at the same time.
“Thirty-four.”
“Twelve.”
Twelve. Lucas could hardly remember twelve, and he sawon Casey’s face that she could hardly picture thirty-four. He grabbed his bag and started walking around the store, switching off power bars. Casey followed him silently. When he got to the door, he flicked off the lights. The store was dark except for the neon glow of the Green Lantern lantern hanging on the wall. He looked at Casey. In the green light, she looked like a little alien.
“You don’t really blow,” Lucas said. “It’s more like you suck. So I don’t know why they call it that.”
“Have you ever had one?” Casey asked.
Lucas had a momentary flash of Laure on her knees, looking up at him. He shook it off. “I’m definitely not answering that,” he said. He opened the door and gave Casey a push outside.
On the way upstairs, Casey ran ahead of him. When she got to the top of the stairs, she turned around and said, “Can I come over?” She slid back and forth across the hall on her Heelys, pulling at a piece of her hair.
“I’m going out,” Lucas lied. “Besides, don’t you think your mother is wondering where you are?”
Casey’s face darkened. “My mother’s
gone out
,” she said. Then she rolled inside Pearl’s apartment and slammed the door.
Four of the things Laure left in the apartment: a bottle of Bath and Body Works Vanilla Noir shower gel, a set of Egyptian cotton sheets, a copy of
The Royal Tenenbaums
on DVD, and the bike. The shower gel Lucas threw out. He never told Laure, but the smell of it always made him sick. The sheets were on their bed and hadn’t been washed since the last time Laure had done the laundry. The DVD, Lucas figured, was partially hisanyway. But the bike really bothered him. He had bought it for her, after all, at a yard sale down the block the spring that she moved in. It was pink and green and had a basket attached to the handlebars with a plastic flower in the middle of it. It was exactly the type of thing Laure loved, and Lucas felt she should have been more sentimental about it.
Laure’s father had been a hockey player in the nineties, a fourth-line journeyman who had played for twelve teams in eight years. Name a city with a hockey team and Laure had lived there, if only for a few months. Toronto had been her favourite, or so she had said. In every other city they had lived in downtown condos fifteen storeys above the street, but in Toronto they had a rented house near the university and Laure remembered backyard cookouts, neighbours with dogs, kids on bikes everywhere. When she came back, after finishing her undergrad in some isolated New England college town, she ended up renting one of Lucas’s rooms above World Famous. She ended up sharing Lucas’s own room, too, but that came later. There were no dogs, no cookouts. Just a comic book store and some IKEA furniture.
One afternoon, just after Laure moved out, Pearl came across the hall with muffins. She liked to bake for Lucas, even though he’d told her a dozen times he didn’t like sweet things. “Where’d this orphan run off to?” she asked. She eyed the bike in the corner behind the sofa.
“She didn’t run,” Lucas answered without thinking about it. “I mean, she didn’t run, because she was adopted.” He laughed. Pearl must have seen something in his face, because she left the muffins and went home without even asking him, the way she did sometimes, for a cup of tea from theteapot shaped like a rooster that, obviously, someone had left behind.
For some reason, Casey only ever came into the store when Lucas was working. As far as Lucas could tell, Mel had never even met her. On the weekends, Kyle teased him, called Casey his “girlfriend” until Lucas punched him in the arm, hard. Casey’s mom, Lucas had never seen again, although he’d hear her sometimes, coming home late at night, stumbling through the hallway and scraping her key against the lock across the
“Thirty-four.”
“Twelve.”
Twelve. Lucas could hardly remember twelve, and he sawon Casey’s face that she could hardly picture thirty-four. He grabbed his bag and started walking around the store, switching off power bars. Casey followed him silently. When he got to the door, he flicked off the lights. The store was dark except for the neon glow of the Green Lantern lantern hanging on the wall. He looked at Casey. In the green light, she looked like a little alien.
“You don’t really blow,” Lucas said. “It’s more like you suck. So I don’t know why they call it that.”
“Have you ever had one?” Casey asked.
Lucas had a momentary flash of Laure on her knees, looking up at him. He shook it off. “I’m definitely not answering that,” he said. He opened the door and gave Casey a push outside.
On the way upstairs, Casey ran ahead of him. When she got to the top of the stairs, she turned around and said, “Can I come over?” She slid back and forth across the hall on her Heelys, pulling at a piece of her hair.
“I’m going out,” Lucas lied. “Besides, don’t you think your mother is wondering where you are?”
Casey’s face darkened. “My mother’s
gone out
,” she said. Then she rolled inside Pearl’s apartment and slammed the door.
Four of the things Laure left in the apartment: a bottle of Bath and Body Works Vanilla Noir shower gel, a set of Egyptian cotton sheets, a copy of
The Royal Tenenbaums
on DVD, and the bike. The shower gel Lucas threw out. He never told Laure, but the smell of it always made him sick. The sheets were on their bed and hadn’t been washed since the last time Laure had done the laundry. The DVD, Lucas figured, was partially hisanyway. But the bike really bothered him. He had bought it for her, after all, at a yard sale down the block the spring that she moved in. It was pink and green and had a basket attached to the handlebars with a plastic flower in the middle of it. It was exactly the type of thing Laure loved, and Lucas felt she should have been more sentimental about it.
Laure’s father had been a hockey player in the nineties, a fourth-line journeyman who had played for twelve teams in eight years. Name a city with a hockey team and Laure had lived there, if only for a few months. Toronto had been her favourite, or so she had said. In every other city they had lived in downtown condos fifteen storeys above the street, but in Toronto they had a rented house near the university and Laure remembered backyard cookouts, neighbours with dogs, kids on bikes everywhere. When she came back, after finishing her undergrad in some isolated New England college town, she ended up renting one of Lucas’s rooms above World Famous. She ended up sharing Lucas’s own room, too, but that came later. There were no dogs, no cookouts. Just a comic book store and some IKEA furniture.
One afternoon, just after Laure moved out, Pearl came across the hall with muffins. She liked to bake for Lucas, even though he’d told her a dozen times he didn’t like sweet things. “Where’d this orphan run off to?” she asked. She eyed the bike in the corner behind the sofa.
“She didn’t run,” Lucas answered without thinking about it. “I mean, she didn’t run, because she was adopted.” He laughed. Pearl must have seen something in his face, because she left the muffins and went home without even asking him, the way she did sometimes, for a cup of tea from theteapot shaped like a rooster that, obviously, someone had left behind.
For some reason, Casey only ever came into the store when Lucas was working. As far as Lucas could tell, Mel had never even met her. On the weekends, Kyle teased him, called Casey his “girlfriend” until Lucas punched him in the arm, hard. Casey’s mom, Lucas had never seen again, although he’d hear her sometimes, coming home late at night, stumbling through the hallway and scraping her key against the lock across the
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