When You Don't See Me (25 page)

I entered Blaine and Daniel's building and waved at Stratos. “Hi. I know it's early, but I'm sure they're up. I have my key.”

“They're up, all right. Upstate, that is,” Stratos said.

“What?”

“Nobody's home. They left yesterday. All of them.”

“Happy Hollow,” I mumbled. It had never occurred to me that they would continue their tradition of spending Thanksgiving at Gretchen's retreat. “Did Gwendy go with them?”

“Yup. Emily, too. Kruger. Gavin. Like I said, all of them. Sorry, kid.”

“No, that's fine. Thanks, Stratos,” I said and forced a smile before I walked outside.

I figured there wasn't much chance of waking Sheila and Josh in their San Remo apartment. If they weren't in L.A., they were probably with Blaine and everyone else. I could go to their place and figure out what I wanted to do. Once the coast was clear at my place, I could go home. Or I could stay at Sheila's. Or call Adalla and spend the day with her, Isleta, and their extended family. I could swallow my pride and go to the Bronx for the Mirones Thanksgiving. Or to see Isaiah, and we could have a big feast at—

“McDonald's,” I said, staring up at the giant Ronald McDonald that hovered over me. I abruptly changed direction, realizing that Central Park West would be crazy as participants gathered for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. No way did I want to be caught in a crowd of people.

Roberto was right, even if he hadn't said it out loud: I was a pussy. But at least I was a pussy that the San Remo doorman recognized as he waved me in. Just to be safe, I knocked before I used my key to go inside the apartment.

I ignored the view of the park and the parade preparations and looked around, admiring what Nigel had been able to do with the small space. He'd honored Josh's passion for antiques with Shaker furniture. Whatever storage system he'd designed had conquered Sheila's tendency to live in clutter and chaos.

I crossed the room and stared at photos hanging in black frames on the wall. All the pictures were black and white. Except for a few wedding photos that I remembered from their town house, all were Josh's work. I studied the photos: Uncle Blaine with Daniel and Daniel's three sisters. Emily sitting between Gretchen and me in the park. Sheila's brother Jake and his girlfriend, whose name I could never remember. Blythe and Davii with Adam, Jeremy, and somebody dressed in geisha drag. Martin and two cute guys I didn't recognize. Daniel and Gretchen, this time with their friend Ken, who'd died of AIDS.

I stared at Ken for a while, but instead of feeling sad, I felt okay. I was glad Uncle Blaine had escaped the Dunhills and found his real family in New York. Even if I wasn't with them today, they were my family, too. Knowing they were there made me feel better.

We weren't perfect. We were just family. I might stay away for months, but I knew I could come back any time I wanted to. That made the prospect of calling Wisconsin a little less daunting.

I took out my phone and called my mother's work cell. I couldn't believe it when my father answered. It was evident by his hoarse voice that I'd woken him up.

“Is Mom awake?” I asked.

“Do you know what time it is? Chuck? Didn't you come home—”

“Nick,” I corrected him. “I needed to call and stop anyone from picking me up at the airport later.”

“What? When? Who's driving you home?” he asked, still sounding disoriented.

“No one.” Why hadn't my mother answered the phone? I could tell her the truth. But not him. “I won't be there. My flight got canceled.” It wasn't exactly a lie. I hadn't said
who
canceled it.

After a long silence, he said, “That's just terrific, Nicky. This is so typical of you. I canceled a ski trip to Telluride because you said you were coming home. I lost my ass on the deposit. And now you're not coming.”

“Mom told me you didn't have plans,” I said.

“She didn't know. It was supposed to be a surprise for the whole family.”

“The
whole
family? But not me?”

“Don't give me any crap, Nicky. You made the choice to give up your family three years ago.”

I stared at the pictures on the wall. “Tell Mom I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I'll call her later.”

He hung up without answering. I tried to figure out how he and Uncle Blaine could be brothers. Then I thought about Tony, and it didn't seem so weird.

I stared at my cell phone a minute before I snapped it shut. There was no point ruining my uncle's holiday with a pitiful phone call telling him that I was alone on Thanksgiving. It was a stupid holiday anyway: an excuse to eat too much before the following month of spending too much just so families could fight and be miserable at Christmas.

I was the lucky one. The day was mine. I didn't have to fake being happy or face the way I made other people unhappy. I didn't have to answer questions about what I was doing with my life or listen to criticism about all the ways I didn't meet other people's expectations.

All I had to do was wait until my roommates were gone, and I could do exactly what I wanted. As soon as I figured out what that was.

 

Josh and Sheila were the kind of people who threw their loose change into a bowl on their dresser at the end of the day, and I was the type of person who had no shame in grabbing a fistful of quarters so I could get back uptown. There was enough left over for a cup of coffee from the deli across the street from our apartment. I stopped there first after I emerged from the subway station. I was standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change, when I noticed Morgan leaving our building and stomping down the sidewalk across the street. I didn't think she'd seen me, but I ducked behind two old women and crossed the street with them, just in case.

Keeping a healthy distance, I followed Morgan for three blocks. I expected her to go to one of the nearby subway entrances, or wait at one of the bus stops, but she passed them all by, which fueled my curiosity. If she wasn't going home, wherever that was, then what was she doing? Was her home within walking distance of our apartment? And why hadn't I left my carry-on bag in Sheila's apartment? I switched the strap to my other shoulder and cracked my neck, then ducked behind a stoop when Morgan checked for oncoming traffic and crossed the street in the middle of the block.

She hopped over a river of slush that had gathered in the gutter, but slipped when she landed on the curb. Her arms spun in the air as she tried to regain her balance, but she landed on her ass in the puddle. I stuffed my arm into my mouth to keep from laughing out loud, but any noise I made would've been drowned out by Morgan's shrieks of annoyance.

She stood up and brushed the wetness and grime from her pants, but they were hopelessly sodden. I retreated even farther into hiding when she looked around to make sure nobody had witnessed her clumsiness.

She went into a shop and I hesitated, wondering if I should go in after her. I hurried across the street, careful not to mirror Morgan's misfortune, and tried to locate her through the storefront window. I couldn't see much of anything. Then I noticed the display—two mannequins, both encased in rubber, one paddling the other—and took a step back to read the store's sign: RUBBER RIGHT.

“Okay,” I drawled. Finally understanding why Alice felt compelled to go down a rabbit hole, I entered the fetish shop. If I never found out anything about Morgan, at least I'd learn why Rubber Right was open on a holiday.

“Hi. Happy Thanksgiving,” someone said as the door closed behind me. I turned to see a black woman in a red patent leather cat-suit standing behind a counter. Her head was shaved and her lips were painted fire engine red. If I hadn't been shadowing Morgan, I probably would've begged to take pictures with my cell phone's camera, so I could draw her later. But since I was trying to keep a low profile, I smiled and put a finger over my lips in the international sign for
Shhh! I'm stalking my roommate.
Red Kitty nodded knowingly, pointed behind me with a riding crop, and said, “Ball gags are in the back, sweetie, next to the leather hoods.”

I nodded and turned to creep away, jumping when I heard the crack of Red Kitty's riding crop connect with the counter. I turned around with wide, questioning eyes.

“You have to check your bag. Now!”

I practically threw my carry-on bag at her, which seemed to please Red Kitty. She clipped a playing card to it, stowed my bag under the counter, then handed me a corresponding queen of hearts. She arched a penciled eyebrow and said, “Proceed.”

I crept past racks of harnesses, vests, and other leather gear and tried to find Morgan before she discovered I was there. At the same time, I tried to figure out what I'd do when I did find her. Maybe I'd pretend to casually bump into her, as if I always bought a new whip on major holidays. Didn't everyone? Or I'd leap out and ambush her. As far as she knew, I was on a flight home. The shock would make her let down her guard and she'd tell me every sordid detail about her life. Which was really what I wanted. It bothered me that I'd lived with Morgan for months and knew so little about her. How was that possible?

When I reached the back wall of the store without seeing Morgan anywhere, I stood up and grunted in disgust. How did she get out without being spotted? I didn't see a back door. As far as I could tell, the only way out was the front door. Then I noticed two dressing rooms in the back corners of the shop. Both had long red curtains that were closed and covered the entire door frame. I glanced behind me to make sure Red Kitty was occupied and carefully moved one of the curtains aside. The dressing room was empty. I turned around to check the other dressing room and ran into Morgan.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked.

“Me?” I said indignantly. “What about you? I thought you were going home to see your family.”

“Oh no,” she said, wagging a finger in my face. “No, you don't. That's my line. You're supposed to be on a plane to Michigan.”

“Wisconsin.”

“Whatever. You lied to us.”

“No. I forgot my wallet. I missed my flight. It's been a shitty day,” I said. It was then that I realized she was wearing a nurse's costume made of white PVC material. I pointed at her and said, “Back to you. What's going on here?”

She looked uncomfortable for a moment and crossed her arms over her midsection. But then she put on her usual defiant glare, adjusted her cap, and said, “I don't have to answer that.”

“In that outfit? Yeah, I think you do.”

“I don't have to do anything.”

The sudden crack of Red Kitty's riding crop silenced us. “Quiet!” Red Kitty boomed. I stepped backward in fear, but Morgan only looked embarrassed. Red Kitty looked at her and said, “I take it this is one of your roommates? What did I tell you about bringing drama to work?”

“Work?”

“Mind your own—”

We were interrupted by another crack from the riding crop. Red Kitty massaged her temple and said, “I've got the worst headache. Why did I think it would be worth it to open on a holiday? I'm closing up and going home. Might as well close for the weekend, while I'm at it. Business has been so shitty. I should've done what my mama suggested and been a stockbroker. No, I had to sink my savings into this dump. ‘Baby, sex sells,' Marcel said. That's right. Sold me up the river. Met some tramp and left me with nothing but this money pit. What do I got to be thankful for? Thankful for this? I don't think so! Shit. That's right. I'm going home. I don't need this. I don't need nothing from nobody no how, and don't you forget it.”

We stared silently as Red Kitty wandered back to the register, talking to herself the entire way. Morgan turned to me and whispered, “Let me get my coat, and I'll meet you outside.”

 

In Pathmark's produce section, Morgan held up two cucumbers and asked, “Which one is better?”

I couldn't help but laugh. Although she had her coat on, she was still wearing the PVC nurse's uniform. If I were a patient in a hospital and she entered my room with those cucumbers in her hand, talking about taking my temperature, I'd probably black out.

“They look the same to me,” I said. “Does it matter?”

She looked annoyed. “Of course it matters. You're the artistic genius. You're telling me you can't see the subtle differences in these cucumbers?”

“I'm not an artistic genius, and they're just vegetables.”

She made an obvious show of comparing the size, ripeness, smell, and feel of the cucumbers, then placed one in our cart. Walking ahead of me and pulling the cart behind her, she said, “They're not the same. I'm surprised at you. Aren't you supposed to be a twin?”

I grabbed the handle of the cart, jerking her backward. She glared at me, clearly annoyed, until I said, “Takes one to know one.”

Her expression faltered, but only for a millisecond. It was enough for me to know I'd struck a nerve.

“Where am I? A playground? Can we just get something to eat and go home?” she said and stalked down the aisle toward the baked goods.