Wish You Were Here

  When I went back inside, Helen was carrying her last box toward the door. “Chuck the Fuck called.”

  “Okay.”

  She set down the box. “Can I have a hug?”

  I had been fighting tears since I walked in but once it was time to hug I couldn’t hold back. I started crying. She pulled me into her body. “Fuck, you’re still my best friend,” she said near my ear. “One of us had to make the first move, otherwise we would have ended up like those weird, old, spinster couples who live together in a hoarderish apartment.”

  “We’re not that old.” I sniffled.

  “It was time.”

  I nodded in agreement but couldn’t say the words.

  In less than a week, Helen had found someone as crazy beautiful and brave as she was. Within four days, she had quit her job and become someone’s live-in girlfriend. I was going to be stuck ladling tortilla soup alone for eternity. It all seemed too fast, even for Helen, but what if it actually worked out?

  After they left, I called Chucky.

  He answered with, “Hey, Fatbutt.”

  “What’s up Shitstick?”

  “I heard Helen moved out.”

  “So what. Helen and I can live apart.”

  “That’s not why I called. Jesus, why are you so hostile toward me, Fatbutt?”

  “I don’t know, Chucky, maybe because you call me Fatbutt.”

  “I just wanted to see if you wanted a roommate?” He actually sounded sincere.

  “You?!” I said, like it was the worst idea I had ever heard.

  “You’ll get free cleanings from me and I’ll pay half the rent and bills.”

  “Free cleanings? As in my teeth?”

  “Yes, what do you think I’m talking about, stupid?”

  “You’re not going anywhere near my mouth, ever!”

  “Charlotte, listen, Mom is driving me crazy with her hovering. I need to get out of here. I’ll be making a ton of money once I pass my exams and go to work with Dad.”

  My brother had two months left of school and then his state boards before he could become a legit dentist. It was actually quite remarkable that he had handled living with our parents all that time.

  “I know Mom still cuts the crust off your sandwiches. Don’t expect that kind of shit around here.”

  “I told her to stop doing that. It’s embarrassing. Please, just consider it.”

  I knew I could live with Chucky. That’s one thing about siblings. You go through the gauntlet with them when you’re kids. You’ve imagined strangling them so many times that by the time you’re adults you’re pretty much desensitized to their crap. I once made my brother walk home in the rain from high school because he told the guy I was dating that I wore dirty underwear. Chucky got pneumonia. My mom acted like he was dying. While he was home sick from school, he went into my room and deleted a twelve-page term paper I had to turn in the following day. I was so mad that I literally threw up in his face, though not on purpose.

  I waited after that to exact my revenge. The day before his big state championship wrestling match, I mashed up a bunch of laxatives and put them in his protein shake. That is how evil we had gotten. I actually wanted my brother to shit his singlet in front of the whole school. But he was onto me. He didn’t drink it, thank god. After dumping out the shake, he spent the afternoon squirting hot sauce into all of my shoes while I was at math tutoring. I smelled like sriracha for the rest of senior year. We had grown up a lot since then.

  “Fine Chucky, you can live here, but I have rules.”

  “You do not have rules. You’re the biggest slob I know.”

  “I’ve changed. And anyway, this is my apartment so you’re gonna follow my rules,” I said.

  “Fine. What rules, Charlotte?”

  “I don’t know yet, I’ll have to think of them, but they’re going to be strict.”

  “When can I move in?”

  “Helen’s gone. You can move in now.” It felt like I was saying she had died. I felt sick.

  “Well, I’ll pack up my stuff and probably be down there on Monday.”

  “Okay.” I actually couldn’t bear the idea of being home alone all weekend but I couldn’t say anything to Chucky about it. I couldn’t admit that to him, or ask him to come down earlier, because I knew he would never let me live it down. “See you Monday.”

  I went into Helen’s empty room, looked around, and cried some more.

  A few minutes later I heard a voice. “Hello, anyone here? The door is open . . .”

  I walked out to the front room and froze when I saw the figure standing in the doorway. I looked down at his hand gripping a bag of what looked like Chinese food, and for a moment I wished that it were Adam standing there.

  “Seth, what are you doing here?” I wiped under my eyes, knowing I looked haggard from crying.

  His large frame filled the entryway. “I hope I’m not being too forward by coming here,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure what to say.

  He held up the bag. “I brought dinner.”

  I walked toward the door slowly. “Is it Chinese?”

  “It’s Thai.”

  Thank god.

  “Charlotte?” Seth was still staring at me, waiting for my approval.

  I blinked. “I’m sorry. Yeah, please, come in. Sit down.” I motioned for him to sit at the small table in the kitchen while I set out plates and flatware. “Would you like a beer or something?”

  “I’m sorry. I should have called,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

  “No, it’s okay. I was just kind of out of it because Helen just left. We’ve been living together since we moved out of our parents’ houses. I grew up with her three doors down, so this is going to be a huge adjustment for me.” I handed him the beer.

  “That’s why I came,” he said. “Roddy told me you were pretty bummed.”

  “But you don’t even know me,” I said as I stood next to him. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I regretted it.

  He began to get up. “This was a bad idea.”

  Why did I have to sabotage everything? “Wait. Stay. Let’s eat. I just feel like this is a little awkward.”

  When I sat down across from him, he took a slow sip of his beer, swallowed, and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve really never done anything like this. We had a bye today, I was bored, and I was thinking about you.”

  “It’s fine.” He was thinking about me.

  “I should have asked you out on a real date tonight. I was waiting for Saturday but then Roddy and Helen were moving at warp speed.”

  “I know, you don’t have to explain, and we don’t have to move at warp speed just because they are.”

  He let out a long breath. “Okay. So we’re good?”

  “We’re good,” I said.

  “Do you want to get out of here? You can throw this food in your fridge and eat it tomorrow,” he suggested.

  “Where do you want to go?” We hadn’t opened the cartons of food yet, so I stood and started putting them back in the plastic bag.

  “I don’t know, but I feel like a restaurant would be better so this isn’t so . . . awkward.” He shot me a tight smile.

  “I think you’re right.”

  “Are you sure you want to go out?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I’ve made this uncomfortable. I know a great place. It has a really cozy vibe. Wurstküche. It’s an exotic sausage grill, you’ll love it.”

  He laughed. “That sounds terrifying to me.”

  “Come on.” I nodded toward the door as he stood. “There’s nice people, lots of craft beers. They’ve got hot dogs. Don’t all baseball players like hot dogs?” Although I actually hated hot dogs, this place had the most amazing fries and dipping sauces, so that’s what I’d get. “They have a sausage made out of rattlesnake.”

  “You’re killing me. Not all baseball players like hot dogs and I’m not eating rattlesnake, but I’m willing to see what else they have.”

  “Perfect!
Let’s go.”

  I didn’t even look in the mirror, let alone bother changing out of the black jeans and blouse I had been wearing all day. Seth looked casual in jeans, a short-sleeve button-down shirt, and white Converse.

  We walked shoulder to shoulder, making small talk until we got to the stoplight across from where Adam’s mural of the winged man was painted. I stared at the image, mesmerized by the fact that I had stood by while he had so effortlessly created such a powerful work of art.

  Then, a block farther, I saw something else. And I was speechless.

  I froze.

  The wall opposite from Villains was newly painted with a giant mural. Seth was looking at me strangely as I stared at the artwork.

  “What are you looking at, Charlotte?”

  When I raised my head to meet his gaze, he looked concerned.

  “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m okay. Let’s keep going?”

  My legs were shaking.

  “What’s wrong, Charlotte?”

  “I need to sit down.” I started to sway.

  In one swift motion, Seth hitched his arm under me and brought me to his chest. “You’re as white as a ghost,” he said.

  What I had seen was like nothing I knew possible. I couldn’t make sense of it. In Seth’s arms, I continued staring at the mural.

  It was me, from the back, staring at Edvard Munch’s Starry Night in the Getty Museum.

  My long hair pinned up, exposing my neck through an open-backed silk red dress.

  It was so realistic, so accurate. It looked like a photo, right down to a freckle I have on my shoulder.

  I knew Adam had painted it, but why?

  Seth’s eyes narrowed, staring at me with genuine concern.

  “I’m fine,” I reassured him.

  “You’re acting strangely. I don’t know what to make of what’s going on. You can barely walk. Are you that upset about Helen? Is it a physical thing? Do you feel sick?”

  “I just saw something that confused me on that wall, that’s all,” I said, my voice low and shaky.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Charlotte?” He wasn’t angry; he was just trying to be empathetic.

  It was hard for me to look him in the eye as I began the story so I focused on a manhole in the middle of the street. “About seven months ago, I met a guy.” I hesitated.

  “Continue,” he said, a twinge of worry in his voice.

  “I met him on the street. I went home with him and we had a very strange but special experience. Or so I thought.”

  “Let’s find a bench and sit down. I really have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

  We were now sitting against the wall where the mural was painted.

  “I’m trying to tell you without making myself sound like a slut.”

  “I don’t think you’re a slut, Charlotte. Just tell me the story.”

  “I met a guy on the street. It was a whirlwind night. I went back to his loft. He was a painter. There were paintings everywhere. We had . . . sex, a whole bunch of sex.”

  Seth swallowed. “Okay, so what?”

  “At some point in the night, he asked me if we were in love, like we were role-playing or something, and I told him this story that we were together and that we had met in front of Starry Night at the Getty. It’s hard to explain, but it made sense in the moment.”

  “I thought they had Irises at the Getty?”

  “No, Munch’s Starry Night, not Van Gogh’s.”

  “Oh. And . . . ?”

  I pointed with my thumb behind me. “That was the story I told him. And today, just now, I discovered he painted a giant mural of it. I pass this wall all the time; it wasn’t here before.”

  Seth turned around and looked at the mural. “It’s beautiful.” Then he looked back at me. “So, what happened?”

  “I kind of fell for him that night, but he acted weird in the morning and accused me of being a liar. It was all very strange. Like I said, I thought we were just role-playing or something.”

  Seth swallowed. There was a long, uncomfortable silence hanging in the air between us. We both turned around and sat there staring at the mural for a long time.

  After what felt like hours, Seth turned to me. “I’m gonna walk you home now, Charlotte. I think you should be alone to think about this. I’m not judging you at all, but you seem really affected right now, and it’s been a long day for you.”

  The idea of being alone terrified me, and I wondered if I was scaring Seth away. In fact, I knew I was. But I also wanted to do nothing but stare at the mural all night long.

  We stood up. The little crosswalk symbol went on, motioning for us to walk. Seth grabbed my hand, and I looked down at my hand in his. I looked up to his face. He smiled. “I’m a good guy,” he said. “I’m taking you home because your mental state concerns me. You seem really troubled. Maybe you need to call him, Charlotte. Get some resolution. Find out why he painted this mural seven months after he kicked you out of his apartment.”

  “You’re right,” I said, but I had no idea how I would find his number.

  “I like complicated girls,” Seth said, out of the blue, as we walked back to my apartment. “I like challenges and I like interesting people. That’s why I was attracted to your profile. And then the other night I could just tell. That’s why I’m here now. But you need to work this thing out, whatever it is you’re going through. I don’t want to pry. We don’t know each other that well and I already feel like I’ve invaded your space tonight.”

  “Not at all, Seth. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been alone when I saw that mural. But I do need to get home.”

  Once we were at my door, Seth leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “Do you want to come to my game tomorrow? We can talk this out afterward.”

  “Okay,” I told him, but I wasn’t sure if I still wanted to go.

  When I opened the door to my apartment, Chucky was sitting at the counter, eating cereal. “Yay! Fatbutt’s here!” he shouted through a mouthful.

  “You still have a key?”

  “You left it unlocked, dipshit.”

  Growing up, my brother looked like that kid on the cover of MAD magazine but with black hair. I still saw him that way, even though as a grown man he now looked like Jake Gyllenhaal. Yes, girls liked him, but he was arrogant and he had impossibly high standards.

  “Are you eating my cereal?”

  “I don’t eat that sugary crap,” he said.

  None of his belongings were lying around. I walked back into Helen’s room and saw that Chucky had moved all of his stuff in and unpacked in the two hours I was gone. His room was perfectly tidy. With wide eyes, I appraised him as I walked back toward the kitchen.

  He looked up at me. “What?”

  “It’s clean.”

  “We’re not kids anymore, Charlotte.”

  I opened the refrigerator in search of a snack and discovered hummus, yogurt, and a bowl of quinoa, along with a very expensive bottle of Champagne.

  “What’s all this?”

  “I just made the quinoa; it’s in there cooling. I’m thinking of making a quinoa and feta salad with olives tomorrow. And the Champagne is for you, my sweet, loving sister.”

  “Really, Chucky?”

  “Will you call me Charles from now on? I don’t really go by Chuck.”

  I leaned over and glared into his eyes. “Who are you and why are you wearing my brother like a suit?”

  “Cut the shit, Charlotte.” That was a commonly used phrase in my house growing up. I was a bit of a drama queen as a kid.

  “Okay, brother. I will open my figurative, though not my real arms, to this new version of you. I hope it lasts. And thanks for the ‘shampag-knee.’ ”

  “You’re so classy, Fatbutt. I’m glad we’re gonna be roomies.”

  “Do you know how many years of squats I’ve done to firm up this ass?”

  “Stop trying to get me to look at your butt; it’s weird and gross
,” he said as he slurped up his cereal.

  I smacked him in the head. “ ’Kay, dork, I’m going to bed.”

  “Nighty night.”

  “Night.”

  I didn’t even wonder why Chuck had moved in that day instead of Monday, like he said he would. Only later would I find out that Helen had called my mom out of concern, and she had told Chuck to move into my apartment that day. Guess my mom knew as well as I did that I couldn’t be alone.

  I lay in bed all night and didn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t get the image of the mural out of my head.

  I knew I had to look for him, but where would I even begin?

  12. Boy(s)

  At some point just before dawn, I finally fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning, Chucky was already gone. He left me a note saying he would be training for the Iron Man triathlon the whole morning but had left the quinoa, feta, and olive salad for me in the fridge for lunch. I guess he really had changed. I was the only one who was still the same.

  I decided that I would go to Seth’s game after all, but before heading to Lake Elsinore, I drove by Adam’s apartment and saw the same FOR RENT sign. I could also see through the window that the apartment was already vacant. I parked the car and knocked on his neighbor’s door, the one who had given Adam that Post-it note about Foxy, but no one answered. I got back in my car and tried Googling “Los Angeles muralist” on my phone. There were actually quite a few hits about his murals, but no one knew his identity. I guess I never really would, either. Maybe he wanted it that way.

  * * *

  AT THE GAME that night, I retrieved my ticket at will-call and found Helen in the same seats we sat in before. She looked up at me as I shimmied sideways down the aisle. “I guess this is the girlfriend aisle,” she said.

  “Seth isn’t my boyfriend, Helen.”

  “I know.” She huffed. “Never mind.” She was wearing a Storm T-shirt with Roddy’s number on the back. It was one of those jerseys made for women. They’re basically designed to make your boobs look big.

  “Cute shirt,” I said, but Helen ignored me. “I’m glad we’re here together,” I finally said after several moments of silence.