I call the hotel where Angie works and hang up when I hear her voice. I’m in front of her building two trains later. The hotel is luxurious and full of men in suits and perfectly groomed women in high heels. Everything is shiny to an oppressive degree; I can practically see my reflection in the marble floor. A middle-aged lady with a pointy nose and expensive trench coat scowls at me when I enter the lobby, like I don’t belong there, like my existence offends her sensibilities or something. I smile and wave at her, hoping she can detect my irony.
I wonder how much it would cost to spend the night here.
Probably hundreds, maybe thousands.
Angie is at the front desk, which is what I was hoping, wearing a navy blue pantsuit that makes her look ten years older. Her wild hair is drawn into a tight ponytail, and her makeup is muted and faint. Maybe the dress code requires them to look as dull as humanly possible.
Angie, of course, is surprised to see me.
“Oh my God, what are you doing here?” She sets down the phone.
“It’s so nice to see you, too, Angie. It’s been too long, really.” Angie sighs. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m just wonderful.”
“I can’t really talk right now. I’m working, as you can see.” She rubs her neck and looks around nervously.
“You don’t have time to talk to me about Olga’s pregnancy and married boyfriend?” I smile.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Let’s go get some coffee.” Angie grabs her purse and turns to her blond coworker at the end of the counter. “Melissa, I’ll be back soon. Taking a quick break.”
—
When we settle in a corner table in the coffee shop across the street, Angie searches inside her purse and puts on another coat of pale lipstick, using her phone as a mirror. She doesn’t say anything. She must be waiting for me to go first, so I just sip my coffee and let her squirm for a while.
“So why didn’t you tell me? You knew this whole time,” I finally say. “Why would you do that to me? I’m her fucking sister, Angie.” “What would anyone gain from that? She’s gone. She’s never
coming back. What difference would that have made? Why would
your family want to know that about her? It would have devastated them. Maybe you’re too young to understand, Julia, but sometimes people don’t need the truth.”
“Why is everyone always saying that to me? I’m not an imbecile. I have a brain, a pretty good one, too. And they would’ve found out eventually. How was she going to hide a baby coming out of her? ‘Oh, don’t mind this child here. It was a result of immaculate conception.’ Just tell me who he is. I know he worked in her office. You have to tell me. He was a doctor, wasn’t he?”
Angie shakes her head. “Look, I tried to get her to leave him, for years, but she wouldn’t. There was no stopping her. She was obsessed. You have no idea. It was obvious he was just using her because he was in a miserable marriage, but she couldn’t see that, no matter how many times I tried to explain it to her.”
“I was even starting to think that you guys were a couple. I didn’t know what to believe.”
“Wow. Seriously? Me and your sister?”
“It’s not that ridiculous. I knew you were keeping something from me, and you were always together.”
Angie looks disgusted.
“When did you find out about the baby?”
“Wait, how do you even know about all of this?” She puts both hands on the table.
“I went through her emails.” “Well, that’s kind of messed up.”
“More messed up than keeping this secret? Than letting me think I was crazy for sensing something was wrong?”
“Why do you want to know who it is, though? What are you going to do once you find out?”
“Because I deserve to know. Because I, apparently, had no idea who Olga was. I guess none of us did, except for you and that old guy she was banging. Why was she living like that? Why couldn’t she just have a normal boyfriend and go to school? I don’t get it.”
“You know Olga never wanted to leave your parents. She would have done anything for them. She always wanted to be a good daughter.”
I wonder what else Angie knows. I try to read it in her face, but I don’t know what to make of it.
“They should know about this. It’s not fair to me or to them.
How am I going to carry this by myself my whole damn life?”
“I’m sorry. I understand that it hurts, believe me, but this isn’t about you. This is about protecting those who are still here. Why would you want to cause your family more pain?”
“Because we shouldn’t be living lies,” I say. “Because they deserve to know. Because I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t say it. It’s all I can think about. I’m tired of pretending and letting things blister inside me. Keeping things to myself almost killed me. I don’t want to live like that anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Forget it.” Part of me wonders if Angie is right—who am I to do this to my family?—but I hate this feeling, like the weight of this will make my chest collapse.
Angie wipes the tears from her eyes with her palms. “Some things should never be said out loud, Julia. Can’t you see that?”
—
I take another train to Wicker Park to meet Connor at the bookstore. As soon as he sees me, he hands me an old photography book and asks me what it smells like. I press it against my face. “Hmm…A sad man looking out the window as it rains…lamenting a time at the train station. Yeah, that’s it.”
This makes Connor laugh. “Wow, that’s specific,” he says. “Is he wearing a hat?”
“Uh-huh. Porkpie.”
“It’s good to see you,” he says, and hugs me.
“Lovely to see you, too, sir. I see you have a new hairstyle.” Connor’s shaggy brown hair is now short and neat. It makes him look older.
He shrugs. “Yeah, I got sick of it one day.” “I like it,” I say. “You look distinguished.”
We walk through the bookstore as we catch up on the last several weeks. We’re laughing and talking so fast that people stare at us as if we’re crazy. I tell him about Isabela and Sebastián, the gay cats, the shooting, Apá’s drawings, Olga’s affair. I’m almost out of breath, trying to cram it all in. I don’t tell him about the hospital, though. I’m not ready to talk about it yet.
After the bookstore, we walk to the 606. One of the best decisions the city has ever made was to convert an old rail line into an elevated park. The trail spans two and a half miles—from Wicker Park to Humboldt Park—and it has great views of the skyline and neighborhoods below. Though it’s chilly today, there are several people walking and running, some with strollers and dogs. The trees and bushes are mostly bare, but I see a few green blades emerging. Connor and I walk west for a long time without saying anything. As I stare at the graffiti on an abandoned factory with shattered windows, he takes my hand and squeezes it.
“So what else have you been up to?” I ask. “Any new ladies in your life?” I’m not sure why I say this. Sometimes I blurt out stupid things when I get nervous.
Connor shakes his head and laughs, but he doesn’t say no. A pulse of jealousy surges through me, even though I try to reason with myself. I had Esteban, after all, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him.
“Have you heard from any colleges yet?” he asks. “No, not yet. You?”
“I got into Cornell.” Connor smiles.
“Holy shit. Congratulations!” I give him a fist bump. “Yeah, it’s my top choice. I’m pretty excited.”
“I applied to some schools in New York City, so maybe we’ll be in the same state.”
“I can visit you. We can go to museums or Central Park or just eat our way through Manhattan. Oh, and we can visit all the landmarks in The Catcher in the Rye. That would be fucking cool.”
“Let’s see if I get in first.”
“You will. You know you will.” Connor says as a guy with a man bun runs past us.
“Thanks.”
The sun is beginning to set. A blaze of orange light outlines a giant cloud. I love dusk; it always astonishes me that something so beautiful happens every single day.
We’re quiet for a long time. “So, what now?” I finally say. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t even know.” I laugh nervously.
“All I know is that I missed you.” Connor smiles and hugs me. “And I’m glad to see you.”
“I missed you, too. What’s going to happen now, though?” “We’re both going away to college, right? So let’s just enjoy this
without overthinking it. That’s what makes sense to me.” A flock of
pigeons flies over us as he takes both of my hands in his.
“You’re right,” I say, but that’s not the answer I wanted to hear.
