Without looking back Lucy walked out of the stacks. She went to the bathroom. Then she went into Amanda’s office, which was small, windowless and cluttered. There was a stack of files on the corner of her desk. It leaned to the left. Lucy looked at the floor. She looked at the far wall. She clasped her hands behind her back. Then she grabbed the pile, turned all of it sideways and tapped it against the desk until every folder was perfectly aligned.
“You need help,” Amanda said.
“I don’t deny it,” Lucy said. She set the pile back on the corner of Amanda’s desk.
“And what’s with the hair?”
“I just got it cut,” Lucy said. She tucked the right side of her bangs behind her ear. There was nothing she could do about the three tufts that stuck up at the back.
“It’s just so clichéd, Lucy.”
“You mean the naughty librarian thing?”
“Don’t even say that. This is the first time that anything like this has ever happened here.”
“It’s the first time you’ve caught me.”
“You’re fired.”
“Usually I’m pretty safe up there in North American Literature.”
“Collect your things and go.”
Lucy extended her index finger and adjusted the files, slightly. She nodded her head. She left Amanda’s office. There was nothing she needed to collect from her desk and no coworkers she needed to say good-bye to. Lucy walked to the main doors and went through them.
On the sidewalk Lucy stood perfectly still. Having just been fired in a ridiculous and humiliating way, she wanted to feel shame, to be so overwhelmed by self-doubt that she no longer knew who she was. She wanted to feel lost. But all she felt was the dry dusty air. A bus stopped in front of her. She hadn’t realized that she had been standing at a bus stop, but when the doors opened Lucy decided to get on.
There were twelve people on the bus. Lucy counted each one as she walked by them. She took a seat at the very back. She closed her eyes. The bus rounded many corners. Her body shifted and swayed. When she was sure that she’d lost track of time, Lucy pulled the cord.
Lucy stepped off of the bus. She watched it drive away. Then she looked around. The houses were mainly sixties-era bungalows. The lawns were perfectly kept. The street signs told her that she stood at Druid and Forester. Lucy had never been here. She had never heard of either of these streets. She wasn’t even sure what part of town she was in. But Lucy knew, without doubt, that if she went six blocks north, and then four blocks west, and then south for another nine and a half blocks, she’d be in front of her house.
“Damn it!” Lucy said.
She walked into the middle of the road. She closed her eyes and she held out her arms and she turned in a slow clockwise circle. But no matter what direction Lucy faced, she knew the way home.
ANGIE SET THE TIMER ON HER PHONE and waited on the sidewalk across from her sister’s house. Forty-five minutes passed before a dented and dirty taxi arrived and Lucy stepped out of it. It had been nearly eight years since Angie had seen her sister and the first thing she noticed, and then couldn’t stop staring at, was her haircut. The bangs on the right side of Lucy’s head were at least three inches longer than the bangs on the left. The bottom was sliced in a zigzag, like the mouth of a jack-o’-lantern. Three tufts stuck up at the top. Lucy’s haircut didn’t look fashionable or avantgarde—it just looked crazy.
Angie walked across the street. Lucy turned and saw her coming. They stopped when they were three feet apart. Neither decreased the space between them. Angie tried not to stare at Lucy’s hair.
“It’s me. Your sister. Angie.”
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t either.”
“Your boobs are so big!”
“Well, I am pregnant.”
“How did you find my house?”
“You’re in the phone book.”
“Right.”
“Do you want to know how long I waited?”
“Yes!”
Angie took her phone out of her purse. She checked the timer. “Forty-seven minutes,” she said. “And twenty seconds from right … now.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“No. I guess it isn’t.”
“Can you give me five minutes?”
“Of course,” Angie said, setting the timer again. Lucy turned. She ran up the steps to her house. Her hair was just as ragged in the back.
Angie had always known her sister to be tightly wound. Lucy had obsessed over her grades. She was considered one of the prettiest girls in her school, yet she never went out with anyone. At the same time she was a bit of a slut, although her choice of partners had always seemed more than literally beneath her. Growing up Lucy had always disliked surprises. As Angie stood on the sidewalk in front of her house, she assumed that her sister’s desire for control had finally broken her.
Angie’s timer dinged. She walked across the front lawn, which was manicured to a golf-green perfection. Picking the blades of grass off her shoes Angie knocked on the door. It was immediately answered.
“Angie!” Lucy called.
“May I come in?”
“Please do,” Lucy said, and Angie stepped inside.
Two skinny floor rugs lay side by side in the hallway. Angie stood by the door. She could see into the living room, where matching white armchairs were pushed against the far wall. Both rooms were without coffee mugs or newspapers or anything accidental. It did not look like anyone lived there. It looked like an advertisement.
“Can you take your shoes off?” Lucy asked.
“Um …”
“Please.”
“Give me a minute,” Angie said. She sat on the floor and lifted her feet into the air.
“Come on, Angie, you’re a big girl now.”
“Obviously you’ve never been pregnant.”
“It’s not too late,” Lucy said. She crossed her arms. Angie kept her feet in the air. The effort strained her stomach muscles.
“If you want them off you’ll have to do it,” Angie said.
“So, what? You never take
