The Art of Losing(12)

“Did you apply to art schools?” I asked.

He took a last drag and then stubbed out his cigarette in the dirt between us. “No, my parents aren’t exactly feeling my creativity lately.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve kind of gotten into street art. Like, graffiti-inspired?” he said with a crooked half-smile.

I barked a loud “Ha!” and then looked around guiltily, as though someone might accuse me of not being sad enough. But Raf’s eyes glinted with amusement.

“So your bedroom walls are destroyed?” I asked.

“That depends on your definition of ‘destroyed.’” He grinned, and I had a sudden memory of him telling me about how he had cut all the hair off his sister’s Barbie doll. He’d thought Barbie looked great. His sister, Allie, had not agreed.

“Do you want to see it?” he asked, standing.

“Your bedroom?” I said. I couldn’t be sure if that was weird. It wasn’t weird when we were seven. But in that moment, I knew how lost I was. I’d convinced myself that I was comfortable around boys, but then I’d interact with one and realize my expertise was really just with the one boy. I was awkward as hell around the rest of them.

Raf put his hands up like a criminal who’d just walked into a police department in surrender. But he was still smiling.

“Not like that,” he said. He started toward his house. “Maybe another time. See you later.”

A little stab of disappointment took me by surprise. I opened my mouth to respond, but Raf had already faded into the dark.

Instead of going to bed, I went to Audrey’s room. Her door was closed, as it nearly always was. Some of the stickers she’d slapped haphazardly all over it had started to peel. I tried to smooth their rebellious edges, but once a sticker has lost its stick, there’s no going back.

The hinges squealed as I opened it. I froze, wincing. My door did the same thing, and I’d always wondered if it was some Parenting Teenage Girls trick that my parents had adopted. Was there some substance—the opposite of grease—that added squeakiness to hinges? I made a mental note to pick up some WD-40 the next day. If I was going to keep sneaking out for cigarettes, I would need it.

Audrey’s room looked exactly as it always had: chaos. Clothes littered the floor like fallen leaves. Her textbooks were stacked haphazardly on her desk, one open next to a notebook like she’d just stepped away to go to the bathroom or get a snack. Jewelry and makeup snaked and spilled out of their respective containers, as if attempting escape.

Her bed wasn’t made, but the duvet was pulled up, at least.

I crawled on top of it and laid my head on the pillow next to hers—she would only sleep on the right side. The impression of her sleeping head was still visible. During the day, she barely stopped moving, but when she slept, she was like a mummy: hands at her sides, unmoving, blankets tucked neatly under her chin.

I leaned closer to her side of the bed and found myself caught off guard by the scent of her. It was hard to describe, but Audrey had this smell when she woke up in the morning that was a little bit sweet, a little bit like sweat, and somehow just . . . Audrey. Her sleep smell.

My throat burned as I curled my fingers back from her side, careful not to disturb what could be the last impression my baby sister would ever leave. I stood and fumbled my way through the clothes on the floor, my vision blurry.

If I was going to cry, I preferred to do that in my own bedroom.





Eleven Years Ago



I was six and Raf was seven when his sister dared us to kiss. We’d just left a birthday party for another kid in the neighborhood and, because Allie was with us, our moms let us walk home together after the party instead of coming to pick us up. Allie was two years older than Raf and she seemed so mature. She was tall and thin, with the longest, thickest black hair I’d ever seen. It nearly hit the top of her butt when she wore it down, but usually it was in a long braid that swung back and forth when she walked.

She stopped me at the corner and whispered in my ear, “Raf wants to kiss you. I dare you to do it.”

I was torn. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss Raf. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to kiss anyone. We played house and pretended we were married and sometimes we even fake-kissed, with our hands over our mouths, because we saw our parents kiss and thought that was just what you did when you got home from work. But real kissing was still gross then.

But I didn’t want to disappoint Allie. She was older, and cooler, than me. I just wanted her to like me.

So I nodded and she skipped off to catch up with Raf, who was holding Audrey’s hand as they walked up ahead. Allie walked backward in front of Raf and Audrey, waving me over. I walked up to them slowly.

“You have to do it,” Allie was saying. “Kiss her.”

Raf looked at me uncertainly. I nodded. He glanced at Allie’s taunting face and then stepped toward me. And I just planted my lips on his. It only lasted a second, but I still remember the feeling of his lips on mine, pursed and wet. I didn’t get the appeal.

Allie let out a whoop when his lips met mine, and she applauded as we blushed. We didn’t really talk afterward; he just took Audrey’s hand again and walked the last block home. We had planned to hang out after the party, but he didn’t really look at me. And then he just let go of Audrey’s hand and followed Allie into his house. She looked at me over her shoulder before she went inside, but I couldn’t tell if she was happy that she’d embarrassed us or mad that we had actually done it.