unpleasant, the two of them together. Like two different species. Their childhood parallel play had continued through their lives: always aware of each other, always watching, but never exactly friends. Harri was too quiet, too antisocial—and, on top of that, the two of them went to different schools, Emily to Queens Falls High and Harri to Saratoga. Emily, though eccentric, was effortless. She dressed normally. Prettily, Howie supposed. Or, you never really noticed how she dressed. Harri, on the other hand, made a great effort to assure that you noticed. Emily was quick to laugh. Harri quick to close in on herself. Howie felt a strong, unfeasible bond with the girl next door, but seeing Emily’s open energy diminish his daughter, he wished that he could just turn Emily down a smidgeon. Please, leave my little girl alone.
Howie imagined his daughter walking straight up into Emilyand disappearing, as if that’s where she belonged anyway, who she actually was, or who she could have been if Howie hadn’t failed so spectacularly. Emily and Harriet living next door as one.
—
“God, Dad,” Harri said, returning to him. She lifted her eyebrows. One of them pierced with a metal beetle.
Emily was gone.
“That,” she continued, “was your next-door neighbor. By the way. Maybe you’ve seen her around once or twice in the past seventeen years?”
“I’m sorry,” Howie said. He tried to fix his face.
“Don’t be,” she said. “I love how you don’t even pretend to give a shit. You’re an inspiration. But did you see how wasted Emily looked?”
Howie had seen nothing of the sort. “She has a lot of freckles,” he said.
“Observant,” Harri said. “No, I mean, it looks like she hasn’t slept in years. I feel bad for her. There are all these bitchy rumors now, you know? These slut rumors. I fucking hate high school.”
Harri liked testing her father with new words and concepts. He said, “She was probably up late studying.”
“Probably not, Dad.”
Harri took out her phone, began tapping.
Howie said, “The freckles make her look strange.”
Silence. Had he gone too far, defending Emily? He felt guilty—as if he’d just been caught cheating on his daughter with another daughter. He said, “You’re much prettier.”
“Jesus.” Harri made a face. “What are you even talking about?”
“I’m sure she gets enough sleep,” Howie continued.
“What the hell, Dad.”
“OK.”
“You are so weird. I don’t think she’s ever really liked me. I don’t know,” and Harri turned around, back to where Emily had been standing. She watched that spot.
Moments later, Harri’s phone beeped. “Uh-oh,” she said. “It’s Mom. She says you promised to buy me a new jacket.”
“OK.”
“Not OK. I don’t need a new jacket. I could use some new boots though, actually. Maybe before Bellaggio’s?”
“That sounds nice.”
“Nice?”
Harri laughed. “You’re a maniac.”
Howie liked Harri best when they were shopping. She became younger, more possible, and so they went back, deeper back into the Aviation Road mall, Harri pulling him toward a not inexpensive pair of Frankensteins she promised he’d be in a holy shitload of trouble for getting her. “Mom’ll manslaughter you!” How could he resist?
They put the shopping bags and cans of paint into the backseat of Howie’s car. They got in the front. Howie put his seat belt on. Harri, of course, did not. She’d grown unwieldy again.
“Bellaggio’s?” he said.
“I don’t know, maybe just take me home.”
Howie said, “OK.”
He started the car.
“Yeah, take me home.”
“OK.”
“I
know
it is, Dad.”
They drove in silence. Howie, at a loss, asked a question about Emily, wondered what they’d talked about at the mall, if Emily was applying to any of the same colleges as Harri.
“Seriously?” Harri said.
She didn’t wear seat belts because of the way they fell across her neck: she was just way too small. They