by Penny Reid
“Why?” I asked, the question unplanned. So was the scowl I wore.
Charlie was a nice guy, if not a little cynical and jaded. He was a great drummer, a good friend. I usually liked Charlie.
But I didn’t like Charlie right now.
“Because she’s Mona-fucking-DaVinci, Abram. How often do you get a chance to converse with a literal fucking genius?” Charlie’s attention was on me, so he didn’t see Kaitlyn flinch at his use of the F-word.
But because his attention was on me, I made my expression carefully neutral. “What would there be to talk about, Charlie? She’s a rocket scientist. Encyclopedic knowledge of Star Trek isn’t the same thing.”
That earned me a glare from Kaitlyn even though she was fighting a grin. “Hey now, Star Trek is awesome.”
“No arguments here.” I made live long and prosper signs with both my right and left hands. “But you have to admit Kaitlyn, his statement is illogical,” I added, doing my best Spock impression, making them all chuckle, and once again successfully hiding my preoccupation with Mona DaVinci and her whereabouts.
I’d been searching for her everywhere for the last two days, except the third floor. Her floor. I had no reason to go up there, and I wouldn’t invade her space without an invitation. I’d already invaded her vacation for reasons unclear even to myself.
The house was huge, large enough that you could go all day seeing just two or three of the twenty-seven people currently here until dinner. Everyone ate together at dinner time, except Mona. She hadn’t eaten with us yet and her absence had been noticed by more people than just me.
According to Lila, Mona didn’t want food to be brought up to her room. Over our meal last night, Charlie had asked Allyn if she needed help making a plate for Mona.
With a bright smile for everyone but me, Allyn had said, “No. No need. She’ll come down later and get something if she’s hungry. No worries.” Then she’d picked up a bowl and in a terrible British accent said, “Oh, what excellent boiled potatoes.” Which made a few people laugh.
Taking advantage of the distraction provided by her Mr. Collins reference, Allyn had glared pointedly at me, making me assume two things to be true: Allyn was no longer a fan of mine, and Mona had filled her in on some version of our conversation in the study.
This frustrated me, made me restless, aggravated. I didn’t fault Mona for talking to her friend, that made sense. But hiding? Avoiding everyone? Rather than, if she had something to say, seeking me out and telling her side? That struck me as cowardly.
Or maybe she doesn’t care.
Maybe she was just as cold and detached as everyone claimed. I didn’t know. She didn’t give me anything but polite notes and fucking restraint.
After dinner, I gave Allyn a wide-berth and I camped out in the kitchen, helping Lila with the dishes, and then reading a book until past 3:00 AM. Mona never came down.
I’d almost convinced myself this urge to seek her out was revenge related. Maybe I really did want to settle a score. If that was the case, if I wanted to get even, then one uncomfortable conversation didn’t settle anything.
No, I wasn’t finished with her yet.
Except . . . revenge wasn’t the reason I’d positioned myself in the library, hoping she’d come down to find a book, or why I’d awoken early the last two mornings to catch her at the pool (Allyn said she still swam laps, usually in the early morning). Knowing she was here but absent was almost as unbearable as it had been the first time, when I’d thought Lisa was my Lisa, and we’d waited for Dr. Steward to arrive in our separate corners of the Chicago house.
Given the murkiness of my motives and how I compulsively sought her out, like a pitiful, lovesick idiot, you might think I’d grow tired of her, of thinking about her, and let it all go. You’d be wrong. If anything, the fact that I couldn’t help myself, that she still held this power over me, that I couldn’t think straight with her so close, only made me angrier.
“Hey, listen to this.” Kaitlyn lifted one of my lyric books, one I didn’t remember packing but immediately recognized now that I took the time to scan the front. My hands gripped the arms of my chair reflexively and I readied myself for what she might’ve found.
“Gone, and she took all her sweet softness with her.
Gone, and emptiness takes a shape.
Gone, and summer is winter.
Gone, and I sleep.
But when she’s here, I’m finally awake.
A barren landscape,
Now beauty in her wake.”
After Kaitlyn read the poem aloud, silence followed. My friend frowned at the page, and then lifted her gray eyes to mine. They moved over me, searching, thoughtful. But she said nothing.
“Damn, Abram.” Charlie hit my shoulder with a drumstick. “That’s some beautiful, deep shit. When’d you write that?”
I cleared my throat, glancing at our drummer. “About two years ago.” Two years, four months, eighteen days.
“How come we didn’t use it for this album?” Ruthie reached for the notebook and Kaitlyn handed it over.
I shrugged, standing, and searched for my guitar, wanting to do something other than shrug. I did too much shrugging these days.
“Have you guys seen my guitar?” It wasn’t where I remembered leaving it. Strange.
But if I hadn’t stood up to search for my guitar, I wouldn’t have seen Mona, Allyn, Leo, and a few others walking down the hall toward the kitchen. Stopping short, I stared at them. They were all dressed in snow gear, carrying sleds. Mona had a thick length of rope hanging from her elbow, coiled in a big circle. Leo was struggling under the weight of two large pulleys.
When did she come downstairs? Why now? Did I miss her at breakfast? Was she okay?
Stop wondering about her.
Before I could think or react, Charlie appeared at my shoulder. “It’s not here? I swear I saw you put it here by the—oh. Oh, hey!” Charlie jogged forward upon catching sight of the group, placing himself in front of Mona. “Hey. Hey there.”
“Hello,” she said, stopping. They all stopped.
“I’m Charlie.” He held out his hand, grinning down at her, his voice sounding strange (for Charlie).
“I’m Mona.”
“I’m so glad to see you.” Charlie shuffled closer and grinned down at her in a way I’d never seen him grin at anyone, and I’d known Charlie for going on ten years.
My attention dropped to where she juggled the rope and accepted his handshake with a quick and firm up-down movement. Her arm moved like she was pulling back and his arm followed, his fingers keeping hold of hers.
Flexing my jaw, I lifted my attention from their hands. Charlie was still grinning, and Mona was smiling politely, and I wanted to break his face. I wouldn’t do it, but I wanted to break his face, and that was just the way it was.
Leo, God bless Leo, cleared his throat, set down the pulleys, and stepped between them. “You met Mona already, remember? Two nights ago?” When he spoke, I noticed his voice was a little rough, nasally, like he was getting sick or had allergies.
“You were very tired.” My drummer continued speaking to Mona, but finally released her hand. He wasn’t ceding much room to Leo, leaning over our mutual friend to address his sister. “Where are you going? Outside? Are you having dinner with us tonight?”
My feet moved me toward the group and I nodded at Jenny Vee, Connie Will, and Nicole Mac. The three of them, friends of Leo’s, made up the indie rock band, Fin, and seemed to be generally talented, cool, and low-key. Like Kaitlyn and Ruthie, their partners/boyfriends/husbands were supposed to join us yesterday but were stuck in town due to the snow.
And then I looked at Mona.
Her eyes were on me, but her smile had fallen, and she looked pale. Not pale like before, where all the color had suddenly left her face, but pale like she’d been sick for a while. Her eyes were dim, shuddered, bracing, restrained, and seeing her this way had my chest tightening. A hot, restive remorse made my stomach t
wist. I didn’t like it.
“I, uh, yes. We’re going outside,” she said softly, her wary gaze still on me.
“We’re going sledding.” Leo lifted the two pulleys with effort, finally forcing Charlie to step back. “If you guys want to come, you’re welcome. But we only have five sleds and they’re all spoken for. You’ll need to do some sweet talking if you want to share.”
“There’s six of you.” I glanced at Leo briefly, unable to keep my eyes from moving back to Mona’s.
“Allyn and I are sharing.” Leo grinned at Mona’s friend. She grinned back.
“I’ll share with Mona,” Charlie said, skipping away quickly, like he was in a rush. “Let me go put on my stuff.”
“I don’t think so—” Leo didn’t finish his thought as he was forced to cover his mouth to catch a sneeze.
Charlie turned and jogged toward the main floor bedrooms, calling back to us, “Come on, man. It’ll be fine. She doesn’t mind. I’ll be right there.”
Leo lifted his voice, sniffing. “No, listen. She won’t—” he cut himself off, sneezing again, and then making a sound of frustration. Leo glanced at his sister. “Sorry.”
She gave him a tight smile. “It’s fine. Don’t make it a big thing.”
“He can share mine,” Jenny Vee offered, giving Mona a big grin. “I don’t mind.”
“He’ll share Jenny’s and he can deal with it,” Leo said firmly.
What is the deal with this sled? I half expected it to be named Rosebud.
I lifted an eyebrow at the exchange, but Connie Will asked Mona before I could, “What’s the problem with your sled?”
Mona gave the woman a friendly—but very small—smile, opening her mouth as though to explain, but Leo spoke over her before she could, “Mona built the sled herself, when we were kids, and I broke it. I finally just got it fixed up for her and I don’t want it to break again.”
The trio said, “Oh . . .” in a chorus.
“It’s fine,” Mona protested, her eyes darting to me, and then away. “It’s really fine. I don’t mind. It’s just a sled.”
“You’re telling me you want Charlie to use your sled?” Leo challenged, as though they were talking about something other than just a sled, as though he were referring to Mona herself. “You don’t even know Charlie and you want him touching your sled.”
Her eyes on the floor, her cheeks turning pink, she whispered, “Can we not make it a big deal?”
Leo gave her an incredulous look, and opened his mouth as though to argue again. Clearly, he saw his sister was uncomfortable. Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about it. Clearly, he didn’t care.
“What are the pulleys for?” I interrupted, successfully keeping my annoyance with Leo out of my voice.
Again, her eyes flickered to me, and then away, making my next breath painful.
“They’re for something Mona set up when we were kids, so we can get the sleds up the hill easier. I’ll show you if you want, it’s pretty cool.” Leo shot a proud grin at his sister, she gave him a quick, closed mouth smile in return.
I stepped forward, lifting my chin toward the stairs ahead of us and addressing Allyn, Mona, and the trio from Fin. “You ladies go ahead, I’ll help Leo carry these.” And then to Leo, I added, “Wait here a second. I need to let Kaitlyn and Ruthie know we’re done for now.”
He nodded, rolling his other shoulder. “Go, go. I’ll wait here.”
I waited another beat before stepping away to tell Kaitlyn and Ruthie the news, wanting to put plenty of space between the group of women and us so Leo and I wouldn’t be overheard as we walked.
Ruthie and Kaitlyn seemed fine with the change of plans, and so I quickly returned to help Leo carry his burden.
“You want to get your jacket and stuff first?” Leo picked up the other pulley, sniffing.
“Are you sick?”
Leo shook his head. “No. Just allergies. I’ll wait here if you want to get your coat.”
I wasn’t convinced, Leo looked sick. His face was flushed, he kept sniffing, and his voice sounded raw.
Continuing to inspect my friend, I said, “Nah. My stuff is in the mudroom closet. I’ve been helping Melvin with the snow.”
“Oh. Good. We’re headed to the mudroom,” he said, using both hands to carry the substantial pulley, laughing as he added, “I think these things are made of lead. Where did she get these?”
“Who?”
“Mona. These are hers.”
I nodded, somehow not surprised Mona owned and used seventy-pound pulleys. “What’s the big deal with the sled?”
He frowned, pressing his lips together and making a sound of irritation. “I told you, I broke it and—”
“No, no. I mean, what’s really going on? What’s the deal there? Is it Charlie?”
Leo sighed loudly, tilting his head back and forth, his eyes on his sister’s back. “No. Well, yes and no. Charlie has been asking about Mona—a lot—since I told you guys she’d be here.”
“Oh.” I swallowed this knowledge and the renewed desire to break Charlie’s face, and then asked, “So?” hoping I sounded convincingly disinterested.
“He’s not Mona’s type.”
“What’s wrong with Charlie?”
“Nothing.” He frowned at me, looking confused. “You know I like Charlie.”
“Then what’s Mona’s type?”
Stop asking about her.
Leo’s frown intensified. “Her type is no type. She’s not . . .” He glanced at me, giving me a face that reminded me of myself when I was worried about my sister. “You know.”
“No. What?”
“She’s not—she’s, you know, asexual.”
I almost dropped the pulley, and I turned my face away from Leo so he couldn’t see the look on my face. I’d never thought of Leo as dumb, but his sister was as likely to be asexual as Karley Sciortino.
“Your sister told you that?”
Leo huffed again, giving me an irritated side-eye. “Listen, man. I don’t want to talk about my sister’s sex life, okay? Let’s just say, years ago, she told me she didn’t believe two people were necessary for getting off during sex, encouraged me to focus on self-reliance or some shit like that, and that the modern idea of romantic relationships would soon be considered outdated and irrelevant. She was trying to help me get over a breakup, I think. Anyway, add to that she doesn’t like it when people touch her—not even her family—and, yeah, I feel pretty confident in assuming she’s asexual.”
I nodded thoughtfully, stopping myself from asking You don’t think it might be something else? Like maybe someone hurt her? And how long ago was this conversation? And when did she come downstairs? Is she okay? even though the urge to question him was overwhelming.
Don’t ask about her.
I promised myself I’d stop asking about Mona, but I’d been startled to see her after two full days of self-sequestration. She looked sick. Had she been eating?
Leo paused outside of the door to the mudroom, readjusting the pulley and drawing me out of my thoughts. “I don’t want Charlie to get his hopes up is all. It’s obvious he’s really into her, but she’ll shoot him down, ’cause she’s always shooting everyone down. And when she does it, it’s hard to watch. Brutal.”
“Is that why you’ve never introduced us? You thought I’d make a move and she’d shoot me down?”
He shook his head. “Nah, man. I’m not worried about you. But I’ve lost friends before. Or acquaintances, I guess. Guys it would have been good to know, keep in touch with. I get it, she’s beautiful, unique, interesting. Everyone wants to meet her. That’s why I don’t talk about her. And I don’t want Mona making things bad between me and Charlie.”
“Leo, that’s bullshit. Mona wouldn’t be the one making it bad. It’s on him. It’s not her job to make your guy friends—or acquaintances—feel good about themselves.” I was repeating a general sentiment my sister and her friends had said to me on many, many occasions.
&n
bsp; Leo smirked, like he thought I was funny, and then he laughed-coughed. “Yeah, you’d be surprised how many guys don’t see it that way. But that’s why I’m not worried about you. You know better. You’ve been taught. You have a sister, you know what it’s like.”
“Not having a sister is a shitty excuse,” I mumbled.
“Hey. I agree.” Leo’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, he sniffed again. “But that’s the way it is. I’m not saying it’s right, I’m just saying you don’t make people better by telling them to be better without real life examples, and then it has to be relevant to them, meaningful in some way. Important. Relationships, interacting with someone who has a different point of view, using a mistake as a teaching moment, that’s how you make things change. But just saying, ‘People should be better. Now, why aren’t you a better person? Didn’t I just tell you to be better?’ That’s just lazy.”
I laughed. Leo’s tangents sometimes reminded me of stand-up routines.
He wasn’t finished. “It would be great if stuff worked that way, but it Just. Fucking. Doesn’t. It’s like saying, ‘People shouldn’t rob other people. Now why are people still robbing people? Didn’t I just say to stop robbing people? Why hasn’t this robbery shit magically corrected itself?’ Or ‘Don’t be poor. Now why are you still poor? Didn’t I just tell you not to be poor?’” He was laughing too.
“You’re comparing being poor to committing a crime?”
“No, man. But, you know, society does. Rich people are good people just because they’re rich? Hell. No. I know better. I have a lifetime of knowing better. And that’s another thing—”
“Okay. Okay. I get it.” If I didn’t stop him now, he’d be ranting all day while we stood outside the mudroom.
Leo shook his head, smiling at me. “Sorry, sorry. The point is, no. Mona shouldn’t let Charlie use her sled. He’s a dummy about women, and it’ll send the wrong message. She’s smarter than he is, she’s smarter than all of us, and that means she has more responsibility. That’s just the way it is. The greater the gift, the greater the burden.”
I could not believe my ears. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He shrugged, as though to say, that’s just the way it is.