Trying the Knot by Todd Erickson Page A

you weren’t too patronizing.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’re as fake as Kate or Nick.”
    “How so?”
    “You’re a total snob, Thaddeus,” she said, a
matter of fact. “And the worst kind of snob.”
    “I’m not a snob.”
    “Oh, please,” she said, laughing. “You act so
friendly and interested, when in reality you couldn’t care less how
the former queen of Porknorth wastes away her life. It’s so
phony.”
    “I am not a snob,” he repeated.
    “Admit it. It’s not as if I’m not one, but
I’m honest about it.” Chelsea walked faster, and Thad let her take
the lead. “You were only nice to her to find out what her plans are
now that her boyfriend knocked up her sister.”
    “Not true.”
    “Don’t deny it. The only difference between
us is I don’t care.”
    “Oh, and I do?”
    She smiled to herself, amused by his failing
to catch the irony of his statement. “Not in the least. It’s simply
another salacious tidbit to distract you from your own pitiful
existence.”
    “Oh my God, you’re such a bitch.”
    “Takes one to know one, and I take that as a
compliment coming from you.”
    “What did you write in the sand?”
    “Keep your laws off my vagina.”
    With the breeze from the lake pushing against
their backsides, they walked past the old museum. Thad, Ben, and
occasionally Chelsea, used to hang out there regularly throughout
grade school. They all suffered intense prepubescent crushes on the
cute girl who worked there. She encouraged them to explore freely,
and they took full advantage of her hospitality. When they weren’t
listening to ancient records on the Victrola or poring over archaic
photographs, they were playing in the simulated general store. On
rainy days, the young curator brought her guitar to work and sang
to them in the turn-of-the-century parlor. They fought more than
once over whom she liked best. That was before junior high, when
Thad became a recluse and Ben became friends with Nick, and Chelsea
stopped climbing trees.
    As they approached the Portnorth Porthole
newspaper building, Thad guessed correctly Chelsea was not ready to
go home. “Come upstairs for a while,” he invited. “I’m working on a
Back to School insert of all things. We can day-drink.”
    “Sounds fantastic. I’ll need to sneak in a
stiff one to face Nick and Kate,” Chelsea said. She followed him
past the main desk, where their class salutatorian worked as a
receptionist. Chelsea had been valedictorian. She breathed a sigh
of relief as they slunk unnoticed through the empty ground floor
and ascended the backstairs. Although it ended five years ago, it
felt like high school would haunt her forever.
    She propped herself up on Thad’s messy desk
and sat crossed-legged. Awaiting a drink, Chelsea appeared to be an
excited eight-year-old anticipating getting her ears pierced for
the first time or something equally risque. Thad poured two shots
of vodka, and she said, “It’s daylight still, but considering the
circumstances hitting the bottle seems justified, don’t you
think?”
    “Hell, it’s noon somewhere.”
    “I think it’s supposed to be, it’s five
o’clock somewhere,” she corrected. “What the hell, this wedding is
a fiasco.” She raised her glass to her lips.
    Thad toasted, “To coma victims
everywhere.”
    Chelsea choked, and it took her a few seconds
to recover. She said severely, “I know you probably don’t care, but
I personally think you have an obligation to tell Kate about Nick’s
fling with Vange.”
    Thad raised his hands in protest. “You can’t
be serious. What good could come out of it?”
    She firmly set her drink down on the
cluttered desk. “Don’t even think about withholding this
information from Kate, not for one minute. Nick might be the reason
why Vange is in the hospital, and if that’s the case, then I don’t
see any alternative – you have to tell Kate.”
    “It’s none of my business.”
    “You can’t honestly believe