Attachments(22)
Author: Rainbow Rowell

LINCOLN MET JUSTIN and Dena at the Ranch Bowl Saturday night. Lincoln wore his new denim jacket.

He’d had to buy new jeans that week, smaller jeans, and the jacket had been an impulse buy. He’d worn one like it in junior high, and that had been the last time he’d ever come close to feeling like a badass. He forgot to take the price tag off, so Justin called him “Minnie-f**king-Pearl” and “XXLT”

all night. They stayed out so late, Lincoln slept in and didn’t have time to shower before he picked up his nephew the next afternoon.

“You smell like cigarette smoke,” Jake Jr. said, climbing into Lincoln’s car. “Do you smoke?”

“No. I went to a concert last night.”

“With smoking?” the six-year-old asked. “And drinking?”

“Some people were smoking and drinking,” Lincoln said, “but not me.”

Jake shook his head sadly. “That stuff’ll kill you.”

“That’s true,” Lincoln said.

“I hope I don’t get any of this smoke on me. I have to go to school tomorrow.”

The Pokemon movie was even worse than Lincoln had expected. It was almost a relief every time Jake Jr. had to go to the bathroom. “My mom says I can’t go alone,” Jake whispered. “She says I’m so cute, someone might try to take me.”

“My mom used to tell me the same thing,” Lincoln said.

CHAPTER 52

From: Beth Fremont

To: Jennifer Scribner-Snyder

Sent: Mon, 12/20/1999 1:45 PM

Subject: My Cute Guy has a kid.

Can you believe it? A kid! And probably a wife, too. How could he do this to me?

<<Jennifer to Beth>> ???

<<Beth to Jennifer>> My thoughts exactly.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> What I meant by that was: give me the information that you have and I don’t —that is making you talk like a crazy person.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> I saw him (them) yesterday at Cinema Center. I was going to see Fight Club again, and as I was buying my ticket, I saw My Cute Guy getting in line for popcorn. So—don’t judge —I got in line behind him (them), right behind him, and just sucked in his presence for three and a half minutes.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> I’m still confused. You saw him with his wife and kid? And then you sucked in his presence? What does that even entail?

<<Beth to Jennifer>>

1. Just the kid. Like a 5-to-10-year-old kid.

2. And “sucking in his presence” entails: Standing. Exalting. Inhaling. Trying not to bite his shoulder.

Realizing that my mouth is the exact height as his shoulder.

Memorizing what he was wearing—camouflage pants, hiking boots, a Levi’s jean jacket. (Like a very 1985 Levi’s jean jacket. Hard to explain, but very, very cute.)

Noticing that his shoulders might be the broadest shoulders I’ve ever seen on someone who isn’t a lumberjack. Marveling that I’m the kind of girl who finds a thick neck ridiculously attractive. (Is it thick necks in general? Or just his? I don’t know.)

Imagining that if I were standing this close to him somewhere else, like at a grocery store or a restaurant, people might think we were together.

Deciding that his hair is about three shades lighter than mine. Cadbury colored.

Thinking I could probably bump into him and make it seem like an accident.

Wondering what his name is. And whether he’s as nice as he seems. And whether he likes piña coladas and getting caught in the rain …

<<Jennifer to Beth>> Hmmm. I’m judging. I can’t help it.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> But I didn’t really do anything. He was there. And I was there. And we both like popcorn …

<<Jennifer to Beth>> You didn’t have to exalt.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Au contraire, mon frere. It would have been impossible to do anything but.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> How do you know it was his kid? Maybe it was his little brother. Or his Little Brother.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> No, they were acting like father and son. I had 75 minutes to evaluate the situation. I ended up—remember, don’t judge—following them into their theater, Pokemon: The First Movie, and sitting about six rows behind them. McG sat with his arm around the kid’s chair the whole time. He even got up three times to take him to the bathroom. And when the movie was over, he really carefully put the boy’s scarf on.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> So, you stayed in there for the entire movie? You didn’t go to Fight Club?

( So judging right now.)

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Do you think I was going to miss a chance to sit in the dark with My Cute Guy for an hour and a half? I already know who Tyler Durden is. (And I went back to catch the last showing of Fight Club after I followed My Cute Guy home.)

<<Jennifer to Beth>> Take it back. You didn’t follow him home.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> I tried. I lost him on the freeway.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> That’s something a scary person would do.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Really? It felt more nosy than scary.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> How did you lose him? Was he driving evasively?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> No. Have you ever followed somebody in a car before? It’s really hard, even though he drives a pretty distinctive car, a Toyota Corolla. (An ancient Toyota Corolla, the kind people drove back when it was still embarrassing to drive a Japanese car.) I’m hoping that means he’s divorced and can’t afford a decent car. But that might be an evil thing to hope; there is a child involved. I wish I knew whether he wore a wedding ring …

<<Jennifer to Beth>> I wouldn’t guess Emilie would be throwing herself at him if he wore a wedding ring.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Good point. Even so …I’m just not sure I’m ready to be a stepmother.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> It’s a lot to think about.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> It is.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> You’re not going to try to follow him again, are you? Now that you know what kind of car he drives?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Hmmm. Probably not. But I’m still going to hang out in the break room a lot, hoping I’ll run into him.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> That’s fair. I don’t think you can get arrested for that. What would you do if you did run into him?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> If I literally ran into him? I’m not sure. But it might involve never washing this sweater again.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> Would you talk to him? Would you flirt with him?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Are you kidding? What kind of a floozy do you take me for? I have a boyfriend. More than a boyfriend. I’m living in sin.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> You are a complicated woman.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> No. Doy.

CHAPTER 53

LINCOLN DIDN’T WALK by Beth’s desk that night. The next time he saw Christine, he wanted to be able to tell her that he still hadn’t. But at the end of the night, before he left, he printed out the paragraph that Beth had written about him. He figured this was crossing yet another line. (How many lines do you get?) But it was the closest Lincoln had ever come to getting a love letter—even though he didn’t really get it, he took it—and he wanted to be able to read it again. He tucked the paragraph into his wallet.

THE NEXT NIGHT, Lincoln parked his Corolla right next to The Courier’s front door.

I’m here, he thought. Find me. Follow me. Make this inevitable.

CHAPTER 54

From: Beth Fremont

To: Jennifer Scribner-Snyder

Sent: Tues, 12/21/1999 11:46 AM

Subject: They’re tearing down the Indian Hills in March.

I just got a call from the old owner. They’re having a big farewell weekend right before they start tearing out the seats. They’re expecting people to come in from out of town for it. Cinerama fans.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> That’s too bad. Every time I drove by and saw that the building was still there, I thought that maybe they were going to change their minds.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Me, too.

At least they’re having a big party to say good-bye. That’s nice. And the proceeds are going to some film preservation charity. I’m writing a story about it.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> Will you be done by lunch?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Probably, why?

<<Jennifer to Beth>> I was going to see if you could give me a ride. I’m meeting Mitch at the midwife’s office. It’s our first regular, prenatal visit. We’re supposed to be able to hear the heartbeat.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Of course I can give you a ride. That’s so exciting! It’s like it’s real now.

Aren’t you getting excited? Even a little?

<<Jennifer to Beth>> I think I must be. I finally told my mom that I’m pregnant. Only an excited (or stupid) person would do that.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Was she happy? I’ll bet she was happy.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> She was. I’d just taken her to pay her gas bill, and we were having dinner at Hardee’s. I blurted it out, and she about choked on a curly fry. She was like, “A baby? We’re having a baby? Oh, a baby. Our very own baby.” I thought her response was weirdly possessive, but it was definitely positive. She kept trying to hug me.

Then she said, “Oh, I hope it’s a little girl, little girls are so much fun.” I think she meant to add “to screw up,” but whatever.

A full 45 minutes passed before she said something evil: “You better try not to gain all that weight back. Mitch never knew you when you were fat.” Which isn’t even true. I was a size 18 when Mitch and I started dating. I didn’t lose weight until years later. I told her so, and she said, “You were a size 18? At your height? I never knew it had gotten that bad.”

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Sometimes I feel really sorry for your mom …and sometimes I just hate her.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> Welcome to the last 20 years of my life. It’s like she thinks she did me a favor by raising me to believe that the entire world was out to get me, by making sure I never get my hopes up.

When I got home, Mitch was fixing the light in the spare bedroom. (I know he’s turning it into a nursery, but I’m not ready to talk about it.) It’s always weird to go from my mom to Mitch. It doesn’t seem like I should have been able to get to this life from my old one, like there aren’t even roads between those two places.

Anyway, I walked in, and Mitch—who obviously didn’t now what hell I’d just traversed—said something so nice, I was able to let it all go.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> What did he say?

<<Jennifer to Beth>> It’s kind of personal.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> I’m sure it’s deeply personal. But you can’t just say, “And then Mitch said something so wonderful, it healed the tubercular ill that is my mother” without telling me what he said.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> It’s not that profound. He just said, instead of hello, that I looked beautiful— and that, when we got married, he never realized that I would look more beautiful to him every year.

He said it had nothing to do with me glowing. “Even though you are.” He was standing on a ladder when he said it, which made it seem almost Shakespearean.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> If you die in a freak combine accident, I’m going to marry Mitch and live happily ever after. (I’m going to live happily ever after because Mitch is the best husband ever. Mitch, however, will spend the rest of his life pining for his one true love. You.)

<<Jennifer to Beth>> My appointment is at 12:30.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> I’ll be ready to go by noon.

CHAPTER 55

CHUCK THE COPY editor had invited Lincoln to join the nightside breakfast club. A few editors and a few people from paste-up got together every Wednesday at noon at a diner downtown. Chuck told him the paste-up people were a cross between copy editors and artists, but with knives. He’d taken Lincoln down to the production room one night to watch them work.

The Courier still didn’t paginate on computers, so all the stories were printed out in long columns, then cut and pasted down with wax on master pages, different masters for each edition. Lincoln had watched a paste-up artist rebuild the front page on deadline, slicing and waxing columns, and rearranging them like puzzle pieces.

The paste-up artists and the copy editors were pretty sure they could still get the newspaper out on time New Year’s morning, even if the computers failed them.

“When do they not fail us?” Chuck said through a mouth full of club sandwich. “No offense, Lincoln.”

“None taken,” Lincoln said.

“Are the computers going to fail?” one of the artists asked him, licking ketchup off her thumb. She asked it like she was hoping he’d say yes. Lincoln couldn’t remember her name, but she had all-over- the-place hair and big brown eyes. He didn’t like thinking about her with an X-Acto knife.

“I don’t think so,” Lincoln said. “It’s pretty simple coding, and we’ve got a crack team of international computer experts working on it.” He’d meant that to sound sarcastic, but it had come out pretty sincere.

“Are you talking about that Croatian kid who fixed the color printer?” Chuck asked.

“Somebody fixed the color printer?” Lincoln asked.

“I just know that I’m not taking the heat if the publisher can’t read his paper while he eats his soft- boiled egg on New Year’s morning,” Chuck said. “I’m going to have child support by then.”

Even Doris was worried about the Y2K bug.

She’d asked Lincoln that week if she should even bother coming to work on New Year’s Day. When the computers all stopped, she asked, would the vending machines be affected? Lincoln had told her he didn’t think that anything was going to stop. He’d offered her a slice of sweet potato pie.