The Bay at Midnight

“Sure,” I said. “You want the front, Shannon?” I motioned to the passenger door of the car.

“Back’s fine,” she muttered, barely loud enough to hear, and I knew she was either sullen or scared, expecting me to bring up her situation over ice-cream sundaes, which was indeed my plan.

We settled into one of the booths at the diner, Shannon sitting next to me, the slight swelling of her belly hidden from her mother’s eyes by the table.

“How’s work?” I asked her.

She nodded. “Good,” she said, studiously avoiding my eyes as she checked out the dessert menu.

“Are you still playing the cello at the hospital?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I went yesterday. I saw Nana there.”

“Cool,” I said. We were all hospital volunteers. I was a translator for Spanish-speaking patients, Mom worked in the gift shop, Julie visited patients, often reading to them or just keeping them company, and Shannon played the cello in the hallways outside patient rooms. We had a long culture of volunteerism in my family.

“What should I do with your mail, honey?” Julie asked. “You’ll probably be getting a lot of it from Oberlin over the summer.”

Here was Shannon’s chance to tell her mother, I thought. I squeezed her knee beneath the table, but she pulled her leg away from my hand and I sensed her annoyance. I knew right then that the talk I wanted the two of them to have wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“Just stick it in a grocery bag for me, please,” Shannon said, not looking at either of us. “I’ll pick it up when I come by.”

“Okay.” Julie turned her menu over to look at the desserts. “And if it looks important, I’ll let you know.You’ll probably find out who your roommate’s going to be in a few weeks. I think you should try to get in touch with the girl during the summer to see what she’ll be bringing to the room and all of that.”

Shut up, Julie, I thought.

“Uh-huh.” Shannon studied the menu as if she didn’t know it by heart.

Julie and I ordered sundaes and Shannon, a small bowl of chocolate ice cream. Then Julie excused herself to go to the rest room.

I shifted away from Shannon on the bench so that I could look at her.

“How are you doing, really?” I asked.

“Fine,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”

“Living with your dad is going okay?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I might as well still be living with Mom,” she said. “She calls me, like, ten times a day.”

“Why don’t you tell her about the baby now?” I asked. “With me here? I can help soften the blow.”

“Don’t push me, Lucy,” she said. “Let me do this on my own timetable, all right?”

“What is your timetable?” I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“I don’t know.” She spoke slowly, teeth gritted.

“All right.” I gave up. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said, as if I’d been holding her down on the ground and had finally released her.

“Can you give me…what’s his name? Tanner?”

She nodded and looked at me, curious to know what I was asking.

“Can you give me his Web site address?”

“Why?”

“So I can check it out,” I said, then added, “from the perspective of a former history teacher.”

“Are you going to write to him or something?” She looked suspicious.

I shook my head. “No.”

She hesitated. “You swear you won’t?”

“You have my word. I just want to…you know, get to know this person who’s so important in your life. I mean,” I added quickly, “get to know him by seeing his Web site, that’s all.” I thought I sounded guilty, as if I did have plans to try to reach him—which I did not—but Shannon tore off a piece of her napkin, pulled a pen from her pocketbook, wrote down the address and handed it to me. I slipped it in my jeans pocket.

“Thanks,” I said.

“It’s a cool site,” she said, that glowy look coming into her face again. “He knows everything about computers.”

Julie returned to the table and sat down again.

“Who knows everything about computers?” she asked. “Dad?”

“No,” Shannon said. “Just a friend.”