“Listen, I came here to ask y’all over for dinner at our place tomorrow,” Gavin says, louder this time, wanting Sylvie to hear.
“Oh, that’s so nice,” Sylvie says as she bounces over. “Yes, thank you.” She drapes an arm around my shoulder.
“Here’s the address of our apartment.” Gavin hands Sylvie a slip of paper.
“What?” I blurt, forgetting that I’m not supposed to speak out loud.
“We rented an apartment for the summer,” Gavin drawls out in his southern accent. “It’s not far. I bet we’ll run into each other a lot,” he says. Then he smiles at me.
The jerk.
“Later,” he calls as the shell curtain clacks and sways behind him.
Sylvie says it’s time for lunch. We lock the door and clomp up the stairs. Gavin is here for the summer. His mocking eyes and stupid smirking smile make me feel like I’m a side-show freak on display for his amusement.
He seemed like he was about to apologize after he made fun of how I said my name, but he didn’t. He didn’t have time, really, because I dropped that stupid bottle. But then, later at dinner, he was back to operating in full jerk mode.
I head to the rooster bathroom and splash more cold water on my face, like it’s going to just wash everything away. Keeping my face buried in the fuzzy towel that smells like lavender, I breathe for a while. In, out, in, out. Find my feet. Try to forget about stuff. But I can’t.
Gavin could have apologized to me today, in the shop, but he didn’t.
As I enter the kitchen, émile comes in through the front door. His shoulders slump in a tired, defeated way. Leaving my side, Sylvie rushes to him and they embrace and hold each other tight. I hear murmured words, Ansel’s name. émile must have gone to the cemetery. He and Sylvie have already visited it several times since I’ve been here, bringing flowers.
The two hold each other for so long that I start to back away from them. I should leave them alone. The air in the room feels ten degrees cooler. At this moment, I don’t exist in their world. I’m paint on the wall or a plant stand, nothing but an inanimate object that forms part of the room. It’s what my life is. I’m a mute member of the audience watching a live scene on stage, not one of the actors.
I move down the hall to my bedroom, but stop with my hand on the knob. I wasn’t ever an actor in my own life before, but what about now?
Sylvie and émile are grieving for their son. One of the reasons I chose them for my new family is because they need someone else to love.
So I need to do something!
I tiptoe to the fridge.
There’s a platter of cold meats inside. I put it on the table, creeping so I don’t make noise. Plates rattle a bit, but Sylvie and émile don’t look up from their whispered conversation. I cut cheese into uneven chunks; add a bowl of oranges to the table, bread, bottles of soda. Then I’m suddenly enfolded in a soft embrace as two pairs of arms encircle me. I’m no longer paint on the wall. Sylvie and émile have pulled me into their world, and I’ll do anything to stay inside its warmth.
Ten
What’s she doing in there, J.?
A warm, salty breeze rustles the leaves of the potted lemon trees around me while I wait for Jada to answer.
That’s where she keeps her dead boyfriends.
I laugh and the noise sends a tiny swallow winging away toward the setting sun. I love Jada’s sense of humor. I love my new life and freedom, and this rooftop garden I found my first night here. No one ever comes up here when I do. Most of the time, the place is mine.
It’s obvious.
She’s stealing the paintings. You should tell.
While I breathe in the sweet, fresh air of my garden in the sky, I think about what Jada said. If I tell someone that Mrs. Thackeray is stealing the paintings next door, I’ll have to tell them how I know that. I’ll have to tell Sylvie and émile that I broke open the door in the wall and ruined their son’s murals.
All around me, green ivy climbs white trellises and flowers are everywhere. Bright blossoms explode color. Fuchsias and blues and sunshine yellows fill my brain. My life is so different now. I lived in an old black-and-white movie where I was the prisoner. I was the bad guy. Now, my life is in technicolor, and I’m the heroine. It has to stay that way.
I’m not saying anything, yet.
I’m not totally sure that they’re stealing anything.
It looks suspicious but I want to wait. What if I’m wrong?
“Rosie?” Sylvie calls.
Gotta go!
Hugs, bestie!! Miss you. Bring it.
The air leaves my lungs and I can’t fill them again.
I miss you, too, Jada. More than you can imagine because I don’t know when I’ll see you again.
Of course, I don’t tell her that. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second, but then I switch off my phone.
I wish I could tell her everything. I wish I could come clean, but I know it’s impossible. If I confess too soon, my bright, shining new life could blow up in my face.