'I told you not to call me that,' Lena said, crossing her arms.
'I know,' Nan held her hands up, palms out. 'I'm sorry. It's just that Sibby always called you that.'
Lena stopped her. 'Can we get the stuff, please? I need to get home.' Her voice went down on the word 'home' as she thought about the empty house. Hank had not answered the phone when she called the Hut looking for him. The bastard was obviously ignoring her. It was so typical of him to leave her when she needed him most.
'It's out in the parking lot,' Nan said, holding the door open for Lena. Lena stopped, waiting for Nan to go first. It was one thing to let Brad Stephens hold a door open for her; Lena would be damned if she would let some woman do it.
Nan talked as they walked out to the parking lot. 'I tried to keep it the same way she had it,' she said, a forced lightness to her voice. 'You know how Sibby liked to keep things orderly.'
'She had to,' Lena shot back, thinking it was obvious that a blind person would have a system to things so that they would not be lost.
If Nan noticed Lena 's biting tone, she ignored it.
'Here,' Nan said, stopping in front of a white Toyota Camry. The driver's side window was down, and she reached in, popping the trunk.
'You should keep your doors locked,' Lena told her.
'Why?' Nan asked, and she really seemed to be puzzled.
'You've got your car parked in front of a gay bar. I would think you might want to be a little more careful.'
Nan tucked her hands into her waist. 'Sibyl was killed in a diner in broad daylight. Do you really think locking my car door is going to protect me?'
She had a point, but Lena was not going to give it to her. 'I wasn't saying you could get killed. Someone might vandalize the car or something.'
'Well…' Nan shrugged, and for just a moment, she seemed exactly like Sibyl. Not that Nan was in any way similar to Sibyl in appearance, it was just her 'whatever happens will happen' attitude.
'These are some of her tapes,' Nan said, handing Lena a box that was about eighteen inches square. 'She labeled them in braille, but most of them have their own titles.'
Lena took the box, surprised at how heavy it was.
'These are some photographs,' Nan said, stacking another box on top of the first. 'I don't know why she had them.'
'I asked her to keep them for me,' Lena provided, remembering the day she had brought the box of pictures to Sibyl. Greg Mitchell, Lena's last boyfriend, had just left her, and Lena did not want the photographs she had of him in the house.
'I'll get this one,' Nan offered, picking up the last box. It was bigger than the other two, and she rested it on her knee to close the trunk. 'This is just a bunch of stuff she had in the closet. A couple of awards from high school, a track ribbon I guess is yours.'
Lena nodded, walking to her Celica.
'I found a picture of you two at the beach,' Nan said, laughing. 'Sibyl's got a sunburn. She looks miserable.'
Because she was in front of Nan, Lena allowed a smile. She remembered the day, how Sibyl had insisted on staying outside even though Hank had warned her it was too hot. Sibyl's black glasses had shaded her eyes, and when she took them off, the only part of her face that was not beet red was where the glasses had been. She looked like a raccoon for days after.
'… stop by Saturday to pick them up,' Nan was saying.
'What?' Lena asked.
'I said that you can stop by Saturday to go through the other stuff. I'm donating her computer and equipment to the school for the blind over in Augusta.'
'What other stuff?' Lena asked, thinking Nan meant to throw away Sibyl's things.
'Just some papers,' Nan told her, setting the box down at her feet. 'School stuff, mostly. Her dissertation, a couple of essays. That kind of thing.'
'You're just going to throw them away?' Lena demanded.
'Give them away. They're not really valuable,' Nan said, as if she were talking to a child.
'They were valuable to Sibyl,' Lena countered, aware she was close to yelling. 'How can you even think about giving them away?'
Nan looked down at the ground, then back at Lena. The patronizing tone was still there. 'I told you that you're more than welcome to have them if you like. They're in braille. It's not like you can read them.'
Lena snorted a laugh, setting the boxes on the ground. 'Some lover you were.'
'What the hell do you mean by that?'
'Obviously, it meant something to her or she wouldn't have kept it,' Lena said. 'But go ahead and give it away.'
'Excuse me,' Nan said, indicating the boxes. 'How many times did I have to call you and beg you to take this stuff?'
'That's different,' Lena said, digging in her pocket for her keys.
'Why?' Nan shot back. 'Because you were in the hospital?'
Lena glanced back at the bar. 'Lower your voice.'
'Don't tell me what to do,' Nan said, her tone louder. 'You don't get to question me about whether or not I loved your sister. Do you get that?'
'I wasn't questioning you,' Lena answered, wondering how this had escalated so quickly. She could not even remember what had started this, but Nan was obviously pissed.
'The hell you weren't,' Nan barked. 'You think you're the only one around here who loved Sibyl? I shared my life with her.' Nan lowered her voice. 'I shared my bed with her.'
Lena winced. 'I know that.'
'Do you?' Nan said. 'Because I'll tell you what, Lena, I am sick and tired of the way you treat me, as if I'm some sort of pariah.'
'Hey,' Lena stopped her. 'I'm not the one playing soft-ball for Suddy's.'
'I don't know how she put up with this,' Nan mumbled, almost to herself.
'Put up with what?'
'Your misogynistic cop bullshit, for one.'
'Misogynistic?' Lena repeated. 'You're calling me misogynistic?'
'And homophobic,' Nan added.
'Homophobic?'
'Are you a parrot now?'
Lena felt her nostrils flare. 'Don't fuck with me, Nan. You don't know how.'
Nan didn't seem to catch the warning. 'Why don't you go back into that bar and meet some of your sister's friends, Lee? Why don't you talk to the people who really knew her and cared about her?'
'You sound like Hank,' Lena told her. 'Oh, I see,' she said, putting the pieces together. 'You've been talking to Hank about me.'
