Frost - Marianna Baer

praying the running water would mask the sounds as I carefully

put the bottles back in the cabinet. Damn—I was taking too long.

I flushed the toilet, opened the bathroom door slowly.

Celeste and her father sat on the bed. “What are you doing

here?” Celeste asked.

“Sorry,” I said. “Gabe took me up here and then I needed to

pee so I used this bathroom. I hope that’s okay.”

“Raiding the medicine cabinet?” she said.

My heart stopped. “No, I —”

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“You really shouldn’t be here,” Mr. Lazar said to the floor.

“Why would you be here? Did someone tell you to be here?”

“I . . .”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Celeste said. “Leena is my friend. She was

just using the bathroom.”

Mr. Lazar shook his head from side to side. “No one should

be here. You told me that no one would be here. There are so

many people.” His voice had become inappropriately loud.

“I’m sorry,” I said, moving as quickly as possible toward the

door. “I didn’t know.”

“Why are you here?” Mr. Lazar continued. “No one knows

you. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Sorry,” I said again to Celeste as I finally made it out to the

hallway.

I hurried down the stairs, almost tripping on the way. Once in

the crowd of people, I looked all around. Faces that had taken on

a familiar note before now were just strangers, again. I didn’t

know these people. What was I doing here? All of my muscles

were tense. I needed to get the pills into my bag. Which room

was it in? Or better yet, I needed to leave. I needed to leave right

now.

“Leena, hon? Everything okay?” Mrs. Lazar rested a hand on

my shoulder.

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I tried to relax, unclenched my fists. “I’m fine,” I said. “I upset

your husband. I didn’t mean to.” My fists. Shit. Something was in

my right hand. The key.

“Ah,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. Please. This was a hard

day for him, all the people. You’ll have to come back and see him

some other time. Just you and David.” She gave my shoulder a

gentle squeeze.

“Sure, yeah. That would be great.” I needed to return the

key, but I couldn’t go back upstairs while Mr. Lazar was there.

“Where’s that David kid hiding?” she said.

“I don’t know. Maybe the kitchen?”

Mrs. Lazar reached for my elbow and began leading me in

that direction, down a hall that was empty of people.

“He takes so much on, with his father and sister. It’s

wonderful for him to have a . . . a friend like you who isn’t so

mercurial, who is so . . . so . . .”

“Grounded?” I said. The tiny key weighed heavily in my

sweaty hand. The tissue wad in my bra was itchy.

“Yes, right,” she said. “I was going to say normal, but then,

what is normal? And what kind of mother calls her daughter

abnormal?” She laughed. “Celeste is a rare bird. I feel very lucky

to have her. But no one would identify stability as her cardinal

trait.”

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“I guess not.”

“I hear you’re going to New York over the break,” she said.

“Why don’t you come here for Thanksgiving, too? Unless you’ve

got family plans?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t.”

“Invite your parents, as well.”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

We’d reached the kitchen. David was beside me. “That’s a

good idea,” he said. He looked at me hopefully.

“Wel ,” I said, “my mom will be in LA. I suppose I could invite

my dad, though. David, do you remember where I put my bag? I

need something out of it.”

After finding my bag in the mudroom, I hid out in the

downstairs bath and transferred the pills into it. I still needed to

return the key, though. As far as I could tell, Celeste and Mr. Lazar

had never emerged from his room. I was biding my time, talking

to the older man who thought I looked like the movie star, when

David tapped me on the shoulder.

“I’m going to head out for a bit to drive my dad back to

Riverside. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” I said. Yes! Take him! “Do you want to borrow

my car?”

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“No, no,” he said. “I’ll take Mom’s. It’s about ten minutes

away so I won’t be long. I’d ask you to come, but it’s probably

better—”

“That’s totally okay,” I said. “I can fend for myself.”

I stood by a window in the living room, watching until the car

rolled out of the driveway and down the street. I checked around

the party rooms for Celeste. No sign of her. I casually walked back

up the stairs. The door to the Lazars’ room was shut. I knocked

lightly. No answer. “Celeste?” I said. Nothing.

I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. Get in, get out.

No problem. Just walk through. Don’t look around. My armpits

were sweaty. I made it across the room, gripped the bathroom

door handle.

Then I heard it. The slightest shifting of fabric. I turned. My

eyes fumbled to make out shapes in the gloom. There. Subtle

movement underneath a large desk. Shit.

“Hello?” I said tentatively.

No answer.

“Are you okay?”

“Leave me alone, Leena.” The voice was Celeste’s. But it was

rough and strained. She’d been crying.

I took slow steps toward her and lowered myself down so I

was kneeling next to the desk.

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“What’s wrong?” I said.

Her thin arms wrapped around one knee. Her whole body

shook.

“Are you sick?”

“No.” She began sobbing so hard she could barely speak.

Noises from the party floated up the stairs. She rocked back and

forth.

“What can I do?” I said. “Tell me. Do you want me to get

David?” I remembered he was gone. “Or your mother?”

“No!” she said. “I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m just too tired to fight it

anymore.” Her words were forced out between sobs and gulps for

air. “I’m so, so tired.”

“Fight what?” I said.

“How can you not know?” She gripped a leg of the desk, as if

to steady herself. “How can you not know?”

“Celeste, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” My pulse

had quickened. The tone of her words, her body language, her

incoherence—it all made me worry I was in over my head. “Can

you come out and sit on the bed? It would be easier to talk.”

She maneuvered out from under the desk. She was visibly

shaking, and on top of that, her body still heaved with sobs. I

stood up and grabbed a soft blanket that was piled at the end of

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the bed. I wrapped it around her shoulders and led her to sit

down. I sat next to her.

“Can you tell me?” I said.

“No.” She shook, her head and her body. “I can’t tell you. I

can’t tell anyone.”

“If you’re too tired to fight it alone,” I said, “you need

someone to help you. Right?”

“I can’t,” she said. “And not you. Before, before . . . maybe.

But not now. I can’t tell anyone. Don’t you see?”

“How can I see, Celeste, since I have no idea what you’re

talking about? Well, I mean, I have some idea, but . . .” Either she

knew she had some blood disease, someone was hurting her, or

she was hurting herself. That much I knew.

“You do?” She gripped my sleeve with a hand that glowed

white and skeletal in the darkened room. “It’s happening to you,

too?”

It’s happening to you, too. Oh, God. Was she talking about