“I can do it,” I said.
“Of course,” she said, and stepped away from me. Then she sat down on the edge of the tub and dropped her head into her hands. An animal groan came from her. I didn’t know what else to do but stare at her.
After a long silence, she said, “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” She looked up and gave me a pleading look. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and even if I had known I wouldn’t tell her. I wanted to yell at her but centuries of elder worship wouldn’t allow it.
I would have said, It’s your fault. You didn’t protect Lucia. You cared more about your own happiness than Lucia.
My mother would never have done that. I knew that without doubt. Sacrifice was engraved into every cell of her being.
I wanted to tell Lucia’s mother that she was beautiful, smart, and brave, and I used to want to be just like her when I grew up. Instead I looked at her inscrutably.
She laughed in a bitter way that scared me. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Charges are being dropped as we speak.” Shrugged like a marionette. “Lack of evidence.”
She straightened up, sucked in her stomach, smoothed back her hair, and said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have slapped you. That was unforgivable.” She patted my hand like I was a waitress who had shown her some kindness. “And thank you for being Lucia’s friend.”
I mumbled, “You’re welcome,” and ran out of the apartment.
I covered my reddened cheek with my hair and went to bed early to avoid my mother’s sharp eyes. But she was too tired out from a double shift to even notice. With the light from the parking lot drifting into my room, I lay in bed and stared at the pictures of Jesus and Mary my mother had hung up. Even though she didn’t follow any particular faith, my mother was of the belief that it couldn’t hurt. She took bits and pieces fromthe religions she knew, mainly Christianity and Buddhism. Tried to live a decent life that could lead to the next one being better. And if none of it was true and there was no order and no afterlife, well, she’d rather live a life believing than not.
I wondered if I was bad. If I was responsible for Lucia’s lying about Bobby. Did I put those thoughts in her head? Or did Lucia’s mother, or our neighbors, or the TV? Or maybe she was telling the truth. These two thoughts picked up speed in my head like a cyclone until I was finally released into sleep.
Very early in the morning, I heard a soft knocking. I must have been expecting it because I jumped up and ran as lightly as I could to the door, afraid it would wake my mother. Lucia had her puffy coat and pom-pom hat on already. We hugged extra tight and didn’t say any nonsense about how we would keep in touch. We wouldn’t.
“Everything will be all right,” I said to her. “You’ll love California.”
Lucia hugged me again and gave me a wet kiss on the cheek. “Don’t ever forget me,” she said.
“How can I?” I said. “I’ll see you on The Love Boat.”
I held out my pinkie and waited for her to extend hers. Long ago, I had taught her how Koreans pledge a promise. We hooked our pinkies together and made a church with our thumbs.
Russell wouldn’t sell me any weed and it made me mad.
“Later, China,” he kept saying.
“When?”
“Never.”
I went to find Shannon because she was always stoned. Michelle had moved out a year earlier and hadn’t been replaced. Shannon’s apartment was dark and smelled like stale cigarettes. Her mother let her smoke at home. She was a smoker, so she understood, Shannon said, lighting up.
She was happy to have someone new to talk to. But we didn’ttalk. We listened to Pat Benatar and spaced out. She described her boyfriend to me in great detail, while I thought of Jesus living among thieves, beggars, and prostitutes. The nuns at school taught us to walk in his footsteps. I felt an incredible longing to wash his feet.
The next time I saw Russell, he said to me, “You should move out of here. This place isn’t a good place.”
Russell had never tried to kiss me again after that night at the playground.
“Like I have any control over that,” I said.
“You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out.”
I stared at him, at how his eyes were always bloodshot and how he never, ever looked rested. “Lucia and I used to think you had red eyes,” I told him. “Like scary, glowing red eyes. Like maybe you were the devil.” I laughed.
He laughed too. “How do you know I’m not?”
“Because I know,” I said.
He leaned toward me and I let him kiss me, and then I kissed him, relishing the difference. I had never realized you could lose time with a person, that you could exist in a bubble with them and not think any thoughts and be completely in sync. And then I pushed him away.
Russell was never going to leave this town or go to college. He’d never have more than two months’ rent in his bank account or a car fully paid off, and his kids would have to go to shitty public schools like he did. I could not risk falling for him.
Russell leaned back and lit a match. Just when I thought it would burn his fingers, he blew it out and handed it to me. Then he started singing his favorite Springsteen song.
For me this carnival life’s through.
You ought to quit this scene too.
A few weeks after Lucia left, I woke to my parents shouting at me to wake up. There was smoke and voices and sounds ofrunning and we ran out in our pajamas. We didn’t
