Could she trust that Walt was telling her the truth? Was this merely an addict’s way of twisting the circumstances to manipulate her and get money for a score?
How horrible, the way thoughts themselves turned to snakes when you could no longer fully trust a person.
“How much would he need to talk?” Grace asked. Her voice sounded brittle.
“Five dollars.”
She inhaled sharply. That was a lot.
Was she really about to hand over money to her brother to potentially give to a drug dealer in exchange for information? Or money that could be wasted on something that would only hurt Walt more?
“Will you come and stay with me?” she asked. “I’ve got a clean room and a safe place for you to sleep for the night.”
“I’m good, Gracie,” he said. His voice was gentle, but firm.
She remembered him as a little boy, his heart hammering over hers the night that man had tried to break into their house.
“It’s going to be okay, Gracie,” Walt had whispered fiercely in her ear. “I’ve got you.”
She felt rage and disappointment that he never let her help him, even now, when he needed it so much. Should she yell, cry, scream? She could hardly force her brother to do anything. And yet part of her knew she shouldn’t offer the studio without talking to Theodore first. Theodore had givenherpermission to stay there, not her and Walt.
She thought of the new typewriter Theodore had gifted to her, and how much Walt could sell it for to use for drugs.
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
“I’ll give you the money,” she said slowly. “Try and get a detailed description of the person. A name would be even better.” When sheplaced the money in his hand, she met his eyes. “This is for Oliver,” she said. “This is about Oliver’slife.”
Walt nodded solemnly, his face a shade of gray. He slipped the money in his pocket.
Grace felt uneasy. She didn’t know if she had done the right thing.
“Walt,” Lillie said, folding her napkin. “Where have you been staying as of late? Are you enjoying the fair?” She asked Walt kind, gentle questions. He gave straight answers to a few of them. He was staying with some friends in the Tunnels. He hadn’t left the fairgrounds for weeks, so that he wouldn’t have to pay the fare to get back in. He enjoyed the John Philip Sousa band and the artists’ booths, and he was getting enough to eat. Not the finest food, but it kept him alive, and he didn’t have much of an appetite these days anyway. In talking to Lillie, there was a flash of his old wit.
Grace had barely touched her lunch, but Lillie ordered them all chocolate ice creams anyway. The dish sat in front of Grace, melting in the sun, and she poked at it with her spoon, pretending not to be listening too closely. Lillie talked to Walt about Dr. May, and what she was learning by apprenticing with her. “You could come in with me sometime,” she said. “I’d love for you to meet her.”
He nodded noncommittally, but he finished the ice cream and then sketched a little drawing on the paper napkin. It was of Lillie, lounging like she was the woman on the fairgrounds poster, and it had the silhouette of the Ferris wheel behind her. It had taken him five minutes, and it was extraordinary.
“Thank you for lunch,” he said. He handed the napkin sketch to Lillie, as though it were payment, and Grace wanted to snatch it and keep it for herself. He had so much promise and it brought up so many feelings.
She knew that Walt went through the world constantly feeling too much, that living often felt like a knifepoint pressed against thepad of his thumb. Bringing the blood to the surface, all the time, without relief.
But hadn’t part of him chosen this path he was on, too? And kept choosing it?
“There’s one more thing,” Grace said.
The drawing had reminded her of something.
She pulled out the caricature that she and Theodore had commissioned. Slowly, she unfolded it and showed it to Walt.
“Do you recognize this person? Perhaps while you’re asking around, could you see if anyone knows who this is?”
Lillie caught sight of it as she put a bite of ice cream in her mouth. She said, “That looks like Ms. Lackey! How do you know her?”
Grace’s heart stilled. “You recognize this woman?”
Lillie studied the drawing. “Well, the nose is a little wrong, but otherwise, it looks just like her.”
“Who is this?” Grace asked.
