As Ethan made his way up to the third floor, he had none of the familiar anxieties of where he was going to hang out on a Saturday night, whether he would have people to talk to. In a burst of warmth, he felt his life sprawl forward in a great parade of possibilities: meeting his true love in a bookshop in New Haven, working as an artist in New York, visiting friends who lived in Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire. Some of these things might happen; some of them might not. It didn’t matter, for it was suddenly all there for the taking, as if the world had offered itself to him, as if he had found a door, and needed only to open it to be let in.
CHAPTER 4
That evening, Todd decided to end things with Alex. They met in their usual spot in the Caldwell Memorial Garden, on an oak bench next to a trellis overgrown with wisteria. There had always been something he liked about this garden. It was bordered by tall hedges, so he could sit in it undisturbed; sometimes even, if he were feeling bold, to sneak a cigarette. Broken pieces of statuary were arranged among the foliage; when the school’s land, having previously been the site of a grand nineteenth-century estate, was converted into a seminary, the priests had destroyed all the statues on the grounds, breaking off their heads, arms, legs. Dozens of classical icons—likenesses of Venus, Adonis, swans and goats, gargoyles, a head of Athena, one of Medusa as well—seemingly worthless at the time, had been dismembered and buried across the property. The school had unearthed most of the statues, everything that could be discovered on the formal grounds, and had donated them to a museum in Hartford, where they had been properly restored and preserved. But occasionally in the woods, students would come across a decapitated female torso, or a giant lion’s paw. The broken pieces were totems, markers of where they were in the forest. Here in the garden, there were a few examples that had been saved: a torso of Adonis, nestled next to a bush of yellow roses; a gargoyle’s head, bewitching as it gazed over a plot of pink petunias; a swan next to the trellis, nearly intact save for a broken wing.
As Todd sat with Alex in the chilly night air, he explained to her that with college applications and keeping his grades up, he didn’t have time for a relationship. He knew it was a lie, and he sensed that she did, too. He was no longer interested in sleeping with her; everything that had been so exciting six months ago had vanished. Alex was the coolest girl he had ever known—pretty, smart, a dry sense of humor. But something was missing, some essential ingredient Todd imagined relationships to have. He thought about all the girls he had dated: there had been a string of them, starting when he was thirteen years old, all attractive, some smarter than others, all of whom wanted a piece of him. One by one, he had broken up with them. He would retreat into his boy-world of hanging out with Miles and Izzy, watching sports and playing pinball, until another girl captured his attention. Things would go swimmingly until his interest waned again.
Alex suddenly looked very small, like a wounded bird, all her Greenwich-born prep school bravado having left her. “If you want to take a break, that’s what we should do,” she said quietly.
He didn’t want her to cry. He couldn’t stand it when she cried. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I felt differently.” The words felt like cardboard coming out of his mouth.
He took a deep breath, relieved her reaction had not been tears and hysteria. As they walked back to the snack bar together, a safe distance of several feet between them, Todd felt a weight, an anxiety that held the black shade of depression, leaving him. The future was like an open field, white, snowy, clear.
The following Saturday was Parents Weekend. Todd sat waiting for his mother on one of the leather couches in the entryway of the main building. Jackie was driving up from New York that morning; most parents had arrived the previous night, and most had taken their children out to dinner, but his mother had needed to attend a cocktail party, which had prevented her from coming until now. Todd supposed he should be grateful she would be there at all.
He looked out nervously at the main circle. Todd wanted to intercept her before she did anything embarrassing. He hoped she hadn’t gone too heavy on the fancy jewelry.
He jumped up when he saw her clicking her way across the rotunda of the main entryway. Outfit: conservative, a navy blue suit. Jewelry: understated. Hair: swept up in a French twist, a few blond strands falling around her temples. Todd felt himself relax, ever so slightly. Finally, after all of his and his brother’s years at Berkley, his mother had gotten the message that prep school was not a fashion show, at least not the kind she was accustomed to in New York.
“Hi, Mom,” he said shyly. From five feet away, he could tell she had not gone easy on the perfume.
“Darling,” she said, kissing him on both cheeks. “The roads were incredible this morning! Soaking wet. You’re lucky I made it here alive! Let’s get some coffee. I’m famished.”
They walked down the hallway together toward the dining room. Todd tried to pay attention to her, and not to what he imagined were the stares coming from everyone around him. It was true; he knew he should accept it. Among the Berkley parents—the WASPy, the frumpy, the fat, the simply strange—his mother was the most glamorous.
Jackie charged into the dining hall like an old pro, grabbing a tray for both of them. “Just coffee for me,” she said. “Black.”
“Don’t you want a piece of fruit or something?” Todd asked. “You should eat.”
“Fine, I’ll take an apple,” she said.
To his right Todd noticed that his English teacher, Ms. Davis, was filling up the large mug of tea she carried with her everywhere she went. She turned around just as Todd was about to leave the service area. Please, he thought, please don’t talk to us. It was too early in the morning to deal with his teacher and whatever her agenda was that day.
Ms. Davis and her bright green eyes had already spotted them.
“Todd!” she said, smiling at him and his mother. “Is this your mother?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
Jackie extended her hand and introduced herself. “Are you a teacher of Todd’s?”
“English,” she said, firmly returning the handshake. “And I understand you’re a writer yourself?”
“That’s right,” Jackie said, smiling.
“We had a wonderful reading last night. Did Todd tell you about it?”
Todd cringed. He had skipped the reading, even though Ms. Davis had told the class they should attend.
“No!” his mother said. “What type of reading?”
“A nonfiction writer, a recent alumna of the school, actually.”
Oh no, Todd thought, here it comes.
“She read from her new memoir about being a boarding school student and exploring her lesbian identity.”
“How wonderful!” Jackie said brightly. Todd realized that his mother could read his teacher like a book herself. It was common knowledge that Ms. Davis was seeing Ms. Hedge, the art teacher.
Come on, please let it end here, he thought.
Todd’s mother leaned forward with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “You know, it is so wonderful that the gay community has an outlet these days.”
Todd reddened. It came back to him, something his mother’s agent had lovingly called her at a dinner party after a few glasses of wine: “the World’s Biggest Fag Hag.” He remembered, too, what she had said in return: “I accept the honor completely.”
He touched his mother’s arm to indicate that they should get going.
“Will we get to sit in on one of your classes today?” Jackie said to Ms. Davis.
“Yeah, third period,” Todd said.
“Fabulous! I can’t wait.”
Todd pulled his mother to the farthest corner of the dining hall, where he would be sure