Page 41 of Life Out of Order

“We could ask. I imagine the cemetery has rules about that.”

“You told me once that in the future this cemetery is a forest.”

“Did I? That must be a long time from now.” I wonder what my future self was doing here, in this future full of wild trees. “I’m hot, too. Let’s go back to your house.”

Lucinda waves to her parents. “See you soon.” We walk to the gate slowly, back into the street, around the corner and on until we arrive at Celia and Lucinda’s house on Balmoral, a few blocks away. Their house is already full of people. Celia arrives a few minutes after we do. Everyone is talking, swapping stories of the day. Charisse has made lemonade, so we sit on the sofa, sipping and cooling off in the air-conditioning. We are absorbed into our big, cobbled-together family, and the melancholy of the afternoon dissipates. Lucinda watches everyone quietly, frowning slightly. She catches my eye. “Don’t worry, Alba. It’s all good.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

I didn’t doubt her until she reassured me.

Mayday

Wednesday, May 1, 2024 (Alba is 22, Zach is 23)

Alba: Gomez and Charisse usually throw a massive May Day party for the 50th Ward in the park down the street from their house, with live music, barbecue and a dodgy Karl Marx impersonator who used to freak me out when I was a kid. But last week Charisse’s mom fell and broke her hip, and Charisse, Max, Joe and Rosa have gone to Manila to help her out, leaving the rest of us scrambling. Caralora, Lucinda, Zach and I, along with Gomez and most of the 50th Ward staffers and volunteers, spent the day setting up folding chairs, shlepping food and drink, removing trash, and picking up litter; now the party is over, most of the people have gone home, the park is more or less tidy, and the five of us are walking slowly down the alley in the twilight, toward the Gomolinskis’ house. Zach says, “I can’t remember the last time I was this tired.”

“Yeah, same,” I reply. “My bones hurt.”

Caralora says, “Next year, remind me to wear appropriate footwear. I can feel my arches collapsing with every step.”

“I dunno,” Gomez says, “I’ve been admiring your shoes all day.”

Caralora laughs. “Nah, kitten heels are stupid when you’re spending the day walking across grass. I stayed over at a friend’s place last night, and I didn’t have time to go back to Max and Joe’s to get my sneakers.”

I say, “Hey, Caralora, do you want to stay for dinner with us, have a few beers?”

Caralora hesitates, but declines. “I would love to, but I should hit the road. I’m driving back to Ann Arbor tonight.”

Zach says, “I thought you were done with school for the year?”

“I am,” she says, “but I’m moving to a new place on Wednesday. I haven’t finished packing. I wasn’t planning to be here today, then Gomez put out the all-hands-on-deck, so I dropped everything.”

Gomez bows to her in thankful acknowledgment. Lucinda says, “A new place? Again?” Caralora’s current place is a tiny bedroom in a run-down sharehouse, so it doesn’t surprise me that she’s moving. She kept complaining that she had no privacy. I say, “I hope it’s an upgrade from where you are now.”

We’ve arrived at the Gomolinskis’ back gate. Zach unlatches it and holds it open for us, saying, “Ladies first.” Lucinda sails through and skips to the back door. Caralora opens her mouth to retort, but softens when she sees he’s not being sarcastic. “Actually,” she says, “I’m moving in with someone.”

“Someone?” Huh. “Who is she?” I didn’t know Caralora had a Someone.

“Her name is Bette. She’s in a bad situation, and I needed to move, so we’re helping each other out. She has a young kid, and another on the way; her husband left her. She’s premed, and there’s no way she’s going to finish school without some help. You’ll like her, she’s cool.”

“I thought you meant you were in a relationship,” I say, disappointed.

“Oh, we are, kind of,” Caralora says. “She’s not my soulmate, but Bette is drowning and . . . I dunno, I guess I’m lonely.” She says this last bit quietly, to me. Gomez and Zach pretend not to hear. Gomez opens the back door and lets Lucinda in; Gomez and Zach follow. Caralora and I wait till they’re all inside before continuing the discussion.

“How do you know she’s not your soulmate?” I ask, urgently, cringing a little at having to say the word soulmate.

“How do you think? A much older Alba told me more or less who I’m waiting for, when this person will arrive, and some crazy shit that I will have to go through in order to have a semblance of normality with her.”

“Why did I tell you that? I don’t tell myself that kind of stuff.”

Caralora shrugs. “You basically said, go ahead and live your life, but be available in 2041.”

“That’s eighteen years from now.” I feel intense disapproval of my older self. “I really told you to put your life on hold for eighteen years?”

“No, not at all,” Caralora says. “Just—be available.”