by Becca Fox
My sister frowned. “Fine. It says they aren’t allowed to talk to me unless I talk to them first. So I’ll just make it a point to be more welcoming.”
“What, you want to hand out muffin baskets to every new person who walks into this building?” I snorted. “Be realistic, Jazz. Not everyone is going to want—”
“I think it’s a great idea,” my uncle said. “Just don’t get too friendly with people. And let me know before you approach anyone so I can go with you, for protection.”
I was about to shoot him a dirty look and accuse him of giving in too easily, but then I saw the effect his words had on my sister. Any trace of sadness was gone from her face, just like that, replaced by her usual big smile. Her posture improved. She moved toward him with her arms outstretched and thanked him as if he’d just done her an amazing favor.
Suddenly, I wasn’t so annoyed anymore. If that’s all it took to make her forget about committing suicide…
“Since you’re taking requests,” she said, turning to address me, “I want to meet Esmer.”
“I already said you could.”
“At her house.”
I winced. “Jazz—”
“Her great aunt’s mansion sounds incredible, like the professor’s house from The Chronicles of Narnia.” Jasmine shrugged. “I want to see it.”
“It’s not a good idea,” I insisted with a shake of my head. “It took me forever to get Esmer’s aunt to sort of be okay with me. I don’t want to ask any favors from her yet.”
“Please, little brother?” She folded her hands and looked up at me with a pout. “It would make me so happy. And if I die, we can tell her I get seizures from time to time. Only Esmer will know what’s really going on. Isn’t that better than me going on an actual field trip out in public?”
“It does sound a lot better than going out in public,” Uncle Victor said with a sheepish smile. “At least ask Esmer’s aunt and see if it would even be possible, Charlie.”
I groaned. “Fine. I’ll ask.”
Jasmine squealed and wiggled around with her hands in the air, the closest she could get to dancing while sitting.
I was sure I’d regret it later but, right then and there, I was just glad she was still smiling.
February 10th, 1960
We felt the presence of our brethren. We were in India, studying from a guru, and we felt them in New Delhi.
We cannot be absolutely certain because we did not dare stay a moment longer. But it was unmistakable. The same strange sense of complete belonging set in on both Dymeka and myself as we walked through a busy street. We exchanged glances and instantly ran in the opposite direction we had been heading. We boarded the first bus we saw heading out of the city and were relieved when the feeling dissipated. We are uncertain who it was but I believe it was Fadele and Nij. We had been walking a very notorious part of town, an area known for gambling and prostitution. The only wealth to be had there was by those in charge. It seemed more to Fadele and Nij’s taste.
Once we were out of New Delhi, we decided to head back to the Americas. We did not want to be anywhere near them. Only an ocean’s width seemed safe enough. Of course, we ran the risk of meeting Izz and Segil but there was no way to know for sure. We could always run again if we felt their presence.
It is a bit wearisome to think of running every time we sense them. I don’t enjoy running. I do not like fearing for Dymeka’s safety. Maybe there will be a day when we do not have to run.
Chapter 21
Esmeralda
A Nor’Easter rolled in that weekend, a massive storm with rain, thunder, lightning, wind, and even some hail. It was depressing. Worse, Charlie didn’t stop by once. He’d raced out of the courtroom before the hearing was over so I assumed someone else had died. If I’d thought to ask for his number, I might’ve been able to text him, but I hadn’t. I was still getting used to having the thing back. And having someone I actually wanted to text. So I was forced to wait. Again.
Aunt Dinah brought me meals on a tray but otherwise left me alone. I watched random YouTube videos on my phone, listened to music, stared moodily out the window, called my mom to let her know I was out of the hospital, and slept a lot. I limped around the second story in my stupid crutches for “exercise,” steering clear of the chair lift. The Roomba followed me around, humming in its mockingly cheerful way.
Then Monday came around. It was time to have the cast taken off and there was no avoiding the stupid stairs. I suffered through the slow journey, trying my best to focus on the outcome of the doctor’s appointment. I’d be coming home with a knee brace. It would be a huge friggin’ improvement.
My great aunt was happy to drive in silence. And sit in the waiting room in silence. And watch the doctor do his assessment in silence. It bugged the hell out of me but there wasn’t anything for us to talk about. So why bother trying to make small talk?
After the removal of the cast, I was told I’d be starting physical therapy in two weeks. Then I could go back to school. It was better than music to my ears. I’d gladly take boring lectures and stale food over sitting in my room for hours on end. I daydreamed about grass and the cold, outside air and people and noise as Aunt Dinah drove us back to the house.
I sat up straighter when we pulled into the driveway. A slender figure with a backwards baseball cap was pacing the porch. I grinned.
“Hold your horses,” Aunt Dinah murmured, turning off the engine.
It was like she could feel my anticipation, and had known I’d been about to throw my door open. Crutches or no, I’d find my way to him. Was it pathetic just how excited I was? Maybe. I didn’t care. I’d been deprived of that grumpy face, those sarcastic comments, and his tender touches for too long.
Aunt Dinah’s progress was agonizingly slow because she had to open up her umbrella before stepping out of the car. She was wearing a raincoat with the hood tightened around her face and the cuffs buttoned at her wrists, and she was still afraid of getting wet? I gritted my teeth to keep from snapping at her.
Charlie resumed his pacing but kept glancing at the car. Then, almost as if he couldn’t stand the wait any more, he came out from the shelter of the porch. Speed-walking across the lawn, he shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the rain. He took the crutches out of the back seat and then opened my door.
His windbreaker and jeans clung to him. His baseball cap was soaked through; rain dripped down his nose and chin. He blocked most of the falling water but the chill of the wind still gnawed on my cheeks, seeped in through my clothes, made me shiver. Hesitant as ever, Charlie held out his hand. I took it and climbed out. His fingers were freezing.
I was drenched in the few seconds it took for me to get the crutches under my arms. Charlie hovered nearby as I hurried to the porch. He kept his arms slightly raised, prepared to catch me if I slipped. We made it to the front door without incident, unfortunately. There we waited for my aunt. Charlie’s soggy backpack and skateboard sat on the bench under the front window.
He wasn’t smiling per se, but the quiet, almost shy way he looked at me, like he wanted to memorize everything about me, told me he was glad to see me. I wish I’d worn something a bit nicer. I hadn’t been able to wear any pants while in the cast so I’d gone with a modest sweater dress today. I watched his face while rocking on my crutches, leaning toward him, leaning back, chewing on my bottom lip, wanting to reach out to him but suddenly afraid of breaking this fragile, amazing thing between us.
Charlie finally looked away, clenching his fists at his sides. “Dinah.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Hi.”
“Good afternoon, Charles,” was the curt reply. My great aunt paused on the steps to close up her umbrella and shake it out.
“I have a…request.”
At this, the old woman raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “Oh? Get on with it then.”
Charlie shot me a quick glance, almost as if asking for help, but I had no idea what was going on. All I could offer
him was a shrug.
“It’s about my sister, Jasmine.”
Oh-kay, that was the last thing I expected. It explained why he was so tense, though. He could barely talk about Jasmine with me.
“She suffers from frequent seizures and doesn’t get out much,” Charlie went on, still tight as a bed spring, still stumbling over his words. “I told her a bit about Esmer and now she wants to meet her. And see your house.” A blush crept across his face. “I might’ve mentioned that you live in a really nice house.”
Aunt Dinah busied herself with the clasp of her umbrella. “That would be fine.”
Still he didn’t relax. “Really?”
“After all you’ve done for Esmeralda, it would hardly be fair for me to deny you the one thing you’ve asked in return.” The old woman whipped out her house key and approached the door, scowling. “Name the day.”
“Would tomorrow work?” The hopeful pinch in his voice had me smiling again.
“Yes, yes.” She pushed the door open and walked in without even a glance in our direction. “Now, come in before you catch your death.”
“Thank you.” Charlie dragged a hand down his face and flicked the excess water off to the side. Cracking a weary smile, he waved me onward.
Aunt Dinah headed straight for the sitting room after turning on the light in the foyer. “I can take you back to the precinct once you’re dry. I won’t have you leaking water all over my leather seats.”
Those seats were more cracked and weathered than my great aunt’s skin, but it was an excuse for Charlie to stay longer so I wasn’t going to point it out.
The old lady had a fire going in the fireplace a moment later. “Hot tea or coffee?”
I opened my mouth to reply but then realized she was probably talking to our guest.
“Coffee will be fine, thanks,” Charlie said, pausing where the hardwood ended and the carpet began. “Would you like me to take off my—?”
“Yes, please. I’m not overly fond of water stains.” Aunt Dinah brushed past us on her way to the kitchen. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Charlie hopped on one foot while unlacing the first sneaker.
“So Jasmine’s coming here,” I said, stepping out of the soaked slippers I was wearing.
“She had a hard death over the weekend.” A shoe dropped on the floor. He traded feet and got to work untying the other shoe. “Seemed to be the only thing that would cheer her up.”
I limped over to the couch, eased into it, and almost slipped right off. With a curse, I hooked an arm around the armrest to steady myself.
Charlie was smirking at me when I looked up.
“Don’t sit here,” was all I could think to say.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, approaching the fireplace.
I tried not to be offended by that as I watched him extend his pale hands toward the warmth. “How come you didn’t get a ride here? Where’s your uncle?”
“He’s been going a little crazy, waiting for someone to respond to a BOLO he sent out a while back. He went hunting for more leads today to keep busy.”
“BOLO?” I asked when my questioning look went unnoticed.
Charlie finally looked away from the fire. “It stands for Be On the Lookout. It’s a description of a person of interest in a case or maybe the car they drive that’s sent out to all the precincts in the state. Policemen are supposed to contact us if they see anyone or any vehicle that matches the description.”
“Huh. So the case he’s working on is pretty much on hold until someone finds this person?”
“Or until he finds another suspect, yeah.” Charlie took off his cap and held it out to the fire. His head looked almost misshapen without it. “Detective shows glamorize it, but solving a murder case is more about filling out paperwork and waiting than chasing down suspicious characters and having shootouts in abandoned buildings.”
“Hey, so long as the bad guys are caught, right?”
Charlie somberly rotated his cap. “Sometimes the bad guys are never caught.”
I shivered.
“Another thing detective shows don’t mention,” he added with a wry smile.
“Have a lot of your uncle’s cases gone unsolved, even with you and Jasmine helping?”
“Not too many,” he said after thinking about it for a second. “But enough.”
Before I could say anything else, Aunt Dinah came marching into the sitting room. She’d taken off her raincoat and boots, and now carried a tray. Three mugs of steaming coffee, a bowl of sugar, a tiny pitcher of half-n-half, and some spoons were perfectly arranged along the tray’s surface. She would’ve been the epitome of British decorum if it weren’t for that permanent scowl on her face and the stiffness of her movements.
“Here you are,” she said, lowering the tray onto the coffee table.
Charlie put the cap back on his head before approaching the table, murmuring his thanks. My aunt prepared my coffee without asking me how I liked it. I didn’t realize that was what she was doing until she handed me the mug, otherwise I would’ve said something. Then she took her black coffee to her favorite armchair and sat primly to sip it.
Charlie and I shared an uncomfortable look before drinking our own coffee. Mine needed more sugar. I grimaced a little and forced myself to swallow. The warmth traveled down my throat, into my stomach, and seemed to spread to the rest of my body. So I kept drinking it. The wind howled outside. The rain beat relentlessly against the roof. The fire crackled and spat. More silence. I wished Aunt Dinah would leave. I knew Charlie would talk more if she wasn’t here. I frowned at her, hoping she’d get the hint and make herself scarce.
Of course she didn’t.
“Your sister,” the old woman said abruptly, making Charlie flinch. “How long has she had this condition?”
Charlie went back to being a statue by the fireplace. “Since she was a kid.”
“Has there been an official diagnosis? Is she being treated?”
“Her doctor thinks it might be epilepsy,” he lied, looking down at his cup. “He’s treating it like epilepsy but, even after all this time, he’s still not sure.”
“Has she seen other specialists?”
At this, his jaw tightened. “My uncle has hired the best doctor he can afford. We trust his judgment.”
Aunt Dinah’s eyes flashed in his direction. If she disapproved of his tone, she didn’t say. She just lifted the mug to her lips and took another sip.
He mimicked her, turning back to the fire.
“Is there anything I should know, anything that could make her visit more comfortable?” the old lady asked.
“She likes tea,” Charlie offered with a shrug, as if to prove he wasn’t bothered by her persistent questioning. “Earl grey and mint are her favorites.”
If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said Aunt Dinah’s face had become softer. But then she finished her coffee and stood. “I’m ready to take you home now. Let me just get my raincoat and we’ll be off.” She left before he could answer.
Charlie stared after her, eyebrows peaked.
“You ain’t gonna figure her out so quit trying,” I said. “You’ll just end up with a headache. Ask me how I know.”
He shook his head and went to deposit his empty mug on the coffee table. “Anyway, I have something for you.”
“What kind of something?” I asked, sitting up a little.
Stuffing his hand into his pocket, Charlie stepped closer to me. “I was bored over the weekend and started tinkering. Ended up making this. Thought you might like it.” He placed a tiny cloth pouch in my waiting palm and stepped back. Then he shrugged. “Jasmine doesn’t have the right piercing for it otherwise I would’ve given it to her.”
I set the mostly empty mug of coffee aside to reach into the pouch and pull out a cartilage earring, the kind that curved along the edge of the ear. Delicate black stars were strung together with silver wire and, at the very top, was a bright pink pig with a pair of snowy wings.
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“It’s a flying pig,” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah.” He scratched the top of his head through the cap. “Don’t ask me how I come up with these things.”
I gave him a look, half-incredulous, half-amused. “I was wearing a shirt with a flying pig on it the day we met.”
The scratching stopped. All of a sudden he couldn’t look at me. “Oh.”
“You don’t remember?” I asked, lowering the earring and its pouch into my lap, not believing it for a second.
“You wear all sorts of weird things,” he said in his defense, color rising to his face.
My smile got bigger and bigger. “That’s borderline romantic, Charlie boy.”
“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.” He held out his hand, still not looking at me.
I squeezed his fingers. “Thank you.”
Finally, he looked me in the eye. A flicker of insecurity passed over his face. “You like it?”
“I do.”
The tiniest of smiles lifted the corners of his mouth. “Good.”
I wanted to kiss him right then, so badly it made my stomach hurt. I held his hand just a little bit tighter, pushed against the couch with my thighs, reached up just a little closer, took in an expectant breath—
Of course, Aunt Dinah had to walk in then and ruin everything. Charlie moved away from me, taking his hand with him. We were forced to say a formal goodbye and then she waited for him to put his sneakers back on.
“See you tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder.
I watched him go, unreasonably pissed. And sad. I think my heart actually sank when the door closed. I was still sitting there, staring moodily at the earring he’d made for me, when my aunt got back. I couldn’t remember a time when my happiness had ever been dependent upon someone else’s presence. Not even when I was a freshman, dating a boy for the very first time.
Dammit. What was this guy doing to me?
I wasn’t really mad, though. More than anything, I wanted a universal clicker, one with a giant rewind button that could bring us back to the moment when he’d been standing in front of me, letting me come closer, letting me potentially take things further. Would he have kissed me back? Or would he have stepped away? He’d made me an earring. That meant something, right? It went beyond the normal friendship stuff we’d been doing lately.