“Get ahold of yourself,” I interrupt, easing out from under her embrace. “Or the offer’s off the table.” Still, I’m glad to have been able to do something good. I don’t want to like Aubrey; but there’s something about her vulnerability and openness that I’m drawn to.
“Is this crazy?” she wants to know. She kicks off her shoes and holds them in one hand, her feet bare against the pavement.
“Yes,” I tell her. “It is absolutely insane. It is definitely crazy, even for me.” I didn’t know she had it in her, but I’m happy she does. Aubrey’s surprising; you think you have her pegged, and then . . . this. I swing an arm around her. She wouldn’t have let me touch her earlier tonight, but this time she leans close like we’re old friends, and we move in the direction of the gross, crappy hostel.
In reality, I suggested staying there for Aubrey—because I knew she didn’t have a lot of money. I didn’t want to insult her by offering to foot the bill, or put pressure on her to spend more than she has. I never would have stayed in that hellhole otherwise. But there’s no way I’m doing that in Bombay, where hostel means “roach-and-rat-infested room with a hole in the ground in place of a toilet.” In Bombay we’ll do it my way, with my money. As we walk, I’m hoping the magic that’s settled around us—satanic or otherwise—conjures up some answers fast, before she changes her mind, or worse: figures out what I’m hiding.
8
Aubrey
I can’t even imagine how much the Air India flights cost Lena. Fifteen hundred dollars each? Two thousand? For not the first time, it strikes me how generous she’s being. How coming out here—simply because I felt it was important—was a big leap of faith on her part. She had no reason to be so kind to me, and yet she was. I wonder if we’ll find my journal. I wonder if Adam will have any information that could help us. I wonder, even, what it might have been like to date someone like Adam—someone intelligent and kind, with integrity—rather than Charlie. If I had, I wouldn’t be on a plane to India right now—or at least not for the reason I am.
I chomp on a stick of cinnamon-flavored gum the whole time, while Lena alternates between reading Us Weeklys and humming along to Bollywood films. Four hours in, her tray table is littered with discarded wine bottles and cans of Diet Coke. The fact that Lena is this wealthy—enough so to drop thousands on our flights out here without batting an eye or even clearing it with her parents first—is awe-inspiring. But she wears it casually, and she never boasts. The way she’s done everything she could to make me comfortable and not indebted—even the small things, like sharing her snacks and helping me fill out my customs form—demonstrates her generosity. I like Lena, and I can’t help but see why Charlie fell for her. I’ve never met someone so uninhibited, exciting, and open to emotions.
They’re all qualities I admire. I’ve always had trouble making friends; I’m the only girl in my family, and it’s never been easy for me to relate to other girls my own age. I’ve always been a little shy, never comfortable enough in my own skin to seamlessly fit into a group. Lena is the type people want to be around. They gravitate toward her naturally—even the taxi driver, who engaged her in conversation on our way to the airport; and the flight attendant, who gave her an extra bag of cookies for free. Lena has all the qualities I’ve always wanted. Sitting next to her on the plane like this, I can almost pretend like we’re sisters. It’s not a bad feeling; but the truth of it is, we’re worlds apart.
Lena must know Charlie so much better than I do. After all, they met in London a year or so before his parents moved him to Mumbai to finish high school there. They spent time together—presumably days on end and lots of nights too. I, on the other hand, met Charlie in a subway station just before leaving New York for good. Our relationship has always been long-distance. We’re from different backgrounds in every possible way.
She has money like he did; she’s traveled the world like he had; she knew him for two years longer than I. She has the advantage. More than that, though, she’s self-assured. Even I’m not immune to her fearlessness. It inspires jealousy and admiration all at once. I know I shouldn’t care. Mostly, I don’t. If by some wild chance Lena’s right that he’s alive and we do find him, I’ll make him wish he’d been dead all along.
And maybe we’ll also find out that he’s a spy for the CIA, or something, and needed to vanish to take care of some top-secret mission. And needed to have two girlfriends for some highly classified government project.