Page 63 of Someone Like Me
I expect her to look satisfied, even smug, but the lines on her forehead form a V. “Something odd is going on over there.”
“Where?” I look behind me to see what she means, but it’s the same old living room.
“At the Lalonde’s.”
I face my grandmother, immediately on alert. The image of Evie’s darkened room springs to mind. “What do you mean?”
Grandma sets her jaw to one side. “Trudy Troxclair came over this morning to see how I was doing. She has a vegetable garden too, but it’s not quite as big as mine.” Grandma holds up a hand in a gesture that says Trudy Troxclair can be forgiven for such an outrage. “And she said she saw one of the Lalonde girls rolling suitcases out of the house and across the street.”
I have so many questions, I shake my head, frowning. “W-who is Trudy Troxclair?”
Grandma glares at me with disappointment. “Trudy.” She jabs her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the back yard. “The Troxclairs have lived behind us, next door to the Lalondes for thirty-odd years. Don’t you remember? Trudy and Bud?”
I open my mouth to argue that I don’t, but what’s the point? “Sure. Right. The Troxclairs. How could I forget? And she saw what, now?”
“Haven’t you been listening? What? You have axle grease in your ears?” Grandma scolds gently. “She saw one of the girls moving suitcases into the house across the street from them.”
“Which girl?” Evie mentioned that her sister was talking about moving out, but if she did, then why are Evie’s windows dark?
Grandma shrugs again. “Trudy doesn’t know which is which. But those girls look nothing alike. And they act nothing alike.” One of Grandma’s eyebrows lifts higher than the other. “Trudy said the other one was in the front door, yelling at her sister. So if you ask me, it was Evie with the suitcases.” Grandma wrinkles her nose. “That other one’s always yelling.”
I narrow my eyes. “And Trudy Troxclair told you all this?”
“All but the part about the other one always yelling. I’ve seen that with my own eyes.”
Clearly, Grandma’s eyes see plenty, but not nearly as much as her ears hear. Her network of spies, both within the walls of her house as well as beyond it, is impressive.
And a little scary.
I finish my sandwich, and when Grandma is done with hers, I clear both plates and head up to my apartment. On the way, I scan Evie’s back yard for any sign of her. It hits me then that I haven’t seen Gemini in the yard the last few days either.
It’s just after one, and I decide that whether or not I have time for a shower before Evie shows up, I need one anyway. If I’m going to be with her for the rest of the afternoon, I don’t want to make her sick.
But after a shower and then a shave, there’s still no sign of her.
What the hell happened between her and her sister? Did she leave willingly? Did her sister force her out? Has Grandma got the wrong idea, and it’s Evie who’s still at the Lalonde residence?
I don’t really care about the driver’s license. Sure, I need it, but whether I get it today, tomorrow, or next week doesn’t really matter. But I want to know what happened to Evie. And I’m more than curious.
I’m concerned.
I’ve only known her a few weeks, but I just can’t imagine her throwing someone out. She might yell at her sister. She’s feisty enough. And she’s emotional. But she’s also compassionate. To a fault. And she’s unfailingly kind. She’d never do something as hateful as throwing her sister out of their home.
Which makes me suspect it’s the other way around.
And Grandma’s friend says she saw her taking luggage across the street? Is that where she’s been the last two nights?
Is she okay?
With that one question in mind, I leave the apartment and head down the stairs. I doubt I could clear the fence the way Evie did the other night. Scale it, sure. But I’m not going to do that either. The last thing I need is for her sister to call the police on my ass.
So I walk around the block. I’ve only seen the front of her house at night, and even then, it looked perfect. Daylight does nothing to change that impression. It’s the most charming house on the block. The sloping gable, slate roof, and circular window make it feel like something out of a storybook.
A part of me envies Evie for growing up here.
Of course, it’s nothing more than she deserves, and I deserve nothing close. And I can’t blame the house I grew up in on the way my life turned out. Ma did the best she could with the three of us. She’s a nurse. I don’t think she ever liked the job much, but for a single mother, it’s about as good as it gets. Our home wasn’t fancy, but it was clean, comfortable, and safe.
She gave the three of us what she had to give. Happiness just wasn’t among her possessions. Not when we were growing up, and definitely not now.
