Iphigenia Murphy

by Sara Hosey

  “What are you looking for, Anthony?” Corinne asked in her best soap-opera-therapist voice.

  “No, not like that,” Anthony said, laughing at himself. He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “It’s totally cheesy. I just, you know, I wanted something else. I thought maybe I’d find it in the city. But the city is … well, the city is damn expensive, for one thing.” His face flushed and he looked down, embarrassed. I liked that he had said something true, something difficult. I caught his eye and smiled and then looked away quickly.

  “You’re telling me,” Corinne agreed. “But still. It’s pretty awesome.”

  “Yeah,” said Anthony. “I just can’t get enough of the city, to be honest. I’m that total tourist, bumping into people ’cause I can’t stop looking up at the skyscrapers.”

  “Me too!” said Corinne. “I wish I grew up here.” She was pointedly looking at me.

  “Whatever,” I said. “I grew up in Queens.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Yeah, but you have the subway. You have Manhattan.”

  “The only time I ever went to Manhattan was on school trips,” I confessed.

  “What?” Anthony was surprised.

  “Yeah,” I could feel my cheeks starting to redden. It was so lame that I didn’t ever venture out of my borough. I tried to explain. “Manhattan’s like fifteen minutes away, but, I don’t know. It’s far in other ways, you know?”

  “I guess,” Corinne countered. “But I grew up in Jersey and I came to the city almost every weekend once I turned thirteen.”

  I just shrugged. We all sat there for a minute. I could tell Corinne was still kind of gaping at me because of all the stuff I had said. I shot her a look out of the corner of my eye.

  “You got some books there?” Anthony nodded at the little pile of books Corinne had bought from the library.

  “Yeah,” said Corinne. “I was teasing Iffy, I mean my friend here—she’s gonna start her own public park public library. You got a membership card?”

  He shook his head. “How do I get one?”

  “Well, let’s see. I guess you have to make a donation. A significant donation.”

  Anthony looked at me, smiling, and shrugged. “The wallet’s a little light today, but I’m good for it.”

  “I think we can trust him, Corinne,” I put in.

  Corinne looked skeptical but handed him the stack of books. Most were trash, but she had a couple of good ones, a couple I was interested in. Two Stephen Kings, a book called Watership Down, a thriller called A Good Girl.

  Anthony looked at each one and picked out the thickest paperback, Watership Down. Its pages were yellowed and it had a picture of a rabbit on the cover. “Can I borrow this one?”

  “Well. I don’t know …” said Corinne, the strict librarian. I think it all seemed a little absurd to all of us; what did borrowing really mean in this life we were in?

  Anthony looked at us in earnest. “I’ll see you guys again,” he protested.

  I suppose I continued to look dubious. “Well,” he added, kind of shyly. “We could plan to meet up sometime. Where do you guys usually hang out?”

  He was looking at me.

  I smiled.

  Chapter 24

  “Oh my god, he was totally checking you out,” Corinne squealed in my ear as he walked away.

  “Shut up,” I hissed.

  “No, for real! And he’s totally hot. You should hook up with him, Iffy.”

  “Corinne,” I said, exasperated. “Shut up!”

  “What?” She gave me a little push. Angel saw that we were playing and started leaping around, feinting and darting away.

  “You two!” I laughed and complained. “Corinne, I have not had a real shower in, god, I don’t even know how long.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No kidding. I do think this is something you might want to remedy, Iffy.”

  “Whatever. He’s probably just gonna steal our book.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he’ll become a famous musician and he’ll take us both away from all this.” She pulled a face. “He’s looking for something, you know.”

  “Stop it, Corinne,” I groaned. “Don’t be mean.”

  I got up and started putting things away just to have something to do.

  “I’m just kidding,” she said, rising too. “He’s just so … earnest. I guess that’s how they grow them upstate. And you!” she cackled. “With the glasses!” I didn’t look at her, feigning ignorance. “And I’ve never heard you say so much since I met you!”

  “That’s not true,” I protested.

  “It is so true!” she laughed. “I just thought you were quiet. Now I find out that you only talk to boys. You were saving all your energy to be a flirt.”

  “Please, stop.” I was trying to frown but smiling all the same.

  “Iffy, I think that’s awesome,” Corinne was suddenly sincere. “I think he’s cool.” She poked me, and when I looked she was smiling. “Lucky,” she said. “Lucky Iffy.”

  I pretended I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but I could have talked about Anthony—what he looked like, what he said, what he meant when he said whatever he said—I could have talked about those twenty minutes for the next twenty hours. He was just so cute. So cute.

  And I didn’t have my hopes up or anything, but I felt something when I looked at him and he looked at me. Recognition or something. Whatever, I knew it was crazy. But I had a vague sense that I would now better understand all sorts of lyrics that I used to sing along with but never really got.

  Of course I knew there was no way he could actually like me. I was literally a bum. A homeless person. A bag lady.

  Corinne mused, “Crazy days, huh? Henry, that lady, now this guy. Who knew we weren’t invisible, am I right?”

  I smiled.

  “Or maybe we’re still invisible,” she added. “But they can smell us coming?”

  “That bad?” I scrunched my nose.

  “Not good,” she replied. “Why not go over to McDonald’s? Stop at that Rockbottom while you’re there and buy yourself some cosmetics. You need to clean this up,” she said, flapping her hand up and down at my face. “Angel will protect me ’til you get back.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” I suddenly felt guilty. I had completely forgotten about her run-in with Henry.

  “I’m fine. Just need to keep my head down is all. Go now, before it gets too late. Tomorrow,” she promised me, “tomorrow we’ll find that Dougie.”

  Because we didn’t think it was safe for Corinne to show her face, I’d been asking around without her. It had gotten me, predictably, nowhere. Most of the people I approached—homeless, junkies, people sitting on random benches—looked at me like I was crazy and ignored me or told me to get lost when I asked, “Do you know a guy named Dougie? Hangs out in the park?” Others listened and then sneered or acted suspicious or made remarks or jokes, usually at my expense. Without Corinne, people saw me for what I was, a skinny little loser.

  I nodded, uncomfortable with the thought of her going around with me tomorrow, but grateful for her offer of help. There just wasn’t a way to avoid it. I wasn’t getting any info without Corinne.

  I packed up, gave Angel a kiss, took the list, and headed out of the park. I wished I still had my board; walking everywhere takes so much longer. Plus, it would have been fun to ride fast, the board making its chug-chug rhythm over the lines on the sidewalks, broken by the high-pitch of the wheels on the asphalt when I crossed the street, and then the chug-chug again. I resolved to get enough money to get a new board soon, and then to get out of the park more, skate again. Maybe clean myself up a bit more.

  The bathroom at McDonald’s was mercifully empty, although a mom came in with her kid and pulled him close, watching me in the mirror as she stuffed him in a stall. I’d already taken a wet cloth to my face
and now I was brushing my teeth.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t really tell how I looked. Can anybody?

  I still had a bit of blue around my right eye, courtesy of Henry. So, that wasn’t particularly attractive. I was wearing the same old black Ramones muscle shirt, which was cleaner than the shirt I’d come in with and I actually thought was looking better and better with wear. I was definitely scrawny, but otherwise I thought I was looking okay. Lizette had helped me dye my hair earlier in the year, and it was growing out, so it was a few inches of brown, a few inches of black. I had chopped it too, once I got to the park, and now it was down to my chin. I liked it. I had always had long hair before, and I thought this new length was kind of nice. More mature or something. I had small hoop earrings that I never took out and a tiny nose ring that I had forgotten about too. I thought it looked cool, but I also realized it might have been a little scary to that mother who had hustled out of the bathroom.

  I wondered if it looked scary to Anthony.

  Suddenly, I was seeing what I might look like through Anthony’s eyes, and through that jogger’s eyes. Did I look like a weirdo? Did I look desperate?

  I didn’t think so. Not desperate, at least. There was something different in my face now; a new toughness, a way that my mouth was set that wasn’t there before. Strong, I thought. Someone not to be messed with.

  Whatever, though, I told myself. I was totally obsessing about some guy that I had met for like, five minutes. In a park. Because he was living there. That’s pretty bad, I thought to myself. Now you want to date homeless guys? Pretty bad. But still. There was something about him. He seemed really okay. He seemed nice.

  He seemed gentle.

  I got out of the bathroom before someone alerted the manager that there was a homeless chick cleaning up in the sink. I hadn’t been able to resist the smell and I’d already eaten some fries, so I wasn’t too hungry before stopping at Waldbaum’s to get food for camp. I bought crackers, lentils, apples, some powdered milk, and some soft-baked chocolate-chip cookies. Cigarettes too. I wouldn’t waste the money on real cosmetics, but I did buy a cherry Chapstick and baby wipes, and the Oil of Olay hair-removal stuff that Corinne used.

  On the way back to the park I stopped at a pay phone outside a gas station. It smelled like gas, which I actually kind of liked.

  It was cool in the shadow of the station.

  “Who’s this?” Lizette answered.

  “Hey, Zette, it’s Iffy.”

  “Iffy? What the—? Where are you, girl?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “What do you mean nowhere? Everybody’s been so worried about you!” Lizette was shrieking into the phone.

  “I had to go, Lizette.”

  “Why? What are you talking about? Are you talking about your stepmom and all that? You coulda moved in with me and my mom. You coulda just come to my house. Where are you?”

  “I couldn’t live there anymore, Lizette.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “No.”

  “Iffy, what is going on with you? Why don’t you just come back? Just come back,” she repeated. “You can crash with me and my mom. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Thanks, Lizette.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “I know you are. But you know I can’t. Your mom would turn me over to social services in five minutes.”

  “No, Iffy, she really likes you—”

  “I’m not living in some group home.”

  “What are you even talking about? You need to just come back now, Iffy.”

  “I’m okay where I am. Really. I just wanted to let you know that.”

  “Marco was looking for you. He, like, hunted me down and was all like, ‘Tell me where Iffy is.’”

  “He was? I’m sorry, Zette.”

  “He’s a scary dude, Iffy. You know he got arrested?”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “So, I don’t know but I guess they like busted down your door or something. So, they got him on like drugs or something.”

  I felt myself smiling.

  “That’s good,” I said. “I’m glad. But he got out already?”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s what I mean.” Lizette was as serious as I’d ever heard her. “He came over to the playground, he was asking me about you. He thinks you did it, girl. He thinks you turned him in or something.”

  I snorted. “I did!”

  I could almost hear Lizette’s eyes widening. “You did? What are you, crazy? Did you also set him up with Oscar when you left? ’Cause there was a whole thing with that. Your stepbrother got his ass kicked, and he thinks you did that too.”

  I laughed again, out loud. “That’s amazing! Tell me more!”

  “No, for real, Iffy. Like, broken bones. Like, he walks with a real limp now and all.”

  “Good.”

  “You’re crazy. I mean, he keeps bothering me. He kind of, like, pushed me and stuff.”

  “What?”

  “He wanted me to tell him where you were.”

  “Marco pushed you?”

  “Like, just up against a fence. But he got all in my face. He’s pretty scary, Iffy.”

  “Yeah?” My heart pounded, but not with fear. With straight-up rage. Poor Lizette. I could just imagine her there, scared, cornered on the empty playground, hoping someone would help her. I hated him for making my friend feel that way.

  “You just stay away from him, Lizette,” I said harshly, the way a mother would. “You see him, you go the other way. You hear me?”

  “Yeah, sure, Iff, but …” she started. “He’s been actually real nice since then. I don’t know, he’s been coming around the park …”

  “What do you mean, coming around the park?”

  “Like, you know, the playground. He apologized for pushing me and he’s been coming around and bringing snacks and stuff. I think he might, like, like me or something,” she added doubtfully, but in a way that let me know she wasn’t immune to his snakelike charm.

  I was speechless.

  “Iff? You there?”

  “I’m serious,” I said, my voice pinched in my throat. “Don’t let him anywhere near you. I’ll take care of this. I promise.”

  “Iffy, what is going on?”

  Before I could answer she said, “Hold on,” and she shrieked, “Don’t touch that!” She was back. “Just gimme a minute, Iff.” And then, “I said, put it back. Just go watch your show or I’ll turn it off.” And then, “Sorry. I’m watching these kids for my mother. Shoot, Iffy. I wish you would come home. I miss you so much. I wish you would let me help you.”

  “How are you doing, Lizette? I only have another minute so I want to hear about you.” My heart was still pounding and my breath short, but I tried to act normal, to pretend I wasn’t freaking out.

  “Fine,” she said weakly. “It’s been weird without you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I miss you, Iffy.”

  “I miss you too. But, look, Zette. I gotta go. Remember what I told you, right? You see him coming, you go the other way. Marco isn’t nice. He is not a nice person.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, her voice plaintive. She had heard me; she was listening.

  “I gotta go, Lizette.”

  “I miss you, Iffy. You come home. Do you understand me?”

  “I miss you too.” I was trying to keep it together. “Bye, Lizette.”

  “Stay sweet, Iffy,” she said, her voice a bit thin and pleading.

  My quarter hadn’t run out, but I had to get off the phone. I couldn’t concentrate on what Lizette was saying because I was roiling.

  Just because I was safe from him didn’t mean he wasn’t out there. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t bother someone else.

  I wanted to be alone, in the woo
ds. I had to think. I had to figure out what I was going to do. Because I knew I had to do something. Something more.

  Chapter 25

  Getting ready for bed that night, Corinne kept teasing me about Anthony.

  “So, you excited for your big date?”

  “Corinne,” I warned, “he’s meeting up with both of us. It’s obviously not a date.”

  “Will you wear your black tank top or … your black tank top?”

  “I think I’ll go with the black tank top. And it’s not a date.”

  “If you two get married you could have the wedding right here in the park! And then you could live under the bridge together. Like Smurfs.”

  I feigned impatience. “I think they lived in mushrooms or something. But,” I let out an exasperated sigh, “whatever. Good night.”

  “Good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the fleas and ticks bite.”

  “Too late.” And that was the truth. All three of us—me, Corinne, and Angel—had flea bites. Angel really was the one who was crawling with them, but we all slept in the tent, so they jumped off her and onto us. Between the mosquitoes and the fleas, I was always scratching somewhere.

  It had been a hot day, but the night was cool. Most nights were. There were lots of summer storms—not too much rain, but the bottom of the tent would be wet when we woke, and sometimes it was downright cold. I felt good and safe, lying on my side, breathing that musty tent smell. We never went to sleep right away, even though we always waited until we were both really tired before we climbed in. It was still too much like a sleepover: the minute I zipped that tent up, we had a million things to say, to tell each other.

  I was quiet for minute. Then, I turned onto my back. “I called my friend Lizette today.” I spoke into the air above my face. “It was nice to talk to her. She told me my stepbrother got arrested.”