“But now you’re back at the gym together,” continued Lucky. “So that’s a good thing, right?”
“He has me working with this guy Felix, who’s good, you know, but…”
“Not him. Right.”
The two sat in silence contemplating Bonnie’s conundrum. On the path, a mother carrying a large Chanel purse and various shopping bags tried to grab her teenage son’s hand.
“What are you doing?” he growled, shaking her off.
Bonnie and Lucky both smiled. Despite her embarrassment, it felt good to sit there with her sister, chatting about her life. Somehow, the Pavel situation seemed more manageable now that she’d spoken it aloud. For the first time in a long time, she felt something a little like joy, but lighter and more familiar. It was cheerfulness, she supposed. That ordinary, everyday sunniness that had buoyed so many of her days before Nicky died. She did not know how much she’d missed that feeling until it returned to her now. Cheerfulness. Uncomplicated as a sunbeam.
“So.” Lucky turned to her. “Are you going to talk to him about your—you know?”
Lucky made a circular motion over her heart. But Bonnie didn’t want to ruin this newfound lightness by trying to decipher how Pavel may or may not feel about her. Not feel, she reminded herself. He obviously did not feel anything for her, as proven by his attitude in the gym.
“Let’s talk about you again.” She jumped up and reached down to help Lucky to her feet. “What do you want to do if you’re not being a pretty girl?”
Lucky laughed and took her hands.
“You’re seriously going to change the subject?”
“I mean it. Do you have any ideas?”
Bonnie set off on a light jog and motioned for Lucky to keep up.
“I’m just a model,” said Lucky. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”
Bonnie stopped. She took Lucky’s shoulders between her hands and shook her gently.
“You are not just a model, Lucky.” She gave her a meaningful look. “You are also, it turns out, a pretty hard-core drug addict.”
Lucky gave a weak laugh.
“How could I forget!” She cast her eyes down. “I didn’t even graduate from high school.”
“High school? Pssh.” Bonnie dismissed this with a wave. “Who needs it? You’re Lucky-Fucking-Blue. You can do anything.”
Lucky raised an eyebrow.
“Are you getting all last-act-of-a-sports-movie on me?”
“I mean it.” Bonnie laughed. “You’re the best person I know. You don’t take shit from anyone. You’ve traveled all over the world. You speak Japanese.”
“Nihongo sukoshi dekimasu,” said Lucky softly.
“See!”
“That means I only speak a little.”
“Still more than anyone else I know. Whatever you want to do, Lucky, you can do it. That’s not true for everyone, but it’s true for you. Nothing can stop you. Not even you.”
Lucky attempted a smile.
“Okay.” Lucky put her hands on Bonnie’s shoulders, so they were like two sides of a bridge. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I can do the locker room pep talk, too, you know.”
Bonnie let her hands drop back to her sides. The difference between her and Lucky was that Lucky actually was exceptional. So was Avery, whose fast and terrifyingly efficient mind could be applied to anything. And Nicky had possessed the most social grace of anyone Bonnie knew; her students gathered around her as if warming themselves at the fire of her attention. But Bonnie just knew how to work hard. If her sisters were wild horses, she was simply a mule.
She turned toward home and started running again. The skyline of the Upper West Side rose above them, the pointed baroque towers of the San Remo building more familiar to her than any mountains. Lucky ran to catch up with her.
“Seriously, what about you?” she said. “If I can do anything, you can too.”
“Sure,” said Bonnie.
Lucky managed to pinch her arm while running alongside her.
“Say it!”
“Stop that!”
Another pinch.
“Say it!”
Bonnie batted her away, but she was laughing.
