“But—” Bea trailed off, and they stared at each other silently. “What can I do?” she whispered at last.
“Throw me a party, pal,” Vivian said. “Keep singing everything I love. I’m not giving up. But if I’m saying good-bye, I want to do it in style.” She nodded toward the bandstand. “Mr. Smith wants you back.”
When Leo met her in the middle of the dance floor, he was silent, and he didn’t want to meet her eyes. But Vivian held out her hands anyway.
At last, he took them and pulled her close. “How long do you want to stay?”
His hand on her back was warm, but she felt icy cold. “I’ll dance ’til last call,” she whispered.
She’d lose herself in the music one more time. And then she’d face what came next.
THIRTY-ONE
Five Hours Left
The sun was only a few hours from rising when Vivian hopped off the streetcar, Leo at her side. The streetlights were pools of molten gold, but all they lit up was piles of slush and trash and empty streets.
Vivian didn’t care. Leo took her hand without speaking, and she let him, though hers were too numb to really feel his touch. The night was cool, but she was colder, a chill that had started in her chest when the commissioner left and slowly spread through her body.
She stared at every ugly, unloved building that they passed as if she were seeing them for the first time. She wished she thought they were beautiful. Shouldn’t she be seeing everything with new eyes as she climbed the steps toward her home? Shouldn’t she be thinking kind, loving thoughts about the people sleeping on the other side of each door?
Will Freeman, who threw his windows open to share music with the world. His snoring was clear as she went past his door. Mrs. Gonzales’syoungest was teething again, and she could hear angry, screeching whimpers drifting down the stairs. Mrs. Thomas could never sleep through the night after years of waking up with one baby after the other. She’d be on the third-floor landing, the window thrown open while she smoked, the only time of day she could be alone. Mr. Brown whimpered behind his door, the sound of a man who’d had too much to drink or not enough, anger and hopelessness spilling out of him and into the world.
They weren’t beautiful. They were angry and difficult and hopeful, in spite of everything. They were kind and infuriating. They were alive, and real, and free.
Vivian stumbled on her bad ankle at the top of the steps, her legs worn out and her mind fuzzy. But it was still sharp enough to recognize the person standing in front of her door, black jacket hanging over crossed arms, hat casting shadows over half her face so that Vivian couldn’t see her expression.
“Honor,” Vivian whispered. “What are you doing here?”
THIRTY-TWO
Honor glanced at Leo, still standing at Vivian’s side. “I came to talk to you, pet,” she said quietly. “I wanted to see how you are.”
“How I am? I hope you mean you came to say good-bye. You owe me that much, at least.” Vivian took a step forward. Maybe they could be honest with each other at last. “Maybe you could also tell me why. I’m turning myself in, I don’t have a choice there. So maybe it doesn’t matter anymore, not really. But I know that you—” Vivian broke off, caught off guard by the flood of words. Honor was staring at her, unreadable as ever. Why had Vivian ever thought she might care?
“Did you hate him that much?” she asked.
Honor shook her head. “I never hated him.”
Vivian hauled in a shuddering breath. “It’s me you hate, then?” she whispered, her voice breaking.
There were tears in Honor’s eyes. That didn’t make sense. Honor, of all people, never cried. “Vivian, I could never—” She stopped, looking at Leo. He hadn’t said a word, but Honor still hesitated. “You’reright, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Slowly, deliberately, she shook out her jacket and shrugged it back on. This late at night, with her hat perched on top of her pinned-up hair, anyone walking past her on the street would probably see a stylish young man. Honor moved through the world however she wanted.
She walked away whenever she wanted.
She settled her coat, then gave Vivian a small nod. “I won’t bother you anymore, Vivian.” She paused. “And, I know it won’t make a difference, but I am so—”
It took Vivian a moment to realize she wasn’t going to finish her sentence. “What?” she demanded. “You’re so what?”
Honor stared at her without speaking, and Vivian couldn’t even begin to guess what she was thinking. “Well, there it is. We all have hard choices to make,” she said softly, almost as if she was speaking to herself. She took a deep breath. “I have some business to take care of that can’t wait. So, good-bye, Vivian.”
“Honor.”
“I’m glad you won’t be alone tonight,” she added, glancing at Leo again before she turned away and headed for the stairs.
“Honor.”
And once again, she was gone.
