“Long story,” Sana said, directing the conversation elsewhere.
We were running out of drinks, so Rubí went inside to mix another pitcher of mojitos. She brought it outside and refilled our cups. The backyard was only a small patch, but we were all crammed together, drinking, watching the fire, and, inevitably, talking about Jennifer. It was the festive atmosphere I’d wanted, but then I saw through the kitchen window that Julia had arrived. She sliced the cake and ate some of it with her fingers. I excused myself to go inside, closing the door behind me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. The last time I’d seen her was in the café bathroom. At the sight of her, I imagined my wrists in handcuffs.
Julia moved around the table, stuffing her mouth with curry and rice. “Have you made a decision?” she whispered.
“I’m not sure yet. I need more time anyway. I can’t withdraw too much money from the bank at once. It’ll arouse suspicion.”
“So you have access to money?” she asked with frantic hopefulness.
I nodded and Julia closed her eyes. “Thank God,” she said. “I need it on Friday. I’ll come by at noon. I can’t wait any longer than that.” Friday was two days away.
“I told you, I’m not sure. I want to know more about Leeta.”
“Shhhh,” Julia said. “For crying out loud, do not say that name.” She peered at the women outside. Through the glass, Marlowe waved. Julia didn’t bother to wave back. “Did I mention this is a matter of life and death? I’m not bullshitting.” Her acrylic nail tips were chipped, as if she’d been biting them. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“Because you won’t tell me.”
She ignored me, focused completely on the food, an animalistic glint in her eyes. I missed the vulnerable Julia from the café bathroom, but assumed that version was rarely let out of its restraints. She piled her plate high, then composed herself before opening the door to go outside. “Let’s try to act normal,” she said over her shoulder.
Julia approached the women around the fire and I followed. “What is this, a party?” she said, announcing her arrival. I took my place on the opposite side of the drum, between Rubí and Sana. Everyone looked at Julia, her mouth so full that she struggled to chew and swallow. “Since you’re all here, I might as well tell you that I’ve quit my job at Austen. Tomorrow is my last day.”
“Whoa! End of era,” said Marlowe.
“What are your plans?” asked Verena.
“I’m going to travel for a while. You won’t be seeing much of me in the near future.” Julia looked at me over the flames. Was she going on the run as well?
“You’re going to travel?” Verena said in a tone of disbelief. “What about your undercover work?”
“I can’t do it anymore. This charade is too much,” she sputtered, shoving more food into her mouth. Bits of rice fell down her top. “I’m so goddamn hungry all the time, you have no idea what it’s like.” She began to choke on something stuck in her throat. She clasped her neck with one hand, coughing loudly, flinging her dinner plate into the bushes. Rubí handed her a drink, which she downed at once. “I’m a wreck, I apologize,” she said when she recovered, her eyes watery from the curry and the coughing, and perhaps there were tears as well. She looked at me again over the flames, their orange tongues giving her a devilish glow.
Rubí reached into the bag and dropped a few bras into the fire. “So what’s the special occasion?” Marlowe asked me. “We don’t get to burn underwear and eat curry every night. You’re spoiling us.” She handed Huck a pair of lacy pink crotchless panties, which he threw into the drum, giggling with delight.
“My surgery was scheduled for today,” I said, drinking rum and mint from the plastic cup, enjoying the feeling of community. “I wanted to celebrate.”
“I had no idea,” Verena said.
Sana and Rubí put their arms around me, squeezing me between them. “I want you to know she’s gone,” I said to Verena. “The thin woman inside me, the perfect woman, my shadow self.”
“Alicia?”
“No, I’m reclaiming her. That perfect woman, that smaller self, was only ever an idea. She didn’t really exist, so she doesn’t need a name.” Alicia is me, Alicia is me.
Verena blew me a kiss from across the fire. “Virginia Woolf once wrote that it’s more difficult to kill a phantom than a reality,” she said. And so it was, but at last my phantom was gone. I knew my life would never be easy, but this must be what Sana had meant. I had crossed over and would never go back.