Page 72 of Dahlias, Sapphires, and Cool Autumn Dusk
“Yeah,” Julian said, and I realized he talked to someone on the phone in the other room. Hopefully Joe, and he had answers. “What?”
I rocked back and forth with Phoenix, still holding his wiry frame against me. “Come on. Let’s go sit in the living room. On the couch. We’re home. I am with you, and neither of us are in a dark place.”
With Jer’s help, I led him into the living room. Phoenix dropped to the couch then took his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.
Julian whirled around, holding the phone away from his mouth. “It’s just THZ, but he said, and I quote,everyone is going dark with it, man. Including his boy Avery, apparently.”
Barrett grabbed the phone, aggression so clear in his motions that Julian actually backed up a step. “This is Barrett. Listen, dipshit, don’t you ever fucking give my brother anything that takes him dark again. I don’t blame you for his choices, but I can judge you for what you chose to sell to him. I get that if you’re not his dealer, it would be someone else, and we both know you like the money. But let me make myselfveryclear. If you ever give him anything, and I meananything, that takes him dark again, it won’t be Jeremy you should be scared of anymore.”
When he hung up, he was panting, his eyes wild when they turned to me and his pupils huge. With a slow, slightly shaking hand, he handed the phone back to Julian. I held Phoenix andstared at Barrett.Prim and proper?Wasn’t that how Murial described Barrett?Yeah…she doesn’t know them at all.
18
Phoenix rocked back and forth on the couch, his head in his hands, despite my best efforts. Sometimes he muttered about a dark place, swatting at invisible hands reaching for him. I stroked his back. I wanted to scream, since there wasn’t much else I could do for him, other than be with him until it ended.
Barrett said, “This is THC, a kind of marijuana. It shouldn’t be doing this to him.”
I knew very little about drugs, so I shrugged, useless in the conversation.
Jeremy stared out the window as if he might see the answers on the street below. “It’s synthetic, so it can happen, unfortunately.”
“Didn’t he tell us once that Joe wasquote unquote safe?” Julian sat on the floor in front of Phoenix, touching his brother’s knees gently. “Isn’t that what he told us years ago? That’s why he went to him for his stuff? Wasn’t that the whole point? No bad mixtures? No fentanyl. All of it was supposed to befine.”
Barrett drummed on the piano, turning to music to try to soothe his nerves. I didn’t know the song, but the melody wassad, and it matched my mood. We all stayed with Phoenix right then, and he was lost in the dark alone.
“How would Phoenix know it would go bad?” Jeremy didn’t turn around, gaze locked on the lawn. “I mean I ate it up, just like you all did. He fed us a line, and it was exactly what we wanted to hear. As if we could pretend there weresafedrugs or asafedrug dealer when we all knew it was bullshit.”
Barrett’s hands faltered and he missed a note. For a few seconds, he stilled his hands, breathing deeply through his nose before his fingers started rolling over the keys again.
Julian grabbed his brother’s knee, demanding his attention. “K2 is illegal. If we call Eric, it’s over.”
“Give it more time. It’s probably almost over.” Jeremy still stared outside, but suddenly I wondered if it only was because he didn’t want to look at Phoenix.
I grabbed Dina’s journal off the table, deciding I would read while we waited for him to ride out the drug’s dark place. I needed something—anything—to distract me from reality. I kept my hand on Phoenix’s back while I began to read.
SEPTEMBER 1ST, 1966
Marriage is an adjustment? I knew it would be true before I married them, but, boy, is it a hard lesson to learn in reality. Once we were away from my mother-in-law’s and her rules, we decided to invent our own rules. One of them is they don’t seem to think that I should work. I find it particularly funny, because I always assumed I would be working. Even when I attended boarding school, I expected to have to get a job someday.
Then again, I didn’t get to finish school, which made things complicated. Still, I am quite capable. Money is tight, the men preparing to launch the first store—which is fine, as I am not one to spend much money, usually. But I could help them. They disagree, claiming I should be setting up our house. We set up the damn house already. Oh, did I mention we moved? Did I forget to mention that? We moved to Riverdale, in the Bronx. We could afford a little more space and two other families like ours live in the area nearby. I intend to meet them shortly, perhaps I’ll bring along a gift from one of the stores?
They aren’t close friends of the Lents, because they moved away from the lake before the Lents made their wealth. However, after a few overtures by Victor, we got invited to a dinner. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Our house is a brick row house, which means one of our walls attaches to that of our neighbor. They are perfect for us, though, since he can’t hear, is always shouting, and she can’t see very well. They haven’t even looked strangely at our four- bedroom paradise in the Bronx.
But the house is dull when they work all day and leave me here. I cook for them, which takes up some time, and they compliment my efforts at length. Perhaps they hope I’ll just get pregnant soon, thereby distracting myself with something to do at home. Perhaps I hope for that, as well. . . It would fill the time. I can imagine a child with their faces, their eyes, running down the halls and laughing. I also discovered I prefer to fill my time and become desperately bored without occupation.
But I do love them so.
I think I shall paint all the downstairs walls red today. They might hate it, but they probably won’t tell me, because they want me to be happy. I’ll know if they hate it, though. If they suddenly all get busy doing other things, refusing to sit in therooms. . . Yes, I need activity, so for now, I’ll paint the walls red. Tomorrow? Who knows?
DL
I thoughtof the red walls in her beautiful apartment on the Upper East Side, the same building where my aunt lived. Julian warned me within seconds of meeting him that they didn’t like it if people made fun of their granny’s wall color. Personally, I loved it—so warm and vivid all at the same time. In our current home, trees crawled up the walls, a fantasy forest painted by their mother for them.Painting the walls must be a Lent woman thing.I smiled at the thought. If I ever painted the walls in my own home, I would paint them red, too.For Dina, the first woman to be nice to me in five years. Half a decade of time, holy cow.
“What is Granny doing?” Julian asked. “What is she up to in there, anyway? Can you tell me any of it?”
I could be vague, but I wasn’t going to share a story she wanted to tell in her own words. It warmed me that she’d been shocked I kept her secrets already.
