Part 6 (1/2)

”You need to get some sleep,” she says to Daria. ”You're smoking too much again.”

”I feel fine,” Daria says, but Niki knows she's lying, always knows when Daria's lying and not about to let her off that easily. ”You look almost as bad as I feel,” she says, and Daria frowns at her.

”I slept on the plane.”

Marvin goes back to his chair. ”Even if that were true,”

he says, ”which I doubt, it wouldn't hurt you to lie down for a little while.”

”It's okay now,” Niki says. ”I'm okay,” and she manages 54 a weak smile for Daria, trying to look the least bit rea.s.suring. ”Marvin's right here, and all I'm gonna do is sit and eat my orange.”

”Do you know how many cups of coffee I've had? I probably couldn't sleep now if my life depended on it.”

”Then just lie down for a little while,” and Niki wipes her sticky fingers through her snarled black hair. ”I'll come back upstairs when I'm done and lie down beside you.”

”I have to leave tonight,” Daria says, and for a moment Niki doesn't reply, selects another wedge of the orange and nips through the thin skin with her front teeth, sucks at the pulpy, tart insides.

”I'm sorry, Niki. There's no way we can afford to cancel another show.”

Niki wipes citrus juice the color of rose petals from her lips with the back of her good hand and swallows. ”It's all right,” she says, smiling again, pretending she means it so maybe Daria will believe her. ”I'm better now. I know you have responsibilities.”

”I wouldn't go if I didn't have to.”

And because she doesn't know anything else to say, because her head hurts again and she's tired of trying to remember the right things to say, because she doesn't want to think about Daria leaving again, she looks away, holds the last slice of blood orange a few inches from her left eye and begins to sing ”Strange Fruit” very quietly. Singing to herself and no one else except maybe the orange, singing to it the way that Siouxsie Sioux sang ”Strange Fruit” more than the way Billie Holiday did.

”Maybe I'll go lie down in the living room,” Daria says and stands up from the table. ”I'll just lie down on the couch, and maybe we can talk about it later.”

Niki stops singing and glances up at her. ”I'm okay,” she says, in case Daria didn't hear her the first time. ”I'll stay in here with Marvin. I'll be here if you need me.”

”We'll both be fine,” Marvin adds, and Daria nods once, yeah, whatever sort of nod, takes her pack of cigarettes and her lighter and leaves the kitchen without another word.

55.

Niki pops the last wedge into her mouth and licks the drops of juice from the tips of her fingers. When she notices that Marvin's watching her from his end of the table, she points at the overflowing ashtray, and he gets up, dumps it in the garbage, then sprays the smoky air with a can of Glade.

”So what did she tell you?” Niki asks him, recalling their murmuring voices as she came down the stairs, the almost-whispers, almost-anger, and Marvin sets the can of air freshener on the table and takes his seat again.

”She told me about Spyder and Danny. She told me how they died,” and for a moment Niki's head is too full of adrenaline and her heart races, skips a beat or two, maybe, and she doesn't look at him until it's beating normally again and the dizzy, panicked feeling is starting to fade.

”Well, it's not a secret, is it? I would have told you, if you'd ever asked me.”

”I didn't know to ask, Niki. I didn't have any idea.”

”Did she tell you all of it?” Niki asks him, and now there's a bright and razor-edged flutter deep in her belly, something wicked coiled down there that's scary, but it's better than the panic. Marvin stares back at her from his end of the table, and she can see that he's trying hard to figure out what to say next, whether yes or no is the wrong answer this time. Tick-tock, clockwork gears behind his eyes, and she takes a tiny sip from her gla.s.s of water. ”I didn't think so,” she says. ”No, she wouldn't ever have done that.”

”I'm not sure what you mean. She told me . . .” and he pauses, hesitates, looks towards the doorway like he's hoping that Daria will reappear and get him out of this mess.

”She told me Danny was a transs.e.xual and that Spyder was schizophrenic. And she told me about Spyder's father.”

And the scary thing in the pit of Niki's stomach coils itself a little tighter, the adrenaline and fear egging her on, pulling her back, leaving her to her own devices; she takes another drink of water, a big mouthful this time, watching 56 Marvin over the rim of the gla.s.s as she drinks. When she's done, the gla.s.s is almost empty, just a couple of melting ice cubes trapped at the bottom.

”Did she tell you about the dead boy we left in Spyder's bas.e.m.e.nt? Or the thing that attacked Mort's van? Did she tell you about the coc.o.o.n?”

”No,” Marvin says calmly. ”She didn't,” and his eyes are fixed on hers, grade-school game, test of wills, and Who's going to blink first? Niki asks herself. Who the h.e.l.l's going to blink first?

”Did she tell you why she's afraid to sleep with the lights off? Or why she's afraid to sleep with them on?”

Marvin shakes his head, folds his hands on the tabletop in front of him, and ”Niki, if you want to talk to me,” he says, ”I'll listen to whatever you want to say. But you might as well stop trying to freak me out.”

And the thing in her guts dissolves, undone by his patience, by the constant, undaunted tone of his voice, and she's the one who blinks first, after all.

”I wasn't,” she says, and her mouth has gone so dry, wis.h.i.+ng there were more ice water in her gla.s.s. ”I wasn't trying to freak you out.”

The sound of sirens then, an ambulance racing along Steiner Street, leaving or approaching an emergency, a death or something close enough, and Niki stares at Marvin and listens until the sirens are too far away for her to hear anymore.

”Somebody's done for,” she whispers, softest, acid smile to bend the corners of her mouth, and Marvin puts both elbows on the table and rests his chin on his hands.

”They didn't want to let you come home this time, you know,” he says. ”But Daria threatened to call your lawyer.

They made her sign a release.”

”That's stupid. She should have let them keep me. Crazy people belong in hospitals, not running around loose in the real world, f.u.c.king up everyone else's lives.”

”Do you really think that, or are you just angry?”

”I really think that and I'm angry,” Niki says, spitting the

57.

words at him, cobra-toothed girl spitting venom so maybe he'll leave her alone. But he doesn't.

”Sometimes people have to find their own ways to get well, outside of hospitals.”

”Yeah, well, f.u.c.k that, Marvin. f.u.c.k that. If they'd kept Spyder-” but the cautious glimmer in his eyes makes her stop, triumphant glimmer so she knows he thinks he's only helping, imagines he's found some clever new trick to pry his way inside her. Just like Dr. Dalby, digging at all the soft places, and she tugs at the white gauze wrapped tightly around her hand until it hurts.

”What were you going to say, Niki? If they'd kept Spyder, what?”