“Be careful, Lisbeth,” Nan added. “As Sammy used to say, ‘a liar’s mouth can be full of truth, but he’s still a liar.’ Be careful who you trust.”
As the platinum band slipped effortlessly around my wrist, I marveled at its soft beauty.
“By the way, dear, I think you should know—your mother has seen the photos, too.”
30
“Why does everything I do for you involve lots of repetitive physical work?” I asked Jess as we pushed her steamer trunk up the five flights of stairs to her new digs in Chinatown.
The scent of decomposing fruit, roasted chestnuts, and fresh fish intermingled with stale frying oil, the heated exhaust of industrial fans, and the cigarette smoke of the Asian men working in the market downstairs: Chinatown was one of those parts of New York that you could pick out blindfolded by the pungent smells alone. All those odors floated up through Jess’s new neighborhood.
Jess had packed her mom’s station wagon with all her worldly possessions—three battered trunks filled with her own designs, as well as fabrics and salvaged clothes that represented years of flea market and church store scavenging. She also had two sewing machines, including a serger that she bought at a yard sale, three dress forms, and a cool antique sewing box filled with the tattered marble composition books she used as journals.
It was Jess’s big move. In return for my moving skills, she promised to help me get my Purple Beast out of the Hudson Street parking lot. I needed to borrow some money to do it. I hadn’t been back for three days, and I was sure my beast missed me, although the parking guys were probably wondering by now if someone had left a body in the trunk.
I actually liked lugging stuff around with Jess for a while. It seemed so normal after the last few days of high drama. The situation at home with Ryan and Mom was intense. The Hole wasn’t the same without Jess, and it was awkward around Jake. I felt like he was avoiding me, not that I could blame him.
Hauling dress forms and sewing machines up five flights of stairs was good distraction therapy, and Jess’s apartment was awesome.
Okay, it didn’t look awesome; in fact, it looked downright crappy. The building, 507 East Broadway, was home to a former sweatshop, after all. Jess said that, only a few years ago, there used to be sixty-three people per floor in the buildings around here. From the window in the stairwell, you could spy a sweatshop that was still in operation, where women were bent over sewing machines making cheap polyester clothes on the sixth floor of the building across the street. Even in Jess’s converted space, you could see the lines on the floor where the walls that divided the room into tiny sections used to be.
But as grim as it was, the raw space was awesome because of what it represented—the city, a place of her own, freedom. Jess would make it ubercool. With lots of raw brick walls, no windows except one in the bathroom, and a big skylight—it was the perfect interior design challenge for Jess’s imagination. Jess said that it was fitting that her first apartment was a sweatshop; it suited her sense of industry.
The last thing we carried up the stairs was Jess’s futon mattress, which we threw against the back wall beneath the skylight.
“Graduating high school meant nothing, you going to college first meant nothing, your first girlfriend meant nothing, but the first apartment in the city all your own—that’s a big deal between friends,” I said as I flopped down on the mattress.
Jess dropped down beside me.
“Jessica Giovanna Pagliazzi, you have my official admiration, envy, and undying resentment.”
“Yeah, pretty crazy, huh?” Jess said, leaning back against the wall.
“Someday I hope I’ll do it, too,” I said.
“So does your mom know yet?”
“That I’m dressing up in Nan’s Chanels and crashing galas at the Met?”
“No, that you’re not going to college.”
“Oh, that.” I took a deep breath. “She’s snooping around. She knows something is going on. I’ve got to get out of there before it blows up. Ryan is way too weird. He’s always baiting Mom, and she might have to homeschool him if they don’t take him off suspension. But why she hasn’t shut him down is even stranger.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to school after all? I mean, you could change your mind, right?”
“I guess. I don’t know. I can’t bear to live at home,” I said. “I wish I had more options.”
“Have you seen Jake?”
“I saw him at work. I can tell he’s moved on, and I don’t even know what to say to him. I’ve got to get out of there.”
“You know, you can actually get out any time,” Jess said.
“Yeah, sure.” I couldn’t help staring at her like she was nuts.
“You could get a place of your own if you really wanted to.”
“I couldn’t even afford a deposit, but it’s a nice thought,” I said.
“Well, you could stay here,” Jess offered. “I mean, you’ll have to pay rent after a while—when you get a job. Hell, there are plenty of restaurants and diners in Manhattan with lots better tips than the Hole.”
“Really? I wish I could…” I leaned back against the wall. “I don’t know. I just feel so adrift about everything.”
I was going ask Jess if she thought she’d come home much. But before I could say anything, she leaned toward me, and, honestly, why I didn’t see it coming is beyond me.
My eyes caught hers as she paused for a second a fraction away from my lips. It wasn’t indecision; I could tell she wanted to give me the chance to know what was about to happen. I felt her warm breath brush my cheek and then slowly our lips touched. Her breath took mine away. I closed my eyes as I felt her fingertips on my face, in my hair, pulling me nearer, and I thought about how many times we were close enough to do this but never did. It was something that had occurred to me dozens of times, but we never talked about.
When Jess came out in the tenth grade, I was the last one to know. She never confided in me, so when I found out from all of our friends, I walked right up to her in study hall and told her that it was totally cool with me that she was gay, but if she ever didn’t tell me something important like that, we were through.
“I was afraid,” Jess said at the time, “that if I told you, we wouldn’t be friends anymore.”
That’s what I was thinking while we kissed—not surprised that we were kissing but wondering why we had never kissed before. How long we kissed I couldn’t tell you, but when it was over, I just sat there for the longest time, breathless.
“Kissing is such a strange thing,” I felt compelled to say for some reason. “I don’t know about you, but I tend to avoid people’s spit, I mean…”
“It’s okay,” Jess said. “I just wanted to do that. We’re cool.”
“But I don’t…”
“You don’t have to. It’s all right,” Jess said.
“Was that something you thought about for a while or just did?”
“Thought about lots of times and don’t know why, just did, now.”
“Oh,” I said, and just sat there. “A lot of times?”
“Yeah,” she said, and we both laughed.
“Wow, so that’s what it’s like.”
“Kinda.” Jess stood up, breaking the moment. “Well, I guess, we better get your car.” She put her hand out to help me off the futon.
“Yeah, we should,” I said, feeling disoriented as she helped me up and somehow disappointed that we weren’t going to talk about it more.
“Right, and I better get to class,” Jess said. “Let’s get the Beast out of hock, and you can drop me off at FIT on your way home.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Jess opened the closet and grabbed a Chanel jacket that she had reworked to make the waist more shapely. Then she plucked out a pair of jeans on a hanger.
“I scored some True Religions that were on loan to the school for a photo shoot that I have to return first thing Monday. I’m pretty sure they’re your size. You’ll be quite the fashionable shoppette,” she said, smiling. “I threw in some shoes I’ve been working on, too.”