My Kind of People

by Lisa Duffy

  “Didn’t you just come to the desk, asking me to give him more? He said you were in pain. Are you in pain?”

  “Yes,” Leo replies. “I want to be tough and say no, but—”

  “You don’t get points for being tough in this place,” Joanie tells him.

  “How about funny?” Xavier asks. “Charming and handsome?”

  “Definitely,” Joanie says. “If you know anyone who fits that description, let me know.”

  Xavier gives the nurse an impressed look. “Touché, my youthful health practitioner. Touché.”

  He stands, leans down, and pecks Leo on the forehead. “I’m going back to the house to take a shower. Change my clothes. I’ll bring you some as well.”

  “Don’t rush back,” Joanie says, replacing the plastic bag on the stand above Leo. “He’s going to be fast asleep in a minute.”

  “Want anything else from the outside?”

  “A new back?” Leo jokes, then picks up his head and looks at Xavier, blinking at him. “Wait—where are your crutches? Maggie said she had to leave the car in the farthest lot.”

  “I haven’t used them since last night. Barb got tired of me complaining about how I couldn’t get an earlier appointment with my asshole doctor and she gave me this.” He lifts up his left foot, now in a walking boot. “Apparently there is one thing about this island that I like.”

  Joanie snorts. “Yeah. The ocean and the beaches totally stink. Boot cast? Awesome!”

  Xavier stares at her, stone-faced. “I liked you better when I thought you were just a vapid, prepubescent person.”

  “And I liked you better when I thought you were leaving,” Joanie replies, equally stone-faced.

  Xavier looks at Leo, before he turns and hobbles out.

  “Well done,” he says to Joanie, impressed.

  She shrugs, smiles. “He’s a sweetheart. Paid for the coffee shop in town to deliver muffins and platters of fruit to the nurses’ station. But I’m not telling you anything. He’s your husband, right?”

  He doesn’t answer. Just closes his eyes, waits for the drugs to enter his body and take his mind to another world.

  One where a simple question like that doesn’t leave him speechless, searching for the answer.

  33

  It starts raining the minute they get the tents up.

  She and Frankie were looking forward to spending three days on the island campground. They begged Frankie’s mother to take them, and she only said yes because it was Labor Day weekend, and Frankie’s father said he wasn’t in the mood to fork over a grand for their annual cookout, and camping might be fun if they got another couple to join them.

  They brought Mr. and Mrs. Emerson; a middle-aged couple dressed as though they’d just stepped off the golf course. Both in matching shorts scattered with tiny whales.

  “Isn’t this just darling?” Mrs. Emerson kept saying as soon as they arrived at the campsite, in a voice that didn’t sound as sure as the words, her eyes wide and smile fixed.

  Sky and Frankie set up their own tent, then Frankie’s parents’ tent. They gather branches and use the newspapers and firewood Frankie’s father brought from home to get a fire going in the pit while the adults sit at the picnic table and drink cocktails out of fancy plastic glasses Frankie’s mother bought just for the occasion.

  It’s Frankie’s mother’s first time camping because if she’s going to pay to sleep somewhere, why not make it a five-star hotel?

  She keeps announcing this, laughing as though it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard while Frankie’s father and Mr. Emerson discuss the best place to set up the Emersons’ tent, which is still sitting on the ground in the bag, tags hanging off it.

  Mr. Emerson walks down the slight incline to a spot in the rear of the campsite and announces that this is where he’s going to put it.

  “You’re going to drown if it keeps raining,” Frankie points out. “It’s downhill.”

  Both of the men ignore her, and an hour later, the rain turns from a light sprinkle to a downpour.

  Dinner was supposed to be kabobs on the grill, but the fire goes out and Frankie’s parents start arguing about the weather forecast—she told him it was going to rain, and he never listens. Mrs. Emerson insists the rain is even more of an adventure and pulls sandwich meat and rolls out of the cooler under the table, chatting loudly about how a picnic for dinner is just perfect, but Sky can tell she just wants Frankie’s parents to be quiet.

  Frankie and Sky had set their tent on a high spot, and they take a bag of chips and two sandwiches inside and put their lantern on low.

  Sky tells Frankie she thinks Lillian might be the mystery artist.

  “What is with you and this woman?” Frankie shakes her head. “First you’re afraid to have a hamburger with her and now she’s sneaking around finishing your paintings? I think you’re paranoid.”

  “Why do you think it’s not her?”

  “The better question is why you think it is her.”

  “She knew where the easel was. And she went in the tree house and said she liked the paintings. And later on, she clapped. It sounded just like the clapping we heard that night.”

  Frankie stares at her.

  Sky shrugs. “Fine. It’s a stretch. But we’re going over to her house. Unannounced. If she has paints lying around, you won’t think I’m so paranoid.”

  When they wake up the next morning, it’s still pouring, and Mr. and Mrs. Emerson are gone. They left in the middle of the night when they woke up nearly underwater, a foot of muddy runoff in their tent.

  Frankie’s father is packing the SUV, not even bothering to put their tent back in the bag. He just folds it and throws it in the trunk, muttering about what a piece of crap it is. His hair is matted to his head, and his T-shirt is soaked through, and she’s never seen eyes so red in her life.

  “Pack it up, girls,” he says. “We’re out of here.”

  “We’re supposed to be here until Monday—that’s two more nights!” Frankie argues.

  “Did you notice the weather? Come on, get moving.”

  “It’s just rain.” Frankie holds up her palms, letting the drops collect in her hand. “We were supposed to go swimming. You were going to get wet anyway!”

  They leave in a hurry. Frankie’s mother is already in the front seat, fixing her makeup in the visor mirror. Nobody speaks on the way home until they pull up in Sky’s driveway and Frankie’s mother turns and looks at Sky.

  “I just realized I never checked with your… caretaker. I don’t see a car,” she says, scanning the driveway.

  “His name is Leo. And he’s her parent.” Frankie gives Sky a sorry look.

  “He probably just went to the store. No worries. Thank you!” She shuts the door, hurrying inside, drops of rain pelting her head.

  Inside, she goes room to room, but Leo isn’t anywhere.

  She showers and puts on warm clothes. Then settles in the den in front of the television, her head on the pillow.

  She feels her eyes closing and wonders if she should get up and call Leo. He has no idea she’s home.

  But the couch is too comfortable. The pillow so soft.

  * * *

  She wakes up to the front door slamming, startling her out of sleep. She sits up, looks out the front window at Leo’s car in the driveway.

  There are footsteps in the hallway coming toward her. Heavy and uneven on the wood floor, as though the person walking toward her has a limp. A figure passes the doorway, taller and thicker than Leo.

  And white.

  His pale profile there, then gone, heading toward Leo’s room.

  She freezes, shrinks back in the couch, holding her breath. The footsteps stop. Then reverse.

  She blinks when a body fills the doorway.

  It’s Xavier. His eyes as wide as her own.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” he says, as though she doesn’t actually live here.

  He hadn’t expected her. She hadn’t expecte
d him. Leo told her that he wasn’t doing anything all weekend.

  Just me and myself, he’d said.

  She doesn’t answer, and Xavier clears his throat.

  “I mean, Leo said you were camping until Monday. Aren’t you supposed to be camping?” He shifts nervously in the doorway, clears his throat again.

  She points to the window. “I was. Then it started raining. Now, I’m home.”

  “Right. Sure. That makes sense.” He nods, glances down the hallway as though he’s looking for someone to rescue him.

  He looks back at her and stands awkwardly in the doorway. Not that she’s surprised. He’s always awkward with her.

  She unfolds from the couch, walks toward him. He quickly shuffles out of the way. She turns the corner, expecting to find Leo in the kitchen, but it’s empty.

  Xavier has followed her, and now he’s lingering in the doorway again. She wonders if he has something against being in the same room with her.

  “Where’s Leo?” she asks, turning on the faucet and filling a glass with water.

  “Leo? Oh right, duh. You were already gone when he went to the hospital.”

  She freezes, the glass midway to her lips, and he flinches.

  “Oh, sorry—he’s fine! He has a back injury from years ago that flared up again. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She brings the glass of water over to the table, sits heavily in the chair. “It’s actually my fault. Me and Frankie asked him to camp with us at the other house. He said he had a bad back, and I made him come anyway. Is he okay?”

  “Yeah. Drugged up. Sleeping a lot. But he’ll be fine.” Xavier’s eyes shift to the wall and back at her. “What other house?”

  She squints at him.

  “Leo’s. The one he grew up in. Down the street.”

  “I thought some old lady lived there?”

  “She died. Like two months ago.” She tilts her head at him, wondering why he doesn’t know this. He looks blankly at her, as if he’s wondering the same thing.

  “When is Leo coming home?”

  “The nurse thought probably tomorrow. I was just going to shower and change. Then go back.” He pauses. “We thought you were camping.”

  She doesn’t know what to say. They’ve already gone over this. She was camping. It rained. She’s home. It seems a simple thing, but he’s looking at her as though he doesn’t understand.

  “I’ll go over to Maggie’s. She won’t care if I stay there until Leo comes home.”

  Xavier straightens in the doorway. “Well, that’s not necessary. I mean—you could stay here.” He hesitates. “With me.”

  She walks to the sink, washes her glass, and puts it in the cabinet. Slowly. How can she say no politely? She doesn’t want to stay here. Alone. With him.

  He doesn’t even like her.

  “That’s okay. I know you probably want to get back to the hospital. I wasn’t supposed to be home anyway.”

  He steps into the same room as her for the first time. “Look, Sky—I’d like you to stay. He’ll be home tomorrow. Monday, worst-case scenario.”

  “Why?” she blurts out.

  “Well, they might keep him—”

  “No—why do you want me to stay? You came here to see Leo. Not me.”

  He twists the wedding band on his finger. “Fair enough,” he says.

  She waits for him to say something else, but he just leans back against the doorframe.

  She folds her arms across her body. “Why don’t you come here anymore? Leo said it was because of work.”

  “Well, work is…” His voice trails off. “I guess I haven’t wanted to interfere. I just—I don’t want to make your life any harder than it already is. Or has been.”

  “Why would you make my life hard?”

  “Just by being me. I mean us. You know, me and Leo.”

  She raises an eyebrow.

  “We’re married, obviously. Which means we’re…” He clears his throat.

  “Gay?” she offers, and he shifts his weight.

  “I didn’t know at what age you might know about something like that.”

  “I’m ten. Not, like, five.”

  “No, of course.” His face colors, and he stares at a spot on the wall over her shoulder. “I guess I don’t know many kids your age. Well, any really. I mean kids. I don’t know any kids.”

  “So you’d make my life hard because you’re gay? I don’t get it.”

  “Well, maybe… indirectly. You know, teasing at school. Bullying.”

  “That wouldn’t happen.” She shakes her head. “No way.”

  “Well, it might. You don’t know that it wouldn’t,” he says defensively.

  “Yes, I do. Hanna Karbo is in my gym class, and she has two moms, and nobody cares.” She tilts her head, challenging him.

  “I’m actually shocked to hear you know someone who’s gay.”

  “We live on an island. Not on Mars. There’s tons of gay people here.”

  “Tons? There’s not even tons of people on the island.”

  “Okay, well maybe not tons. But some. Ms. Sunder is gay.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “My gym teacher.”

  He waves her away as though this doesn’t count.

  “And Mr. Web, the high school swim coach. And Frankie’s brother,” she says, then regrets it. She doesn’t know what she’s trying to prove. “Don’t tell anybody though. Frankie saw him kissing one of the other players on the football team in their basement one night, but she made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone. He has a girlfriend. Like, a serious one. They’ve been together since middle school.”

  Xavier starts to speak, but there’s a knock on the back door. The door cracks open, and Maggie’s face appears. She smiles at Xavier. Tilts her head when she notices Sky.

  “I didn’t expect to see you,” Maggie says. “Did the rain chase you out of the campground?”

  Sky frowns. “No. It chased Frankie’s parents out. They made us come home.”

  Maggie gives her a sympathetic look. She steps in the kitchen, a bouquet of flowers in her arms. She puts them on the counter and walks to the cabinet where the vases are, patting Sky’s arm as she passes.

  “Well, that’s no fun. But neither is getting drenched all weekend. Forecast has this sticking around until Tuesday.”

  “Figures it’s going to rain until the first day of school.” She scowls at the window. The rain has stopped, but from the dark color of the sky, it’s just waiting to start again.

  “Look at the bright side,” Maggie tells her. “You could be Leo. Flat on your back in the hospital.” She arranges the flowers and places the vase in the middle of the counter. “I was actually surprised to see the car in the driveway,” she says to Xavier. “You were so adamant about not leaving him yesterday.”

  “I really just came back to shower and change. And then Sky was here. I thought she was camping.”

  “He didn’t expect me to be here,” Sky finishes.

  Xavier sighs, shoves his hands in his pockets. “But I’m glad you are. I’m glad to see you,” he insists.

  There’s an awkward silence in the room. Maggie fiddles with the flowers, plucking petals off a white rose until it’s half its size.

  “You know,” she says, turning to Sky, “I actually stopped over because Leo bought a ton of food, and he doesn’t want it to go to waste. Let’s have a sleepover at my house. We can make dinner there. You can invite Frankie if you want. Go grab some pajamas and a toothbrush while I pack up.”

  Sky looks at Xavier. Waits for him to tell Maggie that he wants her to sleep here. That he wants to spend time with her.

  But Xavier looks at his watch, glances at both of them.

  “I should hop in the shower and head back to the hospital. Maybe I’ll see you before I go?” he asks Sky.

  She shrugs, moves to the doorway, and he jumps back when she walks past him.

  “Tell Leo I hope he feels better,” she says, and walks to her bedroo
m, shuts the door behind her before the tears come. Hot and fast down her face. She wipes them away before Maggie comes in and asks why she’s crying.

  She doesn’t have the answer. She only knows she wanted Xavier to tell Maggie he wanted to stay. He wanted Sky to stay. But he hadn’t. And now her insides feel empty. And another tear spills out of her eye.

  For reasons she can’t explain.

  34

  Maggie has to bribe Sky into the house. Literally.

  She couldn’t tell her she was staying at Leo’s other house with Xavier in the room. Leo had asked her not to tell him. Not before he had a chance to tell Xavier his plans for renovating the house.

  They’re in the car when she tells Sky she has a surprise for her.

  “We’re sleeping at Leo’s old house,” she announces. “I’m going to help him clean out the basement. Pictures and memorabilia and—”

  “You’re staying at Leo’s house?” Sky interrupts, gaping at her. “Like inside? Actually inside the house?”

  Maggie nods.

  “I’m not going in there. It’s definitely haunted.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Maggie laughs. “I stayed there last night. Didn’t see a single ghost. There’s actually something that might be fun. A surprise I think you’ll like.”

  She parks the car on the street, walks up the front stairs and opens the door, thinking Sky is behind her, but when she turns, Sky is still on the sidewalk, her backpack at her feet.

  “Sky. This is silly. I told you there’s nothing scary about this house. Come up here and see for yourself,” she says in the most convincing voice she can muster.

  Sky doesn’t move. “Why can’t we just sleep at your house? Or my house?”

  “Because I told Leo I would help him. Come in. Look—it’s starting to rain again.”

  Sky looks up as a drop lands on her forehead. She looks back at Maggie, unfazed.

  “All right,” Maggie sighs. “How about this? If you come inside, we’ll work for an hour or so. Then I’ll take you to Pier Two.”

  Her eyes light up. Pier 2 is the roller rink on the other side of the island. Maggie’s least favorite place on the island. Sky’s favorite.

  “Can Frankie come?”