Trail of Crumbs

by Lisa J. Lawrence

  “Everyone, this is Kai. He’s my roommate’s brother.” She smiled at him as he rested his hand on the small of her back. So a boyfriend.

  Elgin stepped forward to shake his hand. Greta was glad he’d put on pants. How many former boyfriends had dumped Alice after that initial introduction? Then Elgin waved everyone over to the table. Alice ended up between Ash and Kai. Greta and Nate sat across from them, and Elgin took the head of the table. A shrunken patriarch.

  Most of the conversation revolved around Kai. He liked cats, was thinking of going vegan and had just written a book.

  “What’s the book about?” Nate asked, shoveling in the risotto.

  “It’s basically about unrequited love,” Kai said, laying down his fork to brush a lock of hair off his cheekbone.

  “That sounds like a good universal theme.” Elgin chuckled. “Haven’t we all loved somebody we can’t have?”

  Nate glanced at Ash, and Ash at Alice. Alice’s eyes flicked to Kai, and he took that moment to check his phone beside his plate. Greta tried to dodge a wave of anger, while Elgin poured himself a glass of wine and missed the whole thing.

  Then Kai and Alice—talking over each other—told them about a song they had written together. (“Kai plays the guitar like B.B. King.”) It incorporated the science of teeth with analogies of betrayal. Two WTF lines were etched deep between Ash’s eyebrows.

  Elgin nodded as if this were the most logical thing in the world. “Yes, I see that,” he said. “Something could be said, as well, about baby teeth representing the foundations of trust and not being needed as relationships grow.” He took a sip of wine and leaned back in his chair, gazing over their heads.

  Ash slipped away when Kai, Alice and Elgin poured coffee and hunkered down at the table. Nate and Greta followed him and flopped on the sofa. Greta shifted to one side and motioned for Ash to sit between them. “Welcome to the friend zone,” she said. “Plenty of room here.”

  Nate and Greta sank toward the middle as Ash dropped between them. “That guy’s a dick,” he said.

  “Probably,” Greta said, “but at least he’s reached the age of majority.”

  Ash made a sneering face but didn’t hold it for long.

  “Would you rather,” Nate began, “listen to Kai’s song on a loop for twenty-four hours straight or go skinny-dipping in Pigeon Lake at the height of algae season? Consider the itch.”

  “The lake,” both Ash and Greta answered. She could stand in solidarity by dissing Kai. Besides, the song sounded like crap.

  “Would you rather”—Greta did this one for Ash—“read Kai’s book about unrequited love or pepper spray yourself in the eye?

  “Pepper spray.”

  “Would you rather”—Ash looked back and forth between them—“get a free flight to anywhere in the world, sitting next to Kai the whole way, or stay home and clean all the porta potties at the Fringe Festival?”

  “Porta potties.” Nate nodded.

  “Definitely,” Greta said.

  Poor Kai. Greta glanced over at him, smiling good-naturedly over his coffee. Just waiting to save a baby seal or bring world peace with his awkward-analogy music.

  Nate looked pleased that his game of Would You Rather had gained so much momentum. “So, Scrabble rematch?” he said, rising from the couch before they could answer. There was no point in saying no—he’d bring it anyway. He slipped on his boots by the door and streaked across the street in his T-shirt. The streetlights had just turned on.

  At the table, the conversation turned to policies on refugees. This should get interesting, Greta thought. It was hard to imagine Elgin turning anyone away. Civil war? Come live at my house! By Alice’s arm, Greta’s phone started to vibrate.

  “Nate probably wants to bring Monopoly too,” Greta said, nudging Ash’s leg. “You get it.”

  Alice picked up the phone and gave it an underhand toss, which Ash caught. “Hello?” He already sounded annoyed, ready to say no to whatever Nate suggested. The phone fumbled in his hand before his fingers gripped it again. He shot forward to the edge of the cushion. Turning to look at Greta, he enunciated every word, pulling the phone from his ear until he only spoke into the mouthpiece. “Piss off. There’s been a coup.” Then he hung up.

  The conversation at the table died.

  “That was Roger,” Ash said, dropping the phone onto Nate’s empty cushion and leaning back.

  Greta found her voice. “Why’d you hang up?!”

  “I didn’t want to talk to him.”

  “Maybe I wanted to talk to him!”

  “What for? Hey, Dad, how’s life been since you abandoned us?”

  “I don’t know!” She grasped for an answer, something to throw back at him. What would she say to him? “Give me the phone.” She pointed to the cushion and waited for Ash to pass it over.

  As she brought up Roger’s number and pressed Call, Ash rose, muttering, and walked to their bedroom. He slammed the door behind him. Next to Elgin, Kai finally seemed at a loss for nuggets of wisdom. Elgin and Alice stared at Greta while Kai looked at them all one by one.

  Nate burst through the front door and was instantly silenced by the funereal atmosphere. “What? What’s wrong?” He noticed everyone’s eyes on Greta and waited too, the Scrabble box under one arm.

  The call went straight to voice mail. She disconnected and redialed, her heartbeat thick and heavy in her chest. The same. She chucked the phone back on the cushion. Alice rose from the table and sat beside her. “You okay?” Kai started in again about war.

  Greta nodded at Alice. Her solar plexus was wound into a tight knot. Her limbs felt disconnected from each other—a mismatched collection of flesh, bone, blood.

  “Maybe he’ll call back,” Alice said.

  Greta nodded, staring at Elgin’s new plants. Nate came and sat on her other side.

  “I’ll play with you guys,” Alice said.

  Nate set up the game board, something for his hands to do. Greta stared at the tiles in front of her: cat, mat, pan, man. Back to first grade for her, her brain incapable of handling two-syllable words. Alice filled Nate in on what had happened, her voice hushed for once, and then arranged the word axoneme on the game board. Greta managed at before she wandered to the bedroom, snatching the phone on her way.

  She found Ash lying on his back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. For one second they were in the storage closet again, a bare bulb dangling over their heads. Patty raging outside the door.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked, bracing for a fight. “Don’t tell me you’re actually mad.”

  Ash turned to look at her, looming over him. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at him.” He turned back to the stark ceiling. “Thinks he can come and go as he pleases. It’s like he’s playing with us. Your only fault is being too nice.”

  “You don’t even know what he was going to say.”

  “Would it matter?”

  Well. Probably not. “Next time let me talk to him and make that decision myself, okay?”

  He rolled away, his back to her. “Okay.”

  Greta sensed his weight, his dark matter, pulling all light from the room. Sucking her toward a black hole. A few hours ago she had seen him in ugly shorts with Elgin, a sign of camaraderie that only made sense at Elgin’s house. They were cooking together again. And Nate with them. Ash actually feeling something for Alice. And even though he was pissed about Kai, they’d made a joke out of it. He was okay. She had wrestled so much with her own okayness that she hadn’t realized Ash was getting better, in tiny baby steps. Now this. Anger flared against Roger. Was he playing with them, like Ash said?

  They went to bed right then, without saying goodnight to anyone. In their clothes. Greta turned off the light but left the phone by her head. Hating Roger but wanting something from him at the same time. After staring at the dark ceiling for what felt like hours, she picked up the phone and texted Roger: We live upstairs with Elgin now. Call me sometime. No response. She drifted off i
n the middle of the night, woken by pinging notifications and game messages. Every time scrambling to check for texts. You’ve won twenty gems in Pirate’s Cove! Use them now!

  Dawn marked the end of a sleepless marathon. She turned off the sound on the phone and pushed it far away from her. Then she shut the bedroom door behind her and stepped into the kitchen. Fairies had done the dishes in the night. With a mug of tea cradled in her palms, Greta stood at the picture window, squinting at the glare off the snow in the front yard. She didn’t have to wait for the sunrise today. Their part of the earth was tilting closer to the sun every day, like Elgin had said. Slowly.

  Ash wandered out a few minutes later, walking as if his legs were hollow. Walking like Elgin. Greta stood to meet him, stopping him by the dining-room table.

  “Ash.” She grabbed his wrists and shook the pulse back into them. “Ashwin.”

  He looked at her, letting her hold his wrists.

  “We are not stopping here, not navel-gazing and wondering what Dad’s up to. We will not be destroyed by him or anyone else. We’re getting on with our lives. You hear me?”

  He swallowed and nodded, standing a little taller.

  “I have an idea about school, but I have to talk to someone first.”

  He nodded again, without asking any questions. Then she led him to Elgin’s chair and made him a cup of tea, even though he hated tea. They made a to-do list, Ash volunteering to do the laundry.

  Elgin slept for most of the day, emerging only once to use the bathroom and prod his plants. No spatula-brandishing today. No lime-green-Hawaiian-print euphoria at the stove. Greta watched him fade in and out of the room, feeling a little embarrassed for herself. On one level, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Here are some daffodils and a nice meal. Ta-da! Depression cured! On the other hand, she’d kind of hoped. He’d had a good day. That was something.

  In the late afternoon Greta parked herself on Nate’s porch steps, watching for Rebus. At minus five degrees, she barely needed her coat. Even the snow looked dull—white socks after summer camp—probably knowing it would melt soon. Then storm, then melt, then storm, then melt for another two months. Swing between minus twenty and plus twenty.

  Rebus pulled into the driveway a few minutes later. Nate climbed out of the driver’s side—practically a carnival act, with his long legs—and didn’t seem surprised to find Greta waiting there.

  “I have a plan for school, Nate,” she told him.

  “Excellent!” He crushed her in a giant hug.

  She smiled into his shoulder.

  After supper Greta turned down Nate and Ash’s invitation to go to West Edmonton Mall with them, her night of phone stalking having caught up with her. She dozed on the couch, her body deadweight while her mind meandered. It tested, stepping gingerly on a stack of images her brain threw at her. Roger. A million live nerves connected to that one. A pang, something sore and tender, attached to him. But also strength—hers and Ash’s. A tiny triumph. Patty. Her brain wouldn’t even engage—a jag of anger. Then a savage cutting loose. Not their problem anymore. Elgin, Alice, Nate. Something warm there. Their school, West Edmonton High. Greta felt the pang, that tender bruise, and waited for resiliency to offer up some small triumph. Instead, the sensation fell like a rock down a well. Falling. Falling. Never landing. Her body woke a little. Something unfinished there. A taste in her mouth like after a nosebleed. Had Priya been right about her giving up too easily?

  She let herself think of them—Dylan, Rachel, Matt, even Sam and Angus—picture their faces, remember their words, their expressions. The way they laughed, both with her and at her. Her gut twisted tight again, all those shards stirring and pinching. But also. But also. Sepia along the border of everything, ebbing over the other colors, subtle. Shame. Greta recognized it, though her anger drove it into hiding. Still? What more could she do? She rejected it, called it out, raged at it. But it always crept back. Not so bold now—more of an odor, a trace.

  Greta stood, wanting to move but bound by the size of Elgin’s living room, his jungle of plants. She ended up shifting in a circle, trapped by those walls of stone and ivy again. Would time dry up the shame? Another talk with Priya? The hurt would remain, she knew. For how long, she didn’t know. But the shame? She couldn’t accept it, held captive by it even as she rejected it.

  Greta mentally paced as she lay in bed, even after Ash crept in without turning on the light. Had she made a mistake leaving West Edmonton High? The thought of going back was like stepping in front of a charging semi, all headlights and rumble. How would that help anything? She checked the time on her phone. One AM. Anxiety stirred as Greta inhaled and exhaled. She knew what to do. And even as she dreaded it, her feet finally touched something firm beneath her. The rock cast down the well hit bottom, with a small but definite splash. She would need backup, someone to walk beside her, prop up her shoulder. Ash? Not unless she wanted to leave a trail of broken limbs. Her mind scanned through names and faces—a short list. Someone strong.

  There. Yes. She sent a text.

  EIGHTEEN

  Greta went to school an hour before classes ended for the day in order to to see the guidance counselor, Mr. Abbott. She needed to know if her plan to finish the school year was feasible. She said something vague about there being a lot going on at home. When he probed for more details, she added, “It’s personal,” and stared at the floor until he got on with withdrawing her from her courses. That was the easy part—something solid checked off her list. Part one finished, she waited by the front door of the school for part two. Terror beat her sense of satisfaction to death in less than a minute. She had to leave. Vomit roiled at the base of her throat—she could taste it.

  Sauntering from the bus stop, Alice wore a bag over one shoulder and a black leather mini. Sandy at the end of Grease, all badass, sidestepping puddles leaking from the slushy March snowbanks on either side of the walkway. She sized up the school, from the silver letters mounted on a brick wall to the arched doorway, a look of distaste on her face.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked, oblivious to the fact that Greta was about to wet her pants. “Are you trying to give me flashbacks?”

  “You went to this school?”

  “For a year. Then whats-his-face expelled me. Mr. Fletcher. Is he still around?”

  Greta shook her head no.

  “That’s good. That guy liked kids a little too much, if you know what I mean.” She looked at Greta’s face. “You okay?”

  Greta shook her head again. “I need to do something, for…” For what again? “…closure.” It came out as a croak. “But I’m not sure now. What if it makes things worse?”

  “Do what you need to, girl,” Alice said as she walked toward the door, Greta still immobilized behind her. “And why am I here?”

  Greta caught up with her, nearly stepping on her suede boots. “Can you just stand beside me? And don’t ask any questions.” The last thing she wanted was to explain the whole ugly story to Alice in the middle of the hallway at West Edmonton High.

  Alice looked puzzled for a second, shrugged, then swung open the door. “FYI, I’m pretty good with spray paint too.”

  “It’s not that kind of closure. Follow me.” In the foyer, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. “We need to get to the second floor, by the chem lab.”

  Alice matched her steps to Greta’s. As they strode past the office, Alice gave the finger to the Visitors Report to Office sign. “That old bat’s still there,” she said, peeking in the window on the office door. They pushed through the stream of bodies on the stairs, all going down as they went up. Greta panicked as they slowed. Taking too long. It might all be for nothing. Traffic cleared at the top of the stairwell, and they surged forward again. She moved like an Olympic speed walker until she saw them, then reverted to the dream in which she trudged through wet cement while being chased by wild dogs.

  Alice charged ahead before doubling back. “What are you doing?”

  “Uh
…”

  Alice looped her arm through Greta’s. “You lead the way. Do what you came to do.” The warmth of her skin charged Greta’s body, moving it again. Ahead, three backs faced the hallway traffic, converged on an open locker: Rachel, Priya and Sam. Rachel reached for a book, her head turned to Priya. Sam saw Greta and Alice first, snapping her body around to face them. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Then Rachel. Then Priya. Like they had rehearsed it. After a second Sam stayed blank. Rachel rolled her eyes, and Priya smiled like Maleficent. They all eyed Alice standing behind Greta.

  “Greta—” Rachel started to say, her tone already tired.

  “You were a shitty friend,” Greta said. A few people paused, slowing their steps as they passed. Pretended not to stare. Rachel’s face like she’d been slapped. “It’s not okay that you blame me for getting raped, but I can’t change that.”

  Rachel’s eyes flicked to the people walking in slow motion. She opened her mouth to speak, but Greta started again. “You left me in the middle of nowhere because I wouldn’t sleep with your friend.” She swallowed to steady her voice.

  Priya jumped in. “Seriously, Rachel?” She made eye contact with a few people passing by. “Can you imagine if that gets out?” She made a cringe-y face, then winked at Greta when they turned away. Sam looked like she wanted to leave but didn’t quite know how, confrontation pinning her there.

  Rachel’s face reddened, her eyes darting around. “Greta, can we talk about this—”

  “Whether you believe me about Dylan or not, what happened afterward is on you. You’re the kind of person who would abandon, even endanger, a friend because a boy told you to. You should look at that.”

  Two twelfth-grade girls stopped to watch until Rachel snapped, “Do you mind?” Then she slammed her locker shut and tried to step around Greta.

  Greta maneuvered to block her, anger moving her legs. She wasn’t done yet. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Rachel?” Alice shifted to Greta’s side, crossing her arms. So cool and controlled, all blond hair and leather. Greta envied everything about Alice in that second.