“Nope. Just a posed picture of this woman.”
“I’d think his own wife or girlfriend or whatever would be right pissed.”
“He’s not married. He lives alone except for a dog.”
“Then I’d think he was having an affair with his brother’s wife.”
“I don’t think so. Because when she came to visit, he took the picture down. So if they were having an affair, she’d know how he feels. He wouldn’t have to hide it.”
“The very fact that she’d come to visit him without her husband seems to bolster my theory.”
“Oh, no. Her husband—this guy’s brother—he came, too.”
“Then maybe that’s who he was hiding the picture from.”
“Maybe,” I said.
But I didn’t believe it. I didn’t think that’s how it was. Paul’s life seemed too sad and empty for that. He seemed more like the kind of guy who would just sit in a corner by himself and feel what he felt and not act on it. Then again, what did I know? There could have been all kinds of things I didn’t know about those two. I’m just saying how it felt.
I read the title of the novel to her, and she repeated it back to me, which was sort of her way of saying, “Check.”
“It just seems weird to me. How there are these people who are alone, and they act like they’re alone by choice, like all they want is to be alone. And I believe them, because why wouldn’t I believe them? And then it turns out they don’t want it that way at all. Nobody tells the truth. Haven’t you noticed that?”
“Yeah, I might’ve noticed that,” she said. Then there was a pause, like she was waiting for me to read off another title. When I didn’t, she said, “Is this an actual person, or are you doing that ‘my friend has a problem’ thing?”
“No, he’s real. Not exactly a friend. Well. Sort of a friend. I guess. Do you think it’s weird that I only have two people who are even sort of like friends, who I even talk to at all like you’d talk to a friend, and they’re not kids? One is sixty-five, and the other is your age.”
“You don’t know how old I am, so how do you know?”
“Well. She’s you. You’re your age. Right?”
“I never talk about my age, so I’m not saying.”
Nobody said anything for a time, so I stuck my head out, and she was looking right at me. I pulled my head back again. I always felt like a turtle when I was doing inventory with Nellie.
“Don’t joke your way out of answering my question, though. Is it weird?”
I heard her sigh. “You must know you’re bizarrely mature for your age. Very little about your brain seems even remotely fourteen. You know that, right?”
I walked out from behind the shelves and sat in the big stuffed chair. Picked at a frayed spot on the cuff of my jeans.
“I think it’s because my mom acts sort of younger than me in some ways. But I’m not really sure it’s true, what you said. I mean, I feel fourteen enough. But I don’t have anything in common with anyone my age, and everybody says what you’re saying, so it must be true.”
I just sat there picking for another minute or so. Then I looked up suddenly and wondered what I was doing.
“What the hell? I didn’t even mean to sit down. We have inventory to do.”
I scrambled up again.
Nellie said, “It’ll hold. You want to talk, talk.”
“No. I don’t want to talk. I hate talking. I want to get this done for you.”
I found my way back to the spot where I’d left off. I always left the last book sticking out a little, so I wouldn’t lose my place. I pulled out the next book and held it in my hand.
It was The Tibetan Book of the Dead.
My heart nearly stopped.
“Oh, shit,” I might’ve said. Or maybe I just thought it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh. Nothing.” So I hadn’t just thought it. “Nothing. The Tibetan Book of the Dead. This one doesn’t exactly have an author. Just a translator. Can you use that as an author?”
She never answered the question. She just asked, “Have you read that one?”
I let out a little laugh that sounded more like a fast sigh. “No. I haven’t read that one. I know what it’s about, but I haven’t read it.”
“Is it about what it sounds like it’s about?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Understanding what happens when somebody dies.”
“Since it’s part of Tibetan culture, I’m surprised you didn’t read it cover to cover seven times at the library.”
“Not sure I want to read this one.”
“Want to take it home and decide? I owe you lots of books and money for all this work. It’s yours, if you want it.”
I couldn’t answer the question. I literally couldn’t. I just stood there with the book in my hand and couldn’t say a word.
Finally, I walked out from between the shelves. Still carrying the Dead book. Walked right up to her counter without ever looking at her. I was still looking at the cover.
“Have you lost someone you were close to?” she asked.
I was trying to decide whether or not to tell her when her head snapped up, and she smiled.
“Oh, look,” she said. “Cathy’s here.”
I looked, too.
She’d mentioned somebody named Cathy once, and I’d filed it away in there somewhere, but I hadn’t thought too much about who she was. I actually thought Nellie had an employee I hadn’t met yet.
Cathy walked in, grinning. I didn’t think she was an employee. It was Sunday. And besides, no one’s that happy about getting to work.
She looked Asian, or maybe half Asian, and her hair was no longer than mine. She was a little bit older than Nellie. Old enough to have laugh lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes.
Meanwhile, Nellie was introducing us, but all I was doing was staring.
Cathy walked right around behind the counter, like she owned the place just as much as Nellie, and slid one arm around Nellie’s waist. Then she kissed her on the cheek.
I took one long step back.
Then they both looked at me, I guess because I stepped back and accidentally dropped The Tibetan Book of the Dead. I reached down fast to pick it up, and banged my head hard on Nellie’s counter. Hard enough that I saw these little bursts of light. It was the first time I ever understood that thing about seeing stars.
I heard Nellie say, “Ow. You okay, kiddo?” But it sounded far away.
I tried again for the book, and when I had it, I set it on the counter. But I shouldn’t have straightened up so fast, because it made me dizzy.
“You okay?” Cathy asked. She looked kind of… puzzled.
“I need to use your bathroom,” I said.
Then I just dove off in that direction as fast as I could go.
I was just opening the door to the back room when I heard Cathy say, “That was weird. What was that all about?”
I couldn’t hear what Nellie said back. It was a mumble.
“Young homophobe-in-training?” Cathy asked. She had a loudish voice. It carried.
But then Nellie spoke up more and said, “That’s just about the dumbest thing you ever said to me. Is your gaydar in the repair shop or something? She has a little crush on me, that’s what that was about. Use your head.”
By that time, I was hanging onto one of the bookshelves. Like I would fall over if I didn’t. Which wasn’t out of the question. I could feel my heart hammering. And I hated it. I was so tired of it. I would have traded my life away in one of those heartbeats, because I was so tired of feeling.
Cathy said, “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have been leaving you two alone so much.”
Nellie sounded mad then. She said, “Don’t even joke about it, Cathy. It’s not funny at all. She’s fourteen.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Cathy said. “I didn’t know she was that young. She seems older.”
“Yeah, we were just talking about that. You know, we shouldn’t be… I have to
check. We shouldn’t be talking about her like this. I have to make sure she’s where she can’t hear us.”
The deeper she got into that thought, the more I could hear she was coming closer. But I couldn’t move. I was completely frozen. I didn’t have time to get into the back room, and I couldn’t, anyway. I didn’t even have time to will myself to die on the spot. Which I definitely would have. If she hadn’t shown up when she did.
I looked up, and there she was, at the end of the shelves. Looking right at me.
“Angie,” she said.
I let go of the shelf. Stood on my own. I wouldn’t look at her. I looked down at the pattern on the carpet.
She didn’t move, and neither did I.
Then all of a sudden, I got unstuck. I walked right at her. Like I was going to bowl her down. I couldn’t even open my mouth to say “Excuse me” or “Get the hell out of my way.” But she seemed to get the idea that she’d better.
I could feel my shoulder slam into her as I passed her in that small space. I could tell it knocked her off balance. But I just kept going. Didn’t look back. Didn’t look at Cathy as I walked by. I’d rather have jumped into a pit of scorpions. I just kept looking at the carpet until I was free.
When I got out on the sidewalk, the light was too bright. It cut through my eyes and my brain like a knife.
I heard her call my name again.
“Angie!”
I broke into a run.
“Angie, wait up!”
I didn’t.
I ran all the way home.
I could see Aunt Vi’s house at the end of the block, and I was still running. I had a stitch in my chest, and my lungs ached. I could have stopped. There was no real reason not to. I told myself that. But I wasn’t stopping.
Maybe I wanted to hurt.
That was when I heard Sophie. Her siren wail. And just for a second, I thought, Oh, shit. If I can hear her from the end of the block, that’s bad. That’s worse than bad. That’s a freaking disaster.
Then it hit me that the sound was coming from behind me.
I stopped and turned around, crouching a little to lean the heels of my hands on my knees. So I wouldn’t fall right over. Just trying to halfway get my breath back. I lifted my head as much as I could.
My mom pulled up in our old station wagon, Sophie screaming in the backseat. And… get this… she was pulling a trailer. It wasn’t one of those open trailers that people usually rent when they’re moving. It was the kind that looked like a horse trailer, except with no open places for a horse to look out and barely big enough for a pony. It spelled moving, all right. There was nothing else it could mean.
I squeezed my eyes closed.
At first, I tried to resist it. Like, No, this can’t be happening. Not everything at once like this. Then I hit that place where things are so bad that you don’t fight anymore. Where you’re beyond even trying to save yourself. Where you just go belly up and sink to the bottom.
I just folded up.
“Get in,” my mom said.
She’d leaned over and rolled down the passenger-side window. The car was so old, it didn’t even have power windows. The shrieking got way louder.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t, I think.
But then a neighbor we didn’t know came out on the porch to see what the awful noise was.
“Hurry,” she said.
So I got myself to move.
I plunked into the seat, still trying to breathe. Rolled up the window as she pulled away.
I thought we were going back to Aunt Vi’s, which was only a few houses down from where she’d picked me up. But she drove right by.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“What happened to your head?” she asked, almost at the same time.
We were both shouting to be heard over the Sophie siren.
Then we both just waited. Like the other one would answer.
“Where are we going?” I asked again.
“You first.”
I’m not sure why I let her win that one. I just had no fight left at all.
“Does it look bad? It’s probably not as bad as it looks. I just hit my head reaching down for a book.”
“Why were you running?”
“I just felt like running. It’s your turn. Where are we going?”
“We’re moving.”
“I sensed that. But why aren’t we going to Aunt Vi’s for our stuff?”
“I’ve got our stuff.”
“How could you possibly? I was only gone for…”
“Two and a half hours.”
“How could you get a trailer and pack up all our stuff so fast?”
It was making my throat scratchy to have to talk so loud.
“Because, in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s not much stuff.”
“I can’t stand this. I need my earplugs.”
“I’m sorry. They’re packed.”
“I need to find them.”
“Kiddo, they’re packed. I threw everything in boxes and threw them all in the trailer. How are you ever going to find something that small?”
Something snapped in me. Something that was stretched way too tight in the first place. I put my hands over my ears and dropped my head down and pressed my knees in against my hands and just held my head as tight as I could.
It was still loud.
I could feel us making right turns. One after the other after the other. It took a good five or ten minutes before I could know for a fact that all we were doing was driving around in a circle.
Then it took me another fifteen or twenty minutes to be completely worn down by the pointlessness of the whole thing.
I picked up my head.
“If you’re just going to circle the block, could you let me out at Aunt Vi’s? I gave her a pair of earplugs. Maybe she still has them.”
“I don’t know if we’re welcome there, kiddo.”
“I’m only talking about me. Not all of us. Besides, I want to check and make sure you didn’t forget any of my stuff.”
“There’s not a damn thing left in that bedroom.”
“Did you get my best jacket out of the hall closet?”
“Um…”
“Great. Good job, Mom.”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll drop you back.”
A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of Aunt Vi’s, and I jumped out, and she took off again. I barely had time to close the door.
I stood on the curb and watched her drive away and realized I had no idea when she was coming back for me. But that wasn’t the scary part. The scary part was, I didn’t care. It flashed through my mind what it would be like not to be tied down by either one of them. Sounds terrible, but I thought it. Sure, I was only fourteen. It would be hard to make it on my own. But… harder than this? How could anything be harder than this? I felt like I put more into the arrangement than I got out of it. But I pushed the thought away again.
They were my family, like it or not.
I knocked on Aunt Vi’s door. Just in case I really wasn’t welcome there. When nobody answered, I let myself in with my key.
I found Aunt Vi in the bedroom, in bed, in her faded housecoat. Under the covers, but not asleep. She looked up at me like everything that had ever broken her heart was right in front of her eyes.
“I’m really sorry for all this,” I said.
She smiled that sad smile. “I’m sorrier for you. You can never get away from it like I can. You can’t just say, ‘That’s all I can take.’”
That sank in hard. Because I was right there. Right at that point. It really was all I could take. But she was right. I couldn’t say it. She could draw a line. I couldn’t.
“What happened? How did she find out the dog was gone?”
“The door opened next door, and somebody she’d never seen came out. A woman. And no dog. It was right after you left. She just fell apart. I’ve never seen her like that. And I thought I’d seen her at her worst.”
“I’m not
sure any of us have seen her at her worst,” I said.
Then I wished I hadn’t said it. It was one of those things that was right there to say all along. But it took a really bad day to put me so far off my game that I forgot to avoid it.
“You just missed your friend.”
“What friend?”
“That nice lady from the bookstore. She left a little package for you.”
That hit me like a baseball bat made of ice. So I guess I was kidding myself, thinking I was all the way at the bottom and not even trying to save myself.
“How did she know where I lived?”
“She called, and I told her. We thought you’d be home by the time she got here, but you just missed her. The package is by the door. Where will you all go, dear?”
I made an exasperated sound. It was a wild question to ask me at a time like that. Why did people ask me questions like that, like I was the brains of the outfit? Why didn’t I just get to be a kid?
“I have no… freaking idea.” I almost said something stronger. Not out of anger at her. More as a way of insulting the situation itself. But I reined it in just in time. “Okay. Look, I’m sorry for everything. I’m just going to look around and see if my mom forgot any of my stuff. And… remember those earplugs I gave you? Do you still have them?”
She half sat up. Like she could only think when her brain was upright. “I think they’re in the bathroom cabinet. But you wouldn’t want them once I’d had them in my ears. Would you?”
“I’m kind of desperate.”
“Well… go look.”
I made my way into her bathroom. My own reflection in the mirror floored me. I had a huge purple knot on my forehead, and my eyes looked like I’d just been through a war. I quick opened the cupboard door. Found the earplugs immediately. I knew that color of blue anywhere.
“Thanks,” I said on my way back through her room. I dropped the key on her bedside table. “For everything.”
Then I went into our old bedroom.
I felt around under the bed. Sure enough, my little locked trunk was still under there. So… only the most important things I owned. A doll and two books my dad had given me. One of his old shirts. My Himalayas coffee-table book. A ring that used to belong to Grandma.
I stuck my hand under the mattress and felt around until I got my fingers around the key. Stuffed it deep in my pocket.
Where We Belong Page 9
