You’re gross
And when I wasn’t doing that—when the customers wandered away and Diana had to go babysit—I talked to myself. Or not exactly to myself. It was that Win voice I heard talking back, the same one I’d been hearing for weeks. I knew it was crazy and I should stop playing pretend, but it was easier to let the voice run than to try to shut it up.
—She’s joking but she’s right. This is disgusting.
—Why?
—I’m Markos Waters.
—So?
—So I’m letting this girl get to me.
—She’s great.
—Yeah.
—She listens. She understands.
—Yeah.
—And the kissing.
—Yeah.
—Yeah.
—But I can’t be this guy.
—Why?
—It’s not in my DNA.
—That’s a weak excuse, Markos. If I were alive I’d kick your ass.
It made me think of Ari and Win together. When we were kids it was me and Win, Win and me. In middle school I started hooking up with girls but me and Win stayed the same. Then in high school, it became me and Win and Ari. Or really me-on-my-own then sometimes also Win-and-Ari. She was annoying at first because I didn’t really get it: she wasn’t a random girl, she was someone who fundamentally changed who Win was. Not in a bad way. He was more solid around her, more decisive, more purposeful. He took up more space. He was the good parts of himself, but more. Ari acted as a Win amplifier.
Once I figured that out, I didn’t really have a problem with her. I liked her. Not the way Win liked her. But like a dude. She was cool.
Win, though. It freaked me out that someone I knew so well—better than my brothers, even—could change so much just from being around another person. I’ll never change, I thought. I know who I am.
Ha. Ha.
I was straightening the paint chips when my mother’s hekamist sidled up next to me. My first thought was that she was going to yell at me about the stolen six thousand dollars, but that didn’t make sense. That was months ago, and Mom would’ve paid her again, not told her I’d taken it. Then I started to get really paranoid and thought that she could tell all I’d been thinking about Diana and Win and Ari and she had some sort of wise old hekamist life advice about all of it.
“Markos Waters?” she said. She was a large old lady, and whacked out. Smelled like pine needles and forest dirt. Eyes too big and blinky to focus quite right.
I nodded. She picked up a paint chip and looked it up and down. Sort of dreamily, hungrily, like it was a menu. “Can I help you find something?” I asked.
She looked me up and down like I was another paint chip. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Right. She was a hekamist, but she could still get into the mourner tourism. Schadenfreude. It went like this: People claimed to feel sorry but they were actually relieved and partly fascinated by what the face of loss looked like. How could he live though this and go on? they wondered. He is so completely different from us now.
“You were a good friend.” (How did she know that?) “He seemed the type of person you’d want to remember.” (As if I had a choice.) “It’s a shame not all of his friends can.” (Wait—what?) “What are you talking about?”
The hekamist covered her mouth with the paint chip, but I could see the smile peeking out of either side. “She didn’t tell you. Of course. Funny, funny. That girl—the ballet dancer.”
She was almost laughing now, holding her breath to keep it in.
“What did Ari do?” I asked.
“I’m telling you. Be patient.” She took a breath and bit the side of the paint chip. “What was it? Oh yes. The dancer forgot Win. Erased him. Silly, so silly, a spell to forget.” She took the paint chip out of her mouth, put it back on the rack, and patted my arm.
All the electricity had gone out of my skin.
I barely felt her hand.
Then I was alone. Me and the paint chips. The door bell jangled. The air conditioner kicked on.
I grabbed the metal rack in front of me and pulled. The paint chips crashed to the ground. I stepped around them and walked straight out the door.
My phone buzzed. Another text.
I pressed the touch screen with shaking fingers. Found Diana’s number. Listened to the ringing. The pauses between rings stretched out over blocks.
When she answered, there were children screaming in the background. “Hello?”
“Ari paid a hekamist to erase Win. She doesn’t remember him at all.”
For a second, I heard only the screaming children. I don’t think either of us breathed. Then Diana sighed.
“This sucks. But I am so glad she finally told you.”
“What? She didn’t—what do you mean she finally told me?” The blood rushed out of my head and I leaned over. The weight of my head made me fall to my knees. “She told you. You—you knew.”