“What’s your house red like?”
A boring choice, but usually safe.
The waiter pauses to think.
“I’d describe it as warm, full bodied but with resonant hints of dark chocolate and bright cherry.”
There’s a pause, and Leonie bites her lip, trying not to laugh.
Only in an underground bar in New York would someone give such a pretentious description of the house red. She doesn’t dare look at Cara, though Cara is probably fine. She deals with politicians in D.C. all the time. Only Leonie can make her crack up. And vice versa. It’s always been like that. She guesses it’s a sister thing.
Leonie manages to get control over her voice. “That sounds lovely. We’ll have two glasses.”
“Excellent. And will you be ordering any food?
Leonie pauses. She shoots a glance at her sister to check in and stops. Cara isn’t holding back laughter or even wearing a poker face. Cara is just staring woodenly at the table.
Leonie hands the menus to the waiter. “I think we’re good. Thanks.”
He gathers them up and glides away.
“Cara?”
Cara doesn’t answer.
“Cara?”
Cara raises her eyes.
“Jesus, what’s wrong?”
“Lee. Listen to me.”
“Okay.”
“We’re trapped.”
“Trapped?”
Leonie turns around and scans the place for someone waving a gun, or a knife. There’s no one. An underground bar on a Tuesday evening in late August, and the place is practically deserted. The only other customers are a man in a Navy-blue suit who is scribbling in a small notebook like a Jack Kerouac wannabe, and a couple with dated-looking clothes staring into each other’s eyes. Apparently, no one had told them that the 1980s were over.
She turns back.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Cara wets her lips.
“No, I mean we’re trapped in a loop, an endless loop.”
Leonie’s heart sinks.
Oh God.
She tries to keep her expression neutral, but something must have given her away. Cara grows defensive.
“I’ll prove it to you. But you have to listen. We don’t have much time.”
“Why don’t we have much time?”
Don’t let her see you panicking.
“Just shut up and listen.”
Cara takes a breath and speaks rapidly. “The waiter’s going to come back with two glasses. “
“Since we ordered two glasses of wine.”
“And he’ll ask us where we’re from, that he hasn’t seen us here before.”
“Wouldn’t be unusual.”
“Just listen. Will you listen?”
Her sister’s furtive whispering is awful.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
Cara speeds up. “Then, he’s going to tell us that the wine is on him, and you’re going to protest, and he’s going to insist, then he’ll leave and then—oh no.”
“What?”
“He’s coming over. Don’t look. Don’t let him know that you know.”
“Know what?”
Leonie’s heart is hammering in her ears.
The waiter is back, carefully carrying two brimming glasses.
“Here you go, ladies.” He places the glasses down gingerly, one in front of each of them, and steps back, pleased. “Sure, I can’t get you anything else?”
“I think we’re good, thanks.”
Please leave. For God’s sake. Please.
“Have I seen you ladies around? This your first time here?”
“Actually, I live in the neighborhood, but my sister…” She glances at Cara, and then up quickly at the waiter. Cara continues to stare fixedly at the table, “My sister lives in D.C.”
“Oh, that’s nice. You having a good visit?”
He looks again at Cara who doesn’t answer him. Leonie realizes she’s trembling. Like a small animal. Like something cornered.
“Yes.” Leonie answers for her. Fuck off. Don’t you know when to fuck off?
“Well, that’s great.”
Leonie tries to smile, but she has no idea if it’s working. Her lips are numb and tingling. The waiter finally gets the message and turns to go, but then turns back.
“You know, since you’re visiting, and this is your first time with us…drinks are on me.”
Cara whimpers. It’s a small sound, but the waiter glances at her.
“That is so nice of you, but we couldn’t!” Leonie is speaking too loudly, too brightly.
“Sure, you could! I insist.”
Leonie glances over at her sister. Now her eyes are squeezed tightly and she’s mouthing something. Could it be a prayer?
“Well, thank you,” she says, and mercifully, this time, he leaves.
“He’s gone,” Leonie tells her, and these are the magic words because her sister finally opens her eyes. They sit for a moment in silence, then–
“Cara?” She keeps her voice as calm and kind and as non-confrontational as possible.
“Yes?” Cara is weary.
“Can I ask you something?”
“No.”
“Just one thing?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know what you’re going to ask me.” Now Cara sounds like a petulant teenager.
“And what am I going to ask you?”
“You’re going to ask me if I’m taking my meds.”
“And are you?”
“You know what?” Cara leans back and gazes at Leonie with deep hostility. “Fuck you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It has been every single fucking time you’ve asked me.”
“I asked you once.”
“No, Lee, you ask me every time we go through this.”
“Cara.” Leonie struggles not to lose her temper, to stay calm.
“Lee!” Cara mocks her patient tone, but Leonie won’t be goaded.
“You’re having an episode.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I’m trying to tell you. We’re trapped. We’re trapped here, like that poor schmuck and those people. You don’t think they’re from our time, do you?!” Her voice rises to an angry hiss as she gestures at the woman’s side ponytail, the man’s shoulder pads. “Look at them!”
“Jesus! Keep your voice down!” Leonie glances at the couple, ready to apologize, although not sure what she would say, but the man continues to scribble furiously in his notebook and the couple continue to sip their drinks peacefully, undisturbed.
Cara barks out a laugh. “They can’t hear us, Lee. They’re trapped in their own loops.” She seems weirdly elated, almost triumphant.
“You’re having a psychotic break with reality.”
“You always say that.” Cara’s wild elation disappears as quickly as it arrived. All the life abruptly drains out of her and Leonie thinks, ‘We’ll have to make a move. We can’t stay here when she’s like this. God knows what might happen.’
“So, what do you want to do? You want to get out of here?”
“Uh, yeah?” Cara is witheringly sarcastic. “That would be nice.”
Leonie ignores this. She needs to be practical.
“Okay, let’s go.” She looks around for the waiter.
“No!”
Cara lunges out and grabs Leonie’s arm so tightly that Leonie cries out.
“Ow! Christ!”
“Don’t do it!” Her fingers dig into Leonie’s flesh.
“Let go! You’re hurting me!”
Cara releases her grip, and Leonie sits back, massaging her arm. She knows that her sister is mentally fragile and that it isn’t her fault. Or maybe it is. When Cara goes off her meds, bad things happen. But right now, just in this moment, she really, really hates her, but the hatred dies when her sister looks up at her.
Cara’s face is white, and her eyes are swimming with tears. “Please don’t do it.” Her voice is trembling, broken.
“Don’t do what?” Leonie tries to hide the tremble in her own voice but fails. She wishes her parents were here. Wishes anyone was here to help her. Help me. Help us.
“Don’t what, Cara?” she asks again, as gently as possible.
“Don’t ask for the check.”
Leonie stares at her, unable to speak.
“Lee, I’m begging you.” Cara is trying to get back some control. Trying hard. She swallows and the words run together, low and desperate.
“Every time this happens, every time we go through this, I have to explain it to you and you never believe me and you ask for the check and when you do, the waiter comes over and it begins again. And again. And again.”
She stares at her sister, not bothering to wipe tears which are running down her cheeks.
“You never believe me though, Lee. Why don’t you ever believe me?” The hurt, the pain in the question is unbearable.
“Cara, I…”
Leonie is stunned.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says, and means it. “I’m really sorry.”
Cara wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, reminding Leonie of when they were children.
“I know,” she says, and exhales a long shaky sigh. “I know you are.” She gazes at Leonie, almost ruefully now. “But you still don’t believe me, do you?”
Leonie doesn’t know what to say. She just wants this nightmare to end.
God dammit Cara, why did it have to be this way?
Cara shakes her head. “I just don’t know if I can do this again. I just don’t know how many more times I can do this.”
“Neither do I.” Leonie answers.
For a moment, they sit there staring at each other. Then, incredibly, Cara laughs and Leonie laughs. There is nothing else they can do. It’s a stalemate.
“Okay,” Cara says. She wipes her eyes once more, sniffs, and takes a deep breath.
“Let’s get it over with.”
“Cara, I…”
“If you’re going to do it, just do it.” She shakes her head, her jaw set, grim, determined. “I’ll keep going for as long as I can. It’s just, I’m so tired. I’m so fucking tired.”
Relief floods Leonie. There is light at the end of the tunnel.
“It’s almost over,” she tells her sister gently, tenderly. Then she turns around, her hand already forming the universal gesture of signing something, as she catches their waiter’s eye.
“Check, please.”
