opened it.

Property of Pauline Delacruz, said the inside page, with a date from a summer eighteen years ago. When I turned the page, a dried maple leaf fell out.

Algonquin Paddle-o-Rama, said the first entry. Day Uno. Saw three moose, a bear, and a beaver. Tipped canoe, cookies lost, hot dogs salvaged. Rachel and Claire sang a war song, Pete and Gary banged the drums. Leslie cooked ba

I smiled at the mention of Mom, a smile that froze at the next sentence:

Our Fearless Leader Scott “J-Stroke” McLaughlin can’t read map, driving everyone crazy with inane route suggestions. Must cast him onto next mosquito-infested island, lighten load.

I sank onto the foldout bed, my ears ringing.

Scott McLaughlin. Mom. Canoe trip.

I wasn’t sure I could read this.

Day 2 yielded blue herons and lily pads, Day 3 Lev stung by a bee, Doctor Pauline administered dose of whiskey, Day 4 Green Canoe Crew fell victim to Galloping Trots, Day 5, snapping turtles and seven-foot moose, Whiskey flowed at campfire, all were raucous and wild. much hooting and dancing. stumbled to bed.

Day 6, Leslie acting weird, says she got her period. offered secret chocolate stash to no avail. Day 7, rain, thunderstorms, everyone miserable. Day 8, heading in.

There were some loose photographs tucked into the back of the journal. Pauline and Lev, paddling canoes. Mom building a fire. And one of the whole group: Mom, Pauline, Lev, a few women I didn’t recognize, a few men who couldn’t possibly be him (too young, too old, wrong skin color), and one boy in red swim trunks with hairy legs, who was the right age and the right color and had a face shaped just like mine. I found his name in the list written under the photograph.

Asshole, I thought to myself as angry tears pricked at my eyes. Asshole. Asshole. Asshole.

Could a word reach through space and time to burn someone? I hoped it could. I hoped he could feel the heat of it on the back of his neck. I hoped wherever he was, he knew how thoroughly he was hated.

I slipped the journal into my backpack and lay on the bed.

All I knew was I wanted to go home.

67

IN THE MORNING, THE CRAMPS HAD dimmed. My phone was crammed with texts from Noe:

are you ok???

so worried.

where are you???