The Story Sisters

by Alice Hoffman

  Elv told him she couldn’t. It was too much. He kissed her ardently, but she was listless, a gorgeous rag doll. She saw the accident whenever she closed her eyes, unless she was high. She wouldn’t get hooked on anything. She just needed to stop thinking. She roped her arms around Lorry, begging him for it, and although he shook his head, she knew he’d give her whatever she wanted.

  After some time, Elv got out of bed. She brushed her hair, washed her face. But she never looked in the mirror and she didn’t let Lorry know how much junk she was shooting. Sometimes she went down past Twenty-first Street and bought it herself from a dealer she’d become acquainted with. Life was but a dream, wasn’t it? It was the way black roses grew in the dark, searching for sunlight when there wasn’t any. The old ladies in the neighborhood clucked their tongues when Elv went by, on her way to score, then to sit on a bench, where she nodded out while the buses roared by.

  Once she glanced up to see Lorry walking along. He looked menacing, a man most people would want to avoid. He was carrying a TV and was clearly in a rush. He spied her and for a moment it seemed that he might turn and walk away. Instead he came over, leaned down to kiss her, then wedged the TV between his body and the bench.

  “Someone was throwing this away,” he said.

  There was a price tag still on it. Elv hadn’t thought about where their money was coming from. It didn’t surprise her that Lorry had schemes. He was cagey and smart; he had to be.

  “Okay,” Elv said.

  “This is what I do,” Lorry reluctantly admitted.

  People had to live, didn’t they? If a lion took a lamb for its supper, did anyone complain or say it was unnatural? She went with him sometimes when he drove out to Long Island, to wealthy neighborhoods where the people were so rich they wouldn’t miss a few things. And if they did, all they had to do was phone their insurance companies and everything would be replaced within the week. Elv sat behind the wheel of the car, the engine running, the headlights low, chewing on her lip while Lorry robbed houses. She thought of herself as an accomplice, and she savored the word.

  She felt alive in the car as the scent of exhaust filtered in through the window and the sky was so perfect and black. It made her think of Hector and the pool of blood and the black roses. In neighborhoods where people slept through the night, Lorry climbed through windows that were left open. He rattled locks and slipped through doors. He carried a crowbar, but rarely used it. He wanted to be invisible. He often found valuables in unexpected places. In shoes, for instance, in vegetable bins, in kitchen cabinets.

  It seemed that Elv too had a knack for crime. They realized this the first time someone came home unexpectedly. Elv got out of the car when a Mercedes pulled into the driveway. She ran over and breathlessly explained that she was searching for her dog, who was old and ill and needed special medication. Elv was in tears, lost in a neighborhood she didn’t know. The man was tenderhearted; many men were when faced with a beautiful, distraught young woman. He helped her search the neighborhood, looking through the well-manicured yards. Some had trellises of pale roses, others had large brick patios, swimming pools, greenhouses. In one, a little poodle tied to a tree barked when they entered the yard, then sat and stared at them. Elv had the urge to cut the rope and steal him.

  “Bingo,” the man exclaimed. “There’s your dog.”

  “That isn’t him,” Elv said sadly.

  When she heard the car horn honk, she knew Lorry was finished and the job was done. She thanked the man who’d tried to help her find her dog, surprising him by kissing his cheek before she took off running. Once she and Lorry were home, they looked through the jewelry. There were some good pieces, diamonds, pearls, 22-karat gold earrings and bracelets. Their victim had been a nice man. Elv thought of how he’d waited for her when she lingered at the gate in the yard where the dog was tied up. He’d buy his wife something far better when all was said and done, maybe rubies this time.

  Lorry was delighted with Elv’s acumen. She was beautiful and smart and she belonged to him. They went out to dinner to celebrate. They ordered a bottle of wine. They felt lucky and rich, despite their fatal flaws. They went home and got high, then fell into bed, arms around each other, fiercely in love. Lorry told her in no uncertain terms that if she ever saw the police, she was to run. He wasn’t about to have her be apprehended. She was an accomplice, that was all. It was fun, a lark. And then, it wasn’t.

  She was the one who said they should go to her house. She knew where everything was; it would be an easy in-and-out job. It was a time when they needed more cash. Lorry had been questioned when one tenant’s savings disappeared from his night table drawer. There was no proof, although it was true that Lorry had a key and had been in the apartment when the tenant was out, checking on a complaint of a ceiling leak from the apartment below. They let him go, but there’d been a lawyer’s fee. They needed cash fast, so they drove out to North Point Harbor.

  THEY PASSED THE convenience store, the ice cream stand, the high school. Everything looked exactly the same, only smaller, like pieces set up in a child’s game. Elv began to feel apprehensive.

  “Go the other way,” she told Lorry as he was about to turn onto the road that wound along the bay. “Stay on Main Street.”

  They parked around the corner from Nightingale Lane, near the stop sign. Elv’s chest felt heavy. She felt like a stranger in her own life. She told him about what had happened to her. Not the details, just the way she’d stopped that man from taking Claire, how he’d taken Elv to his house and tied her up and done terrible things, and then how she convinced him she wouldn’t run away if he brought her a cup of water.

  Lorry was enraged. He wanted to go after the horrible man right then and there, but Elv wouldn’t tell him any more.

  “I want it to be over,” she said. “Being here reminds me.”

  “We can go somewhere else,” Lorry said.

  Elv shook her head. She knew where her mother kept her jewelry. Where there was a coffee can of cash. When Lorry started to get out of the car, she put her hand on his arm.

  “I want to do it.”

  There was the lawn where the Weinsteins’ dog had been tied up. There was the hawthorn tree. She knew this place far better than Lorry did. They argued and at last he gave in. She got out, closed the car door, made her way along the street. Had they even once come to look for her? Had they wondered where she might be? For all her mother and sister knew, she was locked up, the key thrown away, bleeding, falling, waiting for them. In fairy tales, people rescued each other. They made their way through brambles, trickery, witchery, spells.

  Elv went through the yard, past the garden. It didn’t even look like a garden anymore, just a jumble no one bothered with. There were tufts of spent thistle, tangled black sweet pea vines. The downstairs bathroom window was never locked. It was small, but she could fit through. Elv pulled over a lawn chair, slid open the window, climbed inside. She wondered if time would shift, move backward. Maybe she would be ten again, before the bad thing happened, before everything changed. Elv felt such a deep longing, she was baffled by her own emotions. She dropped down from the window into the tub, then went to open the bathroom door.

  She slipped into the hall, then stopped, heart pounding. At first she thought she spied a wolf. She imagined that at last she was to receive the fate she deserved. She would be devoured, piece by piece. The wolf-dog could have bitten her, but he just looked at her, then barked. She ran back into the bathroom, closed the door, crawled through the window, breaking the glass in her hurry. She heard it shatter, but she just kept on. She’d raced down the street so fast she went right past Lorry’s parked car. He’d driven after her, and when she threw herself into the passenger’s seat, he asked what had happened. She said he was right, it had been a mistake. Her hands were cut up and there was glass in her hair. She was never going there again.

  FOR MONTHS ANNIE had been feeling exhausted and out of sorts. Elise insisted she go to the doctor. Tests w
ere run, and she was diagnosed with leukemia, stage four. After her second treatment, her hair began to fall out. She went to a wig shop on Madison Avenue with her mother and cousin and decided to become a blonde. She and Elise and Natalia had laughed so hard everyone in the shop thought they were mad. It was an uncharacteristically wild decision. When Annie came home and presented herself, Claire too had laughed out loud. It was such a delight to hear Claire laugh again in the middle of her great silence that Annie almost felt being bald was worth the price of that glorious sound. Claire raced off to get a magazine. She returned with a photo of a Vogue model with the very same hairstyle. Annie laughed too. “Is that what I look like?” They couldn’t stop laughing. “Some bombshell,” Annie said of herself. Claire wrapped her arms around her mother. “Some blondes are tough, you know. They fight and they win,” Annie assured her, even though she knew from the lab reports that that was not likely to be true.

  SHE PUT OFF returning Pete Smith’s call. When they finally met again for lunch, she tried to pick up the check. After all, she was the employer. Smith wouldn’t hear of it. He felt wound up in some foolish way when he was with her. He’d been looking forward to seeing her again and had been strangely determined about calling her even after she canceled several appointments.

  “Lunch is on me,” he insisted.

  They squabbled over the bill, but in the end Annie gave in. It was nice to have someone be concerned about her, even if it was only in regard to a sandwich and a cup of coffee. She didn’t kid herself into thinking any man could actually be interested in her. They went outside and he still hadn’t said anything, so she knew the news about Elv was bad. He had no choice but to tell her the truth.

  Pete Smith drove a Volvo. He liked it because it was dependable, even though it had logged more than a hundred thousand miles. He was a great believer in safety. He believed in keeping his personal life personal, such as it was, or at least he had until recently. But now he had the urge to tell Annie everything about himself. Instead he handed her the address in Astoria. He found out more about the Storys than Annie would have ever imagined. That was what happened once you started digging around.

  “She’s with him?” Annie asked.

  Pete nodded. “You won’t like the way she’s living.”

  Annie thanked him and handed him a check. “I didn’t expect to,” she said.

  SHE FOUND THE street in Queens, but first she went to a coffee shop to settle her nerves. The restaurant was grungy, but at least the coffee was hot. The waitress was a young Dominican woman, very businesslike and pretty. Annie left her a five-dollar tip.

  Two old woman were sitting on a bench by the bus stop. Annie showed them a photo of Elv. They spoke to each other in Spanish, then one of them patted Annie’s arm. Elv lived across the street, in the brick building, first floor. Annie found the apartment, then had a spike of fear. She hadn’t thought what she might do if that man was there. He had a hold over Elv she didn’t understand. But now Annie had the element of surprise.

  She knocked on the door. Nothing. Once more and the door opened wide enough for someone to peek out.

  “What do you want?” a woman said.

  It was Elv, half in a dreamworld. She had obviously just gotten high. She peered out. The door opened a bit farther, until she realized who it was. “You can’t be here,” she said, stunned. “You can’t just appear.”

  The apartment was a mess. She wasn’t at all prepared. She tried to shut the door, but Annie grabbed it and held on. “Elv, please. Just let me in for a minute.”

  “You should go away,” Elv said. “It’s been two years. You never even looked for me.”

  “I did. I’m here. Just give me five minutes,” Annie pleaded. “That’s all.”

  Elv shook her head. “It’s too late. You know it is.” Her side began throbbing. The ache never went away. Sometimes she curled up in Lorry’s arms and pleaded for something to take the pain away.

  “Four minutes,” Annie offered. “Less time than it takes to boil an egg.”

  They both laughed.

  “Oh, so now I’m an egg,” Elv joked.

  “Just give me three minutes,” Annie urged. “That’s a hundred and eighty seconds. You can time me if you want.”

  Elv opened the door. There were a set of works and some wax paper envelopes on the coffee table. Annie watched as Elv quickly swept it all into a drawer. Elv sat down and lit a cigarette. She felt too much shame to look at her mother. “It’s usually cleaner than this.”

  “I think you should come home. I’ve thought it over and it will be easy. Just pack up and come with me.”

  Elv laughed, but her voice broke. “That’s why you’re here? Come on, Mom. Tell me how I ruined everyone’s life. Go on. You know you wish I was the one who had died.” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Tell me what a devious bitch I am.”

  “Elv,” Annie said. She hadn’t expected to feel this way. “You have to leave him. That’s the first step.”

  “You don’t get it. He’s not keeping me here against my will. It’s nothing like that. I don’t want to leave him.”

  “I don’t understand—what has that man ever done for you?”

  “That man loves me.” Elv’s fierce gaze met her mother’s. “He loves me for who I am.” Now that she really looked at her mother she was taken aback. “When did you become a blonde?” When Annie made some corny remark about being a gay divorcée, Elv’s heart sank. “It’s a wig,” she realized. “You’re wearing a wig.”

  “I have leukemia.”

  “No, you don’t.” Elv got up from her chair, agitated. She went to perch on the window ledge. She looked like a bird with broken wings. She grabbed another cigarette. She knew she shouldn’t have answered the door. “Did I do this to you?”

  “Of course not,” Annie said, startled. “Elv, I have cancer. No one did it to me.”

  Elv shook her head. Her eyes were rimmed with tears. She was bad luck. She’d always known that. He’d said that was why he was doing the things he did to her when he took her away in his car. He could tell she was bad and had to be punished. Elv was certain that Claire wasn’t bad, and that was why Claire was the one who needed to escape.

  It had to be her. It was always her.

  “You have to stay away from me,” she told her mother.

  “Elv,” Annie said, distraught.

  “This is just going to make you sicker. I can’t be who you want me to be. Claire hates me, and I’ll just disappoint you. Don’t you see that? You have to let me go.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  Elv turned away. “Don’t you think I wish it had been me? I can wish it from now until the end of time, but I can’t change it. I can’t bring Meg back.”

  Elv was like a flower. She was closing up, the way flowers did at night, petal by petal. She lit her cigarette and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Just go.”

  “Come home,” Annie said. She went to hug Elv, but Elv shifted out of her embrace. “You just have to get in the car with me. That’s all.”

  “Walk away, Mom. I mean it. Forget about me.” Elv pulled herself together. She could do that when she needed to. She could hurt someone almost as much as she could hurt herself. “I don’t want to come back. I don’t even want to see you. Get out!” She went to the door and opened it. “If you come here again, I’ll call the police. I’ll say you’re harassing me. I don’t want you here. Forget you ever knew me.”

  Annie went out into the hall. She heard the door close behind her. She’d done everything wrong. Elv was right. She had wished that Meg had been the one to survive. It was her deepest, most shameful secret; at least she had thought it had been a secret. But Elv knew she had been forsaken, and now it was too late. Elv was lost to her.

  Annie noticed a figure at the end of the hall, wary, waiting for her to depart. That man had known she was there all along. He hadn’t come charging in, demanding she stay away from Elv the way Annie imagined he would. He didn’t have to. She
belonged to him now.

  Annie forgot where she had parked her car. She walked down the street, confused. The two old ladies she’d asked for help were gone. A horn honked and she looked up. Pete Smith was parked on the corner. He signaled her over. Annie went to get into the Volvo. It was a relief to sit down, not to have to drive anywhere or think or be responsible.

  “I didn’t have any other appointments.” Pete pulled into traffic. “I figured I might as well take a ride.”

  “My car’s here,” Annie protested when he started to drive away.

  “I’ll get it for you tomorrow. I’ll take the bus in.”

  “You didn’t tell me she was a heroin addict,” Annie said accusingly.

  “Annie, you knew,” Pete said. “You were just hoping you were wrong.”

  She leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes. They got off the highway and stopped at the diner. Pete ordered the Spanish omelet. Annie had coffee and grilled cheese, but this time she also ordered apple pie. “What the hell,” she said. “I won’t be able to eat tomorrow,” she explained. “I have chemo.”

  “Every other Tuesday.” Pete Smith was an excellent researcher. He managed to convince people to tell him things they wouldn’t dare admit to anyone else. Plus he had learned how to get into hospital records, a fairly simple thing to do once you understood the system.

  “Do you have a file on me, too? You seem to know everything. You don’t know how much I weigh, do you?”

  Pete laughed and shook his head. “No.”

  “Do you know this is a wig?”

  He had to admit that he did.

  Annie touched her head. “Is it a bad one?” That would be the kind of thing no one would tell you. But Pete Smith would.

  “It’s a fine wig,” he said.

  Annie leaned her elbows on the table. “Do you follow everyone who hires you?”

  “Just you,” he said, making his intentions clear.

  The tables around them were crowded, but they didn’t seem to care.

  “You must be dumber than you appear,” Annie remarked. “Look at my life. It’s a disaster.”