And walked.
And even though I was very cold, I didn’t say anything about that either, because I wanted to walk with Elizabeth forever and I didn’t want to do or say anything that would prematurely end my being with her.
Elizabeth seemed to be deep in thought, and I somehow knew that it was best not to say anything—and so I didn’t.
In the hotel lobby she asked if I’d like to have a drink with her at the bar, and I said yes before I even realized that I was about to fulfill my last remaining life goal.
Elizabeth ordered a dirty Ketel One martini on the rocks with extra olives, and even though I had no idea what that was, I said I’d have the same.
The drinks came, and I paid with Father McNamee’s credit card.
We sat down in the fancy leather chairs, and the bartender put a bowl of trail mix next to our drinks on the little table that rested below our knees.
Cheers,” Elizabeth said, and lifted her martini glass.
Even though her voice wasn’t all that cheery, I lifted mine and we touched rims, just like they do on TV.
When I sipped, it tasted mostly like salty olives; I enjoyed the burn.
I was having my first drink with a woman, but it didn’t feel all that special—not like I thought it would.
I took a few tiny sips.
She took several gulps.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, during which I could tell Elizabeth was having an argument with herself deep in her mind.
Suddenly she reached into her purse, produced an orange bottle of pills, and set it down on the table next to her drink.
What are those?” I asked.
These were my exit strategy,” she said.
I don’t understand.”
Really?”
I shook my head.
Max and I have no place to go. We have no home. No relatives. I promised my brother I’d take him to see Cat Parliament for his fortieth birthday. I’m going to deliver on that tomorrow. But then there’s nothing left. No other options. And I’m tired, Bartholomew. I’m really tired.”
It took me a second to understand what Elizabeth was saying, but when I did, I snatched the pill bottle off the table and said, “What if you came to live with me? Max can live there too. We could make a go of it. As a family.”
What type of family would we be?”
The best kind,” I said.
She smiled and looked at the floor. “You’re just being nice.”
What’s wrong with that? Maybe all of this, everything that has happened—my mom killed by cancer, Max and me meeting coincidentally, all of us needing to go to Canada, my seeing you at the library, noticing that you were different, and even Father McNamee dying—maybe all of it happened because the three of us are supposed to be together.”
You do realize how insane that sounds, right?”
I don’t know, does it? I mostly just listed everything that happened to us—facts—and then made my best guess.”
I couldn’t believe how confident I sounded, Richard Gere. You must have really rubbed off on me.
I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Bartholomew,” she said, swirling the olive-studded stick inside her glass. “I admire your willingness to offer kindness almost indiscriminately. But unfortunately, it takes a lot more than kindness to survive in this world.”
I understood what she meant, but I also understood that Mom’s philosophy was a powerful weapon, and I thought that maybe I could harness it here, so I said, “I’d love for you to live with me, Elizabeth. We can make it work. I choose to believe this because the alternative”—I shook her bottle of pills—“is so, so unattractive. Why not try to believe with me at this point? What do you have to lose? We can get a cat for Max! He could work at the movies, you could keep volunteering at the library, and I could . . .”
I didn’t know what I could do, and that started to make me feel anxious. All I had ever done was take care of Mom and be her son. And yet here I was promising to be so much more than what I was—pretending again.
I’m not well,” Elizabeth said. “Neither is Max. We’re damaged goods. We’re problems—and nothing but. You do realize that by now, right? We’re not easy.”
I’m damaged goods too! And I’m also problems! I’m a mess! It’s perfect!”
It’s not perfect,” she said in what was very close to a yelling voice. I could tell that she had been struggling for a long time—too long—and didn’t have much left in her hope tank. “None of this is perfect! I’m not going to allow myself to hope for perfect. Perfect doesn’t exist for people like us, Bartholomew. Passable. That’s what I want. Just simply passable. If I could have a passable existence, I think I’d be very grateful.” She shook her head and stared at her lap. I saw her lips moving behind her curtain of brown hair, and I could tell she was arguing with herself again. Then suddenly she looked up and said, “I don’t think I could have ever executed my exit plan, anyway. I could never do that to Max. And now I’m putting my problems on you.”
Elizabeth shook her head, looked up at the ceiling, and then stared at her lap again.
We were silent for some time, as we sipped our martinis.
And then I had an idea that seemed sort of weird, but I went with it anyway, because I felt like the moment required me to be something more than I usually am. “Pretend I’m you,” I said to Elizabeth. “Here’s how you would answer right now if we were in a movie—in response to my offer for you and Max to live with me in Mom’s home like we were a family.” Then using a girlie falsetto, overly dramatic Vivian Ward/Julia Roberts Hollywood voice, I said, “If we do take you up on your kind offer, do you actually think we could make it work, Bartholomew? Do you really? We wouldn’t ask for much. We wouldn’t dare. But do you think that maybe we could just exist together passably, because that’s all I’d ever hope for—a passable existence.” My voice started to quaver here. I wasn’t sure why. “That’s all I’d ever dare to ask. We’re not greedy—but life, it really hasn’t been generous to Max and me. So you have to be honest with me here, Bartholomew. Do you actually believe a passable existence is possible?”
Elizabeth drained her glass.
I wasn’t really abducted by aliens.” She moved the hair away from her face. She was trembling. “The doctors called Max in Worcester when I was recovering in the hospital, because he was listed as my next of kin in my insurance information. He took a train to Philly that night and went crazy when he saw me. Max is simpleminded, but he has a huge heart. He really does. He doesn’t understand that awful things happen every single day to people all over the world. Horrible things. Like being . . . like . . .” Elizabeth looked down at her lap, and the curtain of hair fell over her face once again. “They were drunk and subhuman and were never even brought to justice. Max’s mind couldn’t accept that, because how can you protect your sister from something so horribly random as being attacked near the Delaware River on the way home from an afterwork drink on a crisp fall Wednesday night? Attacked until your thighs are covered in blood. So Max and I made up the aliens story together in the hospital—almost like we were kids again—and I went along with it just to keep him calm. He insisted on moving in with me so that he could protect me from aliens, and it just escalated from there. But it’s really kind of a beautiful brother-sister story if you can manage to look at it the right way, and . . .”
Elizabeth gave me a look that was half happy and half on the verge of tears.
When she forced a smile, I nodded, because I knew that’s what was required of me even though I was terrified on the inside, and I didn’t even know who was paying the bills associated with Mom’s house, and maybe I never would, now that Father McNamee was dead, and I also wasn’t sure a passable existence was actually possible for me, let alone the three of us together.
I didn’t really know anything for certain at all.
But I believed I could pretend again for Elizabeth, pretend to be stronger than I really was, because that’s what the moment required of me, and so I did. I pretended to be strong, and I tried to show Elizabeth compassion. As I did, I wondered if Father McNamee and Mom would be proud, Richard Gere. I’m pretty sure the Dalai Lama would be happy with my actions that night, because Elizabeth began to cry right there and then, not just little tears either, but she sobbed and sobbed until I reached out and held her in my arms, and then I began to cry too, because I missed Mom so much and Father McNamee was gone and I was just starting to understand the finality of it, that I would never get to have a father ever, that there was no mystery anymore, it was all solved and certain and over, and Elizabeth hadn’t been abducted by aliens but had experienced something even more terrible than the teenagers who broke into Mom’s house and pissed on my bed and shit on Mom’s and put our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ in the toilet . . . and how did we end up in Canada, and why were our lives so much stranger than the lives of regular people?
Was there any hope for us?
As Elizabeth sobbed into my shoulder, I decided—whether it was true or not—to believe in The Good Luck of Right Now enough to take action, even to find a job if need be, so that I could give Elizabeth the fairy tale, like you did so many times in your movies, Richard Gere.
Mom would never have the fairy tale, but maybe Elizabeth could.
Maybe.
Are you two okay?” the bartender asked, and when I looked up, a strand of Elizabeth’s hair was caught in my mouth, and the several people in the hotel lobby bar were staring at us.
When she saw everyone looking, Elizabeth ran out of the bar, and I followed.
In the elevator, I didn’t know what to do.
Elizabeth was still crying, but much more softly now—and yet I got the sense that she didn’t want to be touched or comforted or spoken to.
Her face was bright red and snot was running out of both nostrils, even though she kept wiping it with the sleeve of her coat.
I kept my mouth shut.
When we arrived at the door to our room, she composed herself and said, “I don’t want to wake up Max, okay? And I don’t want him to know about any of this. Tomorrow is his big day. Let’s make it beautiful for him. Agreed? It’s what we have left. Let’s make it beautiful for all of us. Okay?”
I nodded.
She put the card into the slot and the little rectangle turned green, but she didn’t open the door.
If we sleep on opposite sides of the bed, will you promise not to roll over? Will you promise to keep at least a foot of space between us at all times?”
Okay,” I said.
Can we really live with you until we get our lives together?”
Yes. I’d like that very much. And there’s no time limit either.”
You promise? You won’t change your mind?”
Never.”
Elizabeth nodded again and sort of winked both eyes at the same time, which I caught, even though she was hiding behind her hair again.
It was like she was maybe making a wish and sealing it with a double blink—or at least that’s what I imagined.
We entered the room, but we didn’t put the lights on.
She changed in the bathroom, and I slipped into my pajamas while the door was closed.
I dumped her bottle of pills in the toilet and flushed; I didn’t want her to have an exit strategy.
She picked the right side of the bed, so I hugged the left edge all night long.
I didn’t let myself sleep, because I wanted to keep my promise—I didn’t want to risk accidentally rolling over and touching Elizabeth in the middle of the night.
So I listened to her and Max breathing and stared at the electric alien-green numbers of the alarm clock.
At 4:57 Elizabeth whispered, “Bartholomew?”