by Sean Olin
“It’s that guy, isn’t it?” she said. “The one who texted you. What did you do to him?”
“He thinks I owe him money,” Harlow said, mumbling and swallowing his words. “Like, a lot of money.”
She glanced around at the people milling in the lobby—middle-aged couples in tuxedos, the crush of fashionistas spilling down the fan of stairs that led to entrance to the club—but they all just looked like variations on the elegant, rich partiers she’d seen earlier in the evening. She didn’t know what or who she was looking for. She imagined some seven-foot goon in a black suit, some massive man with fists like hammers. There was no one who looked like that hanging around the hotel.
“Where is he?” she asked, going up on her tiptoes.
When he didn’t answer, she turned to look at him, to let him know that they were in it together.
And just as the New Year’s bells started chiming and the cheer went up throughout the hotel lobby, she realized with a shock that he was gone.
28
As midnight approached, Jake found himself slouched in one of the surprisingly hard overstuffed black leather club chairs in the lobby of StarFish. In his faded yellow zippered hoodie and T-shirt, he was beyond underdressed. Everyone else there had done themselves up in tuxes or festive, colorful linen suits.
He couldn’t bring himself to climb the plush, carpeted steps and enter the club. Just the pounding of the bass, which he could hear from here, threatened to rob him of his soul.
He hated big see-and-be-seen places like this. They made him feel inadequate, forcing him to confront his loner tendencies and the gulf between himself and the kind of shallow, money-obsessed person American commercial culture seemed to want him to be. And he couldn’t help but wonder how many more of these sorts of parties he’d have to go to now that his mom was married to Cameron.
If Elena had been there with him, they could have had fun mocking the pretensions of, say, the pushy woman in the expensively tattered dress who kept stomping angrily back and forth from the club to the front door of the hotel so she could dig through her gargantuan purse for yet another Camel Light. But Elena wasn’t here, and even if she were, she probably wouldn’t want to sit in the corner being snarky with him—she’d be urging him to make the best of it, bopping her head, saying, We don’t have to join them. We can make our own party over here in the corner.
Trying to make himself inconspicuous, Jake played with his phone, flipping through his songs, and pretended that he wasn’t as lonely and heartbroken as he felt. When he heard the dinging of the hotel’s piped-in New Year’s bells and the shouts of “ten, nine, eight, seven, six” from the mob spilling out of the club, he felt himself slumping lower in his chair, like the countdown was hammering him into a hole. There just didn’t seem to be much to celebrate this year.
The shouting in unison continued. “Five, four, three, two, Happy New Year!”
There was clapping. Cheering. Noisemakers churned. Confetti flew. Jake looked up to see couples kissing each other.
And then, as though the world existed just to mock him, he saw Elena across the room. She stood by herself near the edge of the black marble check-in desk, looking around the room like she was lost.
His heart leaped and a silly vision billowed in his brain of her having come to find him, to embrace him and tell him she’d made a mistake. And then his sank because, obviously, that wasn’t going to happen. Unlike Jake, she’d dressed for the occasion. Her gauzy dress was bunched to one side so it hung diagonally over her hips. Her tan skin seemed to gleam beneath it. And she’d tamed her hair and folded it down against her head so that it curled provocatively above her ears.
He wondered if she’d seen him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to. He faked like he was busy with his phone and studied her out of the corner of his eye.
Then when she did a double take, looked his way again and peered, it was too late. If she hadn’t seen him before, she saw him now.
Though he didn’t feel up to faking it tonight, there was nothing he could do but throw her a little embarrassed wave now that she knew he was there. Though he ached to be near her, he was afraid to actually talk to her tonight.
She pushed the curl of hair behind her ear and headed toward him. Even teetering slightly on her high heels as she maneuvered around the people blocking her way, she looked impossibly beautiful. Then, as she got closer, he noticed that there was something about the expression on her face—a kind of panic, maybe. A fear. Like she was as afraid of talking to him tonight as he was of talking to her.
Jake sat up straight and slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Hey,” he said, trying to hard to play it cool and act like nothing had changed between them. “What brings you to this fine establishment tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, screwing her mouth into a forced smile. “I just stopped in to use the free bathroom, but then”—she gestured around the room—“I figured I’d stay for the twenty-dollars-a-glass champagne.” She was trying to break the awkwardness by making a joke—he’d seen her do it a hundred times with Nina—but he didn’t have the energy to laugh along tonight.
As the seconds ticked by with neither of them saying anything, he could feel the pressure of her fumbling through her mind for what to say next.
“It’s good to see you,” he said, to say something.
“Yeah,” she said, a touch of sadness seeping through her voice, “it’s good to see you, too.”
Then they fell into another awkward silence. She kept peering around the room. What was she searching for? And why did she have that spooked look in her eyes? Jake felt a pang of longing, of loss. There was a time, just last week, when he’d have known without having to ask what was wrong. Now he didn’t feel like he had the right to ask.
Sitting down on the huge arm of his chair, she said, “Good to see you dressed up for the occasion.”
“I . . . yeah,” Jake said, tugging nervously on his sweatshirt’s hood string.
He tried to smile at her, to let her know he appreciated her trying to be the same Elena as she’d always been. Though it hurt his heart, it also pleased him.
The problem was, what to say next? “How’ve you been?” he asked, finally.
“I’ve been . . . okay. I’ve been good, actually. Really good.” She peered over her shoulder again. “You?” she said, distractedly. She was being weirdly fidgety, anxious in a way that he could tell had nothing to do with him.
“I’m the same,” he said. “You came to this fancy party all alone?”
It took her a second to answer this one, but when she did, she said, “Is there something wrong with that?”
She glanced over her shoulder, searching again. Jake knew she was lying. That was what they’d come to—lying to each other to protect their feelings. He should never have told her he loved her.
“You’re here alone, too, aren’t you?” she said.
“Yeah, I guess. But I had to come. My mother demanded it. Cameron owns this hotel.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“You didn’t know that? Yeah. It’s all his.”
“Wow. I had no idea,” she said.
Then, neither of them knowing quite what was allowed and what wasn’t, they fell into yet another awkward silence. Jake fought the urge to ask her how things were going with Harlow, to ask her if it was Harlow she kept looking around for. He didn’t want to know. Well, actually, he desperately did want to know, but only if things were going poorly. One thing he knew for sure was that, whatever else happened in this conversation, he had to make sure not to mention Harlow’s animation or what he’d discovered tonight. It would just piss her off. Even if she conceded that the thing was a fake, she’d think he was being a creep, Google-stalking Harlow and trying to shatter her happiness.
She peered over her shoulder again. She toyed with the silver pendant dangling from her neck, glancing around again every two seconds. And that spooked look in her eyes was still there.
“Everything okay?” he asked. He wanted to comfort her and he almost reached out to touch her forearm, but then he thought better of it. She’d misunderstand.
“Yeah.”
“You sure? You seem . . . I don’t know—”
“I’m fine, Jake. I’m a big girl,” she said curtly. “Just thinking about maybe blowing this pop stand.”
“I could give you a ride home.”
“No. I’m cool.”
“You sure?”
“You know how I like to walk.”
“It’s, like, six miles. You don’t even like to go that far on your bike.”
She looked him in the eye and sighed. “Jake,” she said, half warning, half pitying. “You’re really going to make me spell it out?”
He knew she was trying to protect him, but he couldn’t help pushing one last time. “I’m just asking,” he said. “I mean, the Rumbler’s right outside. Why not just let me drive you home?”
The sadness that passed across her face was almost unbearable to see. “You know why,” she said. “It wouldn’t be a good idea.” She pointed toward the platinum-blond guy standing erect at the concierge station. “I’m going to get Peter over there to call me a cab.”
So that’s how it is, he thought. He felt like he’d just been slapped.
Then, weakly, he said, “Fine, whatever.”
He stood and stretched, trying and failing to brush off his disappointment.
“I guess, then, I’ll, I don’t know, see you around?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Happy New Year, Jake.” She stood there, awkwardly for a second, then said, “I’m sorry. I really am.”
But her being sorry didn’t help at all. Jake got out of there as fast as he could and he couldn’t help but think that it was funny in a completely not funny way how this night had so quickly gone from depressing to tragic.
29
Elena didn’t know which was more upsetting, Harlow disappearing the way he had or seeing Jake so mopey and alone and knowing there was nothing she could do about it. Deflated and confused and, honestly, sensing that she might spiral into such a distraught state that she’d never be able to find her way out, Elena stepped barefoot out of the cab on West Palm, one of the more run-down side streets behind the renovated and fancy façade of Magnolia Boulevard.
She checked the address her sister had sent her and scanned the numbers on the clapboard row houses that lined the street. When she found number 264, she buzzed the top buzzer and waited. She hoped Nina was home—and awake.
When nobody answered, she stepped back toward the curb and strained to see into the windows of the third floor. The blinds were shut tight.
She buzzed again, jabbing her finger repeatedly at the button. Come on, Nina, she thought. Just this once . . .
Just as she felt her fear and need begin to overwhelm her, the door made a grinding sound and she pushed it open. The hallway was narrow and completely enwrapped in old dirty linoleum tiles. She smelled something rank, she couldn’t tell quite what.
But she climbed the stairs, slowly, in her bare feet, taking one flight at a time, wondering how Nina, with her weight and her pregnant belly, was able to manage the trips up and down. The thought of her sister standing on the landing halfway up, bent over the railing, huffing as she tried to catch her breath, seemed especially tragic tonight. One more thing to add to the list. Couldn’t there be at least one thing in the world that didn’t end up turning to shit?
When she reached the top floor, she knocked on the triple-locked door and peered into the peephole.
She heard her sister lumber across the room.
“Who’s there? You have to move back for me to see you.”
“It’s me. Elena,” she said, stepping back and waving. She tried to smile, but she could feel the expression sour on her face. She only had to hold it together for two more minutes, she knew this, but she wasn’t sure if she could manage even that.
The locks clicked open, a series of mechanical sounds, and then Nina was standing in semidarkness in front of her, a look of concern softening her face.
It was embarrassing, showing up unannounced and desperate like this. Elena tried to make a joke. “Sometimes you just need your big sister,” she said.
Nina made a sympathetic frown and held her arms out so Elena could fall into the soft cushion of her body. She hugged her like she wouldn’t ever let her go. Elena managed to surprise herself and not cry.
Finally her sister released her and said, “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Elena said. “When I try to put it into words it seems stupid.”
They entered the apartment and Elena was shocked and disturbed by what she saw. The mess Nina used to make in the living room seemed to have been magnified by a thousand. The floor was littered with pizza boxes and crumpled bags from McDonald’s and Taco Bell, empty beer bottles that Elena had to be careful not to fall on, cigarette butts ground into the hardwood floor.
Matty was passed out on his stomach, half falling off a dilapidated couch that looked like it had been recovered from the street. When Elena saw him, her sister made a face as though to say she was exhausted and beaten down by dealing with him.
They made their way to the corner of the room, where there was a chair Nina could sit in and a leaky beanbag for Elena.
“So,” said Nina.
“So, I don’t even know where to begin,” said Elena. “I had a date and it was amazing—like, transforming. And then . . .”
“You’re talking about Harlow?”
“Yeah. Harlow.”
Nina nodded sagely, as though she contained some secret wisdom that she wasn’t ready to divulge.
Elena could feel the emotions welling up inside her again. She felt like she was going to break into a million pieces. She had to do something to push them out, to hold herself together, but she didn’t know what. The tears rose in the corners of her eyes. To ward them off, she began talking, babbling, not even knowing what she was saying.
“When I’m with him, I feel, I don’t know. Reckless. Fearless. Like nothing in the world can keep up with me. And tonight, it was just . . . You know when you feel out of control but in a good way? It was like that. We went to this fancy party at StarFish and it was so glamorous and I felt like maybe I could be glamorous, too. You know what I mean? Like because I was with Harlow . . .”
Nina filled in the words she couldn’t find. “You felt like you could see yourself the way he saw you.”
“Yeah,” Elena said. “We snuck up onto the roof of the hotel. It felt reckless. Dangerous.”
“Thrilling,” said Nina.
“And . . .”
“You had sex.”
Elena nodded. She fought back the tears. “But then . . . he just disappeared. Like Christmas Eve when we took that ride on his motorcycle. But worse. This time, he was there and then he wasn’t. He just left me at this hotel where I didn’t know anybody. He left me, Nina. Just like that. Not even a good-bye. Is that right? Is that normal? And there’s these guys after him.”
“Hold up, what?”
“There’s these guys after him. Like, they want to kill him or something. He said they think he owes them money, which, I don’t know what that means. Does he really owe them money? Why? Or does he not owe them money but they think he does? Is there some other thing he hasn’t told me about that . . . I mean, it’s just . . . it’s, like . . . he’s a total mystery. Maybe he’s into some bad shit or something. I wouldn’t know. He won’t tell me. He won’t let me in. It’s like he’s trying to protect me, or he’s trying to protect himself, or he doesn’t trust me, or he doesn’t like me, or I don’t know.”
The tears finally broke through. Elena felt a heat releasing inside her body. She began to sob.
“I don’t know anything,” she blurted. “How can I be so into this guy when I don’t know a single thing about him? Jake would say I shouldn’t. Jake hates his guts. But that’s a whole other thing.”
Nina scooted down to sit next to her on the floor. She held her tight, rocking her, petting her head until her sobs melted into a more consistent, less uncontrollable crying.
Elena asked her sister, “Does it have to feel like this? What’s wrong with me, Nina? Why didn’t you tell me it was all so hard?”
Nina held her head close and rocked her and rocked her. “Oh, baby,” she murmured. “Oh, Elena. If I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn’t be here with Matty, would I? Do you think I know how to do the right thing? You know? Us Rios girls. We were made this way. Or we ended up this way. Sometimes I wonder, maybe if Mom hadn’t . . .”
Then she started crying, too.
Elena knew what Nina would have said if she’d been able to finish her sentence. She would have said, Maybe if Mom hadn’t died. But she had. And without her, neither of them had really figured out how to be a strong woman like she’d been.
Elena clutched her sister tighter. They rocked back and forth until it was hard to tell who was comforting whom.
30
Later, unable to shake the melancholy that had come over him after seeing Elena, Jake slung his guitar over his back and wandered barefoot down to the private beach attached to the house. He walked slowly out to the water and watched the waves lap at the sand. The cool water rolled over his toes and the moonlight turned everything a haunted silvery color.
He felt so bottomlessly sad that the feeling was almost comforting, like a long-lost friend, rich with memory and possibility. Like life was real and this moment was important. He told himself to remember the feeling. To remember this walk. To use it in his music.
Not wanting the moment to end, he followed the tide line along the beach. Jake wasn’t sure where Cameron’s property ended, but the beach went on forever. He enjoyed the way the wet sand gave under his toes, the way it compressed and grew denser as his feet pressed down on it.