Lila sent Jake. He was driving her Land Rover because my bike wouldn’t fit in his car. He got out and manhandled the bike into the back. I took my helmet off, and it looked kind of sad down on the floor, because it had failed to protect me.
“Hey, thanks,” I said. He wasn’t the yelling, raging man from that morning. He was calm and in control, wearing fashionable jeans and a crisp, bright polo shirt. His cologne wafted over, a little too strong, as he settled into the driver’s seat. It almost seemed like I’d imagined it, him in his robe out on the street. “Where’s Lila?”
“She hates driving in this part of the city. I was up anyway. What happened? Some flasher?”
“Yeah.”
“You can’t let that stuff get to you, you know?”
I didn’t say anything. He was there to help me. But my distrust of him was sliding back, and it pissed me off, too, what he said. He didn’t have to let that stuff get to him, because it would never happen to him.
“Hey. Look at this day, huh? Blue sky. Summer in California!” He looked over at me. He was trying. “This isn’t the Lam, for sure. But I bet I can still make this baby go fast.” Jake hit the accelerator and we sped up, the engine revving. A biker looked over his shoulder and glared. We were going to end up in that Acura’s back seat.
“Jake!”
He chuckled. Slowed. “I thought you liked speed.”
“I do.”
“You do?” He hit the accelerator again. The light turned red just as we crossed.
“Maybe not now. And not when you’re about to kill us!” I gripped my armrest.
“All right, all right,” he said.
He turned on the stereo for a minute and then turned it off. “Speakers are worthless.”
We sat in awkward silence for a while, and then he finally said, “I saw you in that piece-of-shit van last night. Who was that? You got a new boyfriend?”
“Not exactly.”
“What exactly?”
“Just… Nicco. A boy I met.”
“What do you know about him? Do you know who his friends are? You gotta know who his friends are.”
I remembered what Lila had said about the people Jake used to do business with. His associates. And after that morning, it seemed like we all should know who his enemies were.
“Said from personal experience, huh?” I lifted my eyebrows in accusation.
He gave me a funny look and then drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“I saw you, too. By that car this morning. Who was that?”
“What?”
“This morning. You were arguing with some guy. I’ve seen him parked out there before. I mean, why? You were yelling.”
Jake waved his hand. “Forget about it. It’s nothing. Business. One of my guys. You don’t need to worry about it. I got it handled.”
I folded my arms, stared out the window.
“Right? You hear me?”
I kept my mouth shut. It seemed like there were a lot of things I was supposed to overlook or forget.
He drove around the city, assertive and confident. He rolled down his window and stuck his elbow out. He sped through the yellow lights. He spoke like everything he said was fact. He was the one who knew the ultimate truth about Lila’s speakers. And I’m embarrassed to admit it, especially now, but he was big, and intimidating, and powerful, too. He had it handled. And all of those things together made him feel… God, I’m sorry to say this: safe.
But intimidation and power could be used against you as much as for you. And the biggest dangers can start right under your own roof. They spread and stretch like fire, like the multiplying cells of DNA.
Like the generations. Like history.
That evening, Lila lit a bunch of candles outside, and the doors to the White Room were flung open. The outdoor table was set. She was really trying. We all were. Trying hard to be regular, whatever that was. Artisanal pizzas were warming in the oven. Little glasses of red wine were poured, three of them—one for me, as well. She wanted to be the cool, progressive mom, but I wasn’t sure I liked wine. And I kind of preferred the nerdy mom, like Ellen, who didn’t even let you drink diet soda, let alone alcohol.
Jake was there too, wearing one of those expensive Hawaiian shirts guys over forty wear. He thought he saw a blue whale. He could have, but maybe he didn’t. He kept saying they migrated that time of year, and we were making fun of him, but he might have been right. He kept insisting he was right, ticked off that we’d doubt him.
“Come on, girls! Let’s have a look!” He had the binoculars. He was heading down the stairs to the beach. I followed, but Lila protested. “My shoes!” She had her platform sandals on. “I hate getting all messy!”
Down there on the sand, Jake and I handed the binoculars back and forth. He had his shoes off, feet in the water. Nothing. It was maybe a log. Or a sea lion. “We lost him,” he said finally.
“Bummer,” I said.
My own dad—the last time I saw him was at his house the year before. He kept saying I should come for a visit, so I finally did. He had a new girlfriend. She was young and walked around in her bikini, and it wouldn’t last. He liked women as if he wanted all of them. He’d flirt with baristas and department store clerks, girls on his staff, women on street corners. The first day I was there, he was all bright and interested, asking me questions, taking me out to restaurants, introducing me to people he knew. But by the third day, his eyes would stray when I talked to him. He wasn’t listening to anything I was saying. He went out with the girlfriend on the fourth night, even though I was leaving in the morning. I felt like the Christmas toy you asked for, were all excited to get, but that was actually kind of boring.
A shot of water hit me in the cheek. It was Jake, squirting me, doing that cool trick with both hands cupped together.
“Hey!” I protested. Then, “I always wanted to know how to do that.”
“Like this.” He showed me. “Try it.”
I did. I managed a little burble.
“You gotta practice.” He laughed. “Aw, shit. I sounded just like my old man right then.”
“Did he teach you how to do that?”
“Yeah, like, when I was seven. He was an asshole otherwise.”
“Too bad.”
“The ladies loved him, even though he was a mean motherfucker.”
Lila leaned over the edge of the wall. “Guys! Guys!” she yelled. “Guys, come on!”
At least, that’s what I thought she was saying. All I could hear was Eyes, eyes, eyes.
“We’ve got to talk about the boy!” Lila said. The sun was setting. The candles flickered, and there was all that ocean and orange sky, the Golden Gate Bridge glittering and majestic in the distance. It was really beautiful. We had so much.
“Noooo,” I said.
“He was so nervous! He was a deer in the headlights!”
“Well, Lila…,” Jake said. He refilled their glasses. Drank from his. “What do you expect?”
“Confidence. A firm handshake.”
My stomach twisted. I felt protective of Nicco, but there was an awful knot of shame, too.
“You gotta see who his friends are,” Jake said again.
Lila sipped her drink. “I’m sure Syd can take care of herself.”
Jake laughed a little heh-heh-heh. I’d heard that laugh before. He used it when Lila tried to order the wine when we went out to dinner once. But my father used it too, when his girlfriend said something about the stock market, and heck, even Meredith’s dad used it whenever Ellen talked sports. It was a superior laugh, meant to imply that no words were even needed to convey how silly you were.
“She’s right. I can,” I said.
“I wouldn’t let that one date until she was twenty-one. At least.” He waggled his finger in my direction.
“Oh really.” Lila’s voice had an edge.
“Look at her! I know how boys are.”
“You certainly are protective.”
Just like that, the evening took an abrupt turn.
“Damn right I am,” Jake said.
“Wow, even her father isn’t that involved in her love life.”
“Gee, thanks a lot,” I said. But no one heard me, because right then, Lila and I both reached for our glasses at the same time, and I knocked mine over. It fell against the plate of breadsticks with a crash, soaking them. The glass was full, and the red liquid gushed, rapidly covering the table.
“Shit,” Lila said. “Shit!”
“I’m sorry!” I said.
Lila pushed her chair back in anger and went inside. As Jake mopped up the mess with a stack of napkins, I saw the muscle in his cheek twitch, in that place where anger sits and simmers. I pressed a kitchen towel to the tablecloth. Our hands bumped. His big, thick knuckles met mine. He caught my eyes. He held them again, same as he did before.
“Hey,” he said. And then he shrugged. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew what it felt like. Us together, her not there at all.
Flame on paper, catching on kindling. Before you know it, the house is on fire, and then the block, and then the city, and you are running outside, holding only your wedding photo.
That night, Nicco called after work. I didn’t tell him about any of this, how tense our house was. I didn’t tell him about Jake and that guy in the car, or about the huge fight Lila and Jake had after the wineglass spilled. You should have heard how loud they were. I’m sure the neighbors did.
I didn’t tell him about the flasher, either. It felt shameful, to be the one that man chose. I worried it said something about me. Like I had an invisible marking that meant I would invite things other people wouldn’t invite.
I didn’t want to tell Nicco about all the ways things were broken. The way I was. My real self wasn’t shiny and perfect and fascinating and whole. Even my own dad was only interested in me for two days max.
I was afraid to be seen. But I really, really wanted to be seen. More than anything.