Attach ments(14)
“Maybe.” He put his arm around her. She was so small, he felt like could hug all of her at once.
“Don’t you feel it, Lincoln? Like everything is changing?”
He held her tight. “Not everything.”
LINCOLN HAD DUG out this notebook a dozen times since high school. He took it out every time he changed his major, every time he started a new program or finished a degree.
He kept hoping that he would see something on the list that he’d missed all the other times, some basic truth about himself, a clue about what he should be doing. Or shouldn’t be doing. How had his life gotten stuck at No. 19, unfreezing computers? Because a person couldn’t make a living untangling necklaces? Why couldn’t he be stuck at No. 29? Or even 27 …
Whenever Lincoln looked at this list, he always ended up thinking more about Sam than his career path. He didn’t get to the want ads that night or to his parachute or his plan.
From: Jennifer Scribner-Snyder
To: Beth Fremont
Sent: Wed, 09/01/1999 1:14 PMI
Subject: Do you want to hang out tonight?
I need a break from Mitch. He’s still in a funk about our successful use of birth control.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Can’t. I’m finally going to see Eyes Wide Shut.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Ech. I don’t like Tom Cruise.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Me neither. But I usually like Tom Cruise movies.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Me, too …Huh, maybe I do like Tom Cruise. But I hate feeling pressured to find him attractive. I don’t.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Nobody does. It’s a lie perpetuated by the American media. Tom Cruise and Julia Roberts.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Men don’t like Julia Roberts?
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Nope. Her teeth scare them.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Good to know.
WHEN LINCOLN CAME downstairs Thursday morning, his mother was leaning over the kitchen table, scraping lime green paint off a dresser drawer. There were flakes of paint all over the table and floor.
There were chips in her hair and in the butter dish. This sort of thing gave Eve a migraine. “Didn’t you just paint that dresser?” Lincoln asked.
“Yes …I did.” She frowned at the drawer.
“Why are you scraping it?”
“It was supposed to be ‘Meadow Path.’ That’s what it said on the paint chip. This isn’t ‘Meadow Path.’ This is lime.”
“Did it look more ‘Meadow Path’ on the paint chip?”
“Of course it did. It said ‘Meadow Path’ right there, so it couldn’t help but look meadow-y. But look at it, it’s clearly lime.”
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Of course. There are biscuits in the oven, and ham gravy. I’ll get you some. Do you want honey?
We have fresh honey from local bees. Did you know that it’s better to eat honey from local bees?”
“I’ve never thought about it …,” he said, trying not to sound impatient.
“It’s better. Because the bees eat the pollen from the plants that grow around you, and then, I guess you’re less likely to be allergic to those plants.”
“I don’t think I have any allergies.”
“You’re so fortunate. Maybe we’ve been buying local honey all along.”
“Mom, do you find Tom Cruise attractive?”
His mother set down her chisel. She looked at Lincoln as if she was trying to decide whether he was “Meadow Path” or lime.
“Honey, do you find Tom Cruise attractive?”
“Mom. No. Why would you ask that? Jesus.”
“Why would you ask that?”
“I asked if you found Tom Cruise attractive. I didn’t ask if you thought I was gay. Do you think I’m gay?”
“I didn’t say that,” she said. “I have thought, occasionally, that maybe, you might, but I wasn’t saying that. I was just trying to help you.”
“Help me what?”
“Help you tell me, if you were. Which you’re not. You’re saying you’re not, right?”
“Yes. I mean, I’m not. Are you serious with this?”
“Well, Lincoln, you have to admit, it would explain a lot.”
“What? What would it explain?”
“It would explain why you don’t have a girlfriend. Why you haven’t had a girlfriend for, you know, honey, a long time. Since Sam, right? And frankly, it would explain Sam.”
“How would that explain Sam?”
“Well, she wasn’t very womanly, was she?”
“She was plenty womanly.”
His mother wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “She seemed boyish to me. She didn’t have breasts.”