Rachel tells me Gino practically begged her
to spend the summer in the city.
“I nearly gave in.” She sighs.
“But I decided to let him really miss me.
I’ve made it too easy for him.”
“What do you mean, too easy?” I prod.
“Some things have to be sacred
between a man and a woman.” She sighs.
“Of course!” I nod understandingly,
trying not to roll my eyes, add,
“I guess both your hearts will break a little.”
“Don’t pretend to know what I feel,”
says Rachel.
She gets this way about Gino.
“Of course not!”
Later on she says,
“Sorry if I sounded unpleasant.
It’s just difficult to be without him.”
I make understanding clucking noises.
“We didn’t go all the way, Maisie. Yet.
But he’s so sexy.”
I only say “uh-huh” in a distracted way,
as if Gino’s sexiness
is the last thing on my mind.
The train sways on a turn,
then rebalances and picks up speed.
“Okay,” says a calmer Rachel,
“you should know there’s an award called
‘Girl of the Week.’
Even if you turn your nose up at it,
you secretly want to win it,
get a pink patch that says
‘Color War Special Citation.’
You should try, Maisie!
You can prove to your mother
that you’re nothing like her.”
“You mean that not every atom in my body
is horrendously destructive?”
By the time we pull into the small country train station,
we’ve both cooled down.
Rachel says:
“I do love you, Maisie.
At least most of the time.”
First game, I single-handedly
score more points in basketball
than the entire blue team,
which makes me a local hero.
That night I write Richie to tell him,
but mostly I’m worried.
He’s home without his mother,
only his younger sister and freaky, infuriated father.