Page 123 of Boiling Point
The silence stretched, taut and unforgiving.
Then, finally, she said, “I’m mad you lied to me about it.”
My stomach dropped. “What do you mean, I lied?” I asked, careful to keep my voice even. “I told you I went to England with my boyfriend, stayed with his family, and got back Saturday.”
“Your boyfriend.” It wasn’t a question. “Remind me, who is that again?”
I scanned the room for a lifeline and found only the sun pooling on the carpet and the dull hum of the air conditioner. “You…don’t know him.”
Her spoon clinked, followed by the slow drag of her inhale. “Calvin Green, you told me. Another student from your physics class?”
“I—” The pause was my only defense. “I know him from physics, yes.”
A rustle—papers, maybe. When her voice returned, it held the brittle sweetness of a pie crust about to crack. “So, here’s the funny thing. You know me—I’m nothing if not a diligent aunt,” she said. “I tried to look him up, but I couldn’t find any Calvin Green associated with Page College.”
“No…?”
“But you know who I found instead?”
My mouth went dry. “Who?”
She let it hang, relishing the power. “A dashing physicsprofessorby the name of Cal Hawthorne.”
For once in my life, I had no words.
“I did a little more digging, reached out to a few friends, called in a few favors. Turns out, he’s not just any professor. He wasyourprofessor this spring. He’s quite British, and, according to one of his colleagues in the physics department, just spent two weeks visiting family in England.”
I swallowed hard, then found my voice. “How many privacy laws did you have to break to get all that?”
A brittle laugh. “Honey, there’s no such thing as privacy once you’re on the internet. Or in a faculty directory.”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye. “I didn’t want you to think?—”
“To think what?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cut with a serrated edge. “That you were dating your professor? That you got on a plane with a man twice your age and flew halfway around the globe?”
“He’s not twice my age.”
“That’sthe part you defend?”
I answered with silence.
Her inhale was shaky, hard. “You should have told me the truth, Gabrielle.”
“You wouldn’t have been okay with it.”
“No,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have. I don’t know what I would’ve done—maybe thrown a fit, maybe tried to talk you out of it. But at least I wouldn’t have had to find out like some dumb suburban mom on aDatelinererun.”
“You’re not my mom.” It came out hotter than I’d intended. Acid laced with exhaustion. But I didn’t take it back.
She paused. “No. I’m not. But I’m the closest thing you’ve ever had.” Her voice dropped. “So I’m going to ignore that.”
The silence after that was so absolute I could hear the blood move through my ears.
“Are you going to tell me the whole truth now?” Aunt Suzy asked. Her voice was gentler than I expected, more stunned than angry. “No more redactions. No more ‘Calvin Green’ bullshit. I want the whole story. Start to finish.”
I took a breath and tasted metal. “Okay.” My voice came out thready.
She waited, not filling the space, and let me do the heavy lifting.
