THE PRIVATE PARTY

30

You had hoped to surprise her, your sister, arriving in the evening at the hospital, but she hardly looks away from the television when you burst in. She says hi as if she is talking to a nurse.

You stand by her bed, take her hand. She is still pale, still thin. Her face is still blotchy There are crutches beside the bed, a good sign, they mean she must be walking a little on her own. She doesn't seem to want to talk about it though.

"I guess you're going out," she says flatly to the television.

You are aware of your perfume, your hair down on your shoulders, your heels. You won;t take off your coat as you don't want her to see the ridiculous tight dress underneath. It is made of some new kind of rubber, thin as silk. You say, "Do you mind if we turn that off? I came to talk to you."

"Oh thanks," she says, and she coughs. You see her looking to the bedside for the pan she spits in.

"Are you still spitting up?"

"Not as much." She turns off the tv. She looks at you without smiling.

"Look," you say, sitting. You pull the coat over your shiny legs. "I know I haven't been here as much as I was. And I know you're mad. You have every right to be. There's just something I'm working on that –"

"I know," she says, nodding. She has a weak smile. "I know what it's like. To have a new guy. It feels like your whole world has changed."

"A new guy? No. That's not it. There is a guy, but –"

"I know. I can still remember, you know? What it's like to walk around outside. Have guys talk to you at bus stops. I can't believe I used to hate it. I used to dress in rags, like big bags covering me, and glasses, just so they would leave me alone." She glances over at you, takes in your stilettoes and the edge of clingy dress under your coat. Your makeup and cleavage.

You feel that you are going to cry. "Baby," you say, "honey, that's not it. You don't understand."

"It's not a guy?"

"It's more than a guy."

She stares at you for a moment. "What are you dressed up for?"

"Work," you say.

"Huh." She closes her eyes. She lets go of your hand. "Must be interesting work."

"It has been."

Very faintly, she says, "I would probably do the same. If I were better. I would use my body if it were healthy. What else can we do? If we live here."

"It's not exactly what you think," you say. "I have been using my body, yes. And enjoying it. But there's something else now. A project. And it's for you." You look towards the door, where the security guard sits twenty-four hours a day, paid for by the Owner. He is playing a game on his phone. You lower your voice. "I'm onto them, Lu. I have help. Powerful help. We're going to find the people who –"

"You idiot," says your sister harshly and loudly. She throws your hand down. "You idiot."

"Lu, baby. Don't. It's for you. I am doing something for you. I am looking into something. And I have help from a guy."

"For god's sake," she spits. Her face is twisted. "Don't be insane. You're going to be like, what, a detective? A spy? Do you have any idea what they are going to do with you? To you?"

"Baby." You try to grab her other hand. She pulls away. She starts to cough, harder now, and rasp and spit. You bring her the pan. You see the mucus she coughs up, the pain in her face. She is crying too. You notice that at least there is no blood in what she coughs up. This is an improvement.

"Don't, please," she cries. "You're all I have left. They can't take you too."

"They won't take me," you say. "They won't get me. We are going to get them."

She just weeps silently for a moment. You let her, stroking her hand. Finally, after it subsides, and she has wiped her face, she looks at you and says, "I wish I could get dressed with you, one night. To go out. The way we used to. With music."

"And some wine."

"And cigarettes."

You both laugh.

"And we could do each other's hair and trade shoes."

"And you would steal my lipstick."

You are crying a little too, now, ruining your eyeliner. "You will," you say. "We will. I promise you."

"Promise."

"I promise." And you hug her for as long as you can, then you get up to go.

You know the security guard is watching your legs all the way down the hall.