Twisted (11 page)

“Girl problems.”

“Oh. He has a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. He has a girlfriend.”

He nods as if he approves, like all of a sudden everything's okay. “Well, I'll leave you to it then.” And he turns and heads down the hall.

For the second time that night I wrestle Liam's coat off him. It's harder this time, his body dead weight. Next, I go to my room, drag a quilt out of the closet, and take it back to the living room. I drape it over him, tucking it snugly in and around him.

Even though I'm exhausted, I don't want to go to bed yet. I sit on the edge of the coffee table and watch him sleep. He mumbles something and shifts so that his hair falls across his face. I gently lift it back from his eyes. It's still wet. Once again I notice his eyes, his lashes. “What a waste,” I whisper.

One of his feet sticks out and hangs off the edge of the sofa. I get up and cover it, re-tucking the blanket in firmly along the whole length of his body until he looks like a giant egg roll.

He mumbles again, and my heart skips a beat. Did he say Lynnie? He could have said Lyssa — they sort of sound the same.… Who am I kidding? No, they don't.

It feels like someone pricked me in the chest with a pin.

CHAPTER 20

T
he quilt is neatly folded on the end of the sofa. Liam's gone. I'm relieved. I can't help thinking it's going to be weird when we see each other again. My cheeks get hot at the memory of our walk home, our wipeout in the snow, our almost kiss. Then I cringe when I think about what followed. We'll probably continue on with our unsaid mutual agreement.

As I return the quilt to the closet, I can't ignore the tiny twinge of guilt that niggles at the back of my brain. I should tell Liam what I saw at Kyle's, put him out of his misery … but then there's a whole new misery. No, I can't let myself be pulled into their mess. Stuff like that always comes out sooner or later. Figuring out what's going on with Aidan has to be my priority. Plus, if I was going to say anything, the moment would have been in the coffee shop when I first recog- nized her. And that moment has long passed. How do I explain why I kept my mouth shut? How do I tell him I'm a coward?

I check my watch. Is my next shift at noon or two? When I try to call the coffee shop, it just rings and rings — maybe the phones are still out, or even the power. I can't believe I never once thought to take down Liam's cell number, or Erin's for that matter.
Damn it.

My only choice is to go and check the schedule myself.

If it turns out I don't work until later, I'll go up to Spring Garden Road — assuming they have power — and do some shopping. I need a pair of black pants for work.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment over the fact that I actually have a plan, I head to the kitchen. I find Aidan there.

“Coffee shop boy hit the road?” he asks.

I shrug. “Seems so.”

“I didn't hear him leave. It must have been early.”

“He might have had to work,” I say, pouring some Cinnamon Toast Crunch into a baggie. Breakfast of champions.

Aidan nods. “Oh.”

Pressing the Ziploc closed, I turn and catch him making a face. “What, Aidan?”

“Nothing,” he says, looking all innocent.

I roll my eyes and go out to the hall to get ready.

He follows and watches me pack my bag.

My course calendar, in all its shredded glory, is lying on the hall bench. I put it there so I'd remember to take it to work. I thought I should leave a note for Janet, let her know my schedule for January, going on the assumption that she'll keep me on after the holidays.

Aidan picks it up and stares at it. “You all registered and everything?”

“Yup.” I hold out my hand.

“It's quite a commitment, isn't it?” he says, passing it to me.

“What? School?”

“Sure you're up for it?”

Frowning, I shove the calendar into my bag. “Are you trying to say you don't think I should go? That I can't handle it?”

No answer.

“Didn't you, like, practically beg me to stay here
while I went to school
?”

“Yeah. I wanted you to stay …”

“But not go to
school
?” I finish. “That's nuts. That's the only reason I'm here.”

“The only reason?”

I clear my throat. “Well, I mean, of course I'm glad to see you and that we're reconnecting and everything, but make no mistake, I'm here to go to university.”

“But what if we want to go back home?”

“What is it with you? There's no
we
going back home. If
you
want to go, fill your boots. But I told you before, I'm not. Not while Vince is still around.” I angrily zip up my bag. “Why do you keep bringing this up?”

He tugs on his chin. “I keep hoping you'll change your mind,” he says quietly. “It's still our home, Lyss.”

“Enough, Aidan!” I grab my jacket and head for the door. “I don't want to talk about this again.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds up a hand.

I'm about to reach for the doorknob when he says, “Wait.”

I don't turn around. “What?”

“It's our Christmas staff party tonight at the bar. We have it early, before the Christmas rush.”

“So?” He better not be asking me to come. I'm still pissed about the going home thing.

“I'm going in to work now, and I'll be gone overnight. They've rented some rooms for us at the Prince George. I probably won't be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great. Have fun,” I say in a flat voice, and slam the front door behind me.

I stand on the porch for a minute, take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. The air is cold and crisp. My nose tingles. There's a lot of snow. Everything is white, even the street. The plow has made a pass, but no pavement shows through yet. I can hear the drone of snow blowers off in the distance. The sidewalks haven't been cleared yet either, so I try to follow along in someone else's tracks. It ends up taking me almost twice as long to get to the coffee shop.

The back service door is unlocked, so for sure we're open. As soon as I step in I can tell it's busy. I look through to the front room. Every table is full. Some people are even sitting along the window ledges. Erin's at the counter refilling coffee urns and setting up new ones. Liam is manoeuvring through the crowd with a tray.

Erin sees me. “Is this crazy or what?”

“Kinda.”

“The power's out between part of Coburg and Jubilee,” she explains. “Everyone's here for their morning fix.”

“Do you want some help?” I ask.

“Nah. You're not on till 2:00, and it's actually under control now.”

“You sure?” I crane my neck trying to catch a glimpse of Liam.

“Yes.” She shoos me out. “Go play in the snow or something.”

I go back outside and start off toward Spring Garden Road, fingers crossed that they have power there too.

Closer to the retail part of town, last night's storm hasn't seemed to affect anyone's morning plans. The sidewalks are crowded and the snow well trampled.

I wander up the street, taking it all in — one super trendy and expensive shop after another. People dodge around me and curse under their breaths. Guess I'm not moving fast enough.

As I walk, I think about Aidan. Why does he keep bringing up going home? How could he possibly think I would ever want to? I can't believe he actually
does
. I really want Marla to come back. I need to talk to her. Maybe she knows what's going on inside his head. I sure as hell don't …

Every time I come to a corner, I glance up the side street hoping to see a second-hand or consignment shop. No such luck. But when I check up the next side street, I see a bookstore.
Is that the bookstore Marla works at?
Standing still lets the cold set in. I hop up and down while I decide what to do. They'd probably know when she's coming back. And it's probably warm in there. Decision made.

Just like the coffee shop, it's an old converted house. The outside is bright yellow, with a lime-green door. It's obviously a children's bookstore. I don't remember if Marla mentioned that. No harm checking it out. Inside is comfy and homey, like your gram's living room. Pretty much the same size as your gram's living room, too. There are a couple of big armchairs, some benches, a tiny picnic table with building blocks, paper, and crayons. A giant dollhouse sits beside it on the floor. Every inch of the walls is lined with books. There's a whole other room filled with toys, puzzles, Lego, arts and craft kits. I would have loved this place when I was a kid.

There's a young girl kneeling on the floor, dusting the wooden shelves.

“Excuse me,” I say. “Does Marla …?” I realize I don't know her last name.

“Marla Henderson?” she asks, standing up.

“Yeah.” I nod. “I think so. I'm her boyfriend's sister. But I've only just met her,” I explain, so it doesn't sound so sketchy.

“Oh. Well, Marla's not here. She came in last week, asked the owner for an indefinite leave of absence.”

“She did? Did she say why?”

“Not really. All she said was personal reasons.”

Aidan did say something about a sick relative.
“So you don't know when she's due back?”

“No, but …” She looks confused. “Wouldn't your brother know?”

I raise my eyebrows. “You'd think so, wouldn't ya?”

The girl smiles and shakes her head. “She didn't give a return date, but if you're looking for info, talk to her roommate, Jodi. They share the upstairs flat in the green house at the end of this street. It has a red door. You can't miss it.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“I hope everything's okay,” she calls after me as I leave.

The house is easy to find. It's exactly like the girl said — green, last one on the street, red door. I push the buzzer with the “2” beside it, hoping it's for the upper flat.

A few seconds pass, then I hear footsteps thumping down the stairs. The door opens.

“Yes?”

She's pretty. Long dark hair, dark eyes, brilliant red lipstick. It's freezing, and she has on super short gym shorts and a tank top.

“Hi,” I say. “Are you Jodi?”

She looks closely at me. “Yeah …” Then her face fills with relief. “Are you Marla's sister?”

“No, I'm Lyssa. Aidan's sister?”

Her eyes narrow. She folds her arms and leans on the door frame. “So you're Lyssa. She mentioned you.”

The intensity of her look is making me uncomfortable. “Um … yeah …” I swallow and forge ahead. “I was just wondering if you knew when Marla's coming home.”

She holds out her hands, palms up. “How would I know?”

I try not to let on that I'm confused by her response. “Well, I thought maybe she's called or something. Aidan hasn't heard from her since she went away.”

“Went away?” Jodi says. “Where
exactly
do you think she is?”

“Uh …” I'm starting to get a bad feeling. “Visiting her parents in Boston? Sick relative?”

“Did that little shit Aidan tell you that?”

I open my mouth to say something, then close it again. I nod instead.

“I think you'd better come inside.”

CHAPTER 21

I
follow Jodi. With each step up the stairs, my stomach sinks a bit lower. At the top she uses her shoulder to shove open the door. “Come on in.”

Now I know why she has hardly any clothes on. The apartment is about a hundred degrees.

Jodi puffs out a big breath of air and lifts the hair off the back of her neck. “The heat's broken — won't turn off. It's like living in a sauna.”

“Oh.”

“I was just on the phone with my mom. I have to go reassure her that it wasn't a serial killer at the door. She's probably freakin' out. Just give me a sec, okay?”

“Sure.” I almost add, “Take your time,” because though part of me is dying to know what she's going to tell me, the other part is dreading it.

I unzip my jacket and look around the room. It's messy, but not too messy. It's dark. The walls are painted a burgundy red. There are two front windows covered with faded purple velvet curtains. They match the sofa and armchairs. I can detect the faint smell of incense. All the lamps have fringed, jewel-toned scarves draped over them.
That's gotta be a fire hazard.

“Do you want an ice water?” Jodi calls from the kitchen. “I have to constantly replace the fluid I sweat out.”

“That would be great,” I answer.

A picture on the mantle catches my eye. I go over and pick it up. It's of Aidan and Marla at Point Pleasant Park. I gaze off into space for a minute, thinking. Back home, there's a picture of me and Aidan at Point Pleasant Park too. Mom took us there for a picnic after a back to school shopping expedition to Halifax a few years ago. I study the picture more closely. It could even be the same bench, out on the point, overlooking the harbour. I set it back down just as Jodi returns with the water.

I flap the front panels of my jacket like wings. It's so hot in here. “So
do
you know when Marla's coming back?”

Jodi places the glasses on the coffee table, plants herself on the sofa, and tucks her long legs beneath her. She points to an armchair. “Might want to settle in.”

I slip my jacket off, pick up a glass of water, and empty half of it in one gulp before sitting down.

“I guess Aidan forgot to tell you that he dumped Marla,” she tells me.

“
What?
When?”

“Last week,” she says. “Apparently he didn't see the relationship progressing any further, didn't see a future for them, so might as well cut the cord now.”

“
What?
” I'm stunned. It makes no sense. Why didn't he say any- thing? Why did he pretend like everything was okay? That feeling in the pit of my stomach comes back. “Where
is
Marla?”

“Marla?” She pauses and tilts her head. “She's in the hospital. Psych ward.”

I grip the arms of the chair with both hands. “Is she all right?”

“What do
you
think? Let's face it. She's not the most … what's a good word … emotionally
strong
person you're gonna meet. And your dickhead of a brother knows that.” Jodi shakes her head, mouth all twisted up. “She totally lost it.”

“Lost it. Lost it how?”

“I was here studying, she walks in looking like someone just died, and tells me Aidan broke up with her, tells me basically what I just told you. Then she sat right there,” she points to me, “and barely moved. It was like she went into some sort of three-day crying coma. She wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't
blink
. I don't even know if she could hear me. I tried getting in touch with her parents, but they're away on some kind of cruise. Left messages for her sister and brother. Never heard anything. I didn't know what else to do. I took her back to the hospital.” She pauses, takes a mouthful of water. “She didn't fight me on it. I think she wanted me to.”

I lean my head back on the chair, letting it all sink in.

“I never liked Aidan, you know. Never liked the way he treated her, talked to her. He was always bossing her around, controlling what she did. I thought he was a little fucker.”

I can't think of anything to say. Should I be defending him? “How long will she be there?” I ask.

“No idea,” Jodi says quietly. “Did she tell you about her last boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm afraid of what could happen, and I can't keep an eye on her 24/7.”

“No, no of course not.” I rub my forehead. “Listen, if I give you my number would you let me know how she's doing?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

I root in my pocket and find an old receipt from Shoppers Drug Mart. She passes me a pen. I start to write down my home number then stop and scratch it out. “Probably easiest to get me at work,” I lie, and put down the coffee shop number instead. “If I'm not there, leave a message with whoever and I'll call you back.”

“Okay,” she says, taking the piece of paper and propping it up against the picture of Marla and Aidan.

She walks me down the stairs to the door. At the bottom we turn and look at each other. We don't say a word, not even goodbye.

In a daze, I retrace my steps up Spring Garden Road. What the hell is going on? Aidan. What did he say he had? Mood swings? It's gotta be something more than that.

I pass a digital clock that's part of a bank sign. I have almost an hour left before my shift starts. I don't want to wait until after work. Picking up my pace, I turn and head toward home.

I'M STANDING IN THE
hall, at the entrance to Aidan's room.

Bingley meows and winds his way in and around my ankles, leaving a smear of cat hair on the bottom of my jeans.

“Beat it,” I sigh, and nudge him away with my leg.

It's not like I haven't been in Aidan's room before. I whip the vacuum around, drop off clean laundry, that sort of thing, but this feels different. It
is
different.

Bingley's watching me. It's like he knows I'm up to something.

Attempting to act casual, I slowly inch across the threshold. As soon as I do, Bingley hisses and pounces toward me.

“Oh, come on,” I say. “Like you've never snooped around a room that wasn't yours.”

Ignoring his disapproving look, I yank open the top drawer of Aidan's dresser.

Socks. They're all white, all the same. I shove them around, slide them from one side of the drawer to the other.

I move on to drawer number two. Underwear. They're all white as well. I never noticed, even though I've been doing his laundry.

Drawer number three, T-shirts and a couple of golf shirts.

Drawer number four, one lone American Eagle hoodie.

Drawer number five, empty.

What am even I looking for? A clue. A clue to what? I guess I'll know it when I see it.

Next I move to his side table. There's a novel by someone I've never heard of, and inside the drawer are a package of condoms, a library card, some random keys, a box of Vicks cough drops, a tie clip, some golf tees, and a deck of cards.

There's nothing unusual in his closet either. I sit down at his com- puter desk — that has no computer on it. Aidan says he has a laptop. It belongs to the bar, though. They bought it for him to use for work, so he mostly keeps it there. He told me he'd bring it home sometime so I can use it, but he never has.

The desk has a single, skinny drawer, and I pull it open.

My eyebrows almost touch my hairline.

“Well, looky looky. What have we here?” I turn as if in slow motion, and hold it up so Bingley can see. An eight-pack of door locks — the deadbolt kind — the kind that's on the outside of my door — the kind I've been asking for. “And it's open, Bingley. One missing.”