No One Knows Us Here(53)

The next morning I woke up alone in my bed, but I could hear the cranking sounds of water flowing through pipes. I tiptoed down the hall and pressed my ear to the bathroom door, listening to the water flowing from the faucet and into the sink.

What if he stayed here? What if he just—moved in? This wasn’t the arrangement. This wasn’t part of the plan. I had told him I needed space, Wendy needed space.

In the hall, I came up with a plan, with the words I’d use to get him to leave. The door of the bathroom opened and Wendy stepped out, and we both jumped, startled.

Is he gone? she mouthed, tipping her head toward my door. She looked so small, like a child, all wrapped up in some old flannel pajamas and a well-worn fleece bathrobe.

I held up a finger—wait—and crept into the living room, the dining room, the kitchen. “He’s gone,” I said, my voice in a whisper, as if I half expected him to spring out of a closet.

“What the fuck was that?” Wendy whispered back, angry. She looked terrible, her hair tangled and matted on one side, the eyeliner she hadn’t removed flaking over her lids and sinking into the creases of her skin.

“He’s my boyfriend.” I said it at a normal volume level, in a steady voice. At least I tried to deliver the line naturally.

I must have failed—she must have sensed a slight hesitation between the “my” and the “boyfriend” because she shook her head. “That’s not what he is.”

“He won’t be back here. That was a—that won’t happen again. I promise. Okay?”

“Your boyfriend won’t ever come here? Won’t stay the night?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.” My sister’s expression told me she didn’t believe me. “I promise you, Wendy,” I said to her. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. The smile of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. “It will never happen again.”





CHAPTER 17


It started to snow. Gently at first, melting at first contact. Now it was falling in tufts as big as cherry blossoms, gathering on branches, blanketing the streets.

I kept meaning to talk to Wendy, to invite myself into her room for a little heart-to-heart chat, but I put it off. She might be sleeping in there. The nurse said she needed rest. Maybe I should talk to someone first, a professional. A doctor.

I wouldn’t talk to her, I decided, not today. I would simply be there for her, make her some lunch, bring it to her on a tray. When I emerged from the kitchen with the tray piled with cheese and crackers and slices of apple and carrots, Wendy was standing in the entryway, all bundled up, her boots and coat on. She held up a hand in a wave. “I’m going to Hannah’s,” she said.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” I said. “It’s snowing.”

“She has snow tires.”

“It’s supposed to get worse, isn’t it?” We both looked out the window as if to confirm the weather report. Yep. Snow was falling down, thicker than ever. The window was a blur of white.

“I’m spending the night.” Wendy opened the door then, letting in a blast of cooler air from the hallway.

I wanted to run after her, but I wasn’t dressed for it. I still hadn’t bought a new coat, and I couldn’t find my shoes. I ran out into the hallway in my socks, following Wendy down the stairs. “Wendy, wait, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She was running, flying down the stairs, and I was chasing after her yelling, “We don’t leave each other, no one is leaving!” And then we were in the lobby.

“Wendy—”

“Bye!” She slammed through the apartment doors. I hesitated for a moment before I shot after her, onto the street. Wendy scrambled into the passenger side of Hannah’s car. It was a compact SUV, with a rack on top for skis. It did look like the type of car that would have snow tires. Hannah didn’t seem like someone who enjoyed skiing. Maybe it was her parents’ car.

I’d met Hannah a few times, but only briefly. She was older than Wendy, already driving. When I asked Wendy why an older kid would want to hang out with a freshman, Wendy took offense, acting as if I had disparaged her entire personality, so I dropped it. Sometimes Hannah would give Wendy a ride home from school, and the two of them would rush in and disappear into Wendy’s room for hours at a time.

She was very unusual-looking, with huge brown eyes set in a tiny, heart-shaped face under a messy mound of tangled dark hair piled on top of her head in a deliberately unkempt way. She was tiny, tinier than I was, always bundled in endless layers. Tights and a skirt and knee-high slouch socks. A tank top and an oversize flannel shirt, with a cardigan and a denim jacket and a scarf that wrapped around and around the top half of her torso.

I knocked on the driver’s-side window, and Hannah rolled it down halfway. “Hey, Rosemary.” Hannah blinked her anime eyes at me. They seemed to occupy most of her face. She was like a kid from one of those velvet paintings from the 1970s. Her face was unreal, a doll’s face. The high cheekbones, hollow underneath. Black eyeliner, perfectly applied, and long, long lashes.

“You’re sure it’s okay for Wendy to stay over?” I asked Hannah.

“Rosemary.” That was Wendy.

“It’s cool,” Hannah said. “I’ll take good care of her.” She gave me an ironic little smirk and raised the window without waiting for me to respond. The SUV rumbled down the street, a billowy cloud of exhaust trailing behind. They didn’t hear me yelling after them, my voice thin and shrill in the snowy silence.