"He's a boy." Val's mother shook her head. "Irresponsible."
Valerie fished out her cell from her backpack and scrolled to his name. It went right to voice mail. She clicked off. Walking back to her bedroom, she looked out the window, past the kids skateboarding off a plywood ramp in the neighbor's driveway. She didn't see Tom's lumbering Caprice Classic.
She phoned again. Voice mail.
"This is Tom. Bela Lugosi's dead but I'm not. Leave me a message."
"You shouldn't keep calling like that," her mother said, following her into the room. "When he turns his phone back on, he'll see how many calls he missed and who made them."
"I don't care what he sees," Val said, thumbing the buttons. "Anyway, this is the last time."
Val's mother shook her head and, stretching out on her daughter's bed, started to outline her own lips in brown pencil. She knew the shape of her own mouth so well that she didn't bother with a mirror.
"Tom," Valerie said into the phone once his voice mail picked up. "I'm walking over to the train station now. Don't bother picking me up. Meet me on the platform. If I don't see you, I'll take the train and find you at the Garden."
Her mother scowled. "I don't know that it's safe for you to go into the city by yourself."
"If we don't make this train, we're going to be late for the game."
"Well, at least take this lipstick." Val's mother rummaged in the bag and handed it over.
"How is that going to keep me safer?" Val muttered and slung her backpack over her shoulder.
Her phone was still clutched in her hand, plastic heating in her grip.
Val's mother smiled. "I have to show a house tonight. Do you have your keys?"
"Sure," Val said. She kissed her mother's cheek, inhaling perfume and hairspray. A burgundy lip print remained. "If Tom comes by, tell him I'm already gone. And tell him he's an asshole."
Her mother smiled, but there was something awkward about her expression. "Wait," she said. "You should wait for him."
"I can't," Val said. "I already told him I was going."
With that, she darted down the stairs, out the front door, and across the small patch of yard. It was a short walk to the station and the cold air felt good. Doing something other than waiting felt good.
The asphalt parking lot of the train station was still wet with yesterday's rain and the overcast sky swollen with the promise of more. As she crossed the lot, the signals started to flash and clang in warning. She made it to the platform just as the train ground to a stop, sending up a billow of hot, stinking air.
Valerie hesitated. What if Tom had forgotten his cell and waited for her at the house? If she left now and he took the next train, they might not find each other. She had both tickets. She might be able to leave his at the ticket booth, but he might not think to check there. And even if all that worked out, Tom would still be all broody. When or if he finally showed up, he wouldn't be in the mood to do anything but fight. She didn't know where they could go, but she'd hoped that they could find someplace to be alone for a little while.
She chewed the skin around her thumb, neatly biting off a hangnail and then pulling so a tiny strip of skin came loose. It was oddly satisfying, despite the tiny bit of blood that welled to the surface, but when she licked it away her skin tasted bitter.
The doors to the train finally shut, ending her indecision. Valerie watched as it rolled out of the station and then started walking slowly home. She was relieved and annoyed to spot Tom's car parked next to her mother's Miata in the driveway. Where had he been? She sped up and yanked open the door.
And froze. The screen slipped from her fingers, crashing closed. Through the mesh, she could see her mother bent forward on the white couch, crisp blue shirt unbuttoned past the top of her bra. Tom knelt on the floor, mohawked head leaning up to kiss her. His chipped black polished fingernails fumbled with the remaining buttons on her shirt. Both of them started at the sound of the door slamming and turned toward her, faces expressionless, Tom's mouth messy with lipstick. Somehow, Val's eyes drifted past them, to the dried-up daisies Tom had given her for their four-month anniversary. They sat on top of the television cabinet, where she'd left them weeks ago. Her mother had wanted Val to throw them out, but she'd forgotten. She could see the stems through the glass vase, the lower portion of them immersed in brackish water and blooming with mold.
Valerie's mother made a choking sound and fumbled to stand, tugging her shirt closed.
"Oh fuck," Tom said, half-falling onto the beige carpet.
Val wanted to say something scathing, something that would burn them both to ashes where they were, but no words came. She turned and walked away.
"Valerie!" her mother called, sounding more desperate than commanding. Looking back, she saw her mother in the doorway, Tom a shadow behind her. Valerie started to run, backpack banging against her hip. She only slowed when she was back at the train station. There, she squatted above the concrete sidewalk, ripping up wilted weeds as she dialed Ruth's number.
Ruth picked up the phone. She sounded as if she'd been laughing. "Hello?"
"It's me," Val said. She expected her voice to shake, but it came out flat, emotionless.
"Hey," Ruth said. "Where are you?"
Val could feel tears start to burn at the edges of her eyes, but the words still came out steady. "I found out something about Tom and my mother—"
"Shit!" Ruth interrupted.
Valerie went silent for a moment, dread making her limbs heavy. "Do you know something? Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"I'm so glad you found out," Ruth said, speaking fast, her words almost tripping over each other. "I wanted to tell you, but your mom begged me not to. She made me swear I wouldn't."
"She told you?" Val felt particularly stupid, but she just couldn't quite accept that she understood what was being said. "You knew?"
"She wouldn't talk about anything else once she found out that Tom let it slip." Ruth laughed and then stopped awkwardly. "Not like it's been going on for that long or anything. Honestly. I would have said something, but your mom promised she would do it. I even told her I was going to tell—but she said she'd deny it. And I did try to drop hints."
"What hints?" Val felt suddenly dizzy. She closed her eyes.
"Well, I said you should check the chat logs, remember? Look, never mind. I'm just glad she finally told you."
"She didn't tell me," Valerie said.
There was a long silence. She could hear Ruth breathing. "Please don't be mad," she said finally. "I just couldn't tell you. I couldn't be the one to tell you."
