Girl in the Arena - Lise Haines [79]
—Good man, I say with each snip.
I check the mail chronically but I have noticed a general lack of cash flow. I have now forged three postdated checks in my mother’s name, taking them over to that store in Cambridge that sells War Tickets, where the guy is a little sloppy on his check-cashing policies. I think he thinks I come in to spend time with him, but now I don’t have to worry about this because, as of yesterday, her accounts have run dry.
I have, therefore, formulated a plan.
I’ll need Mark’s geek skills, but if I pull this off, Thad and I are going to come out of this in one piece. I tell myself this when I’m not stretched out on my bed quietly falling apart.
The first thing I have to do is sell the emerald necklace. And here’s the punch line: when I take it in for an appraisal at her jewelers, I discover that Allison has popped out and replaced one stone after another over the years with fakes, I guess in order to make her own ends meet. Most of the necklace is paste and I take a thousand for the rest, no questions asked.
The Chinatown bus that runs from Boston to New York is fifteen dollars. It’s had only three reported shootings and a couple of flameouts—one bus burned to the undercarriage—which makes it a fairly good statistical value for the money in my worldview. But I need help with Thad in order to break away to New York. So here’s the lie I cook for Julie one evening, when we’re sitting around our kitchen, taking a breather from packing.
—Caesar’s called and asked me to come down to New York to discuss this wedding idea. They’re up for a giant televised event. I heard the word global in there somewhere. I haven’t even accepted Uber’s offer. Crazy, huh? But I think it’s better to do this in person.
—Absolutely, Julie says. —It’s a wonderful idea to connect personally with them. I know they’ve put us through a lot of changes this year, baby, but they’re still family, you know?
Lloyd, who’s guessing at my real reason for going, says, —Mano a mano. That’s the only way.
Then he turns to the fight channel on the TV.
Julie grabs the remote and mutes the volume.
—You don’t have to make any decisions yet. Just hear them out, she says.
When I stare into the center of her eyes, I see small white cutouts of wedding dresses floating in her irises.
She has no idea that she’s making my guilt a permanent thing when she surprises me with a round-trip ticket on the Acela the next day. She and Lloyd bring this over to the house tucked into a greeting card with an image of a young woman who lived and died in ancient Pompeii. I know she’s trying to reinforce my ties to all things gladiatorial, but in this moment all I can think is: lava—what a horrible way to go.
—The train is more suitable, Julie says, —for a woman of your rank.
—I don’t think I have a rank now.
—But you’re Allison’s daughter, she says.
She tries to pull me into her arms, but I slip free and say, —I’m all right. Really, I’m just fine.
Then I clear my throat and blow my nose and get on with the work at hand.
Lloyd gives Julie a signal so she’ll leave me be. And pretty soon they’re hustling Thad into their Suburban to take him over to their apartment so I can pack my bag. I hug him and kiss him lightly on the cheek. It chokes me up to see his face, the raised and waving hand, Julie’s arm around him in the backseat.
—Give my love to Tommy! Thad calls out.
I’m a little winded by this, much as I understand his confusions.
—I’ll be back soon! I say.
Julie shouts, —We’ve ordered the Funamation station on cable! He’ll have total anime access. Call us when you get there!
As soon as the van’s out of sight, I go back into the house and up to my desk. I dig out that scrap of paper Tommy gave me the day before he died.
LeRoy Gastonguay
New York, New York
If you’re ever in a bad strait, this is the guy.
I tuck his number into my wallet and quickly pack a small duffel.
The train is weirdly empty—there were only six other people in