Page 46 of The Summer Club

He walked to the door, giving her a wide berth in the small room.

“No!” Cora cried. “Answer my question first.”

Charley turned, looking pained.

“What makes you think you know me?” she barked.

“From listening. Your parents are from Ohio and your mother wanted to be an artist. Like you.”

She bit her lip. “So you eavesdropped.”

Charley shrugged. “Pretty hard not to, with three people in a two-person dorm room. I remember you said you felt like you were living her dream sometimes. But that after everything she’d done for you, it was a small burden.”

“What about it?” This detail embarrassed her deeply and she felt her cheeks flush. She’d not even recalled Charley being in the room when she shared that with Robert.

“It told me how loyal you were to your mother. How grateful too.”

“That was private. It doesn’t mean anything to you.”

He looked past her, to the window. “I remember the day Robert was going to a protest on the quad. He wanted to rally a lot of people, he was really pumped up. But up to the day before he hadn’t even advertised it.”

Robert was full of big ideas and told even bigger stories. Cora had been so attracted to that energy.

“He was tired from a frat party the night before, but you stayed up all night making those signs. Organizing people. I saw you working in our common room until midnight. That’s dedication.”

“I was only helping.”

“Did he even thank you for that help?”

“I don’t remember,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Yes, you do.”

Cora did not like all the things Charley was saying: personal things. About her. But she could not stop listening either. He understood so much.

“You saw me make signs. You listened to our private conversations.” She threw up her hands. “That doesn’t mean anything, Charley.”

He looked down at his bandaged hand. “The essay you were both assigned for that Faulkner class you and Robert took together? You came over to help him, though I think you ended up writing the whole thing yourself.”

She made a face.

“There was that one line, that you read aloud. ‘A man like that in the desert, dying of thirst. He was more barren, more parched, than the landscape that consumed him.’?”

Cora took a step back. “I wrote that.”

“You did.” He looked up at her. “It was the most beautiful and sad thing I think I’d ever heard.”

“I can’t believe you remember it.” Outside, the rain picked up, pelting her windows. The gray skies turned her room to shadows. “What do you want from me, Charley?” Tears pressed at her eyes.

“I’m in love with you, Cora. From the moment Robert brought you to our room I fell in love. First, because of your smile. Then, because of your mind. And your heart. I tried not to be, believe me. But you were always there, and I guess I just gave in.” He held up his hands. “Who can blame me?”

“I don’t love you, Charley. I barely know you.” The words came out like stone. But he had to know this.

“Let me help you, Cora. Let me help you and the baby. I can give you a good life. Everything you and your baby will need. I think we can make something out of that, together. And even if you never fall in love with me, I will love you enough for the two of us.”

It was preposterous. Outrageous. And an offer so generous she was afraid of it.

When Charley graduated in May, Cora stood in the crowd clapping softly for him. With the baby already growing in her belly, they married that summer in a small civil service. Cora did not return to Vassar for her senior year, just as Charley did not attend Yale medical school. Instead, they moved into a small house outside of the city and Charley began working for the family foundation, to his grandparents’ delight and his mother’s despair. Any talk of medical school fell away as quietly as the leaves from the trees that fall semester.