Which is all to say, I knew where the best hide-and-seek places were in the house.
Upon waking, I checked my hair—as far as I could tell, it still looked fine—reapplied the makeup as faithfully as I could, and crept from Lisa’s room early in the morning. The questions I’d been asking myself since hopping on a plane thirty-six hours ago still whispering between my ears, Are you really doing this? Are you really going to impersonate Lisa for up to a week? Are you really okay with pretending to be her?
I had no answers. Furthermore, I was frustrated that the questions persisted. The decision had been made. Lisa was in trouble and probably scared out of her mind. As much as the situation gave me a sour stomach, I was more worried for her than for me.
And anyway, allowing myself to be swept up and along by momentum was normal for me. Momentum was good. It made sense. It existed for a reason. It helped people stay on the right path.
Second-guessing my decisions was not normal. It, the impersonation of my sister and the lies, was already happening. I was already doing this. I’d promised my sister. I’d promised. And I never snitched.
So, defeating the impulse to check my phone and call the lawyer, I hid.
My hiding spot was the mudroom off the back door. The light was excellent for reading, and it housed a cozy cushioned cubby built into the wall, a space that had likely been a small closet at one point. There was no chance of being happened upon as no one used the back door.
I read my book, Moby Dick, while ignoring the whispers of doubt until they faded. I also listened for Abe. Once he was up and about, I’d make an appearance in the kitchen just after he finished his breakfast/when he was on his way out. That way he would see me, but there’d be no loitering and or making of further chitchat.
Maybe I’d pretend to be on my way to the bathroom.
A while later—a long while later—I came up for breath and glanced at my surroundings. The earlier post-dawn diffused glow now felt like midmorning sunlight. I frowned, worried that Abe had grabbed breakfast at some point, I hadn’t heard him, and I’d neglected to check in. Chewing the inside of my bottom lip, I set my book to the side and tiptoed to the kitchen, searching for any sign of life and checking the clock mounted above the wood-fired pizza oven.
I experienced a shock. It was now past 1:00 PM. I then experienced a spike of alarm, hoping Ahab hadn’t gone looking for Lisa, given up, and called my parents.
“Doom, doom, doom!” I murmured, dashing toward the back stairs. I would have to find Ahab and convince him I’d been home all morning, and then I’d—
“Did you just say ‘doom doom doom,’ or ‘zoom, zoom, zoom’?”
I stopped short and was forced to take several steps backward. Ahab was walking down the stairs, his longish hair in messy disarray, his voice roughened with sleep, and his eyes squinted like the room was too bright.
“I . . .” Incredulous, I inspected his rumpled attire. He was still wearing the same T-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing yesterday. “Did—did you just wake up?” And he slept in his clothes?
Yawning, his gaze moving down and up my person, he nodded. “What time is it? I think I left my phone down here.”
My eyes bugged. Wasn’t he supposed to be watching Lisa? Wasn’t he supposed to take her phone and ensure she didn’t call Tyler and didn’t leave and didn’t do anything stupid? And he was just now waking up? I could have been out all morning. I could have met with and had sex with and dropped acid with Tyler ten times by now!
To be fair, I didn’t know how long it took to drop acid, but based on various data sources and movies I’d watched, I could extrapolate.
“You—did you—your—” I couldn’t figure out which question I wanted to ask first.
“Is there still pizza?” he asked, walking past me and making a straight line for the fridge.
Confounded, certain I was missing something critical, I stumbled after him. “I can’t believe you’re just waking up.”
I’d never slept until 1:00 PM. Never. Not after a long international flight, not on the weekend after pulling several all-nighters the week prior, not even when I’d been sick with the flu. Never ever, ever.
Sending me a quick, small, sleepy smile, Ahab opened the fridge. “Why? When did you wake up?”
Crossing my arms, I wished for my bag of prunes or something else to chew. I suspected this was one of those situations where telling the truth would make a negative impact to my Lisa-credibility. It was a safe bet to assume my sister didn’t often wake up at 6:30 AM.
Rather than outright lie, I decided vague was just as good. “A while ago. When did you go to sleep?”
“Around five.”
I started, blinking several times. “Five? AM?”
“Yep.” He pulled the pizza from the fridge and placed it on the island, flipping open the box.
“That’s insane, Ahab. What were you doing until five AM?”
He’d been lifting a slice of cold pizza—COLD PIZZA!—when I spoke, but his hand halted midway to his mouth and he glared at me.
“What did you just say?”
“I said, that’s insane.” Frowning at him and the slice of cold pizza in turn, I had to ask, “Do you want me to heat that up for you?”
He returned the pizza to the box, staring at me like I was a curiosity. “My name is Abram.”
Dammit. Abram!! Why didn’t I just call him Abe?
I blinked some more. “Uh, I don’t mind heating up the pizza.” Maybe if I ignored the slipup, he’d let it drop?
“You just called me Ahab.”
Oh noes! He wasn’t going to let it drop.
“Pardon? I mean, what? I mean, no I didn’t.” I laughed, backing away, stuffing my hands into the back pockets of Lisa’s only pair of semi-tight jeans instead of boa-constrictor-tight jeans.
“Yes, you did.” His eyes narrowed, moving over me.
I tossed my thumb over my shoulder. “Would you believe that I was just reading Moby Dick?”
He shook his head, and I didn’t know how to feel, because that was good, right? I mean, it wasn’t good that I’d messed up his name, but it was good that he didn’t believe I’d been reading Moby Dick. I felt a level of certainty that Lisa wouldn’t read Moby Dick, so he must’ve still believed I was Lisa . . . right?
“Ahab?” His voice dripped with irritation.
“Why would I call you Ahab? I don’t think that happened. Your name is Abram. You heard wrong. You’re an unreliable witness.” I glanced behind me, not knowing where I was going. I only had three feet until my back hit the wall, so I pivoted, still walking backward but aiming for the arched doorway.
“Unreliable witness?” His left dimple reappeared followed by the right, and he was doing that smile-frown thing again. It was cute. How irksome.
“Yes. You just woke up. You’re muddled. Go eat your disgusting cold pizza. Whatever!” I was almost to the arched doorway, which would lead me to the back stairs, which meant I could hide for the rest of the afternoon. It would probably take all afternoon for my heart rate to return to normal.
“Fine, I will.” He lifted the pizza to his mouth and added, “And then we’re going out, Liza.”
That had my feet coming to a halt. “Pardon?”
“Your name is Liza, isn’t it?” He said this with a sardonic twist to his lips.
But I didn’t care what he called me as long as it wasn’t Mona. I was more concerned with the first part of this statement. “We’re going out? Where?”
Abram didn’t respond right away, instead he took a bite of pizza and chewed. My attention dropped to his jaw and neck and, for some inexplicable reason, I was entranced by the sight of his jaw working, flexing, and the action of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. I can honestly say, I’d never noticed the way someone chewed before, because why would I? But in his case, I don’t know. . . It was just all extraordinarily man-like.
“I’m looking at a guitar, the guy is holding it for me until three.”
“Why do I need to go?” I forced my eyes back to his and crossed my arms, bewildered by my preoccupation with his chewing. So weird.