Chapter 5 Lily #3
“Well, aren’t we all?” Emily said. “Especially around here.” She pointed out the glass to the hallway, where an old man shuffled toward the swimming pool.
“He’s heartbroken. And her, too.” She pointed at a woman on a jazzy scooter speeding in the direction of the buffet.
“And her, too. I’m sure of it,” she said, about the housekeeper pushing a cart of toilet paper in the direction of the restrooms. “And I am, too, for that matter. Heartbreak is the human condition in this town. Hell, on Earth. I don’t need a psychic to tell me that.
Come back when you’ve got something better. ”
Perhaps Deidre had, as Emily warned, been keeping an eye on the security footage.
We all heard the click click click of her heels coming toward us.
Des made for the door, her gold earrings clattering as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.
Clara stepped toward me, crooked a finger, and beckoned me to lean forward.
She cupped her hand around my ear, her breath warm on my earlobe as she whispered, “You’ve suffered a reversal in fortune.
You’ve been through a tremendous amount of pain.
You’re lost, and you like having plans, knowing your way. I can help.”
The jolt started in my tailbone, zinged up my spine.
I tried to tell myself that it was just a good guess, that everyone could look at their lives and point to loss or pain.
She could have said the same thing to Emily, who would have found her own truth in the—what?
Prophecy? Even supplying that word in my head made me feel foolish.
But what she had said seemed personal. I felt pulled between na?veté and skepticism—an arrow shot in two directions at once.
She backed away and the corners of her mouth tugged up into a smile.
“Come to the shop and we can talk some more. The address is on the card. Boardwalk and Baltic.” She turned away just as Deidre rounded the partition of frosted glass.
Her mouth hardened when she saw Clara skipping away and Des slipping through the door.
From the other side of the glass, Des blew Deidre a kiss and leaned over to exaggerate her cleavage. It took all my effort not to smirk.
Deidre made a sound of displeasure, cleared her throat. “Emily, I take it you’ve let Lily know about those two? Shrinkage has been quite high in this location in particular, and I would guess that they account for approximately half of it.”
“I have,” Emily said. “I don’t think they managed to make off with anything this time. I kept my eyes on them. It helps to have two of us up here.”
“Good. Lily, why don’t you come with me to my office and we can review the manual and go over any questions you have regarding what you’ve learned so far.”
“Sure,” I said. My voice came out quiet, faint. I was surprised to feel a tear leak from my eye, and I hurried to wipe it away before Deidre could see. It was only then that I noticed that something felt different, lighter, and I pulled at the sleeve of my blazer to confirm it.
My bracelet was gone. Clara and Desmina were even better thieves than Emily gave them credit for.
THE DAY had left me ragged, aching for a drink, and after my mother went to bed I walked four blocks to the local dive, Maynard’s, that I used to sneak into when I was a teenager.
Inside, it smelled like stale beer and the sea, the whole place scummed with mildew and salt.
When I sat on a stool near the door, the cracked upholstery scratched my thighs.
It wasn’t until my first drink arrived that I dared to look around.
Right away a familiar pair of eyes snagged on mine: Brett Griffin.
We had graduated in the same class in high school.
He’d been that stoner-sage kid who slept through geometry yet aced every exam.
He rose from his stool and slid his beer glass along the bar top.
“Lily Louten! Well, well, well. Long time no see! How’s my sophomore year history buddy?”
“Hey, Brett. I’m fine.” It hadn’t even occurred to me when I left the house, but of course I couldn’t have lasted one night at Maynard’s without seeing someone I had gone to school with.
Brett settled onto the stool next to mine. I concentrated on the scrim of bumper stickers that had accumulated on the mirror behind the bar. This Car Climbed Mount Washington. Welcome to Sea Isle City!
“What are you doing here? In town for a visit?”
“For the summer.”
“Wait, don’t tell me you’re a teacher, too? I’m doing eighth grade math at Bellevue. Thirteen and fourteen-year-olds are sort of insane, but I love it. Well, most days, you know. I could do without all the state testing bullshit.”
“No, not teaching. I’m taking some time off right now. Figuring out what’s next.” I couldn’t help but cringe at the way I was crutching along on platitudes. But it was easier than the truth: That I had crept home with nothing. That I didn’t know who I was anymore.
“Last I heard you were doing some art stuff. Museums? Wait, no. You wanted to run one of those galleries or something! That was your thing, right? I always envied that about you. You were one of those people who just knew what you were going to do.”
I finished the bourbon and signaled the bartender for another pour. “Well, you can rest easy. I’m not sure I have anything to envy anymore.”
“No, man, it was cool. You were ambitious. I used to see the stuff you were doing on, like, Facebook, and it made me happy, you know? I know we weren’t super-close or anything, but it was fun to see it.
At all those fancy openings, all those paintings you’d post about. So you’re not into art anymore?”
I willed Brett to get a phone call, run into someone else he knew.
He meant well, but we were circling questions I wasn’t ready for.
All I knew was that I wanted to forget what had happened in New York, sock away enough cash to boomerang out of town at the end of the summer, and start over as someone new.
“You know, I’m trying to think of the last time I saw you,” he said.
I knew right away. Steffanie’s funeral. He remembered a second too late.
“Oh, shit. Yeah. Man. I’m sorry. You guys had been so close.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
“She was one of the first. I think there’s something like ten kids from our class who have died from that shit?”
“Yeah, that sounds right.”
“Ten, in a class of three hundred kids. Fucking heroin. I look at my eighth graders and I just worry about them so much—you never know what growing up is going to do to you, especially around here. AC, man, it gets into the way you think. You live somewhere where people come to get wasted and blow all their cash—you start to think that’s how the rest of the world is, that that’s what life is. ”
Try being a girl here, I wanted to say, that will really fuck you up. But of course I didn’t. Mostly I was touched. His earnestness, that slow, surfery cadence to his voice. Brett took a long, thoughtful sip of his beer, and this time we both looked away.
“Well, I’ve got to run and meet some people, but hey, hope I see you around.
” He slapped me on the back, and as he left I felt a twist of guilt and relief.
I was so self-pitying, and yet, look at all of the people who Brett and I knew who had sunk into depths I couldn’t even imagine.
When I blinked, I saw Steffanie’s gaunt cheeks.
I signaled the bartender for a third drink and willed the room to go hazy, for all the din and clatter to get reduced to one low hum, waited for my mind to go blank.
The less I noticed about what was around me, the less I felt.
When I paid my bill, I found Clara’s card in my wallet and stared at it as though it would help explain what she had said that afternoon. It was one of the last things I remembered before I blacked out—you are recovering from a broken heart, those crooked little crescent moons.