Anyone but me. She’d already made me bulletproof.
Edith moved over on the couch to make room for Sicily, and picked up the phone again. Shoulder to shoulder, a duo.
I’d never been one for team sports, you know?
I went to the front door and looked out at the weather, thinking and not thinking, trying not to think too much. Trying not to go back for that feather.
I zipped my jacket, lifted the collar, and slipped out.
In this town, the sidewalks were salted and clear, and the train would be on time. A marshmallow world, spread out before me. A Bing Crosby song.
I couldn’t wait to get the hell out.
IT WAS A TWO-TRAIN RIDEhome, and I had to hope my transit card wouldn’t scrape bottom. I hadn’t brought any cash. I didn’t have any, anyway.
On the first leg of the journey, I climbed to the second level of the train, where fewer people would jostle by. The car I’d chosen was pretty empty, anyway. Through the green-tinted windows, I watched thelandscape turn from suburbia back to Chicago, a magic trick that calmed my nerves. Back in the city, I transferred from the commuter line to the crush of the Blue Line L and rode the rest of the way home standing, grasping a grubby pole.
“Mommy, why is that ladysinging?”
I looked down. In the double seat at my elbow, a little girl sat bundled up against her mother, her head tipped back to stare at me. The mother was trying to distract the kid with something on her phone.
I moved along the train car, catching a single seat when someone got up for their stop. I sat with my shoulder cold against the window, doubt started to creep in. Maybe I shouldn’t have just left without saying something to Sicily? Even if Edith Maxwell hadn’t wanted me there? Even if my offering of uncomfortable truths had only made Sicily feel bad?
I wasn’t used to seeing things from all the way around an issue, to be honest. I could admit it. I was a lot more accustomed to looking out for number one, not considering, like,family. Me and Alex, we had never been on those terms. We gave each other space, because he required it. Alex was a bit of a houseplant. A little light went a long way, very little tending required. And Joey—
At the thought of him, my resentment flared. I never should have let him in. I’d compromised, I’d bent my life to include him, to be near him, and why?
Keeping everyone out there just beyond my fingertips—it worked for me and Alex, for me and Oona as roommates, for me and the band.
I had only a tiny pang, thinking of the girls that way. Whatever. A little distance kept things rock ’n’ roll. And Sicily—
Well, I hadn’t known she existed yesterday. What was different now?
At my L stop, the wind was a renewed assault, ripping across the elevated platform. At street level, I hid behind the collar of my jacket and pointed my shoulder toward McPhee’s. Thursday night, coming on. It might be a busy night, with the Advent calendars allcounting down, single digits. People would be out for stocking stuffers and holly jollies with friends, people from the office. Things might be swinging at McPhee’s by now, the fire high behind the grate and everyone’s cheeks flushed from liquor and warmth. It would be good to be home.
Even if this home had a big ol’ X on it for demolition, if Edith Maxwell got her way. I didn’t know what I would do if she did.
Home couldn’t just be one place, though. What happened when you moved on, greener pastures and all that? There were people, I thought, who seemed to carry home within them. They didn’t know about the gaping black hole lying below us all, how quickly and quietly you might tumble.
I found myself thinking of that little girl on the train, cuddled up against her mother—
And that’s when I lost my footing.
It was almost a real wipeout again, scrape on ice, feet in the air, the whole deal.
But I caught myself at the last minute, finding balance by holding very still. I looked up from my boots. I was standing at the mouth of McPhee’s alley, again, breathing irregularly in white-smoke puffs.
A bundle of rags and blue tarp lay huddled against the garbage bin again. The guy I’d let down the night before was back for another helping of cold midnight. No decommissioned grocery cart this time. Nothing to cut the wind at all.
Down the block, McPhee’s radiated warmth. Someone had tied back the red café curtains inside, offering all the light from within to the street and the people emerging from the door, laughing a riot. The brittle weather made compatriots of those willing to be out in it. The till would be extra busy, Alex run off his feet. He might even be worried, wondering where I’d been all day.
I started off in that direction again. But I was split in two, the body heading toward the pub, the mind hovering back near the question I had asked myself—
What had changed? What was different?
What was different was that I didn’t have to peer into downcast faces anymore, wondering if one of them would be Marisa. Wondering what I’d even do, if I found her like that. I didn’t have to worry about running into her, or worry that she would need something from me—
She didn’t. Did she?
