Page 10 of Roses, Pearls, and Hot Summer Nights
I shouldn’t think of them at all. That is what my uncle says, at least. He claims I should put them out of my head and never consider them again, as though they never existed.
My mother always said her brother was a little bit mad—and not in the angry way. In the crazy way. I can see it now. She never would’ve wanted me to be here with him, but he is my only living relative, since the person who they designated as my guardian—my father’s sister—perished just last month. Are we under a curse, dear reader? Yes, I’ve decided that someday someone will read this. Someone I judge to be just the right person will be handed this notebook. Then they shall read how lonely I am in New York City, and how much I want to be back in Switzerland. I long for the familiar halls of my boarding school that my parents ran. I want to be with my father and mother, not with my uncle, who spends all day thinking about glass.
The glass he will handle for the windows in that building that I can’t believe shall ever be.
I look around this strange place, and I know it will never feel like my home.
--D
I tooka deep breath and set down the notebook. Okay, maybe she really did understand what it felt like to lose everyone she loved. I forced myself to start typing. Besides sharing her story with me so I would understand, she had also assigned me a task important to her. I intended to complete it despite the way that my throat clogged up thinking of her as that young woman. I didn’t know how old exactly she was when she wrote the words, but she’d been young enough to still be in school. I also got picked up from the airport and brought someplace I didn’t want to go. It might not be another country, but San Francisco certainly felt foreign to me, that first home with my uncle.
Most of that first whole summer, my uncle and my aunt by marriage left me alone to grieve in the privacy of my room, but occasionally they would decide I needed to get out. I watched my aunt run in what they called theBay to Breakersrace with her cheering squad, her name for them. They performed as expected, but they ignored me. My uncle vanished—I learnedpretty quickly a typical habit for him—and that had been that. I was expected to be over my mother’s death by then, whether I was or not. Neither my uncle or aunt nor their friends cared at all that my mom died. If anything, they seemed sort of relieved when her name did not come up. With her dead, they didn’t have to deal with her anymore or think about her.
I rubbed at my eyes. Maybe the job wasn’t a good idea. Maybe reading Dina’s journals would make my own situation feel even worse. I sighed, glancing at the bags of clothing again. I would simply have to figure out how to deal and get it done.
After finishing the first, I was about to start the next entry when Julian strode into the apartment. He was a bit early but his big smile pushed my concerns for myself and Dina out of my mind.
“Hi.” He flopped down on the couch. “How’s it going?”
He still wore his rich- boy shoes but different ones, his loafers replaced by sneakers. At a glance, I would put them at three hundred dollars, but I bet he owned more expensive ones. I blinked.How did I know the cost?How preoccupied had I become with money lately?
“Hello,” I answered him probably too late, but I stared into his blue eyes for a long second first. His granny had once been horribly unhappy, but she built a loving family that included four grandsons who adored her. The idea seemed awesome, even if it might sound mundane to some.
No, I decided it absolutely was amazing. I hoped I would have a life I loved someday. I tried not to worry about the boarding school, since she left one and I would be attending one. Even after only one entry, I could already see the parallels that she’d mentioned.
He ran a hand through his brown hair, seemingly comfortable under my scrutiny. “You okay? I see you went shopping.”
“Oh!” I glanced at the bags again, having forgotten them for a second. “Yes. I didn’t ask her to do it or expect it or anything. She insisted. She thinks I can’t fit in around here if I don’t dress the right way. She’s probably right, not that I usually care. Butshecares.”
Wow. I snapped my mouth closed, surprised at how much I blurted. I didn’t want him to see my soft underbelly. When he eventually stopped talking to me or got mean, it would be too hard if he actually knew me. He might even decide to use my honesty to torture me later.He wouldn’t be the first.
He shrugged. “She has a lot of money and does what she wants. I wasn’t criticizing a little shopping.” He lifted his eyebrows, a slow smile crawling across his handsome face. “You want to model them for me?”
Model what?
Oh, the clothes?
No.“What?” I stood up and closed the computer with a snap. “I absolutely don’t.” My cheeks had to be the color of a tomato. “I’ll take them upstairs, then I can meet you back here, if you still want to go to the library.”
The clock on the wall chimed the hour, and I jerked in surprise. Julian rose then grabbed the bags. “I’ll carry them for you.”
“I can do that. You don’t have to,” I sputtered.
He shook his head as if baffled by my response. “Yes, I do. It’s polite. Come on, Alatheia.”
I followed him, gripping my hands together kind of desperately. He had a way of pushing his way through without seeming like he bulldozed me—just like his grandmother.Velvet covered bulldozers,I thought, and then I blew out a breath. I decided to be honest with myself, at least. I couldn’t believe that he was even there.What guy wants to spend his night at a library with me?
Before long, though, I followed him into the lobby. A low radio, probably owned by the doorman, played in the distance of the otherwise silent space. The age of the building seemed to settle around me, a comfortable and comforting weight. I would bet it wasn’t the first time someone listened to jazz quietly in the lobby.
Julian pushed the button on the elevator. “What got your attention?”
I smiled, despite myself. “The jazz music.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Do you like jazz?”
“I didn’t know I did, but I think I do. I’ve heard it before. Do you?” I bit my lip, surprised I asked him anything. If I wasn’t careful, I would break my own rules. Maybe I stayed up too late the night before? I would have to be careful.He isn’t to be trusted.
He shook his head. “No, but Barrett does. He loves it, so I’ve heard a lot of it. I don’t dislike it or anything, but it’s not what I choose. I like hard rock.”
