of the apartment. He had run from her. But once he was gone, the adrenaline had poured out of Alex in a rush that left her feeling limp and lonely. She didn’t feel angry or righteous, just ashamed and so scared that somehow she’d ruined everything, ruined herself, that Len would never want her again. And then where would she go? All she’d wanted was for him to come back.
In the end she apologized and begged him to forgive her and they got high and turned
the air-conditioning up and fucked right next to it, the air coming in cooling gusts that masked their panting. But when Len had said she was a good little slut, she hadn’t felt sexy or wild; she’d felt so small. She was afraid she might cry and she was afraid he might
like that too. She’d turned her face to the vent and felt the icy breath of the AC unit blow
the fine hairs back from her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, and as Len had jackrabbited
away behind her, she’d imagined herself on a glacier, naked and alone, the world clean and empty and full of forgiveness.
But Ariel wasn’t a film student looking for some strange. He had a reputation. There were stories that he was only in the States because he was dodging the Israeli police after
roughing up two underage girls in Tel Aviv, that he ran a dog-fighting ring, that he liked to dislocate girls’ shoulders as a kind of foreplay, like a boy pulling the wings off a fly.
Len would be furious when he returned home to find the apartment still a mess. He’d
be even madder when they didn’t come back to Ground Zero for the party. But they could
survive Len’s anger better than Ariel’s attention.
Alex understood that Len had expected some kind of jealousy when he’d brought
Hellie home with them that day from Venice Beach. He hadn’t predicted Hellie’s warm laugh, her easy way of looping her arm around Alex, the way she’d pluck a paperback from Alex’s shelf of thrillers and old sci-fi and say, “Read to me.” Hellie had made this
life bearable. Alex wasn’t going down the path that led to Ariel and she wasn’t going to let
Hellie go either, because somehow she knew they would not come back from him intact.
They didn’t have a great life. It wasn’t the kind of life anyone imagined or asked for, but
they managed.
They took the bus over the hill, down the 101 to the 405 to Westwood, and walked all
the way to UCLA, up the slope to campus and through the sculpture garden. They sat on
the steps beneath the pretty arches of Royce Hall and watched the students playing Frisbee
and lying in the sun reading. Leisure. These golden people pursued leisure because they had so many things they had to do. Occupations. Goals. Alex had nothing she needed to
do. Ever. It made her feel like she was falling.
When it got bad, she liked talking about the Two Year Gameplan. She and Hellie would start community college in the fall or they’d take online classes. They’d both get jobs at
the mall and put their money toward a used car so they wouldn’t have to take the bus everywhere.
Usually Hellie liked to play along, but not that day. She’d been sullen, cranky, poking
holes in everything. “No one is going to give us enough shifts at the mall to afford a car
and rent.”
“Then we’ll be secretaries or something.”
Hellie had cast a long look over Alex’s arms. “Too many tattoos.” Not on Hellie. Lying
there on the steps of Royce in her jean shorts, her golden legs crossed, she looked like she
belonged. “I like that you think this is really happening. It’s cute.”
“It could happen.”
“We can’t lose the apartment, Alex. I was homeless for a while after my mom kicked
me out. I’m not doing that again.”
“You won’t have to. Len’s just talking. Even if he’s not, we’ll figure it out.”
“If you stay in the sun much longer, you’re gonna look all Mexicana. ” Hellie rose and dusted off her shorts. “Let’s smoke and go see a movie.”
“We won’t have enough money for the bus back.”
Hellie winked. “We’ll figure it out.”