Circle of Enemies

“That’s our sign, just for us,” he’d said. And while the bar had changed hands three times, no one had ever noticed his writing or tried to wash it away.

It was gone now. Someone had swiped a hand through the dust, erasing the words.

I went inside anyway. The place had been remodeled, but there were still booths in the back corner. Arne wasn’t there, and neither were Robbie, Summer, or any of the others.

A brief conversation with the bartender confirmed that he didn’t know Arne. This wasn’t the Bigfoot Room anymore. I recognized the barfly sitting by the jukebox, but he didn’t recognize me. He claimed not to remember Arne, either, even though Arne had bought him drinks many times over the years. He had the flat, burned-out eyes of a mannequin.

I ordered an egg sandwich and coffee, mainly so I could use the dirty bathroom. When the bill came, I asked for a phone book. Violet Johnson’s name was in there. I paid and left.

Vi still lived in the same place in Studio City. I drove over there, feeling vaguely sick at the idea of seeing her again. Or maybe it was the egg sandwich. Melly had been like a big sister to me, but Violet was the girl I wanted for keeps. I’d wanted us to buy a house together, the whole deal. The three years I did in Chino were because of a punch I threw while defending her kid brother. She was also the one who dumped me just before my arraignment, and I hadn’t even heard her name since.

I had to park two blocks from her place, but I managed to find a spot. Her neighborhood was so familiar that it felt eerie. Walking down this same sidewalk felt like wearing a costume, as though I was disguising myself as a younger me. I went up her same front walk to her same row of mailbox slots. I even remembered her apartment code. I buzzed her. Her voice, when she answered, sounded thin.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Ray,” I said, the way I’d said it many times before. Then I remembered there were five years between us, and I added, “Ray Lilly.”

She didn’t answer right away. She did press the gate buzzer. I pushed the gate open and went inside. The courtyard and little pool looked the same; no one was swimming. She was on the third floor, and I headed up the stairs.

She was already standing in the open doorway, waiting for me. It took me a moment to recognize her. She looked smaller and thinner than I remembered. Her thick brown curls were pulled back into a simple ponytail, and she wore no makeup at all. Like Melly’s, her skin looked lighter than it had, although she’d always been lighter than Melly. She no longer wore the little stud in the left side of her nose.

I used to tease her when she looked this way; I’d always liked the hair, makeup, and shoes—what Vi had called hyper-girly. Now I felt embarrassed by the memory, but I didn’t feel much else.

“Melly warned me you might show up here.”

Warned her? I didn’t have any reaction to that. After a second look, I realized she had dark circles under her eyes.

“Ray, you look terrible.”

“It was a long drive,” I said.

“Do you want to come in? You can’t stay, but …”

“I can’t stay, no, but I would like to come in.”

The first thing I noticed was how cool it was in the air-conditioned apartment. The second thing was the toys. There were several different types of dolls lying about: rag dolls, Barbies, baby dolls in diapers. A huge dollhouse stood in the corner. Beneath the toys, all the furniture was the same threadbare yard-sale stuff she’d had years before.

I glanced at the couch, remembering all the things we’d done there. Then a little girl came out of the kitchen, a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her hand. Her skin was much lighter than Vi’s—nearly golden—and her hair was just a little too dark to be called blond.

“Mommy, can I have a hot dog?”

Vi bent down to her. “You already have your lunch, sweetie. Right in your hand.”

“So?”

“Don’t answer me that way,” Vi said, a note of warning in her voice.

The girl stepped around her mom. “Hi, I’m Jasmin. Who are you?”

“My name is Ray. You’re a very big girl, aren’t you?” My voice sounded hollow and strange.

“Yes, I’m five.”

Vi bent down to steer her toward the kitchen. “Jazzy, eat at the table, okay? If you’re still hungry after your sandwich, you can have some raisins. If you behave.”

Raisins were the only incentive she needed. She turned and ran into the kitchen.

Vi looked me in the eye. “She’s not yours.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. “No?”

“No. And I know you can do the math, Ray, but it was a long time ago.”

If I added nine months onto five years, it was pretty clear that she could have been mine. Vi had always been careful with me, saying she wanted to wait for kids, but apparently she’d had someone else on the side. Someone she was not so careful with. “Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay? Two years we were together, and you’re not going to shout at me? Call me a whore with my little girl in the next room to hear? You’re not going to take a swing at me? You’re not angry or hurt or nothing?”