She leaped up from the sofa. She had prepared an entire speech about how grateful she was to Lana for allowing her to stay the night, but the sight of Lana in the doorway, tying on a rayon bathrobe printed with roses, made the speech die in her mouth. She realized, while waiting for Lana to wake up, that she had left her home in Chinatown with nothing: not a coat, not a single penny, and not even keys to her family’s flat. She was entirely at Lana’s mercy, and Lana looked exhausted and somewhat surprised to see her still there, and now did not seem like a good time to ask for anything more than she had already been given.
“Hello,” Lana said blearily. “What time is it?”
“Just after ten.”
Lana yawned again. “My goodness, my head is pounding. How are you? Do you need some aspirin?”
“No, I’m all right.”
Lana smiled weakly. “Lucky you. Come on, I’ll make us some coffee.”
* * *
—
A little after eleven, Lana left to meet her friend Parker for lunch. She gave Lily a spare key in case she wanted to go out. “When I get back,” Lana said as she put on her hat, “we can talk about what you want to do.”
Alone in the apartment, Lily cleaned up the remains of their breakfast. Lana had only eaten toast, but she had given Lily some eggs to scramble for herself, and she ate them hungrily and gratefully, feeling even more like a tramp that had been taken in out of pity. Now she carefully washed the dishes, feeling as if she should leave no trace of herself there. When she finished, she went out into the living room and sat down tensely on the edge of the sofa. The light coming through the front window was flat and dull, making the eclectic assortment of furniture look like the odds and ends they probably were. The sofa was visibly worn and threadbare in spots. The octagonal table was chipped on several of its corners, and the Chinese chairs’ lacquer finish was lusterless and obviously cheap. Her mother would never have bought those chairs.
Her thoughts circled back, relentlessly, to Kath. She imagined her in a cold, cement jail cell, or led out in front of a judge, or locked into the padded room of an institution. She went to the window and peered out at the quiet street as if Kath might suddenly appear, but of course she didn’t.
She had to go to Kath’s house again. Someone had to be home by now, and they would know what had happened to Kath, and Lily would make them tell her.
She raced to lace on her shoes. She took the key that Lana had given her and left the apartment, locking the door behind her.
The air was cool and damp; she wished she had thought to borrow one of Lana’s jackets. North Beach seemed like a foreign city around her; unlike Chinatown, the neighborhood was practically deserted, and the quiet made her feel especially conspicuous. She spotted a couple of people going into a corner store, and they looked secretive, as if they knew they shouldn’t be outside.
Lily heard the snap of firecrackers in the distance. She could see them in her mind’s eye: flashes of bright white light and smoke streaming upward, the paper wrappers fluttering through the air like confetti.
She wasn’t that far from Chinatown. For a moment she considered going back. Today her mother was cooking a special dinner for the New Year, and she was supposed to help. But then she imagined what it would be like to return home—to be forced to ring the doorbell because she didn’t have any keys, to wait for someone to open the door and let her in. She imagined the look of disappointment and disgust on her father’s face, and she knew she couldn’t go home.
When she reached Kath’s street, she slowed down as she approached the building. The curtains were all drawn; none of the windows showed any life. Of course, it was Sunday morning. The neighborhood was deserted because people must be at church. Her heart sank at the realization, and she almost turned back, but the thought of returning to Lana’s apartment with nothing to show for it seemed even worse than finding no one at Kath’s home.
She climbed the front steps to the entryway and rang the doorbell. The building was quiet. After a minute, she pressed the button again. She was about to turn away when the door cracked open.
A girl peered out. She had giant blue eyes that looked exactly like Kath’s.
“Are you Kath’s sister?” Lily asked. “Peggy?”
The girl opened the door all the way. She was about twelve years old, with light brown hair pulled into two wavy pigtails. She looked dubious, but nodded. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lily, her friend. From school. Is she home?”