The Playlist, page 2
“Yeah, I guess,” Gina said bleakly. Gina used one of the likely soiled napkins balled up on her dresser to wipe her snot and tears. Sarah let go of her hand and rubbed her shoulder soothingly.
“I know it’s hard for you to talk about your emotions. It’s healthy that you’re telling me, Gina,” Sarah said. After a beat she added, “I’m not gonna lie, I’ve wondered.”
Gina let out a shaky breath and weakly chuckled. “Well, cat’s out of the bag. I’m not sure how this ‘coming out’ thing works, but I suppose it’s past time for you to know about it.”
Sarah nodded. “You know I love you and I’m here for you, G,” she said.
Gina bobbed her head almost imperceptibly as quietude passed between them for a moment. “Well, I don’t really want to emote anymore today,” Gina said. “I could kind of use a distraction now. You up for watching something stupid?”
In a matter of minutes, the two friends were snuggled up under fleece throws, armed with a bowl of popcorn and a couple cans of soda pop. They watched one of their old favorites, laughing and snorting at the funniest parts and yelling lines at each other.
At one point, Gina began absentmindedly scrolling through the social media app on her phone and remembered the message she’d received earlier. Her thumb hovered over the red notification dot and she paused mid-tap. The green eyes peering back from the small picture. The last name. Both familiar. Her thumb began to tremble because Maureen Adamski could only be one person. And according to the message she was reading with her heart in her throat, the older Ms. Adamski wanted to talk to Gina, her deceased daughter’s friend.
#
CHAPTER TWO: MODERN GIRL
By Sleater-Kinney
Cori Ryder stood in the center of the sun-dappled living room of the two-bedroom apartment that she, like nearly all twentysomething New Yorkers, could not afford on her own. She ruffled her curls and closed her eyes. Where am I going to take all this shit? She wondered.
Cori conducted her life at the approximate speed of 107 miles per hour, and Saturday mornings were the only time of the week that she carved out any downtime for herself. Her weeks were busy; she spent her weekdays being a punctual, reliable employee at the diner where she took lunch orders, and in the evenings, she gave music lessons to kids. She could count on playing a gig almost any night she wanted, but her Friday night shows tended to be the ones where she let loose, her catharsis for the week.
Aside from her Friday night benders, she felt the compulsion to be in control of everything else. Her gritty rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle necessitated that she be in charge, even as she projected a counter aura of carelessness, because it was too easy to get screwed over and because only the very best could land a big break. Those around her tended to want something from her or ended up mired in their own self-destruction, and she was not going down with anyone. At twenty-six years old, Cori had friends who’d gone away to rehab, recovered and relapsed, lost jobs and moved back to their respective hometowns, died accidentally, and died by suicide. Cori had a healthy streak of hedonism, but she was not foolish, she had goals, and though she could admit that her impulsiveness around alcohol occasionally caused drama, she had it under control.
The current state of her apartment did not scream “control.” Even Cori’s countless Friday evening one-night stands were tidier than this mess. No matter what level her hangover, how gorgeous the body in bed next to her, or how late she stayed up, all of that got brushed aside on Saturday mornings. She set her alarm and her coffee maker for nine a.m. every Saturday, regardless of whether she had gotten nine hours of sleep or three. By nine fifteen a.m., she would hand a to-go cup of coffee to the person between her sheets and tell their beautiful face that it was time to leave. Cori would give “The Face” a phone number, some half promises sealed with a grin, and a kiss on the cheek so she could have her space to herself as quickly as possible. Any further commitments to “The Face” would eventually force her into a position of compromise. Sure, she had fun, but she was the one who started it and ended it—on her terms.
Now, she would have to vacate her apartment on other people’s terms, losing her Saturday rituals of drinking tea and running, and the space she had inhabited for the last few years. Her blue eyes surveyed the kitchen and living room, separated by a countertop. Takeout boxes were stacked next to the garbage can, nearly every kitchen utensil and gadget was strewn across the counters, and empty cardboard boxes from the nearby grocery store took up all the real estate on the kitchen floor. In the living room, the books had been removed from their shelves, and scattered across the area rug.
Cori sighed and tucked some of her thick curls behind her ears. She truly didn’t know where to begin. If she touched one block of this Jenga puzzle of a life, the whole thing would crash. Or maybe it already had. The only thing she knew with certainty was that she had to get everything out of this apartment by the end of the day tomorrow. She didn’t know where to take any of it.
The record that was spinning stopped, needing to be turned over. As Cori walked to the player, she heard a swishing at her door and turned to look past the kitchen at the threshold of the apartment. There was a folded piece of paper on the hardwood floor of her entryway. An object clinked on the tiled floor in the hallway outside the door. Someone was still out there.
She stalked to the entrance and opened the door. Her blue eyes met the dark eyes of a young woman looking up at her. She was standing up from a crouched position. The deep-set, near-obsidian eyes appeared startled and the cheeks that went with them reddened. The woman’s full lips were a dark pink, the same color as her blushing cheeks.
“Uh, sorry this is weird,” said the woman with the dark eyes, seemingly deliberating whether to keep or break eye contact. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Lily’s friend, Gina? I was, um, trying to leave you a note and dropped my pen. I’m sure you have a lot to do, and I don’t mean to . . .”
Cori’s brain was no longer processing the sound coming from this woman’s mouth because it was processing those eyes. They were so earnest, their depth held something compelling that she couldn’t put her finger on. Cori blinked and shook her head, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “You wanna come in for a bit?” If ever there was a human interaction equivalent of a record scratching and abruptly ending the music, this was it. The women assessed each other, both surprised by Cori’s invitation. Why am I even asking her to come into this shithole? Cori chided internally, rolling her eyes at herself. “I’m sorry; that was probably weird too,” she muttered. “And I interrupted you, which was rude.”
“No, no,” Gina said quickly. “I’m not sure there’s a playbook that tells you what to do in these situations.” Another moment of silence passed before blue eyes met brown again. Gina slowly twirled the pen in her right hand between her index and middle fingers. “I’d love to come in; do you have any coffee?”
Cori felt her shoulders relax. “Sure, of course.” She heard herself breathe out. She stepped to the side and jerked her chin toward the interior of the apartment. Gina stepped inside, so Cori could close the door.
* * *
Gina had indeed been to this apartment a handful of times to pick up Lily or have a drink with her before they went out together. But she had only seen Cori once or twice, and only in the form of a shadowy figure who shuffled between the bedroom and the bathroom. Cori kept very different hours than she and Lily had, often working later into the night, and sleeping later into the morning. Their encounters had been so fleeting and indirect that Gina had never noticed those striking blue eyes. And she’d never noticed Cori’s hair, which couldn’t decide if it should be brunette or red; it seemed to have called her genetics a draw with glossy, dark auburn curls.
When Gina turned away from Cori, her eyes widened in disbelief. The kitchen was in complete disarray. “Are you moving or something?” Gina asked and turned to look at Cori, her dark pink lips forming a concerned pout. This apartment had never been messy on her previous visits.
Cori shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Yes,” she drew out slowly. “Uh, I’ll get us some coffee and we can sit on the couch. I’ve got to take a load off these feet for a few minutes.” She walked past Gina into the kitchen and somehow located two clean-looking mugs from the pile of cups and plates indiscriminately heaped on one of the counters. She reached behind a stack of rice and cereal boxes and pulled out a coffee pot half full of black liquid. “Sugar? Milk?” Cori asked, looking down at the mugs as she poured.
“Just milk or creamer, if you have it,” Gina said. Cori obliged and handed Gina a mug filled with her café au lait. “Here, let’s go sit for a sec.” Cori inclined her head toward the living room. She held her coffee mug with one hand and cleared a pile of clothes off the couch with the other. She sat on one cushion and extended an open palm toward the other end of the couch, inviting Gina to sit too.
“So Gina,” Cori began. “How are you doing? How are things going at the school? What’s up with the note?”
Gina lifted her dark brows quizzically. “Which of those would you like me to answer first?”
Cori barked out a laugh. “Ha, sorry! That was, uh, a lot. I’ve had a little too much time in my head lately.”
“I can imagine,” Gina said gently, trying to sound reassuring. She hadn’t the faintest clue what Cori’s life had been like since Lily’s death, or before that. She only knew that like Lily, Cori had studied music, and that they’d met through a mutual connection at the music school.
“Well, let’s start with the note that brought you here,” Cori suggested, shrugging one of her slender, freckled shoulders. Cori’s ribbed tank top put her arms on display. Gina’s eyes tracked over those arms; they were attractively toned and half-covered in tattoos that depicted a variety of flora and fauna.
Gina nodded. “Yeah, I had a strange phone call earlier this morning . . . um, with Lily’s mom.”
Cori looked shocked. She sat up straight on the couch. “What? I didn’t know how to get a hold of her family. How did you manage that?”
Gina nodded again, smoothing her ponytail with one hand. “I know. Lily rarely talked about them with me. I don’t think anyone here in New York knows much about her family or how to contact them. So, she, um, Maureen is her name—she found me on social media. It sounded like she had pretty scant information on Lily’s life here. Like, she knew which school she worked at. And apparently, she knows your address because she told me that she used it to track down your landlord. But that was it.”
“Right, right,” Cori muttered, briefly looking away. “The building’s superintendent was the one who told me after it happened. At the same time, he told me I needed to move out if I couldn’t afford the place on my own,” she added bitterly with a roll of her blue eyes.
“Oh, shit,” Gina exclaimed. Then, lowering her voice, she said, “I’m sorry, Cori. That must have been hard news to absorb all at once.”
“Thanks,” Cori said softly, the bitterness no longer present in her voice. She sighed tiredly. “It’s been a pretty stressful time,” she admitted. “I don’t quite know what to do right now. I don’t know what to do with all of Lily’s stuff, and—”
“Actually,” Gina interrupted. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”
Cori tilted her head, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Are you taking her stuff, or what?”
“Well,” Gina cleared her throat. “Maureen said they would like her belongings, but they can’t afford to hire a professional crew to pack, load, and transport them all the way to Nevada. She offered me gas money to drive her belongings out for them.”
Cori’s eyes lifted in astonishment. “But I, um, won’t take their money,” Gina said quickly. “I just told her I’d drive out, no payment required, as soon as I got the time off from school in April. I think my principal will work with me to take a few extra days up against spring break, so I’ll have time to make the trip. My best friend, Sarah, is going to come along.”
“Oh, wow,” Cori murmured. “That is very sweet of you. That’s a big favor, Gina.”
Gina’s cheeks flushed. “Well,” she waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not a horrible plan, really. It would be a kindness to them, and I would like to take a road trip. Might be good for me.”
Cori grinned. “Road trips out west are pretty great. I’ve taken a couple myself.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh uh, I’m from Washington State originally. I’ve driven out here,” Cori explained.
Gina flashed a smile, her perfect front teeth gleaming. “Oh wow, then you know all about road tripping. Anyway, I came over to tell you all this and to offer to pack Lily’s stuff. Maureen gave me some guidelines about what I can just get rid of. She’s mainly interested in things that may have meant something to Lily or to their family, like books, instruments, jewelry, stuff like that. I think it’ll all fit in my car.”
Cori narrowed her eyes, looking as if she was working out a math problem. “Hold on, spring break isn’t for months, and I have to get out of here tomorrow. What’s the plan for storing her stuff in the meantime? Storage costs are no joke, and space is hard to find.”
“Yeah, I thought about that too. I actually have an empty spare bedroom in my apartment right now because one of my roommates is abroad. So, I figure I can stack Lily’s boxes in the closet and just be upfront with the subletter that the closet isn’t available to them.”
Cori bobbed her head. “Oh yeah, that makes sense.”
Gina looked around the living room full of belongings, there were boxes strewn everywhere. “Um, do you need some help with . . . all this? It doesn’t look great.”
Cori laughed and cocked her head to the side. “I appreciate a woman who just says it like it is.” Gina smiled back at her. Cori looked down sheepishly. “It’s bad in here, huh? God, I haven’t moved in so long and this whole thing just came out of nowhere, so yeah, I could use a hand. I mean, as long as I’m not putting you out or anything.”
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” Gina said. “Where are you off to after this? Do you need help driving stuff to your new place? ’Cause I could come back tomorrow and help drive your stuff somewhere. I know people with cars in the city aren’t exactly easy to come by.”
Cori grimaced, appearing to being weighing something. Even after ten minutes with the woman, Gina could see that she’d make a lousy poker player, her emotions easily readable on her pretty face. “Well,” she began, “. . . the vehicle isn’t the problem. My bandmates and I share a van for our equipment, and they all know I’m going to use it this weekend. The problem is that I, uh, don’t exactly have a place to live at the moment.” She punctuated her statement with a shrug.
“What?” Gina said incredulously. “What do you mean, you don’t have a place to live?”
“I mean, I’ll have a spot on my brother’s couch for a few days, but then I have to work something out. I figured maybe I can keep a few things in my band’s practice space, a few other things in the van for a while, and I guess keep the rest with me. But I’m kind of freaking out. I haven’t had a lot of time to think this through because I’ve had to work a lot this week in order to take this weekend off.” Cori shrugged her freckled shoulder again, shook her head, and sighed. Gina could practically feel each fiber of muscle in Cori’s shoulders coiling.
A plan started to take shape in Gina’s head as Cori spoke. “Hey, so I’m thinking that we’ve already established that this morning is pretty weird, right?” Gina began. Cori nodded. “Well, you know my roommate and I do have that empty bedroom I mentioned . . .” she trailed off. “Let’s just say it’s been hard to find a suitable roommate to fill it. And you’re in need.”
Cori sat up straighter and brought her eyes to meet Gina’s.
“Would you like to move in with us? I know the circumstances that brought us to this are . . . unusual. But you have no place to go, we need a subletter, and you can probably assume I’m not a serial killer, ’cause I’m a teacher. And so is my roommate, Sarah. A teacher, not a serial killer.” Gina exhaled. “I’ll stop talking.”
Cori’s front teeth toyed with her bottom lip as she seemed to contemplate the offer. “Well, I have the promise that you aren’t a murderer, so guess I can’t say no.” Cori smiled at Gina warmly. “Let’s get some packing done.”
Gina gave Cori a polite smile. “Yes, okay,” she said, taking a final swig of her coffee and carefully placed it on the floor. Gina and Cori rose from the couch and proceeded toward Lily’s room.
Clamminess crept over Gina as she drew closer to Lily’s door. Her body was going through the physical motions of walking, but was she actually here right now, without Lily? The thought of going in there without her was surreal. She wondered if she should let Cori open the door or do it herself. She nervously scratched her ear and awkwardly stood a few feet from the door as she deliberated.
Cori cleared her throat behind her, and Gina blinked. “I, uh, haven’t been in there since I found out,” Cori said. Gina nodded but was unable to look at Cori.
“I don’t think—well, I don’t. I—I,” Gina could only stutter as she looked at the floor, embarrassed that she sounded nonsensical. She stroked her ponytail again.
Mercifully, Cori interrupted by asking, “Maybe we should go in together?”
“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea,” Gina finally said coherently. She lifted her arm to turn the doorknob and opened the door.
Inside the room, both women stood rooted to their respective spots, Cori near the foot of Lily’s bed and Gina next to her desk. Gina studied Lily’s effects, items she’d noticed while they were getting ready to go out together, listening to music, or chit chatting about lesson plans on Sunday afternoons. Lily’s pens, sheet music, notebooks, and Post-its were all stacked neatly on her desk. Her laptop was missing because she’d taken it on her holiday trip home. Gina was afraid to touch anything, feeling as if moving a single item even a fraction of an inch would be tantamount to believing that this outcome was real and something to be accepted. This simply could not be reality because not too long ago, Gina had been here. Lily had been here with her. In fact, it was in this very room, Lily had been sitting in that very chair, two months earlier, just before Thanksgiving, when Gina had realized that her feelings for her friend and mentor had developed into a romantic attraction.
