Flora looked vulnerable, despite her brash tone. Lee knew the feeling of wishing fervently for an adult, then realizing you were the only adult in the room. What would teenaged Lee have wanted, during all the years she only had selfish Charlotte for a parent?
“You’re not alone in all this,” said Lee.
Flora’s eyes were wary.
“Come on, let’s tuck you in.”
“I’m sixteen, Aunt Lee,” scoffed Flora. Still, she followed whenLee headed to the room Flora shared with her older sister, who was not in her bed.
“Where’s Isabelle?” said Lee.
“Probably with Anastasia,” said Flora. “Or her boyfriend. She’s pansexual.”
This was more than Lee felt capable of parsing at the moment. She folded back Flora’s covers and Flora climbed in. Lee tucked the blankets around Flora as she had once done with Regan and Cord. “Little burrito,” she said.
Flora closed her eyes and smiled.
—
Lee went into Regan’s kitchen, where the Acropolis was visible from a window above the sink: golden-hued columns above a rocky plateau, surrounded by ancient fortifications. She had never felt so far away from Savannah, which was (Lee knew) what Regan had been going for.
How had Regan’s new life gone terribly wrong?
“Are you alive, Reeg?” Lee whispered.
There was no answer.
Lee made a cup of tea and went out on the balcony. The Athenian dusk was beginning—that magical hour when the city transformed from blazing white to rose gold. The marble columns of the Parthenon caught the last rays of sun, glowing like lit candles against the deepening sky. Church bells rang across the neighborhood, mixing with the call of swifts diving between buildings. Even the air was changing, the day’s heat lifting to reveal the cool breath of the sea.
Lee sat in one of three primary-colored chairs and heard a loud bark. Across the street, she saw a medium-sized dog, a Samoyed…or maybe a husky. The dog’s abundant coat—once purewhite, she imagined—was grayish near the paws, yellowed along its back. The corners of its mouth were slightly upturned and its triangular ears perked up. The dog was staring intently at Lee, as if it were trying to convey a warning. Beneath its fur, the dog was way too thin. The animal’s fixed scrutiny cast a spell on her—there was a message she wasn’t understanding.
Yet.
36
Lee
The doorbell rang again andagain. Lee groaned, checked her phone—it was 3:04a.m.—and climbed from bed. “It’s me, Auntie Lee!” yelled Isabelle through the intercom. Lee buzzed her in and unfastened the three apartment locks. Isabelle lurched in the door, reeking of booze and cigarettes, clutching her girlfriend’s hand. “Anastasia and I are in love,” Isabelle slurred. “We are in love and we don’t care who knows it!”
“That’s wonderful. Can you keep your voice down?”
“We are in love,” Anastasia repeated, pronouncing each syllable carefully. Anastasia had a Britishy, overenunciated accent and jet-black hair that fell in a glossy sheet to her mid-back. She was skinny with a pudgy nose, her eyebrows plucked to thin, arched lines. Her blood-colored lip stain had gotten on her teeth (unless her teeth were bleeding?) and she kept tugging at her tight velvet tube dress. “We are in love,” she repeated, speaking each syllable with care.
Lee had been warned that Anastasia was a threat, but she seemed like yet another lost kid. The girls stood defiantly, as if someone were about to argue against their union, but Lee shrugged, too tired to point out their obvious intoxication. “We are not drunk,” said Anastasia, as if reading Lee’s mind.
“I haven’t had an-ny-thing al-co-hol-ic,” said Isabelle with concentration, beaming when she got the sentence out clean.
Lee sighed. The girls reminded her of how wild she had been—her chaos had once intrigued those around her, especially her ex-boyfriend Jason. They had met at a riverside bonfire. Someone dared Lee to throw her shirt into the fire. Later, she chipped her tooth swigging whiskey. Jason had looked at her, topless with an imperfect smile, and said, “You’re the only real thing at this party.”
Lee sighed, missing the days when her crazy behavior seemed fun. She studied Isabelle—grinning, glassy-eyed, tucked under Anastasia’s arm—and felt…jealous. In her youth, Lee had also been loud, adored, and brave.
The world had made her pay for it.
“I think it’s time for Isabelle to go to bed,” Lee said, forcing calm into her voice, “and for you, Anastasia, to head home. I can call you an Uber.”
“No,” said Anastasia defiantly. “I’m not leaving Isabelle.”
Isabelle leaned her head on Anastasia’s shoulder, eyes closing. “Come on, baby,” Anastasia whispered, guiding Isabelle down the hall. “Thanks, Mrs. Perkins,” she called over her shoulder.
