Night Blindness by Susan Strecker Page A

“Of course he’ll be fine, right?” The end of her nose was bright red, like it was when she cried. “It’s just he’s larger than life, you know?” She shook her head. “I’m such a cow. You’re supposed to be crying on my shoulder, not the other way around.” I loved her for crying. I loved that she could traipse through the rain forests of Ecuador with baby anacondas draped around her like scarves, photographing for National Geographic and having one-night stands with award-winning cameramen, and still come to lunch with me, hold my hand, and cry about my father.
    Just like Mandy, she kept right on talking, filling the space between us before it could turn to silence. “I already look fatally ugly, and now I have to cry on top of it.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “In the past thirty-six hours, I’ve been on a riverboat, a rickshaw thing pulled by some hairy animal with horns, two planes, and a town car from Bradley driven by a guy who farted the whole way, and well…” She put her fingers to her lips. “I need a mojito.” She whistled at a cute waiter across the room.
    â€œMand, he’s not a dog,” I whispered.
    She gave him a flirty smile. “It’s so good to see you, J.J.”
    Everything Mandy had wanted to do, like cut class to get high or give blow jobs to the boys at the neighboring Catholic school, I’d been hesitant about, and she’d started every sentence with, “Jesus, Jenny, it’s only a joint.” Or “Jesus, Jenny, it’s just a cock in your mouth.” Eventually, she started calling me J.J., a constant reminder of how uncool I was compared to her. That all changed after Will died, and then I was the first one to drop acid, run off to boarding school in the middle of the academic year, and quit college to be with my art professor.
    â€œWhat can I get you lovely ladies today?” The waiter’s words came out lazily. I thought of Nic, except this guy probably wasn’t old enough to drink.
    Mandy touched his hand. “We’ll have a couple of mojitos, please, D.J.,” she said, reading his name tag. “And why don’t you order one for yourself.”
    His cheeks colored. “Ma’am, we’re not allowed to drink on the job.”
    She leaned forward. Her green silk shirt brought out the emerald color of her eyes. “How long are we going to have to sit here and drink until your shift ends?”
    He glanced at a silver clock above the bar. “Um, about two hours. Do you want anything to eat?”
    â€œWe need a little time to decide,” I said.
    He walked away, swaggering, as if he knew we were watching. “Every time I come here, I want to snog that boy,” Mandy told me. She checked her reflection in her knife and then raised her eyes to me and whispered, “I need need need to hear about Ryder.” Her eyes were bright, like when we were teenagers and she suggested we play strip poker with the neighborhood boys. “And Nic.” She said his name like an afterthought. “But mostly Ryder. Is he still in love with you?”
    â€œMand.” I sipped my water. “That was a long time ago.”
    â€œOh, honey,” she said. “That doesn’t matter. I know you better than anyone, and I know you have something to tell me.”
    I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to talk, but you can’t ask any questions.”
    She scrunched up her nose. “Why?”
    â€œBecause I’m not ready to answer them.”
    â€œOkay,” she said. “I get it.”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œScout’s fucking honor.”
    â€œHe’s Ryder, but he’s not. He’s all serious now, with a buzz cut and monogrammed oxford shirts. He hasn’t even shaken my hand since I’ve been back.”
    She let out the breath she’d been holding. “That’s what