Our Little Secret(32)

“Whatever you put out into the universe is an energy that changes everything.” Her voice rose like an evangelist on TV. “It’s manifest destiny.”

I snorted.

“It can’t hurt to try, can it? I mean”—she took the jar back and hugged it to her chest—“we’ve all had a miserable summer. But it’s time to forgive and forget—you know?—and get life back on track now. Isn’t it, my beautiful girl? Come on, look alive.” She slapped my knee with a rousing palm. “You have so much going for you, and nobody likes a Droopy Drawers.”

I kept the jar for a couple of weeks, scribbling all of my nineteen-year-old angst onto paper scraps and dropping them into the glass, the thickness of which only magnified my vitriol when held up to the light. After that, I threw the jar out in the trash. Nothing was coming true. At least, that’s what I thought then; but here, now, it’s frightening to think that maybe Mom’s witchy voodoo might have worked, albeit more slowly than she thought. Saskia’s vanished, hasn’t she? It’s kind of terrible, although deep down, in a part of me I’ll never let anyone see, I also don’t mind if she doesn’t come back. That sounds bad, I know. But people can’t always control their thoughts; they just control what they do about them. Saskia came in like a hurricane that summer, ripping whole dwellings apart, and maybe Mom was right. The energy you put out into the world does change everything.


About a month later, in September, HP left a voice mail on my cell, the first message I’d received from him since getting back from Oxford.

“There’s a party at Fu Bar tonight.” He’d called at 5:30 p.m. Thanks for the afterthought. “Everyone will be there. Saskia’s visa ran out so it’s a good-bye thing. Later.” His tone was curt.

“God bless the department of immigration,” said Mom when I told her.

“I don’t know why he thinks I’d show up to her good-bye party.” I picked at the label of a bottle of beer I’d opened. Mom eyed me, hoping I’d fetch a glass.

“But you must go. Darling, it’d be good for you. Go out for the evening, kick up your heels. You’ve been holed up here in this cave for months; it’s not good to spend so much time alone. Come, I’ll help you pick out an outfit.”

“Nothing fits.”

“Well, you’re thin right now. You need to eat a bit more.” She tried to tuck my hair behind my ear, but I pulled away. “You look striking with those high cheekbones of yours. And now HP is going to be on his own . . .”

“I guess Ezra will be there. I could just talk to him all night.”

“That’d be all right, wouldn’t it?” Her forehead creased and her smile seemed quivery. I let her pick out clothes for me while I sat on my makeshift bed sipping a beer. She pulled out black leggings and a striped black top from the piles on the basement floor. The top hung loose off one shoulder.

“Beautiful as ever,” Mom said once I put them on. “Now let’s find you some footwear.”

Fu Bar hadn’t changed, apart from the installation of a stereo system that now made it impossible to hear what anyone was ordering. I was late getting there and the place was packed, mostly with faces I recognized from grades below me. As I grabbed a beer, I spotted HP, Saskia and Ezra at a circle booth in the back and wove through the crowd towards them. HP wore a tank top, his shoulders freckled and dark. Between him and Ezra sat Saskia, smiling, all of her teeth shining too brightly. Every now and then, she sipped at a clear liquid in a tall glass.

Ezra spied me and waved as I approached. “Little John! Get over here, stranger.” He bumped the other two along the curved bench to make room for me beside him. I squeezed in. From my seat, I could see Saskia’s hand on HP’s thigh.

“It’s good you came,” HP shouted over the music. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched him move through the throng, laughing with people, slapping them on the back. After a second or two, I slid out of the booth and headed through the swinging doors to the washroom corridor. I sipped my beer and waited.

He walked out of the men’s room wiping his hands on the back pockets of his jeans. “Hey.” He stopped short of the door. “You waiting for me?”

“I just need to say that I never slept with anybody in the world but you, I never wanted to, I never even kissed . . .” He put up his hand to stop me and I petered out. We stood there, both of us with our arms crossed. In the end he leaned his back against the wall and we stayed there like that, watching people come and go from the bathrooms.

“Listen, I asked you to come because I hope we can end this Cold War.” I frowned and he added, “Yes, I know you’re not Russian. I’m being what-do-you-call-it.”

“Figurative.”

“I’ve missed you, LJ.”

“Bullshit.”

He sighed. “Are you leaving town? For college?”

“Nope. Studying online.”

“I got a permanent job coaching at the high school. Like, year-round. It’s pretty sick. I start in a week or so.” His jaw muscle clenched and unclenched. “I’m dropping the carpentry but my dad says I can pick up my apprenticeship whenever I want.”

“That’s good.”

“What were you doing with Freddy that night in Oxford?”