Zhanna Slor - At the End of the World, Turn Left

I swallow the lump in my throat and walk up the stairs, bringing the photo over. The air is thick and wet, like it’s going to start snowing any second, but Tao doesn’t even look cold. “Are you maybe thinking of this girl?” I ask, so close to him now I can smell the grease in his hair. “You’re wearing her hat.”

“Oh. Yeah!” He looks at the tiny, pixelated photo, then at me. “Shit, you look a lot like her. No wonder I was confused.”

I take out my pack of Camel Lights again, offering him one, which he takes eagerly and without thanks, like he is used to people giving him things. He passes the joint to Liam, who either has a very high tolerance or is also going to be this spacey soon. I try not to cough from all the smoke now billowing around my head.

“Where did you find her hat?” I ask this in the most innocent voice I can muster. Which is maybe the wrong approach, since Tao inhales, then looks at me strangely, like he is suddenly suspicious.

“Why are you asking?”

“She’s not in trouble or anything,” I explain. “Did she give it to you? Where did you find it?”

“Uh,” he looks down, and licks his lips. “I dunno, man. The hat? Coulda been anywhere.”

“Maybe she left it here after a show,” Liam suggests.

“Okay…” I look from Liam to Tao to Liam again, having the strong feeling they are leaving something out. Snow starts to fall then, out of nowhere, covering us all in thick white flakes. Typical Wisconsin weather. Right when you think it’s warming up there’s another blizzard. Tao doesn’t move, or attempt to put on shoes. “Well, do you know where she is, by chance? Or who she’s been hanging out with?”

Tao glances at me skeptically, then focuses on Liam, who shrugs. “I think she’s with Tristan,” Tao finally admits.

Liam’s eyes grow large. “No shit?” His lips turn down into a disgusted pout.

“Who’s Tristan?” I ask.

“Just some crusty asshole,” Liam says. “Stayed here a couple of times and then I’d find shit missing the next day.” He shakes his head. “Not cool, man.”

“He’s really tall,” Tao adds, shaking his head and looking again towards the sky. “Like a space creature. He can reach anything .”

“Does this Tristan guy have a last name?” I ask, frowning.

“You want his social security number too?” Tao jokes.

Liam laughs. “Last summer a guy came around calling himself Twigs the Clown.”

Tao perks up and turns to us again. “Twigs was here?” he asks. “I love that guy.”

“Do you know anything else about him?” I try. I don’t have time to sit here and listen to them talk about a clown. “Anything at all?”

Liam and Tao exchange glances. “No,” Liam says. “Why would we?”

“I don’t know,” I say, taking in a deep breath. “Just asking. Thanks.” I turn on my heels and start walking away. At least I have a name now. A lead. That’s enough for one visit. More than that, I can’t be around Liam anymore. It’s too confusing.

“Masha, wait,” Liam says, catching up to me on the sidewalk. The snow is falling harder now, but none of it is sticking to the ground yet. It’s actually quite beautiful. And somehow sad, too. “I’m glad you stopped here. Really.”

“Why?” I ask.

“It’s… good to see you doing so well.”

I look at him skeptically.

“What? Come on I was joking before, you do seem happy. Tired, but happy,” he says. “Which is all we can really hope for right?”

I shrug.

Liam steps forward to hug me. “You’re shaking, girl.”

“I am?”

“You’re freezing,” he says, holding me tighter. I let him stay there for a while, because he’s right, I am cold, and because he smells so good. Or maybe because I could really use some human interaction right now, I don’t know. I can’t think straight when I don’t get enough sleep, I turn into a quivering baby. Part of me wants to cry, and part of me wants to pass out, and neither one wants to keep walking in the cold. But I know I have to. This isn’t my world anymore. I don’t have time to get bogged down in nostalgia.

“Thanks,” I say, shyly. Wrong, wrong, wrong , my brain keeps yelling. You have a clear conscience now, don’t mess it up . After a moment, I wiggle out of his hug. “I really should go. It’s about to really blizzard out here.”

“You can come back inside if you want,” Liam says. He puts his hands up in surrender. “I won’t try anything, scouts’ honor.”

“I have to find Anna,” I say. “Sorry. But thank you.” Then I start walking as fast as I can down Center Street, feeling like I dodged a bullet. Before I can get away, Liam calls out my name again. I spin around, but don’t head back.

“You should try Bremen Café. Or Foundation,” he suggests, but doesn’t explain why. I would have tried both those places anyway, but I thank him and continue forward. Speeding through the torrent of giant snowflakes, I can’t help but wonder if Rose led me to Valhalla only to throw me off. She is perfectly aware of our history, after all. Liam claims he doesn’t even know Anna. Maybe she was there at some point for a show, long enough to leave a hat, but this is nothing new for my sister. She is always leaving stuff everywhere. When we were kids, I would find her things in the most random places; a toothbrush in the freezer, a fountain pen under a cereal box. Once I discovered an entire box of photos she’d taken of a neighbor’s dog in my winter boots. In my room. She had no idea how they got there; she was just like that.

Which begs the question: why would Rose send me to Liam’s house? She couldn’t have known that some random train-hopper would be walking around with information I needed. And maybe Anna is with this Tristan guy, but I am not sold on it. It doesn’t sound like her to become so nihilistic. Train-hoppers live nowhere, and don’t care about anyone or anything; Anna is the opposite of that. She’s sensitive and fanatical. She wouldn’t leave her room for a week once because her friend’s parakeet died. She wouldn’t fit in with that crowd. They’re not all bad, but many of them walk the line of criminality and drug addiction. They’re definitely not artist types.

No, it doesn’t sound like Anna to fall in with them. But I better ask around to make sure. I head towards Bremen Café, only a few blocks away from Liam’s, because in Riverwest, everything is a few blocks away from everything. As the snow falls harder and harder, I pick up the pace. There are people out and about everywhere, biking down Center Street, going in and out of bars. You can hardly tell it’s the middle of February, and a weeknight. Unlike suburban Wisconsin, where my parents reside practically in solitude, and hearing a car drive by makes you jump because it happens so rarely.

I’m about to slip on a patch of new snow when I catch myself on a patio table and realize I’ve managed to reach the door for Bremen Café. Not the door actually, but the crowd of smokers standing outside of it. I find my balance and push my way through them, to find more smoking inside. My glasses fog up from the heat, making the whole place appear like a blob of leather. I pocket them and head straight to the pool room in the back, but Anna isn’t there, of course. That would be too easy. I don’t see Rose either. There is, however, a group of train-hoppers hanging around playing pool. Maybe they will know something. I turn into the room, watching. Some heads are bobbing along; others are focused on the tables. No one even looks in my direction. I check my outfit—jeans, black leather coat, red beanie hat—and decide I can’t appear so out of place here. But maybe there’s something about my energy now that I can’t see. Like I’ve sold out, or something. As if people can smell that I have a job and a lovely apartment and a healthy relationship. As if they can detect I go running on the beach every day.