You Are Here (19 page)

“They’re just pieces, my Lu,” I said, and she smiled.

“Oh, I like that,” she said as she leaned into my chest and nuzzled my neck. “My Lu.”

My face heated up but I was more and more surprised at how much I enjoyed the affection. From her, it was good. I held her silently for a few minutes as the piano player continued into a new song. It was a heavier tune, darker. The stark difference in the style struck me as odd and I looked at him. Maybe I was being paranoid, but he looked away as soon as my gaze reached his face. I glanced around the park, but came up empty for evidence. I considered there might be eyes on us, and I didn’t like the feeling. I brushed it off, but my hackles were up. I tightened my hold on her. After a moment, I became aware that she was trembling.

“You’re shaking, baby. What’s wrong?”

I held her by the shoulders at arm’s length to see her face. Her pupils were dilated and her face had paled. What had happened in the last few minutes? Her lack of an answer immediately spurred me into action.

“All right, we’re going back to your apartment,” I said firmly.

She stood easily enough but clung to me. I couldn’t help but side eye the piano guy as we left. He looked up and smiled as if seeing me for the first time. “Do you have a request, too, sir?” he asked.

Pieces circled around in my head like a graceless tornado as I mumbled, “Not really.”

I quickly ushered Lucie into a cab and considered that the “eyes” I was looking for vanished after requesting the out-of-place song. Or maybe my paranoia was on overdrive.

Thankfully, the ride was short. We easily could have walked, but I felt too exposed. What I needed to protect her from, I couldn’t be sure. The plethora of blind spots all around us seemed to scream at me.

Finally locked inside the apartment, I tried to deposit Lucie on the sofa. She wouldn’t let go of my shirt, so I sat with her.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” I pleaded in my gentlest tone.

Her breath hitched, but the trembling had subsided. “I … I don’t know. Something about the music at the park reminded me of
something
.”

“What?” I cut in, still bothered by it as much as I tried to let it go. “What about it?”

“I, um,” she started, perhaps derailed by my eager question. “I’m not sure. I remembered my mother. She gave me away to Jude and Roman, and she stayed behind in Moscow. I don’t know why.”

I stayed silent. Hopefully, she would just keep talking because I hadn’t the slightest idea what to tell her. Plus, the confirmation that she was from Moscow set off warning bells.

“At least, that’s what I think I saw. It was patchy as if watching a poorly restored or partially destroyed movie reel.”

The comparison amused me, but I understood. “What made you panic?”

She snuggled my neck. “I don’t know, exactly. I feel like I knew the piece. Prokofiev, maybe? Or Liszt? I remember because my mother hated it—it made her sad. It made me really uneasy. I’m tempted to take a Valium or something.”

“Do you need one?”

Lucie shook her head. “Not with you here.” She punctuated the statement with a kiss.

“Are you sure? Because I’m—”

“You’re perfect.”

“Bullshit.” I groaned and relaxed against the back of the couch. Lucie snuggled into my side and bit my nipple through my shirt. “Jesus.”

“You say that a lot.”

“You astound me a lot.”

“You’re not religious, are you?” she asked.

I had half a mind to believe she was serious. “You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s a fair question,” she said, before settling her cheek against my chest. “You called me an angel.”

“I could have called you a unicorn. I couldn’t believe what was happening.”

She was silent for a little while, which made me antsy, but I was determined not to move. Lucie needed
me
to be her anchor for a while. I could play a part.

“I think,” she said, finally, “I’d rather not remember anything.”

“I get that.” Given that I had literally killed to forget myself, it wasn’t hard to understand what she meant.

“You do?” She sounded surprised. “But I should want to remember my life, shouldn’t I?”

I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t know how to talk to people about this shit. So I broke it down in my head and repeated the logic.

“Well, you want what’s easiest, right? What’s comfortable? Remembering kind of blows the even keel to shit, doesn’t it?”

She sat up and stared at me, her eyes saucers. “What if … what if I’m not the Lucie you fall—” She stopped herself short, swallowed, and pinched her eyes shut. “What if it all changes and you find out you don’t want me? What if you’re not—”

“Stop. If it all changes, you might not want
me
.” My stomach lodged itself in my throat.

Her eyes flew open. “I can’t … I can’t imagine that happening.”

I looked away. “What I’m saying is hypotheticals can’t give you guarantees.”

She sat up straight, her expression was distorted with irritation. “I’m not going to keep defending what I’ve seen.
You
showed up just like I—”

“You want us? Yes?”

Her head tipped, her lips pursed in insult. “Yes.”

I smiled reflexively and she grinned back at me. I must have looked like an idiot. Again. “How do you know?”

Eyes fearful, she blanched. “I … I feel it.” Her hands crossed and settled on my chest. The skin there seemed to flare with an intense heat. I looked down, part of me wondering if her palms held the power to make my heart beat.

I covered her hands with mine. “I’m right here. Isn’t that what you said, my Lu?”

“You are,” she whispered.

I moved our hands together and settled them above her breast. Her steady heartbeat kicked against my hand. “Then so are you.”

Lucie

Stumble

“
Nyet! Pozhaluysta, ne ostavlyayte menya
!” I woke up screaming. As I opened my eyes, I listened to what I’d said, but what did I say?
No! Please don’t leave me!

“Lucie?” Grey crossed the room toward me as he carried a duffle bag. I rubbed my face, smoothing away the imprint of sofa fabric pressed into my cheek. The room was still filled with light, though the sun had moved a bit.

“What happened? When did I fall asleep?”

Grey dropped the bag and sat next to me. I stared at it as he spoke.

“We were talking about the memories and you just kind of passed out. I went to the hotel to get some of my things while you slept.” He paused, the breath in between inexplicably cumbersome. “Couldn’t have been more than an hour.”

I made a noise, rubbing the heel of my palm into my eye. “I dreamed about the day my mother left me. I have the entire scene now. She didn’t want to leave me.”

He just waited for me to continue, nodding as he set the bag down next to the sofa.

“She just … she gave me to Jude and Roman. I didn’t even know them.” I stood up and stepped forward to sink into Grey’s embrace, but something stopped me. In that moment, I wasn’t sure he wanted to hold me. “I was screaming, crying. She held me so tight and told me she loved me and that I was her joy.”

Having disappeared into the memory, I startled when I felt his arms enfold me. Before he could let go, I gripped his sides with my fingers.

“When she left me there, she ran to a big black car,” I whispered, only now feeling the tears on my cheeks. “In my dream the car turned into some kind of mythical-looking beast, tall and broad with glowing red eyes. It roared and stomped and gobbled her up.”

Grey was still silent, but his hand moved up and down my back.

“What do you think that means?”

“When that kind of shit happens to you as a kid, it’s bound to bubble up and remind you to feel small,” he said, though his tone held subtext I didn’t feel like picking apart. “But you’re not, Lucie.”

I shrugged and buried my face in his chest. “I guess.”

“And there is no beast.”

I looked up and raised my eyebrows. “I still don’t know what to do with all this. I don’t want these memories back.”

“Why?”

“I can’t use any of this! I’m remembering stuff that gives me no idea why what happened, happened!

“Lucie—”

Abruptly, I broke out of his embrace. “Could we maybe go for a walk? Wander. I need to move. I feel really weird.”

He seemed nervous as he exhaled audibly. “Okay.”

“I’m sure I should probably talk this out a little more, but … I can’t right now.”

His lips turned up. “I’m not going to make you talk about it.” He picked up his duffle bag, walked down the hall, and set it inside the hall closet.

As I slipped into my shoes, I scoffed, calling after him. “Oh, really, Mr. We-Should-Talk-About-Everything?”

He rolled his eyes when he reappeared, took my hand, and led me to the door.

“Fine. I can make you talk,” he said with dark eyes and a serious look on his face—serious if not for the mischievous smile. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was a threat.

As we walked, Grey tucked me protectively into his side. I smiled and rested my cheek against his shoulder as if to tell him I appreciated it. He avoided asking me about the dream, instead choosing to point out pieces of the New York he remembered. Sometimes it was a store or a building that was no longer there except in his memories, and I saw it. I even felt as if I knew
him
better. It seemed that these inane recollections soothed him.

We ended up in Chinatown just after sunset. In some ways, it felt like a city within the city. I pulled on Grey’s hand, dragging him off Canal and down a side street. I stopped in front of a small jewelry shop. There was a sign in the window that said “Aura Photo.” I couldn’t say why it intrigued me, but I felt compelled to go in.

“Please?” I asked Grey when he resisted, tugging on his arm.

The middle-aged woman greeted me as if she expected me. “You want photo?” she asked as she ushered me to the side in front of a plain backdrop. I sat on the bench as she instructed me to put my hands flat on the metal receptors on either side of the seat. She loaded a flat canister that looked like Polaroid film into an odd-looking camera. She chattered away in Chinese while the aperture clicked, and I happened to notice Grey’s dark expression. Did he understand her?

I didn’t have time to think much about it. I stood and moved out of the way while she grabbed Grey by the shoulders and tried to urge him in front of the camera.

“No, not me,” he insisted, but his feet moved anyway.

“You must,” she told him, not unlike a stern mother. She pointed at him. “Stay.”

He turned to me as the camera clicked, a distinct look of alarm on his face. An odd weight dropped in my stomach. She walked away with both films, toying with the top flaps of the negatives as she walked. After a minute or so, she peeled back the top to reveal the images. I saw a vivid splash of color on mine. The woman pored over my picture, a vivid red blooming across the paper. I could make out my form behind the cloud of color, as well as a subtle smile on my face.

“Passion, stress,” she said. “You are very emotional. Red is root chakra, you understand?”

I shook my head.

“It’s good,” she insisted. “But you’re not getting enough rest. See? You can still see
you
through color. If the color was thicker, it shows strong chakra. Understand?”

I studied the image and my face was indeed discernible. “I think so.”

“This spot here?” She pointed to a darker patch on my left side that was veering into blue or purple. “Too much in your head, I think. You rely too much on intuition? That’s the purple. You working through a lot, but is okay.”

My look of concern made her grin at me. She was missing a tooth on the side.

“Not necessarily bad,” she insisted. “Just takes toll. You have to take care of yourself. The blue here in future is healing. That’s very good.”

I smiled, nodding as she turned to look at Grey’s image. It was then I noticed him shifting on his feet. He seemed so uncomfortable, and his palm was clammy when I grasped his hand.

“Grey,” I said quietly.

He didn’t answer, staring at his photo.

“No, not gray. More like blue. Too dark though,” the woman replied as though I was analyzing his picture as well. “Very see-through. Not enough rest for you. Too much stress. This dark blue here not good, but in future gets lighter. Green. See? This right here. Positive. Heart chakra. You heal, too.”

When I leaned over to look, I noticed there was almost no color on his image except the slight blue tint. On the right, a small burst of green. His face was blurred, maybe when he turned to look at me. It seemed a little purple over his heart, but it
was
very dark. The woman kept talking, but I looked at Grey, who appeared somewhat horrorstruck.

“I suggest smoky quartz,” she continued and walked to the other side of the shop. She pulled a cloudy brownish bead laced with silver veins out of a box. She attached it to a black, waxed thread and moved to loop it around Grey’s neck, but his hand deftly snatched her wrist. All the more amazing, she didn’t react but to tell him, “It will protect you, ground you. Your soul need it.”

He took the crystal and held it in his hand, his face stony. She turned away to prepare a black stone on a red thread for me. “Strength and protection,” she said. “Absorb negative energy so you can be calm, so make sure to recharge and clean crystals every two weeks. You come here or you can do. I recommend bring in here. It’s free!”

Grey mumbled something to her as he paid, but I couldn’t understand him. She patted his hand.

Confused, I thanked her and followed him out the door into the street. “Are you okay?” I asked, but he wouldn’t look at me. “What did you say to her? Do you speak Chinese?”

“No.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me.”

He huffed a sigh. “I apologized to her.”

“In Chinese?”

“I know some Cantonese, yes.” His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together, his eyes scanning all around us. “We should get going.”

“It’s just a picture, Grey. For fun. It’s not a CAT scan or an MRI, for Christ’s sake.”