Lucky You by Erika Carter

Author:Erika Carter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Counterpoint
Published: 2017-03-09T05:00:00+00:00

She woke up to the sound of Rachel playing tennis against the side of the house. The ball went back and forth between her racquet and the wall like music beats.

It was hard coming alive again in this kind of heat. All night Chloe struggled on the verge of sleep and daydream, feeling for the cool places on the sheet. Instead of sleeping, or fully waking up, she lived in a realm of chronic drowsiness, in which the frequency of the record player and silence of the showerhead beat the circuit of her thoughts.

She lay there for a while, she didn’t know how long, thinking of her mother. She could stay in bed forever. If she never got up again, that would be okay with her.

“It’s my exercise,” she heard Rachel saying.

Chloe lifted her head now, to listen. Rachel had stormed inside from playing tennis, apparently, and now she was at the bottom of the stairs.

“Don’t be jealous of a tennis racquet. I’m just—working out.”

“Working out? We don’t ‘work out’ here.”

“I’m still into the Project, Autry—I swear. I am. I am.”

“Do we need to get you a gym membership, baby—some of those Nike running shorts the college girls wear? You want to go back to the tanning bed? And another thing—I don’t want Ran over here anymore. I want him gone.”

Rachel dropped her racquet on the floor.

But by the time Chloe came down for breakfast, they were at peace again. Rachel was feeding him a piece of fruit with her fingers.

Chloe bit into a tomato. Her stomach began, immediately, to hurt. She put it back on the shelf in the refrigerator, and went upstairs again. Did her stomach really hurt, she wondered, or was it just the voices in her head—her thoughts—telling her that her stomach hurt? Was there a difference?

She tied on a bathing suit from the wardrobe of bikinis strewn everywhere, then covered her head with a silk scarf, tying a little knot under her neck, the way her mother used to wear scarves.

Ellie knocked on her half-open door. This was irritating, because nobody knocked on doors. “Come in,” Chloe said, stepping into her LUCKY YOUs. The knocking continued. “Come in.”

“Oh,” Ellie said, stepping inside. “Can I borrow a pair of cutoffs?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow—”

“But you don’t have to ask. They’re not mine . . . they’re everyone’s.”

“I just thought, since you’re doing laundry today—I didn’t want to wear something you wanted to wash.”

“Wear whatever you want.”

Ellie picked up a pair—the pair Chloe now wanted desperately to wear.

“I don’t mean to be confrontational or whatever. Have I done something to you?” Ellie said.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

When Chloe didn’t respond, Ellie said, “Why do you hate me? I’m tired of this constant attack.”

Chloe still didn’t respond.

“Never mind. Why bother,” Ellie said, and started to walk out of the room.

“Wait,” Chloe said, half wanting to apologize.

Ellie turned around and stood there.

But for what was she supposed to apologize? Things were just tangled up; there were ropes around them; there was nothing to say.

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