Ian laughed. “Yeah, right. Come on! It doesn’t bother you? Not even a little bit?”
“What? It’s not a big deal! So she’s a stripper. It’s not like I have to be a stripper to be her friend.”
“Now, there’s an idea.”
Emilia looked over at Ian; his face flushed as he laughed, and she smacked his shoulder. “Shut up,” she said, laughing with him. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She held on to him a little tighter as they pulled into the school parking lot. Ian nodded at some of his friends as he and Emilia got out of the car and made their way toward the entrance of the school. And then, without really meaning to, Emilia glanced up at the sky before they entered the crowded hallway.
Some part of her half expected to see the shuttle blowing up, but instead she noticed black birds circling above. Her crows.
She slowed and stopped for a moment, watching them glide. Their distant caws reached her ears and she wanted to call out to them, but Ian tugged at her hand and she followed him inside.
As they stood outside her first class, Ian played with the green four-leaf-clover ring on Emilia’s finger. He clasped her hand, his pale against hers. “See you after school?” he said.
She thought it was funny, the way he asked this every day. This year they did have completely different schedules and lunch times, which meant Emilia saw him only in the morning and not again until after their last class. But still, she thought it was a funny habit.
“Duh,” she said, laughing and leaning against the wall. He leaned in and kissed her as the bell rang.
When he pulled away, his eyes were still closed and he whispered, “I love you, Emilia.”
She smiled, tucked her long hair back behind her ear, felt light and beautiful, and wished again they’d been able to skip school. They could have spent the day anywhere, doing anything. They could have had whole hours of nothing but each other.
Maybe then some part of her mind wouldn’t still be thinking about the past, about the school. About Jeremy Lance. Maybe she would have forgotten about all of it.
She focused on Ian’s dark eyes as the hallway emptied. “I love you, too.”
Emilia Woke to an Empty House
Emilia woke to an empty house the following morning. Like most Saturdays, her mother and brother had already left for work. She didn’t really mind this Saturday routine, even though she did get a little creeped out being by herself. But she’d never tell her mom that. It’s just that the house was so quiet, so still, that any little noise made her jump. But so did the lack of noise. No clatter of dishes, no hum of television in the background, nothing.
She should have been used to it, but she wasn’t.
“Okay, Emilia, get up,” she said to herself. She always did this when she was home alone—talked to herself loudly, made lots of noise, because she didn’t want to hear a rustle, or a creak, or anything that might put her on edge. And even though Ma hated wasting electricity, Emilia always turned on the television when she went downstairs. She always double-checked the doors, too, sometimes without even realizing she was doing it, just to make sure they were locked. Which was stupid, because her mother always locked the doors.
And you think Ma is paranoid, she told herself when she realized what she was doing.
Emilia watched TV while she ate her cereal. When she finally looked at the clock, she realized it was past noon and wondered why her mother hadn’t called to check up on her yet. She must have gotten busy between appointments. A fussy bride who didn’t like the way her makeup turned out the first time and made Ma do it all over again.
Just as she tipped the bowl to drink the sugary leftover cereal milk, the phone rang, making Emilia jump and hit the bowl against her teeth.
Jesus Christ, she thought as she wiped away the milk that had fallen on the T-shirt she slept in. Thanks a lot, Ma.
“I’m fine, Ma,” she said, answering the phone on the third ring.
There was a slight pause and Emilia caught herself. “I mean, hello?”
“Uh, yes, Nina DeJesus, please.”
“She can’t come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?”
The silence on the other end gave Emilia enough time to realize her mistake. Her mother had trained her well. Never tell anyone I’m not home, Emilia, her mother always told her. Tell them I can’t come to the phone. But it was too late now. Whoever it was had heard Emilia, and it was obvious Ma wasn’t actually home if Emilia had thought it was her calling.
“Hello?” Emilia said again, flustered. “Can I take a message?”
“No message,” the man on the other end said. “I’ll call back another time.” The abrupt click left Emilia unsettled and jittery. For a moment, she stood there with the phone in her hand before finally placing it back on the receiver. She wondered who it was, but then, noticing it was almost one o’clock, she realized she better get ready to meet up with Ian and Anthony and his stripper girlfriend.
Emilia went upstairs and looked in her closet.
What does one wear when hanging out with a stripper? she wondered. I bet she’s sexy. Strippers are sexy, aren’t they?
She pulled out a purple sweater and held it up to herself. This purple sweater was not sexy. It was horrible. Emilia threw it to the side.
I bet she’s older, more interesting. Glamorous? Trashy?
Emilia put on her best pair of jeans and tried on a dozen shirts, but she looked so plain in each one. And she wanted to look different. She wanted to look glamorous, trashy, sexy, and like herself all at once. She didn’t want Ian looking at Anthony’s girlfriend, comparing her to another girl. Emilia looked back in her closet and pulled down the pile of old clothes she kept on her top shelf, the one she always meant to take to Goodwill and never did. She rifled through it, not sure what she was looking for. Finally she came across a black skirt she’d outgrown years ago. She held it up, then changed into it. It was incredibly short now and tight. For a moment, Emilia thought it was perfect.
What would Ian think? she wondered.
Emilia stared at herself for a moment, at the curves of her hips. She didn’t normally wear any clothes that revealed her body like this, outlined it this way. She studied her legs, which looked longer in a skirt so short. She posed and stared at herself.
Ian would explode if he saw her like this.
She looked older. Sexy even.
But then, the longer she studied herself, the more ridiculous the skirt began to look. The less sexy she felt. The more she looked like a little girl playing dress-up.
She felt stupid.
Emilia slipped off the skirt and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and she wondered what it would be like to be a stripper. She stared at herself in her bra and underwear, reached around to undo her bra clasp.
She imagined a room of men looking at her. Their eyes gazing at all parts of her body, going wherever they wanted, imagining whatever they wanted.
Emilia quickly clasped the hooks of her bra back together and pulled on a pair of jeans; the nakedness of her own body felt too intimate, even to herself. She picked up and put on one of the many T-shirts that now lay on the floor, and on top of that, she threw on the horrible purple sweater.
She looked at herself in the mirror again, at the judgmental image staring back at her.
Fuck it. Who cares? She’s not going to show up in a bikini, for crying out loud! Be yourself!
Emilia slipped on her boots and tried to ignore the little voice that told her she was going to regret looking so boring. Because maybe Ian might be tempted to look at someone more . . . interesting.
Don’t be stupid. He’s not like that.
Emilia went downstairs, shaking her head at the thought of that skirt. But she stopped by her mother’s bedroom to borrow some perfume and expensive lipstick. She studied her beautifully painted lips.
This was p
erfect.
“You look gorgeous!” she told herself as she put the lipstick back on Ma’s dresser.
Yes, this was her.
* * *
*
But an hour later, in the car with Ian and Anthony, she felt anything but gorgeous. She stared at Ian as they pulled up behind a strip club. She knew he was trying his best to ignore her gaze.
“I didn’t know strip bars were open during the day,” Emilia said.
“Oh, she’s practicing a new routine or something,” Anthony said, looking out the window. “Has to get the boss’s approval. I mean, nobody wants to see a stripper flubbing up a routine, right?” Anthony laughed, but Ian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t told her they’d have to pick up Anthony’s girlfriend, much less that it would be at the strip club where she worked.
Maybe he didn’t know, Emilia reasoned. But still.
“There she is, that’s Jane,” Anthony said from the back seat.
I never would’ve guessed, Emilia thought as she took in the girl wearing tiny, shiny shorts and high-heeled shoes Emilia would kill herself in if she even tried them on. The girl was a blur of white; her hair was shockingly blond, almost as white as the short, white-feathered coat she wore and her pale, pale skin.
“She said she’d be waiting outside.”
Jane’s hands were tucked in her pockets and she was intermittently stomping her feet on the concrete and rubbing her legs together in an effort to keep warm. When the car pulled up next to her, she leaned down and peered through Emilia’s window.
“Hey, babe!” Anthony called from the back seat as Emilia rolled her window all the way down.
“Hi!” Jane said. She was only inches away from Emilia’s face and Emilia could smell her gum. “I’m sorry! I didn’t want to miss you guys and I got held up, so I haven’t had time to change yet. Just give me a minute to slip on some jeans. Okay?”
She was gone before any of them could say anything—in through a dark back door. Emilia looked in after her, curious, but saw only a dimly lit hallway.
“She’s real nice, you guys. You’re totally gonna love her,” Anthony said from the back seat. “I mean, I haven’t hung out with her that much because I met her right before I left, but we talk on the phone every night. Even the nights she works and gets out super late, we talk, because I wanna make sure she gets home all right, know what I mean? I mean, there are crazies out there, do all kinds of shit. Especially to girls like her.”
“What do you mean?” Emilia asked Anthony. She saw Ian glance back at him.
“Well, like she told me about this one time, right, when this guy was waiting for her in the parking lot. Actually fucking waiting for her. He kept calling her sweetie or something. Man, I got so fucking mad when she told me that! Can you believe that shit?”
Emilia stared at the door Jane just went through. “I believe it,” she said quietly.
“Total prick.”
“So what happened?” Emilia asked.
“With what?”
“The guy?”
“Oh, I guess he was some little shit or something.” Anthony laughed. “Jane said she could’ve beaten him up herself, but the bouncer came out just then and scared him off or whatever.”
Emilia’s mind flickered with the scene, with the different ways it could have turned out.
He could’ve hidden in some bushes. He could’ve been waiting for just the right moment when Jane was alone again.
“I just can’t stop thinking about her, though, you know?”
The words snapped Emilia back to reality.
“And it’s not like we’re totally committed or anything, but”—Anthony shrugged—“I don’t know. The guys rib me about the long-distance shit, but they all have their little girlies back home, too, so screw ’em.”
Emilia wondered if Anthony had met Jane here, while she was dancing. Did he hang out at strip clubs? She looked over at Ian. Had he ever come here with Anthony?
“Sounds stupid, huh?” Anthony said.
Emilia turned back to look at him. Anthony had sleepy eyes and he was crude. He’d had a wealthy upbringing but liked to appear rough around the edges. It was his way of rebelling against his parents’ expectations and wealth. Emilia thought it was juvenile, but he was a good guy.
He smiled, and Emilia shook her head. “No, I think it’s great. You’re in love,” she teased.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t start with that shit,” he said. But he laughed and looked away, and Emilia thought maybe she was right.
Moments later, Jane came back out the door.
“Hey!” she said as she got in the back seat with Anthony, breathless and minty and smelling of some other sweetness Emilia couldn’t identify. “Sorry about that. I’m Jane, by the way.”
She brought the cold into the car with her, and Emilia felt it sweep across the back of her neck and creep under her hair.
“Hi,” Emilia said, and smiled. She looked at Jane and tried not to immediately picture her naked, or notice the tight shirt she wore, or the size of her breasts. She tried not to look over at Ian in the driver’s seat and quietly accuse him of noticing the same things.
“Babe,” Anthony said to Jane. “This is my cousin, Ian, and his girl, Emilia.”
Emilia gave Jane a small wave and stared at her purple-lipstick smile. Anthony put his hand on Jane’s knee.
“Emilia . . . ,” Jane said, and nodded. “Now, that’s a real sweet name. I love it. Not like mine. Plain Jane.” She gave Emilia a what can you do? kind of look and smiled. Her teeth gleamed against her bright lips.
Emilia knew she should face forward again because she could feel herself staring at Jane and wondered if Jane realized it, too. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe Jane was used to this. Emilia’s eyes searched Jane for a single plain feature, but she could find none.
“Thanks,” Emilia said. She was suddenly self-conscious of the lipstick she’d borrowed from her mother. She felt like she was playing dress-up again. Jane looked mature, probably twenty, maybe even a little older. Jane looked like Barbie, and Emilia felt like a dark-haired, dark-skinned version of that stupid little-sister doll Skipper.
She turned back around, but not before she noticed Jane wink at her playfully. Did she think Emilia was little and adorable? She stole a glance over at Ian, but he kept his eyes on the road.
Emilia listened to Anthony and Jane talk in the back seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see how they pressed into each other and touched each other’s arm, or leg, or shoulder. Every so often, Emilia would turn around and ask Anthony a question about where he lived, or training, and she noticed how Jane stared at him when he answered, listening to his every word, ready to either throw her head back laughing or nuzzle into him. Emilia thought she looked exuberant.
An exuberant stripper.
“I’m starving!” Jane said suddenly, finally looking over at Ian and Emilia.
“We could get something to eat before the movie,” Anthony offered.
“Could we? Oh, that would be fantastic!” Jane said.
“Uh, sure,” Ian said.
“The movie starts at three, though,” Emilia said. “And there’s not another one until tonight.”
“Oh,” Jane said, but she didn’t urge them to forget about getting something to eat.
“So we miss the movie. I mean, we can just hang out instead, right?” Anthony said, looking between Emilia and Ian. “You guys aren’t that into seeing it, are you?”
“I’m good with whatever,” Ian said.
Emilia looked over at Ian, but he kept his eyes on the road, avoiding her stare. Maybe he was just being nice, making things easy for Anthony, but she felt sort of betrayed. She and Ian had just talked about how they wished they’d seen this movie when it first came out and promised to go together when they saw it advertised at the d
ollar theater. But now he was so willing to ditch it, just to accommodate Jane.
Emilia looked back at Jane and Anthony. “Yeah, sure. No big deal,” she said finally.
They decided on a diner nearby and soon they were sitting in a torn-up booth, sipping cold, murky glasses of water. Jane took off her coat and Emilia looked at Ian, who somehow managed to not look at Jane’s chest.
“So, are you glad you enlisted?” Emilia asked Anthony.
“Oh, I like it okay. You know, there are some assholes, but yeah, I like it.”
“Your parents cool with it now, or what?” she continued.
“Nah.” Anthony shook his head and sat back in his seat. “I mean, they’re accepting because they have no choice, right? If there’s anybody more powerful than my dad, it’s the freaking United States Army. But I still hear it from them. It makes me not even want to come home, but, you know.” He shrugged.
Emilia vaguely remembered Anthony’s father was some sort of hotshot stockbroker. Anthony’s parents had been majorly upset when they found out their only son was going into the service. What about college? What about really making something of yourself? Anthony had mocked when he told Emilia and Ian about the whole thing.
“They’re still snobs. What can I say?” Anthony said, reaching for a glass of water.
“My parents are the same way,” Jane offered.
“Are they out in Manhasset, too?” Emilia asked.
Jane nodded. “They think their money means they get their way, which is only compounded by the fact that everything always works out the way they want it to. It also means they think they’re better than everyone else somehow.”
“Exactly,” Anthony said, lighting a cigarette. “But the service is cool. I feel like I’m finally doing my own shit. Not depending on my parents for everything.”
“Maybe I should look into it,” Ian said. Ian worked for everything he had. His parents were far from rich. But why did he suddenly want to join the army?
The Fall of Innocence Page 2