From Yesterday (10 page)

And I am next.

When I hear the sound of a large object being dragged across the room, my fatalistic brain imagines the dead body of my sister as the one being dragged.

Don't be dead. Don't be dead. Don't be dead.

I repeat this in my head over and over until the closet door opens and light spills inside so heavily that I am momentarily blinded. As my eyes adjust, I see the hulking figure of Turner coming at me with a cloth in his hand. He puts it over my mouth.

Chloroform.

I struggle and try not to breathe, but I can only hold out for so long. There is no slow fade out from waking to sleep. No time to try and pull away. The chemical works instantly.

It is a while before I remember anything else.

Monday morning brings me a moment of peace and clarity. I drink my coffee outside, on the balcony. There are few things more enjoyable than the smell of newness that is brought from a hard rain. The sun isn't entirely present; gray storm clouds line half of the sky, but the rest of it is blue and welcoming.

Though I am troubled by the reappearance of a picture I did not bring to Florida from Ohio, I am happy to have it back. I will not even let myself start to wonder how it got here, I don't need the extra fuel on the fire to drive myself crazy. Brady even let it go after I confirmed that the girl in the picture with me was in fact my sister. He left it at that and didn't try to extract any additional details.

I don't talk about my dead sister, nor the circumstances surrounding her death, to anyone. No matter how attractive I may find him, he was not about to be the exception.

I throw on jeans and an Ohio State t-shirt, and toss a light sweater in my bag for the cold classrooms. The class I share with Brady, Diverse Populations, is my first of the day. Sometimes I wonder why an introvert such as myself chose Social Work as her major. It's not less than a little bit ironic.

Brady raises his eyebrows when I walk into class. "Ohio State, huh? Buckeyes fan?"

I shimmy my hips a little and wink. "And so what if I am?"

"I don't have a problem with it, I'm just curious as to why you are an OSU fan, I guess. I know FIU isn't really a major football team, yet, but why not UF or the U, or some other big Florida team?"

I shrug and pretend to dig through my bag for a pen so that I don't have to elaborate. Perhaps wearing this shirt wasn't the smartest thing I could have done.

Dr. Reyes arrives just then and Brady forgets all about the shirt while we listen to our instructions for today's class. It would appear that there is no lecture today, which is nice, but the in-class assignment is one that I think may cause me trouble.

"As students of Social Work, and especially where it pertains to diversity, your people skills have to be at the top of their game. You will need to be able to talk to anyone, no matter their background, and be able to connect with them on any level which will put them at ease. It is your job to obtain as much information as possible, all the while getting your subject to trust you. So, while this may seem a bit overdone, we will pair up today and interview one another. I'm providing each of you with a list of questions that should help get you started, but it will be up to you to use your quick thinking and dig just a little bit deeper. You have the entire 75 minutes to complete this assignment. Go ahead, pair up. Please try and choose someone you did not meet before this semester."

With that, the professor steps away from the lectern and sits behind the media desk. Brady and I immediately turn towards one another.

"Well, we did only just meet on the first day of classes, so we're good. Right, partner?"

I sigh in exaggerated frustration. "I suppose you'll do."

The stack of papers containing the questions reaches us a minute later and we each take one before passing the rest to the next row.

Brady turns his chair so that he faces me. "These are pretty straightforward, fairly boring questions. Do you want to start? Or maybe we can take turns. I ask you a question, then I answer the same one?"

I hate answering questions, but I nod anyway. "Yes, that will work. We can take turns, but I'll ask first. So, question one. What is your full name?"

"Brady Shae Quinlan. Yours?"

"Wow, so very Irish. I'm Paige Kerimov."

He frowns. "What about your middle name?"

"What about it? I don't have one."

"Everyone has a middle name."

"Apparently not everyone, because I do not. Next question. What is your date of birth?"

"October 27th, 1994."

"I'm May 6th, '95."

I pause before I ask him the third question. A minute ago I was avoiding telling him I'm from Ohio, but the very next question would bring that right back up. Should I tell him the truth? I don't want anyone to have enough information about me to be able to dig up skeletons best left buried, but if I start lying there is a very good chance of me slipping up. This, right here, is the very reason I don't let people get close. I don't like to lie.

"Paige? You still here?"

"Yes, sorry. Okay, where were you born?"

"Good old, Boston, Mass."

His accent comes on just a little too thick just then and I smirk. "That's wicked awesome, Brady."

He laughs. "I don't think I have said wicked once since I moved here. What about you? Wait, let me guess. Columbus, Ohio?"

So, the truth then. "Close. I'm from Cleveland. Where were your parents born?"

"Both of them were born and raised in Boston. It is my grandfather that came here from Northern Ireland."

"My parents came here from the Ukraine. We're Russian."

"I gathered, the last name and all."

I choose to the ignore the sarcasm in his voice. We go through another ten minutes of mundane questions before things start getting a bit more personal. It's not asking for deep, dark, secrets, but it becomes less about your first pet's name and more about who you are as a person. And then, at the very end, does my discomfort really take over.

The last question is an instruction to both partners to take things further and ask the questions that will really tell you who your partner is.

I try not to ask anything too personal of Brady when we start that section, in the hopes that if I go easy on him then he will do the same. "Was FIU your first choice? Where else did you apply?"

Brady doesn't take any time to answer. "Yes, actually, it was my first choice. I wanted to be in South Florida near the beach and in the warm weather. The Social Work program here is very highly rated, as I'm sure you know. I also applied at some California schools, and Boston University."

I look up. "BU? Why? You said you wanted to be in the warm weather."

"I know, but I didn't want my father to think I was trying to get away from him. I wasn't. I just needed a change of scenery. I didn't get in to BU, but I wouldn't have gone there even if I had."

I can't think of anything else to say.

"So, Paige, I think you have exceeded your one question per turn, yes? I'll be taking full advantage of that right now."

He smirks.

"Of course you will, Brady."

"Tell me about your sister."

My heart stops beating for a moment, I could almost swear it. "What, uh, what are you talking about?"

"The girl in the picture yesterday. She has to be related to you. Older sister, I'm sure. Tell me about her."

I look down at my paper, trying to keep my panic at bay. "There's not much to tell. She's dead."

My words don't have the intended effect. Most people would grow uncomfortable in this situation, or offer empty condolences. When I glance back up, Brady is watching me with expectation, waiting for more. When I don't continue, he prods me, albeit gently.

"People die, Paige. Believe me, I know. But we should celebrate who these people were to us. Tell me who she was to you."

"Fine. People always talk about the deceased as if they were saints. My sister was not. Nicole was smart, and daring. She was confident. I envied that confidence, but I was a shy little kid. Nicole did her best to break me out of my shell, even if it meant she had to get me in trouble to do so. She wasn't kind, and she wasn't generous. But she took care of me; she let me tag along with her like the annoying little sister that I was. I loved her. And then she killed herself."

I stand up, grab my things, and take off before Brady has a chance to process.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A growing sense of dread takes over my stomach as I make my way towards Elyse's apartment on Tuesday evening. Three times I nearly convinced myself that it wouldn't be
that
bad if I made up some excuse not to go. I could say that I was sick, or that I fell down the stairs and broke my big toe, or something else equally lame. Of course, I quickly realized that when you live in the same building with the only two people in the world that are guaranteed to come over and check on you, those lies will catch up to you. So, here I am about to knock on the door with a nice bottle of wine, courtesy of Nicole's fake Ohio driver's license. The fact that it is an Ohio I.D. is probably the only reason I get away with it; most Floridians only know the things to look for in a fraudulent Florida license.

I'm fifteen minutes early on purpose. Showing up at the same time as Brady would give Elyse the wrong impression and I don't need to encourage her unfortunate matchmaking desires.

"Hi, Paige! Oh, thank you! This is a really great Cabernet."

Elyse answers the door and I already want to kick myself when I see her in a dressy green wrap dress and heels. Her makeup looks professional; trendy cat eyeliner and deep red lips done properly. I am wearing jeans that are worn and frayed at the bottom, and a t-shirt that says "Support Animal Rights: Sleep with a Vegetarian". The only makeup I have on is some vanilla-flavored lip balm.

And then it gets worse.

I may be a few minutes early, but Brady managed to beat me here anyway. His social etiquette apparently far better than mine, he has on nice jeans and an untucked button down shirt in the same color of blue as his eyes. I can't help but stare at him for a moment, until we make eye contact and I force myself to look away before
he
sees too much of
me
.

"Hi."

He breaks the silence first, like I knew he would. He speaks softly, probably afraid I'll run away if he raises his voice any louder than a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

It just comes out before I can stop myself. I look down at the floor. I was a bitch yesterday and the guilt I feel is suffocating. I look back and see Elyse is in the kitchen and out of earshot. Good. This is a private moment between me and Brady; one I probably should have tried to do before we arrived.

He pulls me to him for a brief hug. "Don't be sorry, Paige. We're okay."

When he lets go of me, I look up at him again. Nothing more needs to be said and there is something so incredible about a friendship like that. Other than Nicole, I have never known what that was like before now.

The sound of a key turning in the lock breaks the spell and Elyse comes rushing out of the kitchen to greet Garrett. It's a little too June and Ward Cleaver, but kind of nice at the same time. I feel like a voyeur as I watch them kiss; Garrett even tips her backwards. Brady and I exchange a look in which I see mirth in his eyes. I suppress my own smile.

Eventually, Elyse and Garrett remember that they are not alone and they come into the living room to join us.

Elyse introduces Garrett to Brady and they shake hands.

"And you remember Paige, right?"

He smiles at me. "Of course. We met just the other day. And Elyse talks about you non-stop. If you weren't a woman, I might even be jealous!"

I laugh, though a bit uncomfortably. Garrett seems almost too nice and polite.

Elyse, who had slipped back into the kitchen during to introductions, comes back out with the bottle of wine I brought over and four glasses. "Dinner is ready, everyone. Let's all sit at the table."

The dining room table seats six; two of the places at either end of the table. Garrett sits at one end, Elyse to his right, I'm on his left, and Brady is next to me. Garrett opens the bottle of wine and pours some for each of us. When he reaches me, he pauses.

"I'm not sure I should be serving you alcohol, Paige. You're only nineteen, right?"

I don't say anything. I couldn't care less about the wine. I just don't like being the center of attention, which I am at the moment.

After a few seconds that seem to stretch on forever, Garrett laughs and pours some wine into my glass. "I'm kidding. I'm not policing anyone's choices here. Besides, you brought this. It would be pretty rude to deny you, right?"

I smile. I know he's just trying to be a charming host. Still, Brady catches my eye and kind of rolls his eyes in solidarity. It instantly makes me feel more at ease. I reach over and squeeze his hand under the table, thanking him. When I pull my hand back, I let the tips of my fingers linger in his palm for a moment.

Elyse starts serving the meal. She has made enough food for the SFU football team. There are more serving dishes than there is room on the table, with some of it having to stay on the breakfast bar.

"How did you two meet?" Garrett asks as he slices his chicken into neat squares.

"Paige crashed into me, quite literally. On the first day of the semester."

We all laugh.

"I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. And then Brady practically forced me to partner up for our semester project."

Garrett looks amused. "And what are your majors? Are you both in the same program?"

I let Brady answer Garrett's questions. "We are in the same program. Social Work. Although I'm a Junior and Paige is a Sophomore, so this one course is the only one we have together right now."

The men continue to make small talk and Elyse interjects every once in a while. She seems content to simply gaze adoringly at Garrett for the most part. I only answer questions when asked directly, which is seldom. I don't feel bad about being so quiet, though, because Brady and Garrett have moved on to football talk and they are very animated about it. Finally, everyone is finished eating and I get up to help Elyse clear the dishes.