Shallow Imitations

chapter thirty-one

       

The jewelry store wasn't what I expected. It's in a rich part of town, surrounded by other nicer stores. We're dressed nicely, so fit in perfectly. It's not that time El and I walked into Tiffany's wearing sweats (they were nice sweats) and t-shirts and the salesmen didn't even try to help us, knowing we wouldn't buy anything. This time, we came in and this middle-aged man in a suit smiled.

As we walk in, I begin counting the cameras. There's one in every corner. From what I've read online, a guy climbed on the roof and threw a gas grenade in the air vent, knocking out everyone inside. They had one minute to ransack the store before the alarm went off. The police got there five minutes after they were gone. Although they were wearing masks, they were able to identify the three men, but the guy on the roof was never discovered. Kal's theory is that Atlas is likely to have planned the mission and dropped the gas grenades.

I thought it was stupid. The whole car ride we were arguing about it. We've known each other for years and this isn't something he's capable of doing. Sure, no one god hurt, but it's a freakin' robbery!

Through the protective glass, I watch the tiny numbers displayed next to extravagant pieces of jewelry. The zeros extend beyond my imagination. I can't think of a good reason to explain why he would do this. Even if Atlas was involved, he has no reason to steal money. We never needed money anyway. We could afford a bigger apartment, but we liked living simply. It was cosy and easy to clean. All our belongings fit in there.

When our parents died, they left us a house and all their inheritance. Dad had lost his relationship with his family when he decided to marry an American—not to add, black—woman, and they wanted nothing to do with us. It's not a ton of money, but it's enough for us not to have to worry about things. El and I decided to keep our shares in the bank, untouched until we needed it. Her first thought was to spend it, of course, but I managed to convince her that we'll need it when we're older. El has gotten too used to the apartment life, having a small space to take naps in before getting out to the world again.

Kal walks up the first guy he sees, a tall man in a suit. He looks the friendliest of the three. There's a smile on Kal's face as he leans over the glass. "I'm shopping for a ring for my girlfriend," he says, whispering.

I pretend not to hear them, rolling my eyes as I walk through the store, secretly hiding the smile on my face. I'm trying to make it seem like we're buying something because I know what Kal says next will only sound suspicious. I'm not even into jewelry. The texture feels scratch against my skin. That's when I even remember to wear any. Sometimes I like to put on some of Mom's things, just to remember her. I end up putting it back eventually, not wanting to ruin it.

The salesman is called Will, and he whispers as he tells Kal about the man who's now serving jail time. "I've been working here for a year, so I'd just missed the robbery by three months, thank god," he says. "They rehired staff afterward, blaming them for it."

Atlas died eleven months ago, to be exact. This means that he'd only done this four months before his death. I would remember something suspicious happening. Those last four months were normal. We had a few arguments. Nothing out of the ordinary. He never came back home agitated. All day he'd spend working on his computer, writing review and articles for money. Other days he'd spend doing job interview. He'd come home from those realizing he screwed up but not knowing hot to fix it. He never comes home late. By seven, he's back at the apartment. Unless we decide to go out together.

Though I do remember him going out for several reasons, like to meet up with some friends from work—as he usually does—or to get some writing done. It's not unusual for one of us to want some private time in which we can write. The apartment is small, which is something we both love, but we also need some time to write. I only let Atlas come along when I needed his help in coming up with ideas or something.