Gone for Good

31

Squares crept up the stairs rather than risk the noise from the elevator waking Wanda.

The Yoga Squared Corporation owned the building. He and Wanda lived on the two floors above the yoga studio. It was three in the morning. Squares slid open the door. The lights were out. He stepped into the room. The streetlights provided harsh slivers of illumination.

Wanda sat on the couch in the dark. Her arms and legs were crossed.

"Hey," he said very softly, as if afraid of waking someone up, though there was no one else in the building.

"Do you want me to get rid of it?" she said.

Squares wished that he had kept his sunglasses on. "I'm really tired, Wanda. Just let me grab a few hours of sleep."

"No."

"What do you want me to say here?"

"I'm still in the first trimester. All I'd have to do is swallow a pill. So I want to know. Do you want to get rid of it?"

"So all of a sudden it's up to me?"

"I'm waiting."

"I thought you were the great feminist, Wanda. What about a woman's right to choose?"

"Don't hand me that crap."

Squares jammed his hands in his pockets. "What do you want to do?"

Wanda turned her head to the side. He could see the profile, the long neck, the proud bearing. He loved her. He had never loved anyone before, and no one had ever loved him either. When he was very small, his mother liked to burn him with her curling iron. She finally stopped when he was two years old on the very day, coincidentally, that his father beat her to death and hung himself in a closet.

"You wear your past on your forehead," Wanda said. "We don't all have that luxury."

"I don't know what you mean."

Neither of them had turned on the light. Their eyes were adjusting, but everything was a murky haze and maybe that made it easier.

Wanda said, "I was valedictorian of my high school class."

"I know."

She closed her eyes. "Let me just say this, okay?"

Squares nodded for her to proceed.

"I grew up in a wealthy suburb. There were very few black families. I was the only black girl in my class of three hundred. And I was ranked first. I had my pick of colleges. I chose Princeton."

He knew all this already, but he said nothing.

"When I got there, I started to feel like I didn't measure up. I won't go into the whole diagnosis, about my lack of self-worth and all that. But I stopped eating. I lost weight. I became anorexic. I wouldn't eat anything I couldn't get rid of. I would do sit-ups all day. I dropped under ninety pounds and I would still look at myself in the mirror and hate the fatty who stared back at me."

Squares moved closer to her. He wanted to take her hand. But idiot that he was, he did not.

"I starved myself to the point where I had to be hospitalized. I damaged my organs. My liver, my heart, the doctors still are not sure how much. I never went into cardiac arrest, but for a while, I think I was pretty close. I eventually recovered I won't go into that either but the doctors told me that I'd probably never get pregnant. And if I did, I'd most likely not be able to carry to term."

Squares stood over her. "And what does your doctor say now?" he asked.

"She makes no promises." Wanda looked at him. "I've never been so scared in my life."

He felt his heart crumble in his chest. He wanted to sit next to her and put his arms around her. But again something held him back and he hated himself for it. "If going through with this is a risk to your health " he began.

"Then it's my risk," she said.

He tried to smile. "The great feminist returns."

"When I said I was scared, I wasn't just talking about my health."

He knew that.

"Squares?"

"Yeah."

Her voice was nearly a plea. "Don't shut me out, okay?"

He did not know what to say, so he settled for the obvious. "It's a big step."

"I know."

"I don't think," he said slowly, "that I'm equipped to handle it."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"You're the strongest man I've ever known."

Squares shook his head. Some drunk on the street started scream-singing that love grows where his Rosemary goes and nobody knows but him. Wanda uncrossed her arms and waited.

"Maybe," Squares began, "we shouldn't go through with this. For the sake of your health, if nothing else."

Wanda watched him step back and away. Before she could reply, he was gone.

I rented a car at a twenty-four-hour place on 37th Street and drove out to the Livingston police station. I had not been in these hallowed halls since the Burnet Hill Elementary School class trip when I was in first grade. On that sunny morning, we were not allowed to see the station's holding cell where I now found Katy because, like tonight, someone had been in it. The idea of that that maybe a big-time criminal was locked up just yards from where we stood was about as cool an idea as a first-grader can wrap his brain around.

Detective Tim Daniels greeted me with too firm a handshake. I noticed that he hoisted his belt a lot. He jangled or his keys or cuffs or whatever did whenever he walked. His build was beefier than in his youth, but his face remained smooth and unblemished.

I filled out some paperwork and Katy was released into my custody. She had sobered up in the hour it took me to get out there. There was no laugh in her now. Her head hung low. Her face had taken on a classic teenage-sullen posture.

I thanked Tim again. Katy did not even attempt a smile or wave. We started for the car, but when we were out in the night air, she grabbed my arm.

"Let's take a walk," Katy said.

"It's four in the morning. I'm tired."

"I'll throw up if I sit in a car."

I stopped. "Why were you yelling about Idaho on the phone?"

But Katy was already crossing Livingston Avenue. I started after her. She picked up speed as she reached the town circle. I caught up.

"Your parents are going to be worried," I said.

"I told them I was staying with a friend. It's okay."

"You want to tell me why you were drinking alone."

Katy kept walking. Her breathing grew deeper. "I was thirsty."

"Uh-huh. And why were you yelling about Idaho?"

She looked at me but didn't break stride. "I think you know."

I grabbed her arm. "What kind of game are you playing here?"

"I'm not the one playing games here, Will."

"What are you talking about?"

"Idaho, Will. Your Sheila Rogers was from Idaho, right?"

Again her words hit me like a body blow. "How did you know that?"

"I read it."

"In the paper?"

She chuckled. "You really don't know?"

I took hold of her shoulders. "What are you talking about?"

"Where did your Sheila go to college?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"I thought you two were madly in love."

"It's complicated."

"I bet it is."

"I still don't understand, Katy."

"Sheila Rogers went to Haverton, Will. With Julie. They were in the same sorority."

I stood, stunned. "That's not possible."

"I can't believe you don't know. Sheila never told you?"

I shook my head. "Are you sure?"

"Sheila Rogers of Mason, Idaho. Majored in communications. It's all in the sorority booklet. I found it in an old trunk in the basement."

"I don't get it. You remembered her name after all these years?"

"Yeah."

"How come? I mean, do you remember the name of everyone in Julie's sorority?"

"No."

"So why would you remember Sheila Rogers?"

"Because," Katy said, "Sheila and Julie were roommates."