Wherever Nina Lies (5 page)

“
G
litter kitten,” Brad says, “say
helloooo, Braddypoo
!” It’s the next day, Saturday, and I am standing behind the counter at Mon Coeur making a latte. I turn toward the camera and raise one eyebrow just before the flash goes off.

“You didn’t say it.” Brad frowns.

“Sorry,” I say. “Hello, Braddypoo.”

Brad looks at the camera’s display screen and then comes over and shakes his head slowly. “This is just about the saddest picture I have ever seen! Good thing I am a Photoshop master and will have no problem replacing your frowning mouth with a smiling one…or a cupcake!”

I try and smile, but my face refuses. Less than twenty-four hours ago I was on my way to that party. The night was full of possibilities and promise and it had seemed like something magical was going to happen. And I’d felt so sure of it,
so sure of it.

And now here I am, back at work, as though nothing at all has changed, which makes sense, since it hasn’t.

“What’s wrong, honeykins? Tell Braddy.”

If only it were so simple. I would love to talk about it, I am, in fact, dying to. But the thing is, talking about my sister doesn’t help. Watching the pity spread over other people’s faces just makes me feel worse, makes me feel more lonely. So while one script plays in my head, another one has to come out of my mouth. And it’s so tiring, it’s all so very tiring.

“Sorry, Braddy,” I say. “Not now, okay?”

“Okay, well when you want to talk about what’s making your face look like that, and have someone listen and nod while making a variety of incredibly genuine and sympathetic facial expressions, I’m your…”

The bell on the door jingles and Amanda is walking in, all smiles. “Mandy!” Brad calls out. “What is wrong with our dear Ellie? Haven’t you been taking good care of her?” He shakes his finger at Amanda, mock scolding.

“I’ve been trying,” Amanda says, and leans over and kisses Brad on the cheek.

“So,” Amanda says, turning toward me. “My parents are going out again tonight and I talked to Eric who talked to some other guys from the football team at Adams and they definitely want to come over to hot-tub. So, that’ll be good, right? We can raid my parents’ wine cellar and make sangriiiiiaaaaa!”

I imagine myself standing in Amanda’s backyard, surrounded by people I barely know, unable to get enough out of
my own head to say anything at all except perhaps occasionally an awkward ha-ha, just so no one asks me what’s wrong.

“Will there be cute guys there? Maybe someone who will help cheer Ellie up?” Brad puts his arm around my waist and leans his head on my shoulder.

“Eric has a lot of cute friends,” Amanda says. “But I doubt Ellie’s going to stop frowning anytime soon.”

I feel my jaw clenching. Amanda puts on a slightly different personality when she’s around Brad. She acts bitchier, as though that’s how she thinks you’re supposed to act around a gay guy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say.

“Nothing.” Amanda sighs. “Just that I think you’re kind of wallowing a little.”

“I’m not
wallowing
.” I’m suddenly annoyed. “I think I have an actual reason to be upset.”

“I didn’t say you don’t,” Amanda says. She looks toward Brad and then quickly looks away.

“The word wallowing kinda implies it.”

“Well, that’s not what I meant.” Amanda puts her hands on her hips.

“Whatever,” I say. My voice comes out sounding meaner than I intended. Regardless of what word Amanda used, I do sort of know what she meant. But I’m frustrated. And I am taking it out on her a little bit.

Amanda sighs. “Look, I think you have plenty of real things to be upset about, like how some asshole tried to take
advantage of you in the basement last night or how we almost both died in a fire but…”

“Whoa,” says Brad. He backs up. “Hold on there. Wait, what happened? Are you
okay
, Ellie? What happened?”

I turn toward Brad. “I’m okay,” I say. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”

Amanda continues, “I guess I just think instead of thinking about what I know you’re thinking about, you should just try and do other stuff, have fun…”

I look down and breathe out hard through my nose. I glance back up. Brad is staring at me, fiddling with his camera uncomfortably. He holds it up to his face.

“Smile!” he says. We both ignore him.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Amanda says. And then she just gives me this look, this horrible look like she feels sorry for me, not sorry
with
me, but
for
me. Like we’re totally separate, unconnected people. And I’m all on my own.

“I’m not doing anything to myself,” I say. “I didn’t choose for things to be like this.” My stomach is starting to hurt. I wish someone would come in and pluck me out of this conversation and deposit me in a different one. Or maybe tuck me back in my bed with my fan blowing on my face and my comforter pulled all the way up to my nose.

“You didn’t. But you can choose to get over it.”

I am hit by a sudden wave of loneliness, so intense it’s like my insides are hollowed out. “No, I can’t,” I say. I
look at Amanda’s face; suddenly she looks like a stranger. “And you know that.”

We stop then. We’re all silent.

Amanda’s phone buzzes and she takes it out of her giant bag. She f lips her phone open with her thumb and reads her text. “I’m supposed to go meet Liz now so…I guess I’m going to go.” She snaps her phone shut and looks at me. “Do you still need me to come and pick you up later?”

I feel an ache in my chest. It’s that word “need” that gets me. And the way Amanda says it, with just the littlest hint of exasperation in her voice, like I’m a chore she has to take care of.

“Nah,” I say. “That’s alright.” I turn around and do something totally unnecessary with the milk jug so Amanda won’t see my face.

“You’re not coming to my house later?” Does she sound confused or relieved?

I shake my head. “I think I just want to go home tonight.” And a cold heaviness fills the pit of my stomach. I’m not even really sure why I said this, I don’t want to go to my house at all. And besides, I think of Amanda’s house as home more than I do my own. But it’s too late now because Amanda is saying, “Okay then,” and, “Well, I guess I’ll just talk to you later then.” And she’s kissing Brad on the cheek and walking out the door.

I stand there and I watch her go.

I feel a tightening in my chest, so intense I gasp. I miss
Nina all the time, but it is in moments like these, when I feel like I am totally alone in this world, that I miss her the most.

“Ellie?” Brad says again. I just nod, still staring at the door and then I squeeze my eyes shut and will Nina to materialize. It is dangerous and childish, I know, to let myself wish like this, to pour my whole self into wanting something that I can’t have that I don’t even know how to go about trying to get. But I can’t stop. I keep my eyes closed and I hold my breath as a tear works its way down my cheek. And I just stay like that, wishing, wishing, wishing, until I hear Brad making a high-pitched beeping noise. I open my eyes.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your unhappiness, Ellie, or seem like I’m not taking it seriously, but my hot-guy-who-could-be-Ellie’s-next-boyfriend-dar”—Brad motions with his chin toward the door where a guy has just walked in—“has just gone off like
cah-razy
!
Beep-beep-beeeeep.
”

I shake my head. It’s sweet of Brad to try to distract me, but I’m not in the mood for this right now. I am so not in the mood for this.

I look at this guy who’s walking toward the counter with his hands in his pockets. He
is
undeniably hot. He has a swimmer’s body and he walks like a skateboarder, leaning back slightly like he’s in no kind of hurry. He’s staring at me, like he knows me. Our eyes meet and I feel something inside me flash.

Brad is squeezing my arm and whispering in my ear, “
beep beep beeeeeeeep.
”

The guy is up at the counter now, the corners of his mouth curling up into a slow, sweet smile. Up close, he’s even hotter—wide-spaced eyes the color of wet slate, amazing eyelashes, dark brown hair flopping over one eye. I feel a sudden craving for something, like I’m hungry or thirsty, except not either of those things. He’s still watching me.

“Hey, Ellie,” he says.

Do I know this person?
I stare back at him. Feel another flash. No, definitely not. I would not forget this face.

“You don’t remember me,” he says. He blinks. His eyes! I know those eyes!

I feel myself smiling.

“You’re Sean! From the party,” I say. I think back to that moment, at the top of the stairs, that brief and strange moment with the rubber-face guy. This is what his rubber mask was hiding.

Brad lets go of my arm. I hear his sharp intake of breath.

“Hey, buddy.” Sean smiles at Brad, tips his head back slightly, then reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. “What’s up?”

Brad lets out a quick, “Hey.”

I’m back in that moment when we shook hands at the party, when Sean just held my hand there, like it was something so precious. I feel my face get hot.

“Anyway.” Sean looks back at me. “I never got to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“How to play. Hide-and-seek. Remember? See, you almost got it, but you were missing a key element. Here’s how it goes…” He grins. “Okay. First you have to close your eyes and count to ten while the people hide. Then you open your eyes and then, and this is key”—he holds up one finger—“then you
seek
them. See? That’s the step you were missing, I think.” He smiles again. “The seeking one. You had the opening eyes part down perfectly, though, so no need to feel bad.” He’s nodding, all serious now. “It takes practice.”

I wish I weren’t blushing. “Well, thanks.” I can’t help but smile. “For the help…with that.” I reach up and touch my face. We just stand there, the three of us, staring at one another. I am wholly confused by what’s going on. But at least I’m not quite as sad anymore.

The silence, however, is getting awkward.

“Do you want something?” I say suddenly. “Like…um…a muffin? We have these muffins here. They’re not really that great, but they’re huge. So if you’re into eating a lot of something…”

Sean laughs. “No, thanks,” he says. “But I’d love an iced coffee if you don’t mind. Or you could just give me a regular coffee and some ice and I’ll just mix them together in my mouth.”

I smile again and go to the big refrigerator to get the iced coffee pitcher. I can see Sean’s reflection in the glass, watching me. I pour the coffee, then turn back and hand him the plastic cup, already covered in beads of sweat. He reaches out to take it. Our fingers touch. An electric shock shoots up my arm. And we just stand there like that, holding the cup together, our fingers touching, until I realize it’s time for me to let go.

Brad clears his throat. “Ellie?” he says loudly. He’s using his fake voice, the one that’s an octave higher than his regular one. Oh no. This can’t be good. “Since your shift ends in ten minutes, anyway”—Brad looks at his watch—“if you want to head out a little bit early, that’s fine with me.”

I look at my watch. It’s only three-fifty, I’m not actually supposed to be done with work until seven. I look at Brad. He just stares at me and nods slowly, his eyes open wide. He is trying very, very hard to keep a straight face.

“Okaaaaaay,” I say, slowly nodding back. Alright, so far not too embarrassing.

Brad turns toward Sean. “Hey, do you have a car?”

Oh God.

“Yeah.” Sean tips his head.

“Great,” says Brad. “Can you give your friend Ellie here a ride home? Her ride cancelled on her and the bus, well, that’s just not safe.”

My face is burning. I look down.

“Sure,” Sean says. “I’d be glad to. Hey, good timing on my part, right?” He’s grinning. If what Brad said sounds as fake to him as it does to me, he’s doing an admirable job pretending not to notice.

“Thank you,” I say to Sean. And I’m suddenly very nervous, although I’m not really sure why.

“Bye, El.” Brad leans over, kisses me on the cheek, and whispers, “You owe me a latte.” Which is what he always says when he does something especially nice for me.

“Ready?” Sean says. His hair is flopping into his face, he pushes it out of the way and looks me straight in the eye. And there’s that flash again.

He smiles.

My stomach twists. “Okay,” I say.

O
utside the sky is weirdly dark and the air thick and humid, the way it gets before a storm. Sean leads me over to a navy blue Volvo. “Ta-da!” he says. The paint is scratched and the back bumper is covered in the remnants of bumper stickers that someone tried to tear off, but eventually gave up on—a piece of light blue with a lacy-looking white shape in the corner, a dark green sticker with everything torn off except for a white
UR.
Sean unlocks the passenger side and opens the door, then walks around to the driver’s side and gets in. I get in, too.

There are four different plastic cups in the cupholder, and cups scattered all over the floor. On the backseat there’s a black leather messenger bag closed with a shiny brass lock. The car smells like pine trees.

“Sorry about all the cups, you can just kick them out of the way,” Sean says. “Iced coffee is my crack.”

“What a coincidence,” I say. “Crack is my iced coffee.”

Sean laughs. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he
says. He shakes his head a little bit. He starts his car. “So where am I taking you?”

“I’m in the Sunrise Village condo complex,” I say, “behind the A&P on Grays Avenue.”

Sean starts his car, starts driving, neither of us says anything for a while. I watch his hands as he turns the steering wheel. I cannot recall ever having any sort of opinion about a guy’s hands before, but his are beautiful.

“So…I have to confess something.” Sean reaches up with one of his beautiful hands and pushes his hair out of his face. “I didn’t really come here to tell you the rules of hide-and-seek.” He pauses. “The truth is, Ellie, it’s really not that hard of a game. And besides, you could just look it up online.”

“The Internet is good like that,” I say. My heart is starting to race. “Then why are you here?”

“The truth? I looked for you after the party and when I didn’t see you I got worried. I thought maybe the fire ate you up. The fire department said everyone got out okay, but you just never know, I guess.” He glances at me and then looks back at the road. “I remembered you said you worked at the coffee place, so I figured I’d just come by and make sure you were alright. I hope that doesn’t seem stalkery or weird seeing as we only talked for like thirty seconds…”

“No, it’s nice of you,” I say. “I’m okay, thanks for checking.”

“You don’t look that okay actually…When I came in to Mon Coeur, you looked really sad. And at the party, too.” Sean pauses. I don’t say anything. “So did you ever find him?”

“Who?” I feel myself blushing.

“Whoever you were looking for at the party. Was it that guy with the bad tattoos?”

“Oh,” I say. “Yeah. Sort of. I mean I thought so, only it turned out no.”

“He isn’t like your boyfriend or something, is he?”

“Ha!” I say. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, good. I didn’t think so. I mean, he didn’t look like the kind of dude I’d imagine you usually date. He looked kind of like a loser.”

And I’m oddly flattered by this comment, as it implies that I have actually ever dated anyone before. Which, of course, I haven’t.

“So, tattoo dude didn’t deliver?”

“He delivered his hand to my ass,” I say. “So I delivered my knee to his balls. And that was it.”

“Good for you,” Sean says. “But why were you looking for him?”

I take a deep breath. And as I breathe in, I realize something, that I’m going to have to tell him the truth. It’s not that I’ve somehow decided this is a good idea or anything, it’s just what I’m going to do.

“I was looking for my sister,” I say. “I haven’t seen her in
over two years.” There’s no going back now. We’re stopped at a stoplight. I glance at Sean again. He turns toward me, nodding ever so slightly. I hope telling him isn’t a mistake. “I didn’t think
she’d
be there at the party exactly, I just thought…” I get the story over with as quickly as I can, just spit it out so it’s out and I don’t have to have the words in my mouth anymore. “So I showed her picture to tons of people but no one knew her but I thought if I found the guy who brought in the box, he might know something about where she was, or that someone at the party might.” I look over at Sean but he’s watching the road again. “But I was wrong.” I feel my eyes filling with tears, but I blink them back. “So I guess that’s why I looked sad.”

“That’s a pretty understandable reason,” he says.

“My best friend Amanda thinks I need to get on with my life now. Stop focusing on my sister so much and just act, I don’t know, like she never existed or something. It’s been two years since she disappeared and nothing has changed.” I inhale and exhale slowly. “I don’t know, Amanda might be right, it
might
be time to give up now.” I look down at my hands. “But I just don’t know how to.”

Sean is silent. And we both stare straight ahead at the rain pounding down.

“I think I know why I met you now,” Sean says finally. And then I feel Sean place his hand gently over mine on the seat between us. “There are some things a person just never gets over, that the phrase ‘get over’ doesn’t really apply to,” he
says. “And when one of those things happens in your life, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed, or if you’re sitting alone in your room or at a party surrounded by a hundred people, and it doesn’t even matter if you’re actually thinking about it or not because no matter where you are or what you’re doing, it’s still there. It’s not just something that happened. It’s become a part of you.”

And then he shuts his mouth and keeps driving. This is it so exactly. And no one else I’ve ever talked to has ever really gotten it before.

He turns toward me, our eyes meet, and I’m just sitting there blinking. He grins, shrugs his shoulders, and tips his head to the side, all casual now. “Or, y’know, whatever.” And I burst out laughing and it’s a real hiccuping, doubled-over laugh, the kind of laugh I haven’t had in a long time. And he laughs with me. Things are the funniest when they are a mix of sad and absurd and true.

“So you know what I’m talking about, then,” I say.

“Something like that,” Sean says.

“How do you know all of that?” I ask. “I mean, what happened to you?”

But as soon as the words are out, I wish I could take them back. The last thing I want him to think is that I’m mining him for his tragedies, the way I’ve felt so many others do to me. “Sorry,” I say. “You don’t need to answer that.”

We are pulling into the apartment complex where I live
now, the streetlights lighting up the inside of the car. Lighting up Sean’s face.

“Seventeen-ten,” I say. “Up there on the right.” And Sean pulls up in the empty parking spot in front of my front door.

“Well,” I say. “Thanks for the ride.” I look out the window, there’s so much rain pounding down it’s like the whole world is underwater. It’s like here, in this car with Sean, is the only safe place left on earth.

“No problem,” he says.

I reach down and unfasten my seat belt. “So…um.” I know I’m supposed to get out now, but I am struck with the sudden intensity of
how much I do not want to.
“Well…thanks again.” I cringe, hearing myself. This is ridiculous. I have to go.

I start to reach for the door handle and glance over at him one last time. Our eyes meet and there’s that flash again.

Sean takes a deep breath.

“I had a brother once,” he says. His hair flops over one eye and he pushes it away. “But he died.”

My breath catches in my throat. The rain starts pounding harder now, and there is thunder in the distance.

“What?” I blink.

I watch his mouth.

“My brother died,” he says again. “So that’s how I know about that stuff I said.”

I raise my hand up to my mouth. “Oh God.”

He smiles this sad half smile. “It was a long time ago.” He looks down, looks back up, his face is flushed. “If there was even the slightest chance that I could see him again, that there was something I could do to make that possible, I would never stop trying. Ever. This is fate, Ellie, me meeting you, I think. Because I don’t have a chance to get my brother back. Nothing I do can change the fact that he’s gone. But maybe what I’m supposed to do now is help you.” Sean pauses. “Do you think that sounds crazy?”

I shake my head. I feel something inside me warming up.

“So should I come in, then?” he says. “Maybe see the drawing?”

I hesitate for only the tiniest shred of a second, enough time for me to look through all that rain at the front windows of our building and remember that my mother is working the night shift tonight, which means she is gone now and won’t be home until early in the morning.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “That would be great.”