Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons

lackluster skin, freckled and poorly cared for. Her hair hung unfashionably to her chin, which was too broad for that length— and for the current ideal of female beauty. Her face was simply unremarkable— a pleasant enough face, and probably more so when it wasn’t swollen from crying, but she wasn’t blessed with burning eyes or flying cheekbones; it was just a face. Her body was lumpy— she wasn’t much overweight, perhaps twenty pounds or so, but her posture was poor and she looked soft, as if she didn’t exercise, had too little self-esteem even to bother. Her clothes were frankly frumpy— she wore a denim skirt and cotton turtleneck, two items she’d obviously just happened to find somewhere in her closet, and, on the spur of the moment, deemed suitable to wear together. The skirt was straight, a mini, and at least a size too small. She wore black tights beneath it.
    And this was the woman who— cast doggedly against type— had apparently captured Jason’s heart. Or maybe she was lying. She was so tentative, so unsure of herself I couldn’t imagine her with Jason— with the demanding person I thought he was. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Had you been together long?”
    She shook her head. “Oh. No. It was awhile back.”
    “It’s still hard,” I said. “I’m Rebecca Schwartz, by the way.”
    “I’m Sarah Byers.”
    “Have you seen Tressa— his sister?”
    “Oh! I didn’t know he had one.” So she hadn’t known him all that well.
    “How did you and Jason meet?”
    “I was sitting on a bar stool one night and he sat right down next to me. We both knew the bartender so”— she smiled shyly— “so you could say we were properly introduced.”
    “Rebecca!” It was Rob. I felt my elbow grabbed and guided away. “Could I borrow you a minute?” As I pivoted and joined him— it was either that or fall down— I heard him say to Sarah, “Could you excuse us, please?”
    “Bye, Sarah,” I called over my shoulder. “I hope I see you again.”
    “Guess who’s here?” said Rob.
    “The governor, maybe? Must be somebody really important, to merit that performance.”
    “It’s Tommy La Barre.”
    Tommy had been called onstage, and he was climbing up now. In a few minutes he was weeping, getting himself all worked up with funny anecdotes about his good buddy Jason. I looked over at Sarah’s pillar, but she was gone.

Chapter Eight
    The lump was still there the next morning. Already, it was The Thing, the size of a mountain and about as insurmountable. I had to forget about it— it was the only survival.
    I wished, wished, wished I had Julio with me— maybe I could drive to Monterey and see him.
    I dialed but got no answer. Not a good sign for first thing in the morning.
    Nothing was stopping me from hopping in the car, but I couldn’t bear it if I did and got more bad news. Technically (according to our agreement) we were perfectly free to date other people, but I certainly hoped he wouldn’t. I was rather flattered that he didn’t even like my working with Rob, but what if he used that as an excuse to find a babe?
    I was nuts today, I decided. All the more reason not to pop down to Monterey. Normally Chris could have been a tower of strength, but she needed to lean on me right now— I certainly couldn’t tell her what was going on.
    But won’t she know anyway? I wondered. What if I met her for brunch and she came up to the table and said, Omigod! your whole chest is black. What’s wrong with you, Peachblossom?
    I didn’t know how this psychic thing worked yet— if I was dying I wanted to hear it from a doctor.
    That left my sister, Mickey. Which would have been wonderful except that she was half of a couple and the other half was someone I wanted to see like a troop of IRS goons. But Mickey it had to be.
    My luck: Kruzick answered the phone. “Kittens ’R Us. Mehitabel speaking.”
    “‘ Toujours gai and always a lady, that’s my motto, Archy.’”
    “Watch who you’re calling gay. You want the black one or the calico?”
    “Omigod! Lulu!” I’d forgotten their cat was pregnant.
    “Mother and cuties resting comfortably. All seven of them.”
    “In the midst of death… ” I thought, and all of a sudden I had to see those kittens. “I’ll be right over.”
    I couldn’t take one, of course— I had fish, a hundred-gallon saltwater aquarium in my living room. But I could pick them up and feel their furry newness, their heartbreaking innocence; hear