Half In Love With Death (20 page)

“Sounds like I'm in the doghouse.” He cocked his head.

“I guess.” My thin cotton shirt was sticking to my back.

“I don't suppose you'd want to get in and talk about it.” His voice was soft as velvet.

“I don't think I should.”

“Caroline,” he said, “a few days ago you were going with me to find your sister and now you won't even talk to me. What's going on?”

“Nothing.” I stared down at my dusty shoes.

“I'm beginning to wonder if you even want to find Jess.”

I gave him an agonized glance. I thought about the things Officer Barnes had said about him, and all my doubts. But I couldn't stop looking for Jess when we were so close. It was like I was being torn in two. “I still want to find her.”

“So get in. If something's wrong, for Christ's sake, give me a chance to explain.” He paused. “I thought you wanted to go on the road with me—to be free. Jess always wanted to be free.”

I opened the door as if in a dream.

As I drew it shut, May and Sheila stopped a few blocks away, turned and stared at me in shock. Let them stare, I thought. Tony pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and rubbed his eyes. His skin glistened with sweat. I could smell the sharp tang of it.

He leaned forward. “So how did your parents find out about me?”

I bit down on my lip. “May told them.”

“May, what a surprise.” He smiled.

“She and Sheila said some really sick things about Geraldine too.” The throw-up feeling was returning but I went on, “They said she was mummified.”

“They said that? That is sick.” He looked down the street to the place where they just were. I shifted in my seat. The vinyl was burning the backs of my thighs. He walked his fingers over to mine. “We're still good, right?”

I tried to speak, but no words came out. The way he was looking at me with such trust, not even aware that the whole world was against him, broke my heart. “A policeman came to my school. He asked me about Geraldine. And he knew I was hanging out with you. He said you were a bad person.” I looked away.

He leaned back. “God, will these people ever leave me alone?” He stared at the dirt-spattered windshield. “I hope this isn't the end of us.” He sounded already resigned to his fate.

“He told me to stay away from you.” I opened my purse, took out my compact and looked into the mirror. I'd felt so happy and hopeful when Tony and I were together. Everything was so confusing. Trying to hold back tears, I blotted the sweat from my nose with the puff. A single teardrop stained the pink powder.

He brushed my tears away with his thumb. “Do I really seem like a bad person to you?”

“No.” His hand was warm against my cheek. “You seem like the only one who cares about finding my sister.”

He shook his head as if the world was the sorriest place. “I do. More than anyone knows.” I followed his gaze to the disappearing line where the sky met the earth. I knew how awful he felt. He turned slowly back to me. “What did he ask you about Geraldine?”

I looked down at my chipped nails. “Nothing, really.”

“Nothing?”

I hesitated, still staring at my nails. I needed to find out about this. “He asked if I knew she was your girlfriend and that she broke up with you.”

He slammed his fist so hard against the dash that it left a small hollow in the plastic. “I hate the way people lie.”

I spoke softly, not wanting to get him more riled up. “She wasn't your girlfriend?”

“No. And she certainly didn't break up with me.” He hit the dash again.

“Stop, you'll hurt yourself.” I fiddled with the keychain on my purse. Red glitter came off on my hands. “Do you have any idea who might have called the police about her?”

“Nope. But must have been someone with a guilty conscience.” He paused. “Or someone out to get me. I'm so sick of everyone blaming me for everything. I bet you believed everything the police told you.” He glared at me. “I know what you're thinking, but I swear to God I had nothing to do with what happened to Geraldine.”

“Why should I believe you?” I had to say it.

“Because this is me. Tony. The guy who's going to help you find your sister.” He started the car. His silence as he drove made me feel so alone. I'd said what I was supposed to say, but it went against everything I felt. Officer Barnes was just like my parents, and Ron and Joe, all the clueless adults who said they'd find my sister and hadn't.

Finally I said, “Please don't be mad at me. I don't believe any of the bad things people are saying.”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Are we still going to California?” My relief mixed with worry. “Brian told me Jess is getting restless. He doesn't think she'll stick around much longer. We have to leave Friday.”

“Friday?” I looked out the window. Sprinklers were going round and round in all the yards. I remembered riding on a carousel with Jess when I was a little girl. I'd held on to the neck of the plaster horse as if for dear life, afraid to reach out for the brass ring, but now I wished I could reach out the window and grab the whole world and take it with me.

“If you don't want to go, just tell me,” he said. “I'll go myself.”

“I want to go. It's not that.” I paused. “It's just everything.” My feelings were pulling me in all different directions. To walk away would be to give up like everyone else, but I couldn't ignore the doubts that filled me.

“You know what I think?” His voice grew quieter. “Let's have a good time first, and then we'll talk about finding Jess.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled up to the curb a block from my house and said, “I think you need to go dancing.”

I turned to him, surprised.

Those lips that had kissed mine smiled. “Think up a good excuse for your mom, 'cause I'm picking you up tomorrow night at seven. We'll have dinner first, just the two of us.” He stroked my hand.

I nodded, hoping it would be as easy as he made it sound. And then he leaned over and kissed me. His mouth on mine was delicious and sad at the same time. It was like our edges blurred and for a split second we stepped into a new world—the world of us. He sat back and sighed.

A smile crossed my face. “I forgot to tell you something.”

He cocked his head. “What? Is your policeman friend following us?”

I laughed. “No. I've changed my name to Caro.”

“Caro?” His eyes widened. “Well, Caro, wear your prettiest dress tomorrow night.” He paused. “And remember to bring that white shoe. I can't wait to see you in them. We'll dance the night away.” As I was opening the door he touched my arm. “I know I haven't always been the best person, but I appreciate that you're standing by me.” He pulled me close and kissed me again. I would have liked to have stayed in his arms forever, but I worried someone might walk by and see us.

“I better get home,” I said.

He pressed his palm against mine. “Caro,” he said, “I wish I never had to let you go.”

• • •

We ate dessert in the living room that night so we could watch the news, all of us anxious to hear what they said about Geraldine. Dessert was vanilla pudding with strawberries, one of my favorites. When the story about Geraldine came on, Dad placed his cigarette on the edge of his ashtray. Dicky looked up from crashing his toy airplanes into each other. The newscaster spoke in front of a photo of Geraldine. She looked like a sweeter version of Jess, her shoulder-length blonde hair falling in soft waves. I looked down at the untouched skin of my pudding, the strawberries staining it pink. Mom fiddled with the diamond stud in her ear. The newscaster said that the police had questioned some of Geraldine's friends, including Debbie Frank, Moose (his real name was Mike Saunders), and Tony Santoro. At the mention of Tony's name, I tensed. I waited for my parents to say that Officer Barnes had told them I was hanging around with him, but they were too lost in their own worlds to say anything. Jess was the one who was missing, but it was as if we were all spinning away from each other.

The screen filled with a scene of the desert at night. A blurry white glow from a flashlight shone on something in a ditch in the sand. It was hard to tell exactly what it was. I leaned forward, not sure I wanted to see it. The newscaster talked about how scraps of her clothing were used to identify her. I squinted. Was that white smudge in the darkness a bone? I hated that I was made of bones. I sucked on my fist. When they cut to commercial, I breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't mentioned me or Jess.

“Her poor mother.” Mom smoothed her skirt. I ate a bite of pudding.

Dad went over to the window and pressed his hands on the glass as he looked out. “That bastard,” he said. “If he did anything to that poor little girl or . . . .”

“Please stop.” She sank back on the couch. “We all know you're not going to do anything.”

He turned around slowly, took a last puff of his cigarette and said, “I'm going out for a while.”

“Jack, don't, I'm sorry,” she said. He slammed the door behind him.

She picked up our dessert dishes in her efficient, automatic way and took them into the kitchen. I went over to the window. As I watched Dad's car pull out of the driveway, I fingered the yellow curtains she'd made, longing for the time when her biggest problem was redecorating. After a while I went to get another pudding. Mom still always made five.

• • •

The dishes were neatly stacked in the dish drainer. A lemony scent filled the air. Mom had cleaned as ceaselessly as on any other night. I picked up the newspaper from the table. There was an article about Geraldine on the front page. I read it, eager for every detail. When asked if Geraldine was dating Tony when she disappeared, her mom had said she was dating another boy, but it was possible she'd gone to see Tony that night. She was a sweet girl. She cared about everyone. I should have stopped right there. In the next paragraph, her mother said Geraldine had left the house wearing a blue dress and new white ankle strap shoes that she'd picked out from the Sears catalogue. She'd been so excited about them, it made no sense she wasn't wearing them when they found her. I put down the newspaper.

The air conditioning in the kitchen was turned up so high it gave me goose bumps. I wrapped my arms around myself, recalling the creamy firmness of Tony's arms as he held me, the way he smelled of cologne, cigarettes, and sweat—a scent prettier than any flowers. But even this memory could not keep the cold from spreading through me.

I hurried upstairs. My fingers trembled as I opened the closet door and groped in the darkness. My hand shook as I held it up; the shoe white as snow, white as marble, white as Tony's mask face when he played with his band. On the inside of it, below the ankle strap, written in tiny gold cursive letters, was the word “Sears.” Mom never bought us anything from Sears. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could make the shoe disappear.

It's just a shoe, I told myself as I got ready to go out with Tony, but the awful thoughts kept coming. I'd considered many reasons why my sister had run away—pursuing her dreams, a fight with Tony, chasing Arnie. I still didn't have an answer, but I worried the real reason was far worse, and that it had to do with Geraldine. I couldn't imagine going out at all, let alone for dinner and dancing, but I couldn't just stay home and wait patiently while things went on the same as ever. I couldn't be that person anymore.

I took care getting ready. I wore my new white dress with the colored squares and my black patent leather shoes. I put on filigree earrings that looked like golden snowflakes, and painted my nails black with a small white daisy on each one. I sprayed perfume on my wrists and behind my ears. I put on a little too much.

I took the photo of Jess out of my purse. She looked happy, sitting on the sand in her red bathing suit, waving her pale hand, a carefree smile on her face. The water behind her was the same silver-blue as the ocean in Boston, sailboats skimming along the horizon. It was comforting that the faraway place where she was now looked so much like beaches back home, and that the Jess in the picture looked just like the Jess I'd always known, not the Jess who had Geraldine's shoe. The very idea of touching it made me ill. I couldn't bring it with me. I hoped when I explained this to Tony that he would understand, and that he would know why Jess had it. I prayed what he said would put my mind at ease.

I put the photo on her bureau and looked in the mirror. I'd ironed my blonde hair and parted it on the side so it hid half my face. I outlined my eyes with black and used white eye shadow. When I lifted my lids, there they were—my tiger eyes. I am dark water flowing into the now, I thought. I am Caro. I looked detached and cool, though I was a jittering jangling mess of nerves.

• • •

I pushed the kitchen door open. Mom was on the phone, her back turned to me, a lit cigarette in her hand. Dicky sat at the table, engrossed in his dinner of fried hot dogs and beans.

“He took off last night like he always does. He didn't get home until after midnight,” I heard her say. I held myself still. Her hand went to her mouth, smoke drifting up around her. “When they showed that grave on the news, it tore me apart. And what does he do? He leaves.” There was more smoke. “And tonight, he's not even home for dinner. No call. Nothing. He always takes off when I need him.” She cupped her hand around her mouth. “No, you're right. I don't need him. Not anymore.”

I coughed and she turned. “Excuse me, I have to go.” She hung up the phone. “Caroline.” She smiled hesitantly, spots of color on her cheeks.

“I was talking to Betty,” she said. “She's such a good listener.” She rubbed her cigarette out in a silver ashtray on the table. “Do you want a hot dog?”