When We Were Friends (41 page)

If I’d been smart I would’ve packed and left that afternoon, while Alex and Posy were away. But, of course, I was not smart. I was desperate.

I hadn’t told Star that Sydney had called and that we were leaving, was terrified at how she’d react and didn’t want to risk her freaking out in front of Alex and Posy. I decided that I’d wake her in the middle of the night and pull her from the house when she was only semiconscious. Not a well-formulated plan but the only one I had, and sitting with Star at dinner, avoiding Posy’s strange looks, knowing what was coming and not being able to discuss it with anyone, made it all feel unreal, like I was watching us all from somewhere above.

Star went straight up to her bedroom after dinner, complaining of a headache that I was sure was either fake, or real and stress-induced. I resisted—although just barely—the urge to go up with her and bawl my heart out. Instead, after finishing the dishes I joined Alex and Posy in the living room.

After a few minutes of stilted conversation, Alex suggested a game of Scrabble. So we all sat cross-legged on the extended sofa bed like we were children, silently laying letters and keeping score. Molly was on my lap, drowsily sucking on the ear of the stuffed rabbit Alex had given her our first day here, and I centered myself on her so I
wouldn’t have to think about anything else. With her, anywhere my broken life ended up taking me could become home. So this was what I focused on, trying not to interpret every word Posy laid on the board: ARREST, SECRET, and a BE added onto my TRAY.

Midway through the game, with Alex and Posy both a hundred-something points ahead of me, I told them I was forfeiting and was going up to check on Star. Instead, though, I brought Molly up into Posy’s bedroom and set her on the bed. She handed me her bunny, like a condolence. “Abba-buh,” she said.

“You’re right,” I said, “it does suck.” I smiled and kissed the top of her head and set the bunny back beside her. And started to pack.

Posy had taken all my and Molly’s clothes from the dresser and placed them, folded, on the closet floor. I stuffed these into the suitcases stored in the closet, and set the suitcases by the door.

Posy’s purse was hanging in the closet, on a hook, a black vinyl purse with a square brass clasp, the type used by angry old ladies. And … I don’t know what came over me. I guess it was the fussiness of the purse, the knowledge that it was, at least in part, Posy’s fault that we had to leave, the realization that we had only enough money to last us six months at most and that Posy, a financial analyst with a new Lexus, had probably millions to spend only on herself. It was this, somehow tied into my anger at Sydney and grief and fear, that made me reach for Posy’s purse, and look inside.

A tin can of Altoids, keys hooked on a canister of pepper spray, a worn black tube of ChapStick, her wallet and a lace handkerchief embroidered with her initials. (A handkerchief, and who used embroidered handkerchiefs anymore? Posy, that’s who.) I pulled out the wallet and opened it.

Tucked into the accordion insert were photos: a black miniature poodle, a younger Posy standing by an older woman with her same pinched features, and then, a family portrait, Alex and Posy aged about six or seven sitting in front of an older, blond girl and a smiling couple. I traced my finger across the photo, all of them so young and happy, the man and girl who would die within ten years. And
then I closed the wallet, my hand trembling, and stuffed it back into Posy’s purse.

Still shaking, I crammed my packed bags into the hall closet and then went back downstairs. The Scrabble set was put away, Alex and Posy sitting in the armchairs. “So,” I said brightly, “who won!”

“We decided it’d be best not to keep going after you left,” Alex said. “It was starting to remind us of the games we played when we were kids, which never ended well. We were too competitive.”

“Meaning
I’m
too competitive,” Posy said. “That’s what comes from being older and not as smart. It’s demoralizing to lose, so I start accusing him of cheating.”

“Actually, from what I remember you start kicking me on the shin,” Alex said, then turned to me. “I guess Molly’s up with Star?”

My eyes widened. Oh crap, oh crap, I’d left her on Posy’s bed. “With Star, right on her floor,” I said. “I better go get her and bring her to bed.”

“I’ll go up with you,” Posy said. “I think I’m going to call it an early night. That hike really messed up my back.”

I felt my face flush cold. What were the chances I could make it up to the bedroom, snatch Molly from the bed and give her to Star before Posy got upstairs? Not good.

“Let me get Molly first,” I said quickly, then spun around. But Posy, in complete disregard of her “bad back,” jumped from the chair and followed close behind.

When we got to the hallway, I squared my shoulders and turned to her. “Okay. Okay, look, by the way, Molly’s actually in your bedroom.”

Posy looked into my eyes. “She’s in my bedroom.”

“On your bed. I had to get something from the closet and I left her there by accident.”

Still, Posy held my eyes. “You could’ve asked me first.”

“I know, I know I should’ve,” I said, but Posy had already strode past me into the bedroom. Molly was asleep on the bed, her arm flung over the bunny. Posy looked expressionlessly at the drool-matted bunny, then turned to look into the closet. Following her
gaze, I saw her purse and felt a punch to my gut. Thank God I hadn’t stolen anything. Thank God.

“You took all your clothes,” she said.

Had I thought she wouldn’t notice? To be honest, I really hadn’t thought at all.

“You packed them,” she said. “You’re leaving.”

I watched her face without speaking.

“Okay,” she said softly. “That’s good, then.”

I lifted Molly from the bed and pressed her head protectively against my shoulder. “I was scared. I thought you might turn me in.”

“I guess I might’ve. I might, but I’ll wait till after you’re gone. I’ll let you get away from here.”

“There’s a chance …” I started, then shook my head. “I might not be able to get my mother to come with us. I’ll leave the number for my friend Pamela, who can make sure she’s taken care of. I’d appreciate it if you could just ask Alex to call Pamela and to watch over Star until she gets here. The first day after I’m gone’s probably going to be tough.”

“Understood,” Posy said softly. She clasped her hands and stood a minute, looking down at them, then abruptly reached for her purse and pulled out her wallet, held out a wad of bills.

I bit down hard on my tongue, staring at them, my heart seizing with guilt and shame.

“Take it,” she said. “It’s yours. I withdrew it from the bank today for you, to help you get on your feet. The deal is that if they ever catch you, you tell them Alex had nothing to do with this, that he had no idea you weren’t who you said you were.”

“Well of course,” I said, staring at the money. I couldn’t take it. Not least because I’d already come close to taking it.

“And me too,” she said. “This conversation and the one this morning never happened, right?”

“Of course,” I said again, softer.

“Are you telling Alex you’re leaving?”

I rubbed my hand up and down Molly’s back, as if I was trying to comfort her. “No,” I said. “I think it’s better if I don’t. Maybe I’ll
write him a note.” The fact was, I couldn’t face him. Couldn’t face the look of hurt and betrayal and maybe anger when he found out who I was. This way I’d be able to imagine he didn’t hate me.

“I think you’re right, that’s probably best. You want me to tell him something tomorrow morning?”

What the hell could I have her tell him? That I was sorry? That I was eternally grateful? That I was in love with him? There wasn’t any right thing. “Just … tell him I wish things were different.”

Posy walked toward me, hesitated and then set her hand on my back. “I think he’ll know that. I know he will. You’re a good person, Leah, and he sees that. I don’t know you all that well, but even I can see it. And I know you must’ve had good reasons for taking her.” She shoved the money at my chest.

I shook my head. “I can’t. I mean I don’t need it, we have plenty of money. Or if you really want to give it away, give it to Alex because I owe him at least that much for what he’s bought for me and Molly. You could give that to him, and once I get settled I’ll pay you back what you paid him.” I touched her hand, then pulled away. “You’re a good person too, Posy.”

She blinked and then smiled at me, the type of pained, flickering smile worn by children praised for beauty or talent they’re sure they don’t truly possess, and I suddenly wondered if anyone had ever told her she was a good person before. Wondered if she even thought it of herself.

And then her smile hardened and she said, “Christ on a bike. I hope you don’t expect us to start hugging and breaking out into love ballads.” She touched Molly’s head gently and said, “Take care of her, Leah. And of yourself. And don’t ever feel bad about what you’ve done.”

I told Star nothing. Just sat with her and held her hand, Molly sleeping on the bed beside us, neither of us speaking. She knew something was going on, that was obvious, although I was sure she didn’t
realize we were leaving tonight. She wore a look I hadn’t seen on her for years, her jaw set, determined, as she had been in the days before she stopped leaving the house. Each time she’d made it to the grocery store, the liquor store, one of my high school art shows, she had worn this look. Like her disease was an actual physical being, a monster she was using all her strength to fight against. That look made me almost hopeful that she might be okay.

After she’d gotten ready for bed, I brought her an extra Xanax which she looked at a moment, then accepted. “I’ll be fine,” she said. She fell asleep soon after taking the pills and I sat there with her, one hand on her chest, the other on Molly’s. I hated that nobody would ever understand how strong she was.

I’d tried all this time to forgive Sydney; I knew she was living with her own monsters, which in their own way were every bit as powerful as Star’s. But the difference was that Sydney didn’t care if those monsters destroyed me whereas Star would fight to the death, sacrifice herself to make sure I wouldn’t be hurt.

“I love you, Mom,” I whispered, “and I hate that I ever blamed you.” She didn’t move, but I tried to believe that somewhere in her supposedly hyper-intuitive subconscious, she understood.

Once I was sure she’d stay asleep, I brought Molly downstairs and set her in her crib. The moon was full and I stood awhile by the window, looking out at the garden we’d planted. The flowers had spread, an explosion of color, and although they’d drooped somewhat in yesterday’s heat, last night’s rain had rejuvenated them. There must be something in rainwater that was lacking in the well water from the hose, magic from the sky that made the flowers sing. And I tried to find comfort from the knowledge that I’d helped create this beauty, me and Alex and the sky.

I hesitated, then went to Alex’s desk and pulled a sheet of paper from the printer. I sat a moment with the pen pressed between my palms, then wrote:

I squeezed my eyes shut and then gave my head a small shake and continued.

I was shaking, my palms sweaty. I dropped the pen, stood and paced to the window, arms crossed over my chest. I knew why I’d lied to him, and I was almost able to forgive myself for it. But it wasn’t the rightness or wrongness of the lies, it was that I knew Alex, and I knew he wouldn’t feel angry, he’d feel hurt. I could forgive myself for everything but that.

I pressed my lips between my teeth. What could I do? There was nothing I could do to make this right. Just hope that he’d eventually understand.

I turned from the window and gathered the maps I’d printed, routes to Idaho. We couldn’t go to Montana, since Sydney would know to look for us there. So instead we’d go to the Land of Potatoes, all that land, miles and miles of open space. We’d find a tiny house to rent in the middle of nowhere, use Pamela as a reference and our savings as a deposit. I could do this.

I began bringing our bags to the car. Everything Alex had bought for Molly, I left. Maybe he could return the things that looked most new, or at least give them to charity and claim a deduction. The only thing I took was the stuffed bunny. Someday I’d show it to Molly and tell her about Alex and how we’d met.
That’s the kind of man you should try to marry
, I’d say.
There are only a handful of men like that in the world, and you’ll probably start despairing that you’ll never find one. But hold out for him. Because Alex was proof that they exist
.