I pointed with my thumb behind me. “That was the story I told him. And today, just now, I discovered he painted a giant mural of it. I pass this wall all the time; it wasn’t here before.”
Seth turned around and looked at the mural. “It’s beautiful.” Then he looked back at me. “So, what happened?”
“I kind of fell for him that night, but he acted weird in the morning and accused me of being a liar. It was all very strange. Like I said, I thought we were just role-playing or something.”
Seth swallowed. There was a long, uncomfortable silence hanging in the air between us. We both turned around and sat there staring at the mural for a long time.
After what felt like hours, Seth turned to me. “I’m gonna walk you home now, Charlotte. I think you should be alone to think about this. I’m not judging you at all, but you seem really affected right now, and it’s been a long day for you.”
The idea of being alone terrified me, and I wondered if I was scaring Seth away. In fact, I knew I was. But I also wanted to do nothing but stare at the mural all night long.
We stood up. The little crosswalk symbol went on, motioning for us to walk. Seth grabbed my hand, and I looked down at my hand in his. I looked up to his face. He smiled. “I’m a good guy,” he said. “I’m taking you home because your mental state concerns me. You seem really troubled. Maybe you need to call him, Charlotte. Get some resolution. Find out why he painted this mural seven months after he kicked you out of his apartment.”
“You’re right,” I said, but I had no idea how I would find his number.
“I like complicated girls,” Seth said, out of the blue, as we walked back to my apartment. “I like challenges and I like interesting people. That’s why I was attracted to your profile. And then the other night I could just tell. That’s why I’m here now. But you need to work this thing out, whatever it is you’re going through. I don’t want to pry. We don’t know each other that well and I already feel like I’ve invaded your space tonight.”
“Not at all, Seth. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been alone when I saw that mural. But I do need to get home.”
Once we were at my door, Seth leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “Do you want to come to my game tomorrow? We can talk this out afterward.”
“Okay,” I told him, but I wasn’t sure if I still wanted to go.
When I opened the door to my apartment, Chucky was sitting at the counter, eating cereal. “Yay! Fatbutt’s here!” he shouted through a mouthful.
“You still have a key?”
“You left it unlocked, dipshit.”
Growing up, my brother looked like that kid on the cover of MAD magazine but with black hair. I still saw him that way, even though as a grown man he now looked like Jake Gyllenhaal. Yes, girls liked him, but he was arrogant and he had impossibly high standards.
“Are you eating my cereal?”
“I don’t eat that sugary crap,” he said.
None of his belongings were lying around. I walked back into Helen’s room and saw that Chucky had moved all of his stuff in and unpacked in the two hours I was gone. His room was perfectly tidy. With wide eyes, I appraised him as I walked back toward the kitchen.
He looked up at me. “What?”
“It’s clean.”
“We’re not kids anymore, Charlotte.”
I opened the refrigerator in search of a snack and discovered hummus, yogurt, and a bowl of quinoa, along with a very expensive bottle of Champagne.
“What’s all this?”
“I just made the quinoa; it’s in there cooling. I’m thinking of making a quinoa and feta salad with olives tomorrow. And the Champagne is for you, my sweet, loving sister.”
“Really, Chucky?”
“Will you call me Charles from now on? I don’t really go by Chuck.”
I leaned over and glared into his eyes. “Who are you and why are you wearing my brother like a suit?”
“Cut the shit, Charlotte.” That was a commonly used phrase in my house growing up. I was a bit of a drama queen as a kid.
“Okay, brother. I will open my figurative, though not my real arms, to this new version of you. I hope it lasts. And thanks for the ‘shampag-knee.’ ”
“You’re so classy, Fatbutt. I’m glad we’re gonna be roomies.”
“Do you know how many years of squats I’ve done to firm up this ass?”
“Stop trying to get me to look at your butt; it’s weird and gross,” he said as he slurped up his cereal.
I smacked him in the head. “ ’Kay, dork, I’m going to bed.”
“Nighty night.”
“Night.”
I didn’t even wonder why Chuck had moved in that day instead of Monday, like he said he would. Only later would I find out that Helen had called my mom out of concern, and she had told Chuck to move into my apartment that day. Guess my mom knew as well as I did that I couldn’t be alone.
I lay in bed all night and didn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t get the image of the mural out of my head.
I knew I had to look for him, but where would I even begin?
12. Boy(s)
At some point just before dawn, I finally fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning, Chucky was already gone. He left me a note saying he would be training for the Iron Man triathlon the whole morning but had left the quinoa, feta, and olive salad for me in the fridge for lunch. I guess he really had changed. I was the only one who was still the same.
I decided that I would go to Seth’s game after all, but before heading to Lake Elsinore, I drove by Adam’s apartment and saw the same FOR RENT sign. I could also see through the window that the apartment was already vacant. I parked the car and knocked on his neighbor’s door, the one who had given Adam that Post-it note about Foxy, but no one answered. I got back in my car and tried Googling “Los Angeles muralist” on my phone. There were actually quite a few hits about his murals, but no one knew his identity. I guess I never really would, either. Maybe he wanted it that way.
* * *
AT THE GAME that night, I retrieved my ticket at will-call and found Helen in the same seats we sat in before. She looked up at me as I shimmied sideways down the aisle. “I guess this is the girlfriend aisle,” she said.
“Seth isn’t my boyfriend, Helen.”
“I know.” She huffed. “Never mind.” She was wearing a Storm T-shirt with Roddy’s number on the back. It was one of those jerseys made for women. They’re basically designed to make your boobs look big.
“Cute shirt,” I said, but Helen ignored me. “I’m glad we’re here together,” I finally said after several moments of silence.
She turned to me. “I’m glad, too.” She smiled. “I love you, Charlie.”
“I love you, too.” My eyes started to water.
The speaker crackled to life, announcing that Seth was up to bat. There were runners on first and third and one out. He hit a blooper to right center field that was caught pretty easily.
“Bummer,” I said.
“No, it’s good,” Helen said. “It was a sacrifice fly. The runner on third tagged up and scored.”
“Oh. Wow, Helen, I’m impressed. I was wondering why he high-fived the first-base coach before running back to the dugout.”
“See, I’m learning. I really like it!” she said.
“I’m glad.” I squeezed her hand.
Seth had another great game, and afterward we went to the same bar we had gone to before. Helen pointed out to me two Storm Chasers sitting at the bar. One was way too old to be a baseball groupie. She had to have been well over forty, with a soccer mom bob. Her cut-off jean shorts were rolled up her artificially tanned legs and she had a ton of Storm buttons pinned to her shirt. She was sitting with a smaller, dark-haired girl who could have been her daughter but was apparently old enough to be at the bar. They were glaring at us. Roddy and Seth tried to ignore them.
“They smell it,” Roddy said.
“Smell what?” I said.
“Seth’s move up.” He arched his eyebrows like I should know.