THIEF: Part 3 (3 page)

              “I’m telling you, there’s got to be a skunk sneaking around the garden.I smelled it last night.”

              Fiona and I exchange a look at breakfast while her dad prattles on.She smirks, and I hold a finger to my lips.

              Hayes notices.“You girls smell anything?I thought I heard you two talking downstairs at some point.”He gives me a smile, the same smirk as his sister, but teasing.“Through the vent in my room.”

              “Nope.”Fiona glares at him, reaching for another biscuit.“Slept like a baby.”

              “Bet you did,” he mutters, and when Fiona kicks him under the table, he gives me another smile.I realize he’s flirting, though borderline ratting us out is hardly my idea of sweet talk.

              Clueless as Killian is, Jane knows exactly what’s going on—all of it.Nothing gets by her.“So, Erin,” she says, coming to my rescue, “when’s the big date with Alex?”

              From behind my hair, I watch Hayes try to hide his disappointment.“Tomorrow night.”

              “We should go shopping, get you a new dress.”Jane smiles at Fiona, with an expression I’ve seen before on a few of Mom’s more ambitious boyfriends: future stepparent face, cautiously friendly.“Would you like to join us, Fiona?”

              “Sure,” she answers, smiling at us.“I could use some new clothes.All my dresses are too summery.”

              Killian sighs.“Well, Hayes, guess we’ll have a guys’ day, huh?The twins are coming in at noon—Thomas was telling me something about this new sports bar, if you’re interested.”

              “Uh…yeah,” Hayes answers distractedly.“We could watch the game at five.”

              “Wonderful!”Jane claps her hands.“What’s say we all meet at Gianni’s for a late dinner, when that’s finished?”

              Everyone nods.It’s a nice feeling—sitting at a full table with a hot breakfast, instead of cold cereal on my sofa, planning a day of togetherness instead of wondering how to fill my unemployed time.But it’s a little unnerving; I’m not used to it.And, once I go home tomorrow morning, it’ll be over just as suddenly as it happened.

That same feeling—“This is nice, but I’m not used to it”—follows me all day.It’s not shopping with Aunt Jane that’s weird; she was the only person who ever took me shopping at all as a kid, since Mom couldn’t be bothered.It’s having Fiona with us, someone my age who likes the same clothes as me, who knows the bands on the t-shirts I pick up, that’s strange.In a good way.

              I’ve had friends before, girls from high school, mostly, and a few coworkers, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a
real
friend—someone beyond acquaintance, who has more in common with me than proximity, or being a dropout—that I’m not sure what to do.Maybe nothing, I decide.Maybe friendships just happen, and all you’re supposed to do is let them.

              “I wish I could wear maxi dresses,” Fiona sighs in our first store of the day, a big department anchor with a huge sales rack of summer dresses.She holds up a blue floor-length dress with halter straps.

              “What are you talking about?”Jane takes the dress from her and holds it against Fiona’s body.“You’d look stunning in this.”

              “But I’m short,” Fiona protests, then looks at me, as if for confirmation.Jane does too.

              “Actually,” I say, “maxi dresses are perfect for shorter people—they elongate your body.”

              “Really?”My opinion seems to change Fiona’s mind; she looks at the dress again, then smiles slowly.“I guess I could try it on, at least.You want to come with me?”

              “Sure.”I flip through the racks for a few dresses in my size, then follow her to the dressing rooms while Aunt Jane talks to a saleswoman about setting up a bridal registry.

              “You know what’s funny?” Fiona asks through the wall of our side-by-side rooms.Her voice is muffled with fabric.“When Daddy first introduced me to Jane, I kind of thought she was a gold digger.”

              I laugh.“Jane?Seriously?”My aunt likes to be pampered as much as the next woman, but she was more likely to be the sugar mama in her past relationships than vice-versa.She isn’t as rich as Killian, but she’d made a pretty penny in the entrepreneurial game.“You know she invented that Milan Mud mask and haircare line, right?”

              “Yeah,” Fiona answers.“When I found that out, I figured she wasn’t after Daddy’s money.Plus, you know, how obviously in love they are.It’s adorable.”

              “Agreed.”

              “Hey, can you come get this zipper for me?”

              I adjust my own dress, then go into her stall and zip up hers.“Do you like Jane?” I ask.“I mean, you can be honest with me—she’s my aunt and all, but I know it’s not easy seeing your parent with someone else.”I pause.“My mom dated around a lot when I was a kid.”

              “My dad was the complete opposite.”Fiona pulls her hair out of the dress, then does a spin, smiling when I give her a thumbs-up.She motions for me to undo the zipper.“After my mom died,” she says, “he turned into a hermit.Wouldn’t shave, barely ate—it was a miracle when I got home from school to find him awake and showered.”

              I nod.This, too, I understand.My mom lost it every time a boyfriend left her.Gordon, the last one in a very long list, was the straw that broke her back: she went into full shut-in mode, and barely left the house at all from then to the day she died.Unlike Fiona with her dad, though, I hadn’t let myself feel sorry for her.

              “He got better, slowly,” Fiona continues, “but honestly?It wasn’t till he met Jane that he seemed like himself again.”She slips out of the dress, then back into her jogging pants and t-shirt.“You were right—the maxi did make me look taller.How'd you know?”

              I shrug, heading back for my room.“When you’re unemployed, you wind up watching a lot of fashion shows, even if you don’t want to.”

              Fiona laughs, then takes a breath.“Hey, I just thought of something!My cousin lives in your town—she runs this bookstore and coffee shop over on Main.Want me to put in a good word for you?”

              I pause, halfway out of the dress, staring at myself in the mirror.“Um…sure,” I tell her.“That sounds great.Thanks.”

              “Awesome,” she chirps.“I’ll meet you up at the register—I’m buying this.”

              I wait till she’s gone before I start moving again, slipping into my clothes without even trying on the other dresses.

              A new job.It’s not the job that scares me; a bookstore and coffee shop sounds like a great fit for me, somewhere interesting with constant conversation, yet quiet and calm.And while I don’t need the money, thanks to the sale of Mom’s house, I could probably use the human interaction.

              Background checks—
that’s
what I’m really worried about.Anywhere I work will see that I’ve been arrested for theft, which means I can kiss just about every retail job goodbye.My last job, as a manager of the biggest furniture store in town—the youngest manager they’d ever hired, in fact—went up in smoke when they found out I was a shoplifter.It didn’t matter that I hadn’t stolen a single thing from the store itself: my reputation was enough.

              The scenario plays out in my head: Fiona tells her cousin, all bubbly and excited, about this awesome new friend of hers.“Please,” she begs the cousin, “give her a job, you’ll just love her.”

              A few days later, the cousin calls Fiona.“I can’t hire her,” they say.Fiona, indignant, asks why not.Then the truth comes out.

              And I lose the only friend I’ve had in five years.

              I shake my head, sigh, and finish changing, then head for the register.Jane is brandishing her credit card and pushing Fiona’s hand, full of money, away.

              “Jane, really, I insist—”

              “Now, Fiona, let me get this one.I’m about to be your step-mama, and this is what stepparents do, isn’t it?Shower their new kids with presents?”She winks at her, hands the saleswoman her card, and says, “Go ahead and set up that registry while you’re at it, Rita—I’ll bring Killian in later this week and we’ll take a look around.Though honestly, I’m not sure we need anything.”             

              “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Rita, the saleswoman, smiles.“It’s nice to have new things as a couple—you know, things that are just yours.And some of your wedding guests will just feel more comfortable with the option.”

              “My thoughts exactly.”Jane smiles at me, then does a double-take.“Erin, you didn’t find a dress you liked?What about your date?”

              “Oh…”In my background check panic, I completely forgot about finding a dress for my date with Alex.“Um…no, nothing fit right.”

              “With your tiny figure?”Jane raises an eyebrow.“Well, we’ll find something while we’re out today, don’t you worry.Aunt Jane’s got plastic, and she wants to spend it on her girls.”

              Fiona and I smile at each other, rolling our eyes.I’ve never had a sister, either, but I imagine it would feel a little like this.

“Law school.”

              “Ooh, such a creative guess.Nope.”

              “Film.”

              “Nuh-uh.”

              “Art history.”

              “Nope—can’t pronounce all those French guys’ names.”

              I laugh, shrugging, as Alex Meegan puts his hand on the small of my back.“I give up,” I tell him, feeling a slight blush in my cheeks from his touch.“What’d you study?”

              “Anthropology,” he says.

              “Anthropology.”

              He nods.

              “And…what, exactly, does an anthropologist do?”

              Alex slows down his pace, steering me to a bench at the edge of the pond.After dinner at a new rooftop restaurant downtown, we drove to a park in the historical district to watch the sunset.It’s almost at the tree-line now, the sky bright orange and hazy.It’s been a fun night, and I’m surprised to realize I don’t want it to end.

              Alex is handsome—that much was obvious from just the pictures on his dad’s desk, if not the many women I’ve caught staring at him tonight—but he’s also funny and interesting, and the way his hand feels on my back, then my knee as we sit down, makes me realize it’s not just Silas’s touch I’ve missed.It’s any touch.

              “Anthropologists,” he says, “study other cultures, how humans interact with each other—that kind of thing.Some of them focus on more specific things, though, like linguistics or archaeology.”

              “‘Them,’ meaning…?”

              Alex sighs, his eyes flickering to his feet.“Meaning, I’m not one of them.”He looks at me.“I got my Bachelors in anthro, but never got around to grad school for the Ph.D.And that’s what makes you an official anthropologist.”

              “What made you decide not to go?”

              A slow, amused smile creeps across his face.“You know you’re the first person to phrase it like that?”

              “What?”

              “You asked what made me
decide
not to go.Not ‘what happened,’ or ‘why not,’ or whatever.”He gives my leg a light squeeze, so subtle I almost miss it.“It’s nice, that’s all.To meet one person who doesn’t act like passing on grad school was the end of the world for me.”

              “Well,” I say, taking a breath, “I didn’t go to college at all, so I can’t judge.And I wouldn’t want to judge, anyway.I think it’s kind of stupid the way some people act like school’s the be-all, end-all.Or that that’s the only place you can get an education.”I debate telling Alex that I’m also a high-school dropout, no diploma to my name except a GED, but decide against it.Silas was accepting of it, but then again, Silas wasn’t exactly a saint—and he definitely wasn’t the driven, globetrotting type, like Alex.

              Alex gives me that look again, like I’ve pleasantly surprised him.“That’s how I feel, too.”

              “Yeah?”

              “Yeah.When I studied abroad in Australia, I realized how much of the world there is to learn from.And I realized I’d rather spend my twenties doing that—traveling—and studying on my own.Not following some rigid syllabus or worrying about thesis papers and tuition.”He moves his hand, draping his arm across my shoulder hesitantly, like a question.I sink against him for an answer.

              “Where’s your next trip?” I ask, after a moment.“Can’t imagine why you’d want to stay here all fall and winter.”

              Again, Alex’s movement is so subtle, I barely notice—the way his fingers graze my other shoulder, or how he shifts back, just a little, so that I sink a tiny bit further into his arm.“You never know,” he answers.

“Nice place.”Alex nods a thank you at the coffee I hand him, then follows me to the couch.He looks around the townhouse again.“Do you, uh…have roommates?”

              I can’t tell if he’s asking out of curiosity—it is a pretty nice townhouse, and I don’t imagine most people my age could afford it without a roommate—or if he just wants to make sure we won’t be interrupted.If anything even happens worth interrupting, that is.As far as I can tell, he really
did
want to come in for coffee, and we really are about to watch a documentary on Australia, nothing more.

              “Just me,” I shrug, opening Netflix on the television.I hand the remote to Alex and watch him type the title into the search bar.He squints at the screen, typing slowly.“You okay?” I ask.

              He glances at me, blushing.“I, uh…I’ve got crappy vision, to be honest.”He reaches into his coat pocket, thrown over the arm of the sofa, and pulls out a case.“See?” he says, putting on a pair of glasses.They’re Ray-Ban style, the frames made of thick black plastic.I can tell the lenses are strong, but not enough to warp his eyes.“I didn’t want you to see the nerdy me on our first date.”

              I laugh, adjusting the glasses on his ears.“I think you look nice,” I tell him.“Distinguished.They complement your cheek bones.”I blush as I say it, but Alex smiles.

              “Really?I’ve always hated glasses, but I hate contacts even more.The thought of touching my eye freaks me out.”

              “Like this?”I poke the white of my eye with my pinky, laughing as Alex shudders.

              “Don’t do that!It’s seriously the grossest thing ever.”He laughs too, then grabs my hands and holds them still.We pause for a moment, my hands trapped inside his, our faces just an inch or so apart.I think of the last time I saw my reflection like this—inside Silas’s sunglasses, the day he left for good—and take note of the difference: I’m not angry and hurt, staring at myself.I’m smiling.And I’m not focusing on the girl in the lenses.I’m looking at the face behind them.

              Alex blinks, clearing his throat, and lets go of my hands.“You, um…want to start the documentary?I can point out the places I’ve been, if you want.Or I can just keep my big mouth shut and let you enjoy it.”He laughs again, a little nervous.

              It’s kind of adorable, how scared he is to kiss me.I don’t know if he’s just old-fashioned, bad at reading me—because I’m making it fairly obvious I’d let him kiss me tonight, and maybe a whole lot more—or if he honestly doesn’t realize how handsome he is.He’s got no reason to be nervous.Not that I’d tell him that.

              So we sip our coffee, knees and shoulders touching, on the couch, and watch the documentary.Alex quietly tells me which cities he’s seen, what koalas are really like, which famous restaurants he loved and which ones he hated.It’s nice to hear his stories—he’s not braggy about it, like some college grads I’ve met—but it makes me realize how little I’ve done.At least, things worth sharing; I’m not entirely eager to recount my shoplifting or pickpocketing days, or the times I wound up in northern beach towns without rides, my so-called friends having abandoned me.Alex is worldly—literally—but my education came the hard way, and it’s not one most people value.

              Slowly, about halfway through the movie, Alex sets his coffee down and puts his arm around my shoulder again, like at the park.This time, though, I lean a little further into him than before, propping my feet on the couch, so that he has to lie back instead of sitting so formally.I can hear his heart skittering in his chest and feel his muscles try to relax under my head.

              “Erin?” he asks, towards the end.

              I turn my head, looking up at him.“Yes?”

              He stares at me a second, and I brace myself for the swoop of his face to mine, that adrenaline surge of the first kiss—the excitement of not knowing how far things will go on this first night.

              Alex parts his lips and takes a breath, and I lean in just a bit further.

              “Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

              “Oh.”I sit up.“Um…sure.It’s upstairs, first door on the right.”I fall back against the pillows, waiting till Alex is out of earshot before sighing.I appreciate old-fashioned chivalry as much as the next girl, but it’s not 1954, here, either.

              My phone lights up from the coffee table, the silent ping.I check my text messages: just one, from Fiona.

             
How’s the date?Any play?
:P
-Fiona.

              I smile.
Does shoulder-leaning count?

              Just a couple seconds later, she answers,
I think so.But then again, my boyfriend is gay. So what do I know.

              I send back a half-frown.
Tonight’s the break-up, huh?GL.Tell me everything later.

             
Will do.Have fun with Alex.
:)

              “Hey.”

              I set my phone down and smile as Alex comes back downstairs.“Hey.You missed the end of the documentary—want me to rewind?”

              Alex checks his watch.“Actually, uh…it’s getting kind of late.I promised my mom I’d help her plant some trees tomorrow.”

              I stand, trying to hide my disappointment.“Oh…okay.Here, I’ll walk you to your car.”

              Out in the lot, Alex jingles his keys and unlocks his car, but hesitates before climbing in.“I had a lot of fun tonight, Erin.”

              “Me, too,” I smile.Great—I know what that means.No second date.I’ve heard it a million times.

              “Do you…”He pauses.“Would you like to get lunch tomorrow?I don’t have any plans after I help my mom out.”

              This lifts my spirits.I really like Alex.It’s not the heady rush from my first dates with Silas, that strange summer feeling where time somehow flies by even at a standstill, but it’s a nice feeling, the tingly beginnings of a crush—and I’m not ready to let it go yet.Not when it’s practically all I’ve got going on.

              “Sure,” I tell him, trying not to sound too eager.I’ve still got to play the game, after all.“Call me when you get done.”

              He nods, then opens his car door.I wave one last time and turn to head back towards my townhouse, when he calls out, “Erin, wait a sec.”

              I turn back and stare at him, waiting.He fidgets a little.“Um…okay, so, it’s been a long time…since I’ve had a first date.”He steps closer, closing the gap between us.“I’m not exactly smooth when it comes to this…this, uh—”

              I laugh and stand on my tiptoes, kissing him.His words get caught in his mouth, his lips relaxing against mine as he bends his head.Gently, he snakes his hands to my neck, his fingers in my hair as the kiss deepens.

              When we pull apart, just a few centimeters, I whisper, “See you tomorrow.”

              Alex smiles in a way that tells me he feels it too, the tingly, dizzy crush-beginning feeling.“Okay,” he says quietly.“Goodnight, Erin.”

              “Goodnight, Alex.”

              I wink as I turn around and head back to my townhouse.I watch him leave from the porch, his headlights blinking at me in the last few seconds before he’s out of sight, on the main road.

              It’s when I open the door, one foot inside my home, that I hear it: the low rumble of an engine, just a few feet behind me.

              When I turn to look, all I see is a car surrounded with exhaust, hanging low in the summer-to-fall heat, the driver a tall, broad-shouldered figure.I can’t tell, but it looks like they’re looking at me.Watching me.

              Before I can see who it is, the car’s headlights turn on and blind me.Its engine revs, but the car stays put.

              My first thought is Gordon.I wouldn’t put stalking past him, but I'm not eager to go and find out for sure, either.

              I can feel my muscles tensing; suddenly, all I want to do is get inside my house, lock the doors, and feel safe under a blanket on the couch, a knife from the kitchen stashed under a magazine on the table.But I hold back, trying to enter as casually as I can.The deadbolt locks with an assuring click.

              Still, the car doesn’t move.I see its headlights shining through the curtains, can hear the engine even when I take the TV off mute.

              I’m not afraid of Gordon anymore.My words to Silas seemed so true at the time, but after seeing his face in the courtroom, I’m not so sure I shouldn’t be afraid.

              Finally, the lights swing left, and the engine’s rumble fades.I go to the window and peer out through the tiniest gap in the curtain I can make.

              The spot’s empty.

              I go to my door and look through the peep hole: nothing.

              For some reason, though, I don’t feel safe.I just feel more alone than ever—more than every night between Silas leaving and this one, combined.

             
Got a kiss,
I text Fiona.She doesn’t text back.