Kiss (7 page)

“SO WHO DO YOU LIKE?” MARY asked. “Clifford, the big red dog? Random Rugrat? Snoopy?”

The night was misty. The octagonal stones around the beautiful, castlelike Museum of Natural History were slick with yellow and brown leaves. Gaia and Mary were still clutching hands like kindergarten best friends, running through the crowds, watching the enormous balloons come to life.

“Spiderman is cool,” Gaia observed, gazing at the balloon reaching four stories into the sky. A net above them kept the balloons on good behavior until the parade began in the morning.

“Spiderman is already up, up, and away,” Mary said somewhat breathlessly, pulling Gaia along. “We need to pick one that's only partway blown up.”

“We do?” Gaia asked.

Mary raised her eyebrows mischievously. “We do.”

Gaia caught up even with her. “What exactly are you planning?”

“Something fun. You'll see.” She glanced over at Gaia. “You scared?”

“Uh-uh,” Gaia replied.

“Here.” Mary yanked her to a stop. “These ones are good. Shhh. Stay still a minute.”

The ones Mary was referring to were huge ponds of half-inflated plastic, one red, the other green. Gaia couldn't tell what they were.

Mary looked around. “Okay, follow me. Move quickly, before anybody sees us.”

Gaia nodded, intensely curious.

Mary paused in thought. “Hang on. Which one? Red or green?”

“I don't care,” Gaia said.

“Pick!” Mary ordered.

Gaia rolled her eyes. “They're the same. It doesn't matter. I don't even know what we're doing.”

Mary was still glaring at her expectantly.

“All right, fine. Red,” Gaia said.

“Go,” Mary hissed.

She darted around the growing balloon to the side that was closest to the museum fence and used the fence for a boost. She transferred her weight from the fence to the balloon, clamored up the soft, loose plastic, then rolled down into the sagging middle. Gaia followed close behind. When they settled in the middle, they had to cling to the plastic to keep from rolling on top of each other.

“This is cozy,” Mary said, laughter in her voice.

“I still don't know what we're doing,” Gaia said.

“Shhh. Stay still. We have to keep quiet.”

Mary's excitement was contagious. “Why?” Gaia asked.

“'Cause the last time I did this, I got arrested,” Mary explained happily.

“Oh,” Gaia said.

“Scared yet?” Mary asked.

“Not yet,” Gaia replied.

Gaia heard the rush of helium into the balloon get louder.

“Cool,” Mary whispered. “They're turning it up.”

“They?”

“The inflators,” Mary said.

“Is that a word?” Gaia asked.

Mary's giggle came out like a snort. “I think so.”

Gaia felt the helium filling the space under them. They were rising appreciably.“Now what?” she whispered.

“We wait,” Mary said. She reached for Gaia's hand and held it again. Gaia was so unaccustomed to physical contact (apart from punching people) that it felt weird to her. Weird, but nice, too.

As the minutes passed, the plastic began to fill and grow around them. Soon the thin, rubbery plastic was puffing up all around them, becoming more and more taut.

“What is this balloon, anyway?” Gaia asked.

Mary lifted her head and looked behind her. “Judging from the green one next door, I think it's an M&M.”

“An M&M?”

“Yeah, look.” Mary rolled partly onto her side and pointed at the green twin.

“We're on a giant red M&M?” Gaia realized she was getting punchy because for some reason, this seemed hilarious.

“Okay. This is where it starts to get fun.” Mary's face was flushed with anticipation. “Hold on tight, okay? I think we've got a facial feature of some kind here.”

It was thrilling. Gaia clutched the stretchy plastic in her fist as they rose under a cloud of helium, higher and higher. She was amazed nobody had seen them yet. She twisted her head and saw the buildings above. The ritzy apartment buildings on one side, the museum on the other. They were rising faster now, above the streetlights, nearing the tops of the trees. Closer and closer to the gauzy, dark purple night sky. She looked ahead to the ever improving view of Central Park with its dark carpet of trees and the twinkly lights along Fifth Avenue.

Gaia felt her own breath swelling inside her chest. It was magical. “Beautiful,” she whispered to Mary.

Mary squeezed her hand.

Gaia tried to stamp this feeling, these sights, into her brain so she could remember them later, when she needed to convince herself there was happiness in the world.

“Oh, shit!” Mary suddenly cried, puncturing Gaia's reverie. Mary yanked her hand from Gaia's, pinching wildly at the plastic of the balloon to steady herself. “I'm losing it, Gaia!”

The plastic had grown so taut under their hands, it was hard to keep holding. Mary's grip was slipping fast.

Gaia turned to her new friend, expecting to see fear in the girl's eyes. Instead she saw wide-eyed thrill.

“Gaiaaaa!” Mary was yelling. “Eeeeeee! This is where it gets
really
fun! When I say go, let go!”

A laugh erupted from Gaia's throat. This was crazy. It
was
fun.

“Go!” Mary screamed.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” The two girls' voices mingled in a scream as they slid on their stomachs all the way down the growing mountain of balloon and landed hard on the ground.

They lay there for a moment in a tangled clump.

“Are you okay?” Mary asked, pushing her hair out of her face, trying to organize her limbs.

“Okay? That was awesome!” Gaia jumped to her feet and pulled her friend beside her. “Let's do it again.”

Mary laughed and swatted Gaia on the shoulder. “I
knew
we were gonna get along.”

TWO HOURS LATER GAIA LAY BESIDE Mary on the grassy part of Strawberry Fields and watched the first light of sun spread across the sky. The air felt damp and surprisingly mild.

Gaia fell in love with the place on first sight. She loved the curving pathways and the odd accumulation of humanity gathered on the handsome benches. She loved the white-and-black mosaic that said “Imagine” in the middle.

“This is my favorite place,” Mary said, grabbing the sentiment right from Gaia's mind.

“I see why.” Gaia turned her head to see Mary's face.

Mary yawned and raised her arms, stretching long fingers toward the sky. Gaia caught the yawn from her.

“Hey, Mary?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for inviting me along on this night. It's been great.”

Mary turned to her and smiled. “It wouldn't have been great without you.”

Gaia must have been very tired because she was saying things she would never normally say. She was forgetting to censor her feelings and words, forgetting what the consequences could be. “And thanks a lot for looking after me at that bar.”

“No prob,” Mary said to the sky. “I always take care of my friends.”

Gaia thought for a few moments. “Why is that?” she asked. Her voice was so quiet, she wasn't sure it would carry to Mary, two feet away.

Mary yawned again. She put her fingers into her fiery hair. “Because I can afford to.”

Gaia squinted at her. “What do you mean?”

“I get a lot of love. From my folks, my brothers. I have extra.”

In the pale morning light, that seemed to Gaia both a totally unexpected and beautiful thing to say. She tried to imagine what kind of parents would love Mary so well
and
let her stay out all night, doing whatever she pleased. “Why not keep it for yourself?” Gaia heard herself asking. It was unusual for her brain to connect to her mouth so directly. “That's what most people would do.”

Mary considered this. “I have trouble holding on to it.”

Silence enveloped them again.

After a long time Mary turned on her side and propped herself up on her elbow. “So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving dinner?”

Gaia hesitated. She couldn't say she was doing nothing. It was too pathetic. It was begging for sympathy and an invitation. But she couldn't lie, either. She had a feeling Mary wouldn't buy a lie very easily. “Oh. Well. I was thinking I might —”

“Wait a minute,” Mary broke in. “Why am I asking? I know what you're doing.”

Gaia furrowed her brow. “You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. So?”

“You're eating with my family.”

“I am?”

“You are. You definitely are.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely, one hundred percent sure.”

Gaia couldn't help but let a smile out. “Great. I'll let myself know.”

THE DOCTOR TIED THE BELT OF his nondescript and greatly despised tan trench coat. In recent years he'd become attached to very fine clothes. But this coat continued to be useful to him when he was conducting his “side business.” It was not only too boring to warrant notice, but of such an inferior material that it was machine washable. That part was important.

Pausing briefly at the corner of Fifty-fifth Street and Fifth Avenue, he studied the information stored in the tracking device. Now, this was a very busy girl. First the West Village, then Astor Place. Then the remote East Village, then West Seventy-seventh Street, Central Park, and what appeared to be a high floor of an apartment building on Central Park West and Sixty-fifth Street. Did teenagers no longer find sleep necessary at all?

He would need to follow her carefully. He wanted this job done by midnight, and her current location — no doubt in a private home — was far less than ideal. That whorish woman — what was her less than amusing alias? Travesura? — had assured him this girl spent a lot of time on the streets and in public places. It had better be so.

He touched his trusted knives, tied up in felt casing in his roomy pocket. This girl was reported to be quite beautiful and exceptionally strong. That was enticing to him. That's why he'd taken on the job.

“Excuse me!” he snapped, nearly colliding with a shabby-looking woman pushing a stroller containing a shabby-looking infant.

He tried to remember why there were so many people — so many children — milling around the streets of New York City on a Thursday morning at nine o'clock.

For
me, Thanksgiving is a mixed bag. On the one hand, there's turkey with stuffing and my grandfather s apple pie. I love that. On the other hand, there are turnips and pumpkin pie. I'd like to know: Who really likes pumpkin pie? Let's all be honest.

On the one hand, there are people like me, hanging out with my grandparents. I love them. On the other hand, there are people like Gaia, who have nobody. That's heartbreaking.

If you think about it, even the first Thanksgiving was in no way a cause for bilateral cheer. I mean, sure, the Native Americans had shown the Pilgrims how to farm the land, and they were psyched about their first harvest. But what did the Native Americans have to celebrate? Alcoholism, VD, and blankets infected with smallpox.

One arm. Two arms. The fabric settled with unexpected ease over her stomach and butt, the skirt grazing a few inches above her knees.

“THIS IS TOO NICE.” GAIA SAID it out loud to the Victorian-colored glass chandelier that hung over the vast, pillow-laden guest bed in Mary's family's apartment.

Being friends with Mary was too nice. Mary's unbelievably huge and fantastic apartment on Central Park West was way too nice. The smell of roasting turkey and buttery stuffing was too nice. The thought of spending Thanksgiving with a real family for the first time in five years . . . too nice to think about.

Gaia tried to remind herself to keep her suspicions close around her, but Mary, this place . . . it was dazzling. Can't you just enjoy something? she asked herself impatiently. Accept that some places, some people are purely nice?

She didn't have time to answer herself. There was a knock on the door, and seconds later, Mary opened it partially and poked her head in. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Like a vegetable.”

“Me too. Guess what time it is?”

Gaia shrugged. She wasn't used to having someone talk to her while she was lying in bed. She wasn't a slumber-party kind of girl. She sat up and hugged a pillow on her lap.

“One o'clock. P.M. Big meal is in one hour.”

Gaia cleared her throat. What exactly had she'd gotten herself into here? “Is it a dressed-up sort of thing?” Her voice came out squeaky. She didn't want to bring up the fact that she had no home, no possessions, and certainly no Central Park West party clothes at the moment.

Mary had a knack for coming to Gaia's rescue without Gaia even having to ask. “Just a little. I've been laying out stuff in my room. I have the most fabulous dress for you. Come on.”

Gaia sat on the edge of the bed. She was wearing a big gray T-shirt she'd worn under her flannel shirt last night. Her legs were bare, her feet covered by white cotton socks. “Like this?” she asked.

“Sure,” Mary said. “It's just down the hall. No brothers in sight. I mean, in case you care.”

Mary was under the mistaken impression that Gaia was a normal human being who did things like this. The easiest thing would be to play along, to pretend she had comfy pals whose clothes she borrowed, in whose homes she felt perfectly fine wandering around in a T-shirt and socks.

Gaia was a terrible actress. She skulked down the hall and darted into Mary's room like an escapee from Attica.

Once the door was shut, she made herself relax. Mary wasn't kidding about laying out clothes. If there was a carpet in the spacious room, it would have taken an archaeologist to find it. Only the rough shapes of the various pieces of furniture were apparent under thick piles of clothes.

Mary was unapologetic about her colossal slobbiness. Gaia liked that in a person.

“Okay, you ready for the perfect dress?” Mary asked.

Gaia nodded.

“Tra la.” Mary held up a tiny, red, crushed velvet dress with a plunging neckline.

Gaia stared. “Are you kidding? I couldn't fit my left foot into that dress.”

Mary frowned. “Have you tried it? No. Shut up until you try it.”

Gaia held out her hand for it. It weighed about three ounces. “Yes, ma'am. I've never been dressed by a fascist before.” Feeling large and self-conscious, Gaia pulled the T-shirt over her head and quickly yanked the dress over her head and shoulders. One arm. Two arms. The fabric settled with unexpected ease over her stomach and butt, the skirt grazing a few inches above her knees.

Mary was surveying the progress with her hands on her hips. When Gaia turned around, her frown blossomed into a smile. “Wow! See?” She took Gaia's hand and pulled her in front of the full-length mirror on the back of her closet.

Gaia gazed at herself in genuine surprise. The dress actually fit. Granted, it was made of stretchy stuff. And it did cling to her gigantic muscles in an unforgiving manner.

“I look like Arnold Schwarzenegger in a dress,” Gaia mumbled.

“What?”
Mary demanded. “I'm going to smack you, girl. You look incredible.”

Gaia turned around to examine her backside. “I have incredibly huge muscles.”

Mary blew out her breath in frustration. “Guyaaaaa,” she scolded. “You have the body every woman would die to have. You have the long, defined muscles that keep the rest of us slogging it out in overpriced gyms around the country. You have to see that.”

“I see Mr. Universe.”

“Shut
up!”
Mary roared. Now she was mad. She held out her hand. “So give it back. Seriously. I mean it. If you can't appreciate that it looks beautiful, you don't deserve to borrow my goddamned dress.”

Gaia cast her a pleading gaze. “Look, I'm trying. I really am.” She studied herself in the mirror for another minute, trying to see herself through other eyes.

The dress really was extraordinary. Gaia loved the too long sleeves and the way they flared at the wrist. “Please let me borrow it?” Gaia asked, weirded out by hearing those words in her voice. “I'll say anything, true or untrue. I am Kate Moss. I am a waif. I can't do a single push-up.”

Mary laughed. “Fine. It's yours. In fact, you can have it for keeps. After seeing you in it, I won't be able to stand the sight of me.”

Now it was Gaia's turn to glare. “Hang on.
You're
allowed the exaggeratedly negative body image, but not me? Who made these rules?”

Mary waved a hand in the air. “Point taken. Never mind. But keep the stupid dress.” She gestured at the snowstorm of clothes. “I have others, as you may have noticed.” She rooted around the bottom of her closet and threw Gaia a pair of black cotton tights.

“Thanks,” Gaia said.

“Oh, and here.”

“Ouch.” A dark red, forties-style pump flew out of the closet and hit Gaia on the shin. Thankfully, she dodged its mate.

“Sorry,” Mary murmured. Now she was gathering jewelry for Gaia.

“What size are your feet?” Gaia asked, staring suspiciously at the shoe.

“Eight.”

“I wear eight and a half,” Gaia said.

Mary was busy untangling a clump of necklaces. “So? Close enough.”

Apparently Mary didn't get hung up on little matters like housing all five toes.

Again, though, Mary was right. The shoe was close enough to fitting. Gaia put on the second one and stomped around the room, trying to get used to the heels.

Mary spent the next twenty minutes coaxing Gaia into the makeup chair, and the twenty minutes after that brushing Gaia's hair, spangling her with jewelry, and hunting down the exact right shade of lip gloss. At last she was done. “Oh my God, my brothers are going to be drooling,” she announced, nodding at her finished work.

Gaia did feel prettier, but she also felt like someone else.

“Are you ready to meet the clan?”

If Gaia had the potential to feel nervous, now would have been an obvious time. “I guess so.” She looked at Mary. Mary was still wearing blue nylon warm-up pants and a wife-beater tank top. Light freckles stood out on her thin shoulders and arms. Her hair was possibly the craziest mess Gaia had ever seen.

“Oh, I'm fine,” Mary claimed. Her eyes darted around the room, and she picked up the first thing in her path, a blue chenille sweater, and stuck her head through. “All set,” she confirmed.

Gaia was speechless as she followed Mary out of the room. She remembered what Mary had said about not holding on to love very well.