The Bodies We Wear (22 page)

Leaving the bathroom, I get dressed quickly, pulling on my jeans and a black sweater with a high neck. I pick up the switchblade I keep buried in my drawer and put it in my back pocket.

I should be carrying this all the time. I guess I’ve gotten so used to people leaving me alone that I didn’t realize I still needed it. The blade presses against my butt and I’m comforted knowing it’s there.

I grab the gift certificate for the hair salon off the table. First things first. There’s not much I can do in the daytime so I might as well spend the day saying goodbye to Beth. I just hope that what happens to me won’t affect her rehabilitation. Just because I am choosing a different path doesn’t mean she needs to end up like me. She could be anything she wants. A teacher. A doctor. An artist. Anything she sets her mind to.

I’m living proof of that.

No one can ever accuse me of not going after what I want.

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

I’m sitting in Ramona’s office and the counselor is at her desk, forcing a cup of coffee and some stale cookies on me. I should have suspected it was bad news when she asked me to join her first. I just thought maybe she had the information on the courses she was trying to persuade me to take.

Heam counselor my ass. They’d be stupid to ever let someone like me get involved with helping people. After all, once a gutter rat, always a gutter rat. They never change. They can’t once it’s in their blood. They’d kill their own grandmother for another journey to heaven. Why would anyone trust me for a job? I can’t even keep a single addict from running away.

“She went out her window last night,” Ramona says. “She was there when the night staff checked around midnight so she must have taken off after that. I’m sorry, Faye. I know how much you care for her. This isn’t your fault.”

“But she was doing so well,” I say. “She said she wanted to go back to school. She was even talking about how her parents might consider letting her come back home.”

“Yes, she was having a good stretch. Sadly, they don’t last very long. You know this.” Ramona opens up a folder that’s sitting beside her coffee cup. “I’ve contacted her parents but they haven’t seen or heard from her. I also tried her friend Joshua. He said he’ll go around to all her favorite places and keep an eye out but there’s not much else we can do.”

“Except wait for her body to show up.” I’m trembling so hard I can’t hold on to my coffee cup. It slips through my fingers and hits the table with a dull thud. Coffee spills everywhere. “Shit!” I jump back from the chair, wincing as the hot coffee hits my jeans.

“Here!” Ramona rushes over and grabs some paper towels. Together we clean up the mess.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I meant the coffee.”

Ramona smiles at me. “I know.”

I wipe down the mug, marveling at how it didn’t break even after I dropped it. I toss the towels in the trash and remember the gift certificate. It rests on the table, now stained brown and slightly curling. It’s ruined. I pick it up quickly and shake it, sending droplets in all directions. Ramona hands me some more paper and I try to sop up the remaining liquid.

“They will probably still accept it,” Ramona says. “It’s not too badly damaged.”

Of course, the certificate is made out in Beth’s name. We both stare at the lettering.

“I’ll spend the afternoon looking for her,” I say. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“It can’t hurt,” Ramona says.

“Do you think it’s possible she didn’t drop? Maybe she just wanted to get away for a bit. Sort some stuff out inside her head?”

Ramona sighs. She comes over and puts her hand on top of mine. “Maybe,” she says. “It has happened in the past. But you need to understand, Faye. The odds are against her. But if we’re lucky, she’ll have her hit and come back tonight or tomorrow.”

“The odds are also greater for her to overdose,” I say. Not that I need to say it. We both know the stats well enough.

“She’s not dead yet,” Ramona says. “Let’s just keep saying that instead.”

The next few hours are spent looking for both Beth and Chael. Beth for the obvious reasons. Chael because I need to find out who he killed.

I avoid the bar and Rufus’s other hangouts like the plague.

Beth isn’t anywhere. She’s disappeared into the city, where all the other missing gutter rats go. I ask around but no one’s seen her.

A ghost child.

I find Chael at the coffee shop. I look in on him from the window and he’s reading a book, his shoulders hunched, arm resting on the table as he absently turns pages. There’s a coffee cup in front of him and half a dozen empty creamers and sugar packets are strewed across the table.

I stand there in front of the glass and think about how the waitress sees him as a completely different person. She doesn’t see the shiny hair that he’s still absently tugging on or the sharp jawbone. No one else sees the green eyes except me. In reality Chael’s eyes are buried with him in the cemetery, decayed into dust and nothing.

And yet Chael is here.

He’s been waiting for me. From the looks of it, he’s been there most of the day.

I open the door and step inside.

Chael immediately looks up. I go over and sit down because the waitress is already bringing over the coffeepot and a clean cup for me. The other diners don’t pay me much attention; they continue to eat or read their newspapers, whatever they have to do to get through the day.

So I sit down in front of Chael because it’s the least offensive thing I can do. It’s expected of me. I’m not about to interrupt everyone’s lives because what I really want to do is throw a hissy fit.

Nope. I can do better than that.

The waitress pours me a cup of coffee without me having to ask. I’ve become that predictable.

“Anything else?” she asks, although she already knows the answer. She’s turning to walk away before I can even get the words out.

“I’m good.”

I don’t say anything to him. I have no idea what to say. I didn’t plan this far in advance. Even though I’ve been combing the streets all afternoon for him and Beth, I haven’t thought of a single thing to say to him.

He doesn’t say anything either. He closes his book and places it on the seat beside him. Grabbing a creamer, he pours it into his coffee and mixes it up with his usual amount of sugar.

We continue our stare-down.

A couple come in from the cold and order hot chocolate. They sit at the booth across from us and spend their time holding hands and whispering to each other. The girl is pretty and is wearing a nice pink furry hat. She giggles a lot. An old man gets up and pays his bill in loose change. A family comes in. The waitress wanders over and tops up our coffee.

Finally, I decide to break the silence. Otherwise, we might be here all day.

“I know you didn’t kill Rufus. I saw him. He’s alive and well.” I keep my voice low enough as not to disturb the other patrons. For obvious reasons, I’m not going to mention that Rufus flattened me to the ground in seconds or that my ribs are still hurting something fierce. Chael’s on a need-to-know basis.

Chael shrugs.

“Who did you kill?”

“Phil Sabado.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. The spoon bangs against the mug as he stirs absently.

“How’d you do it?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“You lied to me.”

“Yes.”

Simple. None of this “It was for your own good” or “I was only protecting you” crap I’ve come to expect from him. I like this straightforward honesty; I only wish he’d given it to me before.

“So why’d you lie?”

“To keep you from going after him. If you thought he was dead, you’d leave it be. How’d you find out?”

“I’m a bad penny,” I say, ignoring his momentarily confused look.

I could be angry at him and start screaming. I’d probably terrify the couple and the family ordering cheeseburgers but I don’t care much about that. I want to be furious and slap him several times, asking how he thinks he can lock me away like a wounded bird when I’ve already proven to him time and time again that there is nothing in the world that could ever keep me from my destiny.

But I don’t. It’s no longer in me.

“You can’t save me, Chael,” I say. “I know you want to but you can’t. It’s not that simple. You can’t just kill someone on my behalf and make it all go away. Oh God.” I put my hands on my head because suddenly the reality of everything makes the room start to spin. “That sounds so crazy. It’s like I’m talking about taking a trip to the mall instead of life.”

“Faye.” Chael looks at me and his eyes are wet and filled with longing.

“No,” I say. “Let me finish.” I pause, unsure of what I want to say next. I reach out and take his hand. “I can’t let you put this burden on yourself. You said you heard my pain from across the plains. Now I’m here in front of you telling you that I don’t want you taking my sins.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Yes it is,” I snap. “I don’t want you being damned because of something I can’t get over. Because of my mistakes. I don’t think I can continue living with that guilt.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“You lied to me,” I say. “And I know that it wasn’t easy for you to do. I get that. But that’s just the first step. I can’t handle this anymore. I care for you too much. I’ve always loved you, from the moment I met you so many years ago. Losing you once was hard enough.” I reach into my pocket and drop some change on the table. Not enough to pay for the coffee but I don’t care. Let my mysterious boyfriend pay for it—however the hell he gets his cash. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“If that’s how you want it,” Chael says. He won’t even look me in the eyes.

“I mean it.”

“Sure.”

This isn’t going how I expected. I stand stupidly for a few seconds before I remember I’m supposed to be making a dramatic exit. I get up and head over to the door. Outside, the cold air hits my face and I pause to do up my jacket.

“One last thing,” Chael says as he opens the door and comes up from behind me.

“What?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. I wait impatiently, tapping my foot loudly just to be clear.

“If you had one week left in your life to do anything at all,” he begins, “would you spend it with the person you loved or would you hunt down the ones who signed your death warrant?”

I pause.

“Because in your case,” he says, “I’ve got to do both. I’d much rather have spent this time just loving you.”

“What do you mean by one week?” I ask with a shaky voice.

“Just a figure of speech,” he says. “One year. One day. One single minute. Who knows what time we have left?” He looks up at the sky and the clouds in all their gray glory. “For the record, I’ve always loved you too.”

Then he’s gone. He turns the corner and I watch him disappear from my life.

I’m being followed.

I picked up the hint a few blocks back but every time I turn around, the street is empty.

But someone is there. I can feel it.

I walk a little faster. I’m a few blocks away from the subway. If I can get there, I might be able to wait in the corner for the person to show themselves.

Who is it?

Rufus?

Chael?

No, probably not Chael. I think I made it clear enough that I don’t want to see him right now. Unless he knows about Rufus attacking me. Maybe that’s why he was so obedient tonight. He’s planning on using me to get what he wants.

I listen to my feet slapping the pavement, and just beneath that sound I can hear an echo behind me of someone else.

I whip around again and this time I’m rewarded with a glimpse of that someone ducking into a doorway.

Ming Bao.

Oh crap.

So Rufus sent someone to follow me. Well, that’s not so bad. I’ve got my knife tucked away in the small of my back and I’m prepared this time. But Ming won’t be an easy adversary. I always figured he’d be someone I’d have to get a secret jump on. I’m not sure if I can take him in a fair fight.

I turn and start walking even faster. If I can make the station, I should be okay. I’m not taking the coward’s way out. I’m going to be practical. It’s still daylight. He’s not going to jump me right now. Neither of us wants witnesses. If I’m going to fight him, I’m going to make sure I have the edge I need to win.

I have to make sure I can lose him before I get close to home. I won’t put Gazer in harm’s way. It’s a bad idea to have your enemies know where you sleep.

Ahead of me is a massive Catholic church, the only one in this neighborhood. Its bells start ringing as I approach. The hollow empty sound echoes through the street. I can feel the sound reverberating through my sneakers.

Mass is starting. Apparently, God still lives in this church.

Up ahead I can see people walking up the cobblestone steps and in through the wooden doors. The majority of them seem elderly; they carry canes and wrap heavy jackets and winter shawls around their shoulders. Their hands are gripped tightly on the banister as they climb. Some of them have family with them. The priest stands at the top of the stairs, greeting everyone and shaking their hands as they enter his home.

So different from my church.

I have this crazy urge to go inside. I’ve never been to a mass before. It also would make an excellent hiding spot from Ming. I can’t imagine he’d dare to follow me inside. I pause at the bottom of the steps and an old couple glare at me. I know exactly what they’re thinking.

You don’t belong here.

And they’re right. I don’t belong in their world any more than they do in mine.

Someone tugs at my jacket sleeve. I look down and there’s the red-umbrella girl peering up at me. I look at her in surprise and then notice she’s not alone. She’s standing with her mother and a few other people. Her family? Her mother is wearing a black dress and a veil over her face. Does this mean she knows that Arnold Bozek is dead? Did the little girl tell her? Are they holding a prayer service for him?

No one will pray for my soul. But I’ll still be just as dead.

“Are you coming here tonight?” the girl asks. I scan her face for anger but there is none. She looks different. Peaceful. Sad, yes, but serene. “Do you want to sit with me?”

I glance back to see that Ming is still at the end of the block but not getting any closer. He’s waiting to see what my next move will be.

“I’m not sure if I’m allowed,” I say without taking my eyes off of Ming.

“Everyone is welcome,” the girl says. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a church. Come and sit with me.” She takes my hand and leads me up the stairs. Her mother looks me over, but doesn’t disapprove. She follows behind us and I wonder what she’s thinking.

The priest reaches out and shakes my hand. I smile but my knees are shaking.

The inside is so different from my church. This one isn’t dripping water in the corners and the pews aren’t covered in dust. The altar area isn’t full of books and a fireplace but instead has all the things you expect to see in a church.

The statue of Christ. His sad eyes look down at his worshippers as blood drips from his pained wrists.

The stained-glass windows are gleaming. Sparkling. Someone must clean them weekly with loving care.

The congregation waits patiently, listening to the two rows of gospel singers. They’re wearing long robes and smiles on their faces. One of the ladies must be at least ninety years old and her voice is still strong and sweet.

It’s beautiful.

We sit down in a middle row and the girl continues to hold my hand. Her feet are restless and she kicks absently at the air.

The girl’s mother leans toward me. “It’s good to meet you. How do you know Jessica?” She nods in the direction of her daughter.

I don’t get the chance to answer. “She helped me hand out flyers,” Jessica says, although I’ll probably want to call her the red-umbrella girl for the rest of my life.

“Oh, you knew Arnold?” the mother asks, and tears fill her eyes. “That’s so nice of you. They’re praying on his behalf tonight. We still believe he’ll be back any minute. He’s just lost. He can’t find his way home.”

Oh man, I can’t take this. The optimism in her eyes is unbearable. The way she makes it sound as if Arnold took a wrong turn on his way home from class one evening. Maybe she thinks he’s wandering the desert looking for the meaning of life. I look down at Jessica and she’s staring at me with a look on her face that suggests she’s crossing her fingers and toes in the hope that I’ll keep my mouth shut. She hasn’t been able to tell her mother yet. Heaven forbid I give up that secret.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Excuse me, please.” I’m up and out of my seat in an instant. I should have known better. I push my way past a few silver-haired ladies who are trying to remove their heavy raincoats. I nearly knock one of them over in the process, that’s how desperate I am to get away.

I make it to the lobby and pause. Ming is waiting for me outside. I need to find a back door to slip out.

“I’m sorry,” a small voice says from behind. Jessica.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” I mutter. I see a sign leading to the basement, where the bathrooms are. Maybe I can crawl through a window.

“I know she’s scary,” Jessica says. “Mom refuses to believe. I tried telling her but she won’t listen. She won’t listen to anyone. We all knew Arnold had a drug problem. He’d been taking Heam for at least six months. But she wouldn’t believe that either. She’s happier with her head up in the clouds, as my dad used to say.”

“Sometimes it’s easier that way,” I say.

“She has her good days. Some better than others. I stay home from school sometimes and sit with her so she won’t feel so alone.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“I’m glad you told me,” she says. “I wanted to know. I didn’t believe you at first, but I do now. Your friend—the one in Arnold’s body. Is he going to be here for good now? Do you think he’d mind if I hang out with him now and then? I know it’s not really Arnold and I’m not gonna pretend he is. I just want to see him now and then.”

“You’d have to ask him,” I say. “But I don’t think he’d mind. He’s very nice that way.”

“Is he dead too? I mean, did he die and come back?”

“Yes,” I say. “We knew each other when I was your age. I was with him when he died. I’m not sure how, but he came back to me.”

“You love him, don’t you?”

Am I really so transparent that a child can read my deepest thoughts? “Yes,” I finally say. I don’t see the point in lying to her. Lack of love isn’t what’s keeping me away from Chael. It’s really the other way around.

“Maybe Arnold will come back like he did.” She looks around as if wishing it might make it so. But I doubt Arnold’s going to be walking up the church steps anytime soon.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t think this sort of thing happens very often.”

“You’re lucky,” she says. “God must have thought you suffered enough if he was willing to send him back to you.”

I’m not sure if God had anything to do with it but I’m not going to burst Jessica’s bubble. Whatever made it happen isn’t important. The fact that he’s still here is.

From deep inside the church, organ music begins to play. Jessica turns around, drawn by the voices of the choir. “I should go back in.”

She doesn’t invite me to join her. I think even she can figure out that it’s making me uncomfortable.

Without warning, she throws her arms around me and gives me a hug. I can feel her tiny body pressed against mine, her bones that are fragile and cold from many hours in the rain. Reaching down, I hug her back, trying to take away all that cold. She’s just like Beth. I pray she never tries Heam and follows in her brother’s footsteps.

I stand there for a few minutes after she’s gone, listening to the choir first and then the voice of the priest as he begins the sermon. I miss a lot of the words but that doesn’t matter. It’s soothing. I think of Jessica inside, sitting next to her mother, probably holding her hand in comfort.

There’s a hollowness in my stomach that makes me think of my own mother. She didn’t believe in God so it’s not like we ever went to church together. But I would have liked to, now that I think about it.

I miss my mother. As much as I hate her and loathe everything she ever did to me, I still wish she were around. I guess every girl wants her mommy, no matter how big she grows. No matter how hard and far she’s thrown from the nest.

Turning, I head downstairs and into the women’s bathroom. From there, I’m able to jimmy a window wide enough to slip through. I end up in the alley, where I’m able to give Ming the slip long enough to head for home.

I spend the rest of the night at home, back in my own church, where the brick walls comfort me and keep me protected. I know I should be looking for Beth but I can’t make myself go back out there again. Here, I’m safe. No one can hurt me. Every time I go out, I risk seeing people who either want to kill me—or worse—want to help me deal with all my problems.

Why won’t they just leave me alone?

In the morning, I have to drag myself out of bed and into my gym clothes. It’s not raining today, which is a miracle in itself. I run my miles without complaint or even coherent thought. That’s the best thing about training. I can turn my brain off.

Gazer is waiting for me in the basement when I get back. I can hear him puttering around, moving some of the equipment or something from the sounds of it. I pour some coffee and head down.

“It’s good to see you’re awake this morning,” Gazer says. He’s tinkering with the ancient treadmill. His tools are out and scattered across the floor. I don’t know why he’s bothering. It hasn’t worked in ages. “I was beginning to think you’d given up on your training.”

I sit down on the table beside him. “Nope. Just needed a few days off.”

Gazer turns the screwdriver a few times and grunts as an answer. I take a drink of coffee and wait.

“Seems to me you’ve given up on a lot of things lately,” Gazer continues. “You sure there’s still nothing you want to tell me about?”

“Like what?” I say, coffee cup frozen halfway to my mouth. This is going somewhere. Gazer never repeats himself unless he already knows the answer.

Gazer gets up off the floor and tosses the screwdriver on the table beside me. Taking a rag, he cleans his hands before turning to face me. “I know about school, Faye. I know they kicked you out. What I don’t understand is why you’ve been continuing to wear that outfit for the past few weeks to deceive me.”

I look down at the floor. I should have known he’d figure this out on his own. The school probably called him the day it happened. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” I say. “I know how much it meant to you that I graduate.”

“Me? How about
you
? Isn’t that what you wanted?” Gazer throws the rag down in disgust. “This was the one thing in the world you wanted. Or am I wrong? Was that just some ploy to make me happy?”

“No,” I say. “I did want to graduate. It’s not my fault.”

“Nothing is ever your fault.”

“It isn’t!” I jump down off the table and go over toward the punching bag. If I get the urge to hit something, I’m going to make sure I’m close enough to it. “It was because of the stupid fight at the party. It’s probably got a million hits on YouTube by now. Of course the school found out about it.”

“People can be deceiving,” Gazer says. I’m not sure if he’s talking about the kids at the party or me.

“I’m trying to fix things,” I say. “Paige. This girl at school. She’s got her father putting together some sort of legal petition. She’s trying to get me back in.”

Gazer shakes his head. “It won’t work,” he says. “We signed papers in order to get you in. A legal form. The school had a right to dismiss you without reason or warning. We agreed to it.”

“I tried, Gazer,” I say. “I really tried. You have no idea how difficult it was.”

“Not hard enough,” he says. “But you’ve had no trouble keeping yourself busy since.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”