Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [48]
As he lowered himself down to sit on the edge of her bed, she wondered how so much could have changed, thought how unfamiliar his body seemed to her now. His stomach hung over his jeans, his shoulders slouched forward. When did he start to slouch? He had always stood up so straight, so defiant. He crushed out his cigarette in her glass ashtray like it was an effort.
He leaned back and laid himself down on her bed, his arms clasped behind his head. His faded black T-shirt was tucked into jeans with holes at the knees. He wore basketball sneakers, black canvas high-tops, the kind hed worn all his life. It was like hed worn the same outfit through boyhood and it was just now wearing thin at the edges, the fabric finally giving from years of growth.
Sometimes, like right then, as he lay on her bed, she imagined he was flirting with herteasing her, reminding her of the power he still held over her. Some days, she flirted back in her own awkward wayallowing herself to touch his arm, laugh a little too loud at something hed said, brush the hair away from his forehead and place a finger on his scar. But it always made her feel pathetic, second best.
Im glad youre drawing again, he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Its just a little weird, ya know? A strange choice of subject matter. Couldnt you do a bowl of fruit or something?
Do you think it really looks like Lizzy? Did I get it right? Rhonda asked, studying the drawing taped to her wall.
You got it right. I knew just who it was. Peter looked up at her as he spoke. There was such tenderness in his face. He looked so at ease, there on her bed. She let herself imagine, for an instant, that it was his bed too. That he was just getting into bed after a long day, into their bed where they slept night after night.
Dont you ever wonder about her? Rhonda asked, letting herself look down at Peters face again. Dont you ever hope that maybe someday shell come back and explain everything?
What is there to explain? Peter asked, shifting his weight, sounding a little exasperated.
I dont know why she left, I guess. What shes been doing with herself all these years. Maybe shes married and has kids. You could be an uncle! Dont you ever wonder what she does every day, what she sees each morning when she gets up?
Of course I wonder, but its her choice that we dont know.
Her choice. Rhonda thought about the different choices they had all madehow much conscious decision had gone into any of them?
Doesnt that seem unfair to you? she asked him.
Ronnie, a lot of things are unfair. What happened to Ernestine Florucci was unfair. He looked up at the ceiling, breaking eye contact with her. Lizzy wasnt kidnapped by a rabbit though. We lost her, but not like that. Thats what I dont get about the drawing.
Loss just feels like loss, Rhonda said. Maybe thats what the drawing is supposed to be about. How easily one loss just blurs into the next. She bit her lip, stared down at himhim, Peter, perhaps her greatest loss of all.
Do you remember, Rhonda asked, how much Lizzy wanted to be a Rockette? How she was always practicing that high kick and doing all this crazy stuff so that shed grow tall enough?
Peter nodded.
Maybe shes a dancer? Rhonda said.
Ronnie, I dont think any of us grew up to live the life we dreamed wed be living. Did we?
Rhonda thought a moment. Tock did, she said.
And what was it Tock wanted? Peter asked, shaking his head.
You, Rhonda said. She wanted to grow up and be with you.
Their eyes met and Peter took in a breath like he was going to say something, but instead, he held it. Rhonda looked away.
Tocks really pissed at you, you know? Peter said finally.
Shes overreacting, Peter, cant you see that? I didnt set out to traumatize Suzy. Shes a smart kid, its not like she hasnt noticed whats going on. Jesus, its