The Invisibles (26 page)

“Oh, please,” Ozzie said. “Fleas are not a big deal. I got them last summer from one of our dogs, and it was nothing a good medicated shampoo didn't fix.”

“I Don't. Want. To. Get. Fleas.” Monica was semihysterical, pounding her words against the back of the seat. “I don't care if there are ten million medicated shampoos out there! I don't want to get them! Now, please, Ozzie! I'm serious!”

“Elmer doesn't have fleas.” Ozzie's jaw pulsed. “The poor little thing is only a few weeks old. He hasn't even had time to get fleas.” She opened her hands a little and peered inside. “Look. If it makes you feel any better, I'll check him out. Right now.”

“What do you mean, check him out?” Monica leaned back until she was almost flat against the dashboard as Grace pulled the car back on to the highway. “Can you actually
see
fleas? Will they jump out at you if they're in there?”

“Hmmm hmmm . . .” Ozzie ran an index finger through the rabbit's fur. Nora settled herself sideways against the seat and watched. The animal was shaking so hard that it looked like a battery-operated toy. She could see the faint outline of its spine as Ozzie ran her fingertip up and down the length of it, and its tiny nub of a tail was no bigger than her fingernail. “Nope, all clean.”

“Nothing?” Monica bit her lower lip. “Not one flea. You're sure?”

“Positive. And look.” Ozzie opened her hands a little, moving them toward the front seat. “He's shaking like a leaf. He's scared out of its mind. He
needs
us.”

“Okay, okay.” Monica moved back even more. “You can put him back now. I believe you.”

“Can I hold him?” Nora asked.

“Really?” Ozzie looked surprised. “You want to?” Nora nodded and held out her hands. “Okay,” Ozzie said. “But just for a few minutes, all right? Wild animals aren't like pets. They don't
do well being passed around. Human scents are too overwhelming to them. It can just cause more stress.”

Nora didn't breathe as Ozzie deposited the tiny figure inside her palms, staring in amazement at the utter perfection of it. It was so tiny! Like a breath! A whisper!

“Have you ever held a wild rabbit before?” Monica asked, looking nervously at Nora's hands.

“Never,” Nora whispered. “He's so
light
. Like a little pincushion.”

“Well, he is light.” Ozzie fiddled with her wallet, opening the Velcro pouch and counting out single dollar bills. “They only weigh a few ounces when they're born. Elmer probably still weighs less than a half pound.” She tossed her wallet aside and leaned in close to Nora. “He's sweet, right?”

Nora could feel something rising within her, and she swallowed it forcefully. “So sweet,” she whispered. “Perfect.”

“Poor little guy.” Ozzie reached out and ran her finger down its back again. The pink ears twitched, and its nose wiggled like a button. “Oh, Nora, he's shaking even more. Give him to me now, okay? He was just starting to settle down a little in my hands, which means he's already gotten used to my smell. I think he's freaking out from the switch.”

Nora bit the inside of her cheek and turned away from Ozzie.

“Come on, Norster. He's really stressed.”

“Not yet.” She clutched her hands around the rabbit and moved a fraction of inch farther away from Ozzie.

Ozzie pulled on Nora's arm and then moved her hand as if to grab the rabbit. “Nora. Seriously. Give him to me.”

“I will.” Nora turned even more, so that she was almost facing
the window. “Just let me hold him for a little while longer.” She knew how ridiculous she sounded—like a child or maybe even some kind of crazy person. But she didn't care.

“Nora.” Ozzie's voice was slow, dangerous. “Please give me the rabbit. He needs to relax. I know a lot more about animals than you do. Babies can have heart attacks if they feel too anxious. Now, please.”

“No.” Nora turned all the way around now, so that Ozzie could see the back of her head. “I just want to hold him for a few more minutes. He's all right.” She could feel Ozzie's eyes on the back of her neck, hear the frustrated sounds of her breath going in and out behind her. Well, it was too bad. She would have to wait. Nora clutched at the animal, pressing it to her. She wanted to feel it against her chest, its pea-sized heart thrumming beneath its silky fur. She wanted to feel his breath, the shaky movements of him, the staggered breathing. She did not want to give him up. No matter what.

“Okay, fine.” To Nora's relief, Ozzie sat back against the seat again. “The poor thing is probably on the verge of a heart attack right now, but you hand him over when
you're
ready.”

Nora gripped the tiny animal beneath her shirt; she could feel the pitter-patter of its heart slowing, even as she held him closer and closer still. Nothing Ozzie could say right now would make her give him up.

Not a thing in the world.

I
t was Grace who spotted the sign for the pet supply store in Hopatcong, New Jersey, an hour later. It was hard to miss with its neon yellow siding and
HOPATCONG HONEY'S
spelled out in electric-green letters across the front. A plastic palm tree, set in a terra-cotta pot, leaned to one side, and a long, red-and-white-striped snake had been painted along the blacktop in front of the building. Nora could see its pink forked tongue from where she sat, the stripes beneath its belly. For some reason, despite the lateness of the hour, the lights were on inside.

“How about in there?” Grace said, pointing out the window. “It looks like someone's around. We could ask them, you know, whoever it is, if they'd take Elmer. And keep him even, until he's well enough to be released again into the wild.”

“Yes!” Ozzie leaned over toward the window, nearly crushing Nora's arm in the process. “That's brilliant, Grace. Brilliant!”

“It's worth a shot.” Grace pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine.

Ozzie yanked open her door and came around to the other side. She opened Nora's door and stood there, waiting. Nora was still holding Elmer close to her chest.

“I gotta take him, Norster,” Ozzie said. “You want to come in with me?”

Nora met Ozzie's eyes, but she did not move. “Just one more minute, all right?”

“Yeah.” Something in Ozzie's face flickered. “Okay.”

Nora lifted her hands close to her face. She could make out the warm scent of dirt and fur from between her fingers. Inside, the rabbit trembled and quaked, a minuscule bag of bones and skin and nerves. She could imagine its tiny heart inside there, banging away like some kind of piano key, alerting its whole body to danger. “You'll be okay,” she whispered. “Hang in there, little guy, and you'll be okay.” She leaned down and kissed him on the nose. “And don't worry; somebody'll come for you.”

Ozzie waited as Nora lifted her face again. She extended her hands this time and nodded. “All right?”

Nora nodded as she handed the animal over. But she was not all right. She felt as though part of her was disappearing somehow, drowning in a void of memory and loss.

“I'll go with you,” Monica said, sliding out of the car next to Ozzie. “I mean, since we are giving him away and everything. I'm not
totally
coldhearted.”

Nora watched as the two of them disappeared inside the store. For the first time since she had arrived, she was alone with Grace. Nora could feel her eyes on her from the front seat, but she did not raise her head to meet them. She had a feeling that she knew
what Grace was thinking, and she did not want to go there. She could not bear it just yet.

“I thought she was going to tell us the name Elmer had some kind of meaning,” Grace said. “You know, like ‘abandoned one' or something.”

Nora tried to smile, but it came out quivery and fake; she could feel it on her face like a plastic thing. “Yeah, who knows? You know Ozzie and names. I bet it means something.”

Grace hunched forward a little over the seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe it means ‘lucky.'”

“Or unlucky.”

“Why unlucky?” Grace asked.

“What if it dies?”

“Well, then.” Grace's voice was slow, as if moving through a great body of water. “He'll have died with someone. And not alone out there in the field.”

Nora didn't answer, not because she didn't want to, but because she could not. Her voice had vanished, maybe lodging itself somewhere inside the trembling rabbit, like another rapidly beating heart. The seconds ticked by in a weighted silence. The clock on the dashboard read 11:03 p.m. They'd been on the road for eleven hours and it already felt as though an entire year had gone by. But then, that was the way it had always been with the four of them. You could give The Invisibles an afternoon or an evening, and they could have the world—and the universe—at their disposal.

“Are you glad you came?” Grace's voice drifted over the seat.

Nora lifted her head. “On this trip or out to Chicago?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.” There was a pause and then: “It's so good to see you again, Nora. It's been too long.”

“Yes. It has.”

“Tell me some more about you.” Grace reached out and touched Nora's sleeve. “You've hardly said anything since you arrived.”

“That's not true!” Nora suppressed an annoyance. “I told you about the whole . . . you know, fake boyfriend story.” Her face felt hot, thinking of it again. “So stupid.”

Grace's hand moved over Nora's. “Tell me more about the other stuff. You know, that you started telling us. Sex is supposed to be one of the most amazing feelings in the world. What happened that ruined it for you?”

Nora shrugged and looked out the window. They were sitting in a rental car in a pet store parking lot in Hopatcong, New Jersey. A painted snake with googly eyes and a forked tongue stared out at them from the pavement. Did Grace really expect her to get into this right now? Here?

“Nora?”

“Oh, it's a long, boring story. Seriously. It's not even worth—”

“I think it's worth it. No matter what it is.” Grace rubbed a thumb over the top of Nora's hand. “Can you try to tell me? Even just a little bit?”

For a moment, Nora felt so embarrassed that she thought she might cry. And then she did cry, not out of embarrassment, but because the thought of sharing such an enormous burden she had been carrying alone for so long took her breath away. It was a moment before she found her voice, and then another moment until
she could use it again. “It was my mother's husband,” she said finally. “He's what ruined it.”

“Daddy Ray?” Grace whispered.

“From fifth grade to seventh.” Nora stared out the window. “At least once a week.”

Grace bit her upper lip. Her eyes filled with tears, and the edges of her nostrils turned white. She put her other hand over Nora's, clasping it between both of hers, and then she dropped it and slid her arms around Nora's neck. “Oh, Nora, I'm so sorry,” she whispered. “I'm so, so sorry.”

“It's okay.” Nora pulled away and stared at her feet. She felt humiliated. Naked. As if she had just pulled down her pants and exposed herself, right there in the car. And why was Grace looking at her like that? God only knew what kind of images were going through her head, probably some X-rated monstrosity involving a grown man pushing his way between a little girl's legs. Nora covered her face with her hands and leaned back against the seat, breathing into her palms. Her breath was hot and rancid; a roaring sounded in her ears.

“Nora?”

“Just give me a minute,” she said behind her hands.

The car was quiet, the only sound the echoed breathing inside her own palms.
Quietquietquietquietandthenitwillbeover. Quietquietquietandthenitwillbeover
. Except that the quiet mantra wasn't working. In fact, she thought suddenly, maybe it had been one of the problems all along.

She lowered her hands. Grace was still watching her, her big eyes wet and glossy. “I need to get out and walk,” Nora said.

“You got it.” Grace was out the door before Nora could
straighten back up. She opened Nora's door and stood there waiting. “Come on. We can walk around the parking lot for a few minutes.”

The air was cool against Nora's face, a much-needed respite from the stifling temperature inside the car. Or was the heat coming from inside her own body? No matter. She was already breathing easier; her heart had slowed down inside her chest, and the terrible anxious feeling was starting to lift.

They set off, moving away from the painted snake and the fake tree toward a mass of shrubs opposite the store. The trucks on the highway rushed by less than fifty feet away, their headlights cutting narrow swaths through the darkness.

“Walking's good,” Grace said as they turned around and started back across the lot again. “Remember the walks we used to take together? Next to the railroad tracks? That little birch tree grove?”

“I still go there,” said Nora. “With my dog. It's only about four miles from where I live now.”

“Wow.” Grace was staring at her. “You walk all that way?”

“Every morning.”

“Every
morning?” Grace whistled softly. “Man. I wish I had that kind of discipline.”

“I wouldn't call it discipline.” The tightening sensation was back. “I like it. I wouldn't do it otherwise.”

“Why do you go there?” Grace asked.

Nora sidled a glance at her. “Why?”

“I mean, is it just your regular route? Or . . .”

“Yeah,” Nora heard herself say. “It's just my regular route.”

There was silence for a moment. Nora felt as though something
inside of her might burst—might literally explode—if she did not say something else, and so she lifted her head and said, “Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn't you ever call me? After you left, I mean?”

Grace looked down at the ground. Her eyes moved back and forth between her shoes, as if determining their size. “Oh, Nora, I was such a mess. I told you earlier in the car. After that last night at Turning Winds, I was so out of touch with things that I just walked around in a stupor. For months. Then . . .” She shook her head. “I didn't realize the bipolar stuff was starting up. I was manic for months, and then I'd crash. Up, down, all over the place.” She paused, fiddling with her wedding band, a thin ring of silver etched with tiny leaves. “I'm sorry I didn't call you. I didn't even have the wherewithal to call my boyfriend half the time back then, and I was
living
with him.”

They had stopped walking, were facing the traffic now. “But I was going through it too,” Nora said stubbornly. “Not the bipolar stuff or anything, but God, Grace! Not a word? Not a call, a letter? Just to check in? You knew what I—what
we'd
just been through. I just don't understand.”

Grace nodded. She rolled her teeth over her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “I'm so sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize. I don't need an apology. I just want to know why. I think in some ways not hearing from any of you was even worse than that night.”

“No one called?” Grace asked. “Not even Ozzie?”

Nora shook her head.

“Ever?”

Nora shook her head again. “Ozzie said the reason she didn't
was because she wanted to forget it, leave the whole thing behind.”

“Yeah.” Grace's voice was barely audible over the scream of traffic. “I guess that was true for me, too.”

“But that included forgetting
me
.” Nora's voice rose. “I was part of that night, remember?”

“I do remember. God, as much as I try to forget it, Nora, I do remember. Every single day.” Grace's blue eyes were as big as dimes. “It was wrong of me not to call. I was protecting myself when I should have been more concerned about you. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Yes.” The word came out of her mouth automatically, a learned response, like some kind of Pavlovian dog. She was too afraid to say no, that she couldn't forgive her, that she didn't even know how to go about doing such a thing. What she did know was that it had hurt too much and been too long for a few words in front of a highway to erase it all now. Still, if Grace needed to hear her say yes, she would do it. Maybe it was a start. Besides, what would it hurt?

She turned and started back across the parking lot, shoving her hands inside her pockets. Something bumped against her fingers, and she pulled out Grace's bottle of medication.

Grace peered at the bottle, a funny look coming over her face. “Is that mine?”

“Yeah.” Nora shook the bottle, as if to remind Grace what was inside. The pills made a rattling sound, dried seeds inside a gourd. “I'm so sorry. I totally forgot to give you one when we ate back there.”

“Give me one?” Grace looked confused. “Since when are you doling out my medicine?”

Nora blushed. “Henry asked me to make sure you took it.” She bit the inside of her cheek as Grace's face blanched. “He said you probably wouldn't remember.”

“He
told
you about me?” Grace's eyes narrowed.

“No. He didn't get into any details. At all. He just asked me to keep track of when you took your medicine.” She winced. “Which I already screwed up.”

“It's okay.” Grace shook her head disgustedly. “I'll eat a little something in the car and take one now. It won't mess anything up.” She took the pill bottle out of Nora's hands and studied the cryptic writing on the side, as if examining it for clues. “I don't know why I'm surprised. He's always on me at home, too. Like some kind of ward nurse. I should have known he was going to ask one of you to keep an eye on me.”

“You're not angry, are you?” Nora asked. “He's just trying to take care of you.”

“I don't need to be taken care of!” Grace snapped. “I'm not a fucking child.”

Nora thought about Grace's old boyfriend Max, how she used to smack his hands away when he reached for her, how sometimes, when Grace talked to her at night, she complained how “ridiculously nurturing” he acted. “You'd think he was my father instead of my boyfriend,” she said one night. “All he ever does is fuss and worry and ask me if I'm okay. It's pathetic.” Nora couldn't help but wonder if Grace's harshness toward the people who wanted to care for her was purposeful. Did she resent them for trying to fill the void her mother was supposed to fill? And would she punish them ever after because of it?

“No, you're not a child,” Nora said now. “You're sick.”

“Well, I know how to take care of myself.”