“She said the same thing to Jack.”
“Really?”
“The same story about the roommates.”
He nodded and rubbed his forehead.
“Why should I believe you about what happened with her?” she said.
He looked up, incredulous again. “Because I have no reason to lie. Because, you’re right: I could’ve. That could’ve been my third. But I didn’t, it wasn’t. It would’ve hurt you. And I wouldn’t do that.”
“But you wanted to.”
“I didn’t want to. I’m just explaining that I have nothing to hide because it was technically inbounds. I’m not hiding anything.”
“Did you take a shower in her room?”
“No.”
“But you were in fact in her room. You were at the concert in the rain—and so you went back with her.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t take a shower at the hotel?”
“No.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“And so you took a shower together?”
“I didn’t take a shower.”
“Why do you smell like her shampoo?”
“Because I was in her room for a few hours. Because she took a shower.”
“Did you see her shower? Did she let you watch?”
“I didn’t watch her take a shower, no. Jesus.”
“All those hours in her hotel room and nothing happened.”
“Whitney.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” she said, staring at the black hole of the television set. “What would it matter, anyway? What would it change?”
“Everything. It would change everything. If I did anything, it would change everything. But I didn’t.”
“Me neither.”
“Okay. I believe you.”
“I didn’t do anything, but I took a shower. And he took a shower. Not together. We ordered cheeseburgers. I slept on his couch.” She took a longer draw of her whiskey.
“You said that already.”
“I need you to believe me,” she said.
“I do,” he said.
“I need you to believe me because I don’t believe you.”
“Well, that’s not very fair, is it?”
“I just don’t see it happening the way you say it did. You just sitting there in your wet clothes, all content and unbothered by everything, resisting, while she’s there for the taking. I know she doesn’t give a shit about what happens to us, what trouble she causes in other people’s lives. And I’d kind of be insulted if she didn’t try.…But I just don’t get why it wouldn’t have happened, why you wouldn’t have…after all this, after last month.”
“Because I wouldn’t. Because last month is last month, which means it’s over. Because we don’t do things like that to each other.”
“Just tell me you fucked her. Just please do it now, and get it over with. It’s fine. You have immunity. It’s in the rules, it’s okay. But I just can’t find out later, okay? It can’t be a year from now and I see some text come in on your phone and it’s a picture of you getting dressed in her hotel room, afterward. I need to hear it now so that I never have to be surprised by anything.”
“We didn’t do anything.”
“Just tell me, Will. We’re still here. We’re still in it. We haven’t left yet. It’s okay. Please. Please do this for me. Just tell me the truth.”
The shock was still in his face. He squinted at her and then lowered his head, trying to see up through her mouth and nose and into her brain, trying to get a look at what was really going on in there. He finished his drink. He sighed. And then he spoke. “Fine,” he said. “But it goes for you too, then. I’ll tell you, but you have to tell me what really happened, too. And you have to go first.”
“I told you the extent of it,” she said. “We split off with you two at the Fòrum. We walked around, the storm caught us, we went to a movie, we drank some beers in the theater, we went to his place in the rain. I took a shower, the rain eventually stopped, we came here once, you weren’t here, we ordered cheeseburgers, I came here again. That was the second time. You were still gone. You still weren’t here. I went back to his place again and passed out. It had been a long day—a long several days—and I felt like shit and just needed to get some sleep. I slept on his couch. I woke up. I walked here. This time, you were home.”
“I believe you about Jack,” he said.
“No you don’t.”
“I do. I really do. Why wouldn’t I? It’s better for everyone this way. But do you believe me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Just believe me. It’s better all around. For you, for me, for us. It’s easier—and it’s true.”
“But I’m telling you,” she said, “it would be fair, okay? It would be inbounds. It’s okay if it happened. I just need you to tell me now and not later.”
“Why do you say it would be fair?” he said, maneuvering to peer inside her head again. “You keep saying that. Like you want it to be the case so badly. What are you not telling me? There’s something right up in the front of your brain. There’s something that you’re clearly getting at, that you want to tell me. I really believe you didn’t do anything with him. But what is it?”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing,” she said. “What is it that you really want to tell me?”
He shook his head as well. “That nothing happened,” he said. “That she’s as crazy as we thought. That she’s out of our life forever now. That she’s fucking bonkers, but sometimes fun to talk to, and that she’ll go on with her blessed life, and never think
