Local Girls by Alice Hoffman Page B

way Margot was looking at her, lips pursed, like she knew the answer to some state secret. “No place in particular,” Gretel said, directly to Margot. “FYI.”
    But of course, that wasn’t true. All the night before, she’d been dreaming of Sonny Garnet, and in her dream he had left her to talk on the phone. He always paced when he talked on the telephone; he wound the cord around his arm like a tourniquet. Not that he was the least bit nervous; no way. Even if you couldn’t make out what he was saying, his voice sounded so smooth. But in her dream, he wasn’t smooth at all. When he spoke, rocks came out of his mouth. White stones, so flawless it had taken Gretel a while to realize they weren’t rocks at all, but perfect white teeth.
    She’d woken that morning with a terrible urge to see him, and by noon she couldn’t wait any longer. All the way there she had an odd, breakable feeling, as if the slightest thing could hurt her. A branch falling from above, a strong gust of wind, anything could destroy her or blow her off course. Ever since she’d fallen in love, the rest of her life had somehow slipped away from her, the reality of streets and trees, the future and the past—it had been soaked up in the present with Sonny Garnet. She’d never noticed the twisted crab apple which grew by the front door of his apartment building. She’d never heard the way the steps creaked as she ran up to the third floor, or paid the least bit of attention to how cold it was in the stairwell, colder than the blue, March air outside.
    Just before she knocked on the door, Gretel thought to herself, I could leave now, but she didn’t. She bit down hard on her lip, and prepared herself for whatever was to be, and still she was completely undone when a girl answered the door. She was a beautiful girl of nineteen or twenty, with long blond hair and too much makeup. Immediately, Gretel lost the ability to speak.
    â€œWhat is it?” the girl said. At least her teeth were awful. She was wearing a tacky name necklace. Laura was her name, and she acted as though she owned the place. She had her hands on her hips. “What do you want?”
    â€œSonny,” Gretel said, and alas, it was true. Standing in the hallway, where she now noticed the linoleum was cracked and filthy, she wanted him terribly.
    â€œWell, Sonny’s sleeping. You’ll have to come back later.”
    â€œI can’t,” Gretel said. “I’m here now.”
    Laura came into the hall and closed the door behind her. “I wouldn’t wake him up if I were you. He’s already bent out of shape because I made him sleep in the living room so I could fix up the bedroom for Desmond.”
    As far as Gretel was concerned, this girl was speaking another language.
    â€œHello?” Laura said when faced with Gretel’s silence. She waved her hand in front of Gretel’s face. “Are you there?”
    That was when Gretel started to cry. “You can’t have him,” she said, even though she had no idea how she would manage to fight a rival who was a grown woman with red nail polish and so much mascara.
    â€œYou think I’m here with Sonny! I’m waiting for Desmond.” Another blank look from Gretel. “Sonny’s brother?”
    Now that she understood, Gretel threw her arms around Laura as though she were a long-lost sister, and as soon as she did Laura started to cry right along with her.
    â€œYou don’t know what it’s been like,” Laura said as they both wept. Close up, Gretel could see Laura was older than she’d first thought. She might even be close to thirty. “It’s been hell,” Laura confided. “I’ve had to live with my mother in New Hyde Park.”
    They sneaked back into the apartment to have a cup of instant coffee together in the kitchen. That was when Gretel found out that Desmond Garnet had been in the