People Like Us(16)
“We dated but it was over.”
The ex-boyfriend is always a suspect. Everyone but everyone knows that. “Can we meet by any chance?”
He pauses. “Now?”
I check my watch. “Sure.” I don’t have permission to leave campus, but I’m too amped up to care. Brie and I have slipped out to the street by the far side of the lake and hiked to town dozens of times. It’s okay as long as we keep a low profile.
“Fine,” he says. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Do you know the Cat Café?”
“Twenty minutes.”
5
I spend a few minutes digging through my closet before heading out to meet with Greg. Fashion gets a reputation for being frivolous, but it’s the one form of art I understand. It has the ability to transform bodies and environments, to conceal or seduce, to break hearts or make them sing. The first time I slipped into my school uniform, I almost cried. I locked myself in my mother’s room and spent an hour examining myself in her full-length mirror from every angle. I tried on a dozen different postures, hundreds of expressions, even tones and pitches and cadences of speech. It technically fit my body, but not me. And when I finally packed the fitted navy blazer and plaid skirt, the white shirt with a strip of ruffled fabric along the buttons that was softer than any sheets I’d ever slept in, and the scarlet tie in my suitcase, I felt like a different person.
Now, if I dress a little bit like Greg, I might have a shot at earning his trust. It’s a subtle subconscious thing. But it works. People trust people who are like them. Accordingly, I select a pair of black Alexander McQueen patchwork jeans, which Tricia is never going to get back, and a dark collared shirt. I pull my hair into a tight bun, which makes me look slightly older and a little like a detective from a police procedural. I throw a notebook into my backpack along with my laptop and grab my reading glasses for good measure. I don’t really need them, but they make me look studious. After a moment of consideration, I decide to wear my navy wool overcoat. I almost never wear it around campus, because it’s way too big, has been torn and mended in several places, and generally looks like a thrift store reject. But it’s warmer than the considerably more flattering Balenciaga bomber jacket Tai got me last Christmas, and I’m not planning on running into anyone who matters tonight. It also makes me feel safe somehow. It was my brother’s coat, and I feel weirdly close to him when I wear it.
At the sign-out desk downstairs I smile at the security guard and write library in the destination box, and then once I sign in to the library, I sneak out the back door and head for the lake.
It’s even colder tonight than it was last night, but I have the benefit of my warm wool coat now. The sky is clear and the moon and stars reflect sharply off the still water. I avoid the spot where Brie discovered Jessica’s body and hurry around the shore, making sure to keep under the cover of bushes so I’m not spotted. Now would not be a great time to get caught sneaking out.
The Cat Café has always been my favorite clandestine meeting spot. It’s within walking distance of campus, though not close enough to be frequented by many students or faculty. It’s tiny and serves only plain coffee, tea, and decaf. There are seven other cafés in town, so this one doesn’t get much traffic. It’s a great place to not get caught. Plus, it’s cheap. It is decorated top to bottom with kitschy paintings and figurines of cats, and old-timey big band music is always playing softly in the background. I push the door open and a recorded meow sounds. The air smells like coffee beans and incense, and Tiffany-style lamps filter the light so that it’s warm and orange tinted. I glance around for Greg as a girl with jet-black hair in a pixie cut and dramatic eye makeup takes my order, but I don’t see him anywhere.
“Be safe, sweetie.” The clerk snaps her gum and hands me my coffee.
“Thanks.” I take it to the counter and load it with cream and sugar. As I’m stirring it with a plastic stick topped with a grinning cat, I hear the recorded meow and turn around. Greg walks through the door, dripping wet. I hadn’t realized it started raining.
He looks at me. “Fine night for a walk.”
“I guess I just missed the storm.”
“Maybe you’ll catch it on the way out.” He smiles unenthusiastically and finds a corner table without ordering.
I carry my coffee and backpack over and set up my laptop to take notes. He pulls a sandwich out of his own backpack and I eye him distastefully as he takes a bite.
“What?” he asks with his mouth open.
“You shouldn’t bring outside food into a restaurant,” I whisper with a surreptitious glance at the waitress, who’s leaning against the counter and reading a snowboarding magazine.
“Why not? They don’t serve food. I’m not competing with them.”
“So you’ve been here before. With Jessica?”
He nods. “Among others.”
I wonder who the others are. For some reason it surprises me that multiple Bates students would date him. He just doesn’t seem like the Bates type. I poise my fingers over the keyboard. “So. How did you and Jessica meet?”
“Tinder.” He watches me for a reaction, but I wave for him to continue. “I do a lot of volunteer work and I heard about her organization through a flyer at my church. I showed up at an event, and we got to talking.”