Elin Hilderbrand - Silver Girl

“Meredith?” Toby said. He thought she was running away.

“Come on!” she screamed.

They made love on Toby’s bed amid his rumpled sheets, which smelled like him. The sex was urgent, quick, rough, and desperate. Afterward, Meredith lay panting; the inside of her elbow hurt from where Toby had pinned her. Toby touched Meredith’s hair, her graying hair, she was so much older now, but there was something fountain of youth-like about this summer. Meredith felt seventeen. She grabbed Toby’s hand-the thought of being touched gently unnerved her-and she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it first, then bit it.

“Ouch!” he said.

“I’m starving,” she said.

That night, she feared she might dream about Freddy or Samantha or the warden at Butner-but instead she dreamed about their dog, Buttons. In Meredith’s dream, Buttons was Toby’s dog. He was standing on the bow of Toby’s boat, eating a striped bass. Meredith was yelling at him-No! Please Buttons. No, you’ll get sick! Toby was dressed in a white naval cadet’s uniform, with the brass buttons and flat-top hat. He tried to pull the fish away from Buttons, but Buttons fought back like a junkyard dog and Toby ended up reeling backward and falling into the water. Meredith checked over the edge, but there was no sign of him, except for his floating hat. He had disappeared.

She woke up. Toby was propped on one elbow, watching her. She had inhaled the plate of food that Connie had made her, as well as a dish of panna cotta with berries, which Toby had brought to her in bed. She had left the smeared dishes on Toby’s nightstand, and she’d fallen asleep without brushing her teeth. Now, she felt louche and irresponsible. Her elbow still hurt, and there was a dull soreness between her legs.

She couldn’t help wondering if Freddy had ever gazed at her like this. She wanted so badly to believe that he had, but it was probably time to admit that Freddy had only adored himself. And money. And, possibly, Samantha. Meredith almost hoped he had adored Samantha, because that, at least, would mean Freddy was human.

She said to Toby, “I dreamed I lost you.”

“I’m right here,” he said.

Later, Meredith tiptoed naked across the hallway to her bedroom and climbed out onto her Juliet balcony for one quick second, almost daring the paparazzi to come get her. You’re the best Meredith right now. She nearly laughed at the thought. She could do so much better than this.

Meredith slipped on a robe and padded down to the outdoor shower. She stayed in as long as she could in good conscience, and then she went back upstairs to dress. Toby was asleep in his bed, snoring. Meredith gently closed his door.

She retreated to her room. She pulled the cardboard box out of the closet. In that box was the spiral-bound notebook that she had been taking notes in on the day that Trina Didem interrupted her anthropology class to tell Meredith that her father was dead. Meredith had kept the notebook.

It still had plenty of empty pages. Meredith lay across her bed the way she used to as a schoolgirl. She meant to write Freddy a long letter that would elicit all the answers she needed, but the only two words that came to her, which she traced over and over again until the letters were heavy and dark, were OBLIVION and LOVE.

These were her crimes.

Dan would be gone for three days. Four, really, because he was coming back on the late boat on Monday, so Connie wouldn’t see him until Tuesday. When she said good-bye to him, she felt a sick kind of desperation, which she tried to hide.

It was Dan who said, “I can’t believe how much I’m going to miss you.”

“And it’s only three days,” Connie said. What she meant was: Think how bad it will be a week from now when I go back to Maryland.

But then, too, Dan was excited about his camping trip with the boys. Connie had taken a gander at all their equipment: the three-season tent, the Coleman stove, the sleeping bags and air mattresses, the fishing poles and tackle box overflowing with flies, the generator and heavy-duty flashlights, the grocery bags of ramen noodles and peanut butter and instant oatmeal.

“We’re going to catch fish and fry it up,” Dan said. “We’re going to hike and swim in waterfalls. We are going to survive.”

Connie pretended to be excited for him. He would be consumed with the wilderness, leaving little time to pine for Connie.

She kissed him good-bye in his driveway-self-consciously, because the boys were in the house-and then she drove away.

She needed something to keep her mind occupied. But what? And then it came to her. She would teach Meredith to cook.

“You’re going to teach me to cook?” Meredith said. “Me?”

“I’m going to teach you the basics,” Connie said. “So when you’re…”

“Living alone…”

“You can feed yourself,” Connie said.

“Cheaply,” Meredith said.

“Right,” Connie said. She smiled uneasily. She wanted to ask Meredith what her plans were once Labor Day arrived, but she didn’t want to cause Meredith any additional anxiety. But really, what was she planning on doing? Where would she go? To Connecticut, to live near her boys? Before the most recent development with Freddy, Connie had feared that Meredith would move to North Carolina. That wouldn’t happen now, thank God. Meredith needed to cut bait-Dan’s term-and set herself free from that man. It was Connie’s opinion that, in refusing to see her or talk to her on the phone, Freddy was doing Meredith a favor. He was giving her a chance to liberate herself. Really, Freddy was acting out of kindness-either that, or he was too much of a coward to answer for his actions.

“You can stay here, you know,” Connie said. The house had heat. Connie had toyed with the idea of staying here herself. What reason did she have to go back to Bethesda? The powers that be had asked her to serve on the board of directors at the VA, so she could look forward to a lifetime of meetings in the building that had been more important to Wolf than his own life. She would go back to Bethesda because that was where her life was-her friends, her Whole Foods, her UPS man. She would go back to Bethesda because that house was where Ashlyn had grown up, and Connie would keep it for her, in case she ever decided to come back. Pointless? Probably.

“I can’t stay here,” Meredith said. “I’ve imposed on you long enough.”

“You know better than to say that.”

“I still have time to think about it,” Meredith said. “I don’t have to decide today. And there’s still a chance that I’ll be…”

Connie held up a hand. She couldn’t stand to hear Meredith say it. She turned to her cutting board. “The first thing I’m going to teach you is how to chop an onion.”

They chopped onion, shallot, garlic. They sautéed the shallot in butter. Connie showed Meredith how to move the shallot around the sauté pan with a wooden spoon. They added white wine and reduced it. They added Dijon mustard. They added heavy cream, salt and pepper, and a handful of fresh herbs.

“There,” Connie said. “We have just made a mustard and herb cream sauce. You can add grilled sausage and serve this over pasta. You can substitute lemon juice for the Dijon and add shrimp.”

Meredith was taking notes. It was so elementary, who needed notes? But Meredith had always been that kind of student.

Connie poached some chicken breasts in water, white wine, and celery leaves. She let the chicken cool, then shredded it with two forks.

“You don’t even need a food processor,” Connie said.

“That’s good,” Meredith said. “Because I can’t afford one.”

“You can probably buy one on eBay for cheap,” Connie said.

“And which computer will I be using when I bid on eBay?” Meredith said, “And which credit card will I use?” She smiled. “I’m only kidding. I still have some money. Very little, but some. All I need is the guts to apply for a new credit card. All I need is the courage to walk into the public library and ask to use the Internet.”

“Correct,” Connie said. “You’re a free citizen. You can do these things, and no one-no one, Meredith-can stop you.”

They did eggs next. Eggs were cheap. Connie mixed three eggs with a little milk and some salt and pepper. She threw some butter in the frying pan.

“Scrambled eggs,” Connie said. “Low heat, slow motion. You can add any kind of cheese you want. I like cheddar or Gruyère.”

“Does my future include Gruyère cheese?” Meredith asked.

“Cheddar, then,” Connie said.

“Government cheese,” Meredith said. She laughed. “Do you think the government would even give me cheese? If they don’t indict me, maybe they will give me cheese.”

Connie turned off the burner under the eggs; they were rich and creamy. She threw in a handful of fresh thyme, and the aroma enveloped them. “Do I need to worry about you?” she asked.

“Yes,” Meredith said. She smiled, then she reached out to hug Connie. “This is amazing, Con. You’re helping me.”

“No,” Connie said. “You’re helping me.”

They ate the scrambled eggs right out of the pan, and then they moved on to quiche. Connie used a prepared pie shell-Meredith wasn’t ready to make her own pastry dough-and mixed up a basic custard of eggs, half-and-half, and salt and pepper.

“You can add anything you want,” Connie said. “Bacon, sausage, chopped ham, chopped Spam, government cheese, scallions, chives, wild onions you find on the side of the road, diced tomatoes, diced zucchini, mushrooms, you name it. Then you pour it into the crust like this, and bake it at three fifty for fifty minutes.”

Meredith took notes. Connie shredded some Emmental cheese and added chopped deli salami and some diced tomatoes and snipped chives. She slid the quiche into the oven. They would eat it for lunch.