Forgive Me Read Free

village now populated by drunks and scientists. In the winter, most of the shingled houses stood empty, barbecue grills sheathed in plastic, porch steps hidden by dull snow. Buttery summer gave way to lead skies by November, skies that barely brightened before June. Winter on the Cape was a time of resting, reflection, and deep depression. After two days in bed, Nadine defied Dr. Duarte’s orders and walked to School Street to visit her oldest friend, Lily.
    “Holy guacamole,” said Lily, opening her front door with her shirt unbuttoned. Nadine tried not to wince at the sound of children shrieking over a loud television.
    “It’s me,” said Nadine.
    “Hm,” said Lily.
    “Can I come in?”
    Lily folded her arms across her giant breasts, but nodded.
             
    “I ’m sorry,” said Nadine, when she was settled into a couch that smelled like pancake syrup and diapers.
    “So you said,” said Lily, “on your
postcard.
” Lily’s newest baby—a girl, by the looks of her pink pajamas—was asleep in the crook of Lily’s arm, and her two-year-old twin boys were watching a video called
Hooray for Dirt
. On the screen, a fat man in a construction helmet drove a bulldozer.
    “It was a year ago,” said Nadine. “Can’t we forgive and forget?”
    “Nadine,” said Lily, “I have three children under three years old. There’s nothing else to fixate on. Breast milk, crayons, and how much I hate you.”
    “But didn’t you have fun in London?”
    “Fun?” said Lily. “I took a boat ride down the Times. I had half a gross warm beer in some pub. The sun never came out. I went to the Tate museum by myself and I was late for the changing of the guard. I was three months’ pregnant, Nadine. I missed Bo and Babe—I came home a day early.”
    “Thames,” said Nadine.
    “What?”
    “It’s pronounced
Thames.
”
    Lily bit her cheek and glared at Nadine. The baby had to be six months old, but Lily still looked pregnant. Her hair was pulled into a French braid, and her roots were showing.
    “Have you lost weight?” said Nadine.
    “Go to hell,” said Lily.
    “Listen,” said Nadine. “Please. It was an important story. I didn’t have a choice. It’s impossible to get an interview with Marcos. It’s funny, Lily, actually. He wears this black ski mask…”
    Lily widened her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know what to say,” she said.
    “I didn’t plan on it,” said Nadine. “I got us show tickets.”
    “Mommy!” said one of the boys—Bo? Babe? Lily ignored him.
    “Do you know what I had to go through to get my mom to take the twins?” said Lily. “I left my babies with a senile witch to fly over and see my best friend—”
    “Let’s have lunch. On me, Lily. We can go up to Boston. I want to tell you all about it. I had to go to this jungle hideout. Marcos comes out wearing a freaking Kalashnikov—”
    “Mom-eeee!” said a twin.
    “I need watch Big Bird!” said the other.
    “I need watch
Fraggle Rock
!” said the first. “Please, Mommy, pleeeease!”
    “I’m sorry you got hurt, Nadine,” said Lily, “but I don’t give a flick about Marcos and his kala-whatever.”
    “It’s a gun.”
    Lily expertly changed the tape in the VCR, the baby still asleep in her arm. The boys settled down with their hands in their laps. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress, Nadine,” she said. “I’m busy, if you don’t mind.”
    “What’s
gun,
Mommy?” asked one boy politely.
    “I need watch Thomas Train!” repeated the other.
    “I need watch Big Bird!”
    “I need gun!”
    The din was getting to be a bit much. Nadine stood. “Lily,” she said, “my interview was on the front page of
The Washington Post.
”
    Lily laughed and sank back down on the couch. Both boys climbed on top of her. The baby slept on. “Meanwhile,” said Lily, “how are the kids, Lily? Do you miss the library? You’re staying home with your children. That’s really wonderful.” As she