Killer's Cousin (14 page)

“What are you thinking about for a major these days?” asked my father.

“Psychology,” I said, surprising myself. I had written “undecided” on all my applications. For a few minutes there was only the overly loud sound of my teeth crunching on Cheerios.

“You could do with a little less self-pity,” said my father.

I was watching the last few Cheerios drift around in the bowl of milk. It took everything I had right then to turn my head and look straight at my father. He looked just as he always did at the breakfast table:
Washington Post
carefully sectioned beside him, coffee cup in hand, the thick glasses masking his real thoughts. Even dressed in casual Sunday clothes, he looked formal.

“Your point is?”

“You need to get on with your life,” said my mother urgently. “Let the past go. Stop … stop …,” she faltered.

“Stop feeling responsible for what I did?”

“I … I just don't see why you have to let it change your whole life …” She stopped again.

“I'm not,” I said reasonably. “I'm finishing high school. Going to college. What more do you want?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I'm just afraid you … you're not—”

“Not what?” I said.

“I don't know,” said my mother. “I don't know.” She put her hands over her eyes.

“Do
you
know?” said my father to me. “Do you know what you're doing to yourself? Do you know why?”

I didn't reply. I thought at him:
Why can't you understand that everything's changed forever?

He didn't hear me. We sat in silence.

Eventually I pushed my chair back from the table and left the room. A couple of hours later they drove me to the airport, and a couple of hours after that, I was once more in Boston, where, at least, Emily was less … less present.

Sitting in the car with Vic, I found myself glad to be back. There were some people I liked here. Raina. And, incredibly, Frank Delgado.

Before I'd left for Baltimore, I had promised myself I'd tell Vic about Lily's behavior. And now I'd had orders from Kathy's ghost—or, if you preferred, from a hallucination conjured up by my paranoid and guilt-ridden subconscious—to do so.
Help Lily
. It couldn't have been clearer, really.

But looking at Vic, hearing his chatter about how he and Julia had gone ballroom dancing on New Year's Eve, my courage failed. I'd wait for a few days, I decided. I'd see how Lily was acting. Maybe she was adjusting.

I would give her a little more time before I told Vic.

“
W
ow,” said Raina, as she, and I, and Vic, and Julia clustered somewhat uneasily in Julia's kitchen the following Friday evening. “That roast smells amazing.”

Julia smiled, visibly pleased. She had meant it about inviting Raina and me to dinner. She'd delivered a formal note to Raina right after I got back from Baltimore, and a few days later, there we were. I'd wondered if I needed to warn Raina that Julia thought we were dating, but in the end, I couldn't figure out how to do it without possibly triggering a conversation I didn't want to have.

But Raina seemed straightforwardly delighted merely at the prospect of a large meal. I could hardly believe this was the same person who ate can after can of tomato soup. She prowled the kitchen like a panther, sniffing ecstatically. “Fresh bread! Yum!”

“It's just the basic white loaf recipe from
Joy of Cooking
,” replied Julia. She wore an apron. Her hair was carefully styled.

“Wine, dear?” said Vic.

“Oh, yes.” Julia held out her glass and Vic, courtly and freshly shaven, poured her half a glass of merlot. Julia grinned at him and he grinned back. Raina smiled at me, an aren't-they-cute smile. I did my best to return it. Vic poured us some wine, too.

“Not too much,” said Julia coyly. “They're underage.”

“A little wine at home never hurt anyone,” said Vic. “To the new year,” he toasted, and we clinked glasses.

Down the hall, Lily's bedroom door was closed. I hadn't asked if she was joining us, but I'd assumed she would be.

As if she'd read my mind, Julia said, “I fed Lily earlier. She's too young for—you know—a
formal
dinner party. She wouldn't enjoy it.”

“Oh,” I said. I had seen Lily several times that week, and she had been impeccably polite to me each time. It made me glad of my decision not to say anything to Vic about her. Even so, I was relieved she would not be at dinner that night watching me and Raina.

We moved into the dining room, where the table was set for four. I sat down where Julia indicated, at the foot of the table, with Raina on my left. Julia sat next to Vic. I remembered sitting here at this table when I had first arrived. Then, Vic and Julia had sat apart. Lily had been across the table from me then, sitting between her parents.

“Maybe Lily can join us for dessert?” I said impulsively.

“We'll see,” said Julia. “Vic, could you carve the roast? Who likes rare meat?”

“I do,” said Raina.

After a while, I succeeded in forgetting Lily. The meal was good, and Vic was in a voluble mood. He related the history of rent control in Cambridge to Raina. “They forced us to bring it to a statewide vote,” he said, stabbing his fork in the air. “There was no understanding of a property owner's rights! How did they expect me to pay my taxes and keep the place up?”

“Don't get excited, dear,” said Julia. “It's over now.”

“Thank God,” said Vic. He turned again to Raina. “Even the president of the city council was in a rent-controlled apartment. It was obscene.”

“Terrible,” said Raina. She accepted more mashed potatoes.

Vic frowned and leaned forward. “Not that I'd ever vote Republican, you understand,” he said. “Not in a national election. I couldn't go that far.”

“Certainly not,” said Raina. “David, could you just pass the butter? Thanks.”

We had a nice time. I was astonished. There was real warmth in the room. Julia's candles guttered low on the table. I ate two helpings of roast beef and lost track of how many Raina had. Raina explained supermarket card swapping to a doubtful Julia; Vic confessed shyly that he'd been swapping for months. Under direct questioning, Raina talked cheerfully about her complicated family: parents; one stepmother; two stepfathers,
and a grand total of twenty-three siblings, counting wholes and steps and halfs and by-previous-or-later-marriages.

I saw Vic glance at Julia. “That must be hard on you,” he said to Raina. “It's best if people don't split up, I think. Marriage is forever.”

“Well, I was too young to remember my parents together,” said Raina. “And I understand. People change, after all. Stuff happens. You've got to go on.”

There was a little silence. Then Julia said, quietly and with dignity, “Things happened to us, too. But you can survive together, if you try.”

“And go on,” said Vic. “Together.” He stretched his hand openly over the table toward Julia. She clasped it. There were little circles of pink on her cheeks. “Well,” she said. She released Vic's hand and, with a little bustle, got up from the table. “Who wants coffee or tea? David?” Her eyes brushed over my face quickly.

“Thank you, Julia,” I said. “Coffee.” Julia left, with Vic.

I felt Raina touch me quickly on the arm. “They're so sweet together,” she whispered. “Oh, I like them.”

I did too, right then. Even Julia. Even though I was also uncomfortable. Even though I was thinking of Lily. I smiled at Raina. “There's another slice of bread. Want it?”

“Well, if you insist,” said Raina.

After dessert—Julia refused help with the cleanup—Raina said to me, offhandedly, “Walk me downstairs?”

“Okay,” I agreed. We said good night. “I'll be right back,” I told Julia, but the back of my neck burned a
little bit as I opened the door to the front stairs and ushered Raina before me.

Raina didn't say anything as we went downstairs. Neither did I. I was suddenly very conscious of her.

She fumbled a little with her keys, and, laughing, handed them to me. But the door pushed open before I even had the key turned.

“I must have forgotten to pull it completely closed,” said Raina. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold air, and maybe, too, from the wine. I was feeling lightheaded myself.

I looked right into her lovely eyes. “Well, good night,” I said, but my feet didn't move.

Raina said, “Why don't you come in for a minute?” My feet did work, after all.

Her living room was eerie in the dark. The small of my back itched. I adjusted to the lack of light; the portraits were shadows on the walls. I whispered, “I feel like your pictures are watching us.”

Raina laughed softly. “Maybe they are.” She was almost exactly my height. And close, close.

An eternity passed. I could hear our breathing synchronize. Then Raina reached over, delicately, and traced my cheekbone with one finger. I didn't move. “I'm curious, David,” she murmured. “Are you?”

I felt my head nod. I stepped closer.

I kissed her. It was gentle, investigative. The kind of kiss Emily and I had exchanged, a lifetime ago, when everything was new and I never dreamed anything could go wrong.

Then I kissed Raina again. And she kissed me. And I forgot Emily. Forgot myself. For what felt like years, I
forgot absolutely everything except how wonderful—how good—how miraculous—

A light switch snapped. The living room exploded with the glaring light of the three bulbs in the naked fixture overhead.

I knew before I moved, before I looked. I felt Raina's body, suddenly stiff against me, her face in my hands, her arms around me. I knew, but I didn't want to look. I knew.

Lily.

I opened my eyes. I let go of Raina. I looked across the brightly lit room at Lily, who was standing in the frame of the bedroom door, her hand still positioned on the light switch. Her other hand held a key ring that I recognized. Vic kept it on a hook upstairs in the pantry.

Raina had not forgotten to lock her apartment door.

“I just wanted to say hello,” said Lily. “Since I didn't get a chance at dinner.” She paused, looking at us. Then she smiled. I remembered her with the glass outside her parents' bedroom. And what she'd said, then. It made me feel filthy.

As if she knew, Lily laughed. Then she ran lightly out, leaving the front door open.

Raina exhaled.

“That was Lily,” I said needlessly. “She must have come in while we were having dinner.” And then, when Raina didn't reply, the words broke out of me: “You told me not to talk to her parents.”

Raina had wrapped her arms around herself. “I guess I was wrong,” she said. She smiled a little, crookedly. “Well,” she began. “Kids—”

I stepped farther away. “I'd better leave,” I said. “Maybe it's just as well. I don't know what I was thinking.”

She looked at me. The portraits looked at me.

“Good night,” I said, and bolted.

Somehow I made it up the flight of stairs to the Shaughnessy apartment. Somehow I walked through their living room, past Vic and Julia, who were watching television from the sofa. Past Lily, who was sitting on the floor at their feet.

“Good night, David,” called Lily sweetly.

“Sleep tight,” added Julia. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Vic wave.

I couldn't reply. Somehow I got the door to the attic open, and in I went. Finally I got to the attic. Kathy's attic. I turned on every light in the place.

T
hat night, I did some work for school. Then I went online, read a ton of new stuff on alt.tv.x-files, and posted.
What you louts aren't getting
, I wrote,
is that Mulder
wants
his arid life. Can't you accept that maybe he's right about his responsibility for what happened to Samantha?
I knew they wouldn't listen, however. They never did. I accepted it.

By four
A
.
M
. I found myself prowling the apartment, looking in corners for Kathy. I knew that she had to be around someplace. If she wanted me to help Lily, then she could tell me what to say to her parents. But I didn't see her, or even hear the humming.

I did my level best not to think about Raina, and the expression on her face, under the glaring light, when I said good night. I didn't blame her. Nonetheless, I was doing the right thing. For a moment, I had forgotten myself, but she couldn't be anything other than a casual friend.

I would force myself to say something to Vic and Julia in the morning.

My eyes felt like peeled eggs when, finally, morning came. I heard Vic and Julia in the kitchen, and my feet took me downstairs. My mouth opened, and it said that there was something I wanted to talk to them about. In private. Upstairs.

I sat them on my sofa but I didn't sit down myself. Then I did, in the chair opposite them. Then I got up again.

“David, what's the matter?” asked Vic. “You said it was about Lily?”

“Yes.” I exhaled, and then said, “Last night … after dinner … when I went downstairs with Raina … well. Lily was there. In Raina's apartment, hiding. And after a few minutes, uh, she jumped out and surprised Raina and me.”

“Oh,” said Vic. He looked at Julia. He shrugged a little.

“Victor,” said Julia sternly. “Don't you see? She shouldn't have gone in there! Raina pays rent. We'll have to talk to Lily.” She turned to me. “And you must tell Raina to lock her door, you know.”

“The door was locked,” I said. “Lily took the key from the pantry and let herself in before us.”

Julia frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“We'll have to move the keys somewhere else,” said Julia decisively. She raised her hands and shoulders in a shrug, met my eyes. “Lily was probably feeling left out, you know, because of dinner. But I will definitely
speak to her about this. It's extremely rude behavior and I will tell her so. Vic?”