A couple minutes later I feel Amanda wrapping her arms around me. We hug tightly. I can hear the sirens in the distance.
“Ellie,” Amanda says. “It’s time to go home now.”
We start walking up the hill, the smell of smoke behind us. By the time we reach the top, the music is back on, mixing with the sound of sirens. I can just imagine everyone back at the party, dancing outside while the house burns all the way to the ground.
Eight
“Glitter 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.