Angel's Mark

Twenty-four

By now I could be considered a professional third wheel, if that was a thing. Ever since a recovering Lucie had seen me, a ghost at the time, outside that hospital, I'd watched her and my brother fall hopelessly for each other. If I hadn't loved the two of them more than I loved myself, I would have found the whole situation rather disgusting. Nevertheless, I'd grown used to it. To the furtive glances, the gentle touches, the lingering gazes on lips.

If only third-wheeling was an actual occupation, something I could get paid off of. I could have owned a private jet by now.

Lucie was almost off her shift at Walmart when I called her. Cian and I were sitting in the car, Cian drumming his fingers across the steering wheel, my legs pulled up in the seat, criss-crossed underneath me.

"I'm working," she answered. She didn't say hey or hello or what's up. Lucie never really answered the phone like a normal person, but that was understandable, because none of us were normal people.

"Figured," I said. "Look can we—can we just come see you? Something happened. I don't know if Cian told you about it already, but he...he just needs you. I guess I do too."

The other line buzzed in my ear, the song of Lucie's hesitation. It was at least fifteen seconds before she said, "Yeah. Yeah, you guys can come. I just—I can't leave, or anything; my shift's not over yet. I'll have to sneak you into the break room."

I leaned my head against the window, motioning for Cian to start the car. He jerked the key, the engine roaring to life underneath us. "That's fine," I told Lucie. "It's not the most risky thing we've ever done."

"I think if it was, that would mean your life is kind of depressing."

"What an optimistic way of looking at it."

"Don't get all angsty with me, Vinny," Lucie said, then exhaled. There was beep somewhere in the background, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "I've got a customer coming—but hey, you guys are okay, right? Please tell me you're both okay."

I wish I could say yes. It would be so easy to say yes.

As Cian backed out of the driveway, though, I told Lucie, "Who even knows at this point."

I guess that was the wrong thing to say, because ten minutes later when Cian and I marched up to checkout line number nine to meet Lucie, there was apprehension written all over her face. I saw her examine us, eyes raking up and then down, before letting out an enormous exhale and throwing herself into Cian's arms.

She backed up, hugged me, too. "Dear Jesus, Vinny," she snapped, releasing me and adjusting her blue vest instead. "You can't say stuff like that. I was bracing myself the whole time, thinking the two of you were gonna walk in covered in blood, like those twins in The Shining."

Cian's face twisted in confusion. "But—Lulu, we don't even look like twins."

"That's beside the point!" she exclaimed, then took Cian by the wrist. "We're going to the break room. They have orange juice in there. You look like you need orange juice."

Before I could question how orange juice was going to solve anything, Lucie was already off, tugging Cian behind her. Bemusedly, I followed after the two of them, moving underneath the glaring industrial lights, through aisles that smelled of cleaner, or of perfume, or faintly of vomit.

We reached the back, where Cian and I waited around the corner until Lucie assured us the coast was clear. We shuffled after her into the break room, a tiny square-shaped dungeon of a place. Its furniture consisted of a rickety table, three plastic chairs, and a refrigerator. The floor was decorated with more than a few unrecognizable stains, and the air was thick with air freshener.