Read Online Stiltsville: A Novel by Susanna Daniel - Free Book Online

By this time, I’d seen Bette smoke several times and had even tried it with her twice—where Bette became calm and wide-eyed, I became silly and had difficulty finishing a sentence. For this reason, I’d decided marijuana was not, for me, a dignified option. The apartment smelled of bacon. “You’re alive,” she said. “Good to know.”
    “I should have called,” I said. This was not something I’d even considered.
    There was rustling in Bette’s bedroom, and Benjamin emerged into the small open kitchen, wearing only slacks. “Want some bacon?”
    He held out a plate, and Dennis stepped forward to take a piece. Benjamin cracked eggs into a bowl and whipped them with a fork. I sat down next to Bette on the couch. “Did you go back to the wreck?” I said quietly, so only she heard.
    She shook her head. “Jane backed out. Something about her husband.”
    “That’s too bad.”
    “I got excited over nothing. They’re bringing it up next week.”
    “Won’t there be another one?”
    “We’ll see,” she said.
    It was clear that something had changed. Benjamin stepped into the living room from the kitchen, holding a spatula. “Did you tell her?” he said to Bette.
    “Tell me what?”
    “The first of April,” he said. “Springtime.”
    “We set a date,” said Bette. “My mother’s on her way over.” As if realizing this fact for the first time, she put out her joint and sat up straight.
    “Congratulations!” said Dennis. He shook Benjamin’s hand, then leaned down to kiss Bette’s cheek. She stretched to meet him, but her eyes were dull, her mouth still. Her cheeks were pink, probably from the marijuana.
    “We don’t have much time,” said Benjamin. “Less time to get caught up in the details, said this one.” He gestured to Bette.
    She squeezed my arm. “My mother is making me shop for dresses. You have to come.”
    “Of course,” I said, thinking that I wanted nothing less than to spend a day shopping with Dennis’s mother. “Wash your face before she gets here,” I said, and Bette nodded and got up, but Benjamin swung her into a bear hug and carried her into the bedroom. Her laughter was high and reluctant and his was baritone and booming. Dennis stepped out onto the little patio to try to fix the squeak in Bette’s screen door, and I went to change my clothes and brush my hair in the apartment’s small bathroom. When I joined him outside, Dennis said, “Good for them.”
    I wondered if this would change the timeline of our own engagement, then decided it didn’t matter. “I guess I’m going shopping.”
    He took my hand. He was squatting and there was sweat along his brow and under his arms. We’d decided, during the ride from the beach, that I would stay at his apartment from that time forward. “I’ll pick you up here, after. We’ll go to Scotty’s for fish, and then you can help me study for my exam.”
    “How do I do that?”
    “Keep me from drinking too many margaritas.”
    “What about your mother?”
    “My mother isn’t invited.”
    “Be serious. What do I tell her?”
    “Tell her about what?”
    “About where I’m staying.”
    “Frances, my mother doesn’t care.”
    “Of course she does.”
    “Well, she won’t tell you if she does. And she won’t ask.” He stood up, and I heard his knees creak. We are not so young, I thought. Most people our age were married with children. He said, “Call me when you’re all done with the ladies.” Below us a car horn sounded, and we looked down over the porch railing to see Gloria in her shiny sedan, waving through the windshield. I called for Bette, and she came out looking freshly scrubbed, and we went downstairs together.
    At a bridal shop on Miracle Mile—one in a row of them—Bette ended up in the dressing room with half a dozen gowns, sobbing while her mother snapped at the saleswoman to bring more options. Gloria tried in her own way to soothe Bette through the dressing room curtain. She told Bette it