Ramona wasn’t her real name. It was Sheila. She had always hated the name, so on her eighteenth birthday she walked straight into the registry and changed it to Ramona. “Look at me,” she said, her large, expressive eyes boring into me. “Do I fucking look like a Sheila?”
“Not at all.” I meant it—she looked every inch a Ramona.
“What was your name again?”
“Audrey.”
“Audrey—?” She tilted her head to one side and studied me carefully.
“Field.”
“Oh, nice,” she said approvingly. “Audrey Field sounds like a writer’s name. Like Charles Bukowski or Virginia Woolf. It’s almost like they were preordained. Do you write?”
“Not really.”
“Yes, she does!” Candela countered. “She rarely shows her work to anyone, though.”
“Well, you’ll be a writer; mark my words. You have the name for it,” she said with an assertive nod. “Although I knew a guy named Brady Leclair. Sounds hot, right?” she asked, looking at us for confirmation. Candela and I both smiled agreeably. “Well, sorry to disappoint ladies, but—” she stuck her fingers in her mouth and made a gagging noise. “Absolute troll and personality to match. Great name, though. I’d fuck that name.”
“Ramona’s a riot,” Candela said, “but Ally is a real bore.” We were sitting outside, on the patio steps, while Candela had a smoke. “I don’t think I’ve seen her at all tonight.”
I tipped my head up toward the inky black sky. It was a beautiful, clear night, and I could see the cluster of stars that spelled out Sagittarius, my mind projecting the outline of a centaur, arrow poised and ready to launch. I thought about Rad and wondered whether he was thinking of me.
“No one ever sees her,” Candela said. “She’s always in her room, with her head in a book. It’s a Saturday night, for Chrissake.” She shook her head. “Anyway, looks like Lucy is still a sick puppy.”
“I spoke to her earlier. She sounded awful. I can’t believe that flu is still going around. Duck couldn’t get the night off because there are too many people off sick.”
“Oh God, I hope I haven’t caught it. I missed my flu shot this winter,” Candela moaned. “I literally cannot afford to get sick anymore.” She stuffed her cigarette butt into an empty can of Asahi and fished around in her jacket pocket for another one. “I went for a job interview the other day. Beauty assistant.”
“Beauty assistant?” I looked at her amused. “You?”
“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “The pay wasn’t too bad.” She held the cigarette between her lips and lit it before taking a drag. Tilting her head up, she blew out the smoke, a little at a time. “The lady who interviewed me was so fucking weird, though. I mean, she made me peel a hard-boiled egg.”
“What?” I said.
“Yeah, for real. She went off in the back room and returned with this sad-looking egg and told me to peel it.”
“And did you?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she laughed, “but I butchered it. The whole thing was a mess. Then she pressed her hand to her forehead like this—seriously, Audrey,” she continued when she saw my incredulous look. “She basically said in this whiny bitch voice, ‘Our clients have very delicate skin, and what you just did to that egg’—then she closed her eyes and shook her head like she was so disappointed.”
“She had such high hopes for you, Candela,” I said, laughing.
The door opened suddenly, and Ramona burst out from behind it. “What are you cocksuckers doing out here?” she shrieked. She was off-balance and clearly wasted. “Dex is getting ready to paint up my tits; you’re missing out on all the fun.” She pouted.
“He’s a body painter,” Candela explained, seeing the look of confusion cross my face.
“A bloody good one too,” Ramona drawled. “But first I’m going to give him a lap dance.” She began swaying her hips suggestively, looking dangerously unstable. “Not that it’s gonna do anything for him. He’s gay as fuck.” She hooted with laughter just as someone called out to her from inside the house. “I’m coming,” she called. “Hold off on the orgy ’til I get inside.” She shot us a lascivious wink, then blew a kiss in our direction. “Don’t be too long, bitches.” With that, she turned, slamming the door shut. I looked at Candela and raised an eyebrow.
“Mum can’t stand her,” she said. “Thinks she’s a bad influence.”
“I wonder why she would think that,” I said under my breath.
Candela grinned. “Don’t be a smart-ass, Audrey. Ramona can be a little wild, but she’s really nice once you get to know her.”
“How is your mum coping with you moving out?” I asked.
“She’s pretty pissed about the whole thing,” said Candela. “Especially with exams coming up. Anyway,” she stretched her legs out and sighed, “I’m thinking of quitting school.”
“You’re what?” I said, alarmed.
“I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“But Candela, school’s over in a few months. You might as well stick it out.”
“Yeah,” she said, with another shrug. “But it’s getting to be a pain, you know? I have to get up at seven every morning now, to make the bus. And I’ve taken on all those extra shifts at Lambell too, now that I’m paying rent.” Lambell was an upmarket steakhouse where Candela waitressed.
“Why don’t you just move back home for a while? You’ve made your point.”
“No way,” said Candela. “I’d rather die than give my mother the satisfaction of seeing me come back.”
“Seriously, your mum isn’t that bad. I have to live with mine, and she’s a million times worse.”
Candela knew what my mother was like, so she didn’t have a good enough comeback.
“Why are you doing this, Candela? I thought you wanted to go to college and do an arts degree or something.”
She was quiet for a few moments, and then her face began to crumple.
“Candela,” I said, putting my arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
“I just can’t do it anymore,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Do what?” I said, feeling my stomach clench. I’ve known Candela my entire life, and I had seen her cry only a handful of times.
“I can’t walk through those school halls or run the track or sneak a cigarette behind the bike sheds without seeing Ana’s face. I can’t keep pretending that everything is normal, not while I’m still there.” She was sobbing now, and I tried my best to comfort her, the way she always did for me. “I’m trying to be strong about it, Audrey—I really am,” she gulped. “But I let Ana down. She was like a sister to me. I just—I can’t be there anymore.” She shook her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
“Candela,” I said, as a fresh new wave of guilt washed over me. “I don’t want you messing up your future because of what happened to Ana. It’s not fair.”
She sighed deeply and was quiet for a while. “I don’t care about my fucking future.”
“Don’t say that.”
She shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Maybe you should see someone about Ana.”
“I don’t want to. Besides, I can’t afford a shrink, and there’s no way I’m asking Mum.”
“Do you have to quit right now? Why don’t you think it over for a couple of weeks?”
“Stop fretting about me, Audrey. I’ll be fine, honestly. I know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t know if you do,” I said, still unconvinced.
“Anyway, let’s face it,” she said with a smirk. “I’m not as brainy as you and Lucy. I was never going to ace my exams.”
“You don’t know that.”
She gave me her best “don’t-bullshit-me-Audrey” look. I opened my mouth to protest but closed it again. I knew my friend. I could talk until I was blue in the face, and it wouldn’t make an iota of difference. It was clear that Candela had made up her mind.