The Invisibles Read Free

course!”
    â€œGood.” Ozzie said. “Good, I’m glad.”
    Why was she doing this? What was she ashamed of, still being single after all this time? If anyone would understand the way things were, it was Ozzie Randol. Wasn’t it? Ozzie had always been one of those people who said things like it was better to be alone than with the wrong person, that there was no man in the world worth compromising one’s self for. In high school, she’d snubbed a senior boy named Linus Worthington, who, despite the fact that Ozzie was only a junior, had pursued her relentlessly, smitten with her brash personality and obvious confidence. She hadn’t cared a whit that he was older, or that he was so popular that to get an invitation to one of his legendary house parties was the equivalent of achieving a social status of ethereal proportions; she’d said he just didn’t do it for her, period. But had Ozzie ever gone twelve days without talking to anyone in the entire world? Did she know what it was like to hold an animal against herchest, just to feel the soft pulse of breath against her skin, the thrum of a beating heart from inside another living thing? Had she ever gone to bed directly after dinner and prayed for sleep, just so that she didn’t have to figure out how to fill one more empty hour by herself?
    â€œHey, is Turning Winds still around?” Ozzie asked, not seeming to notice Nora’s evasive answers. “They still running the place?”
    â€œNo.” Nora turned as Alice Walker barked from the kitchen, alerting her to her empty water bowl. “It’s just an old empty building now.”
    â€œWow,” Ozzie said. “I can hardly remember what it even looks like anymore. It’s been so long!”
    â€œFifteen years,” Nora said, holding Alice Walker’s red plastic bowl under the running faucet.
    â€œFifteen years,” Ozzie repeated. “That’s practically a lifetime.”
    Two lifetimes, Nora thought.
    â€œSo I know it seems crazy that I’m just calling you out of the blue like this,” Ozzie said, “but I do have a reason.”
    Nora froze. The water spilled over the top of the dog’s bowl and rushed down the sides.
    â€œIt’s about Grace,” Ozzie said. “I mean Petal. She goes by Petal now, you know.”
    â€œWait.” Nora shook her head, feeling as though something had drained from inside her chest. She turned off the faucet, set the water bowl down in front of Alice Walker. “Grace goes by Petal now? What are you talking about?”
    â€œShe changed her name. I don’t think she went and made it legal or anything, but her husband says she likes to be called Petalnow.” Ozzie paused. “It could be worse. She could be calling herself Stem. Or Root.”
    Nora didn’t laugh. “Why would she change her name?”
    â€œOh, I’m sure it’s part of that whole artist-persona thing she had going on. You remember.”
    Nora did remember. The four of them had been as close as sisters in that house, but she had shared a bedroom with Grace for two years. Nora knew parts of Grace that Ozzie and Monica did not. Parts they might not ever know.
    â€œAnyway,” Ozzie said. “Grace—I mean Petal—”
    â€œJust call her Grace.” Nora felt impatient suddenly, and it startled her. She rarely got impatient. With anyone. “I mean, at least to me. Petal’s . . . I don’t know. It’s too weird.”
    â€œOkay, so Grace’s husband called me last night, and we talked for a long time. Over an hour, I’d guess. They live right outside of Chicago now; I don’t remember where, exactly. Somewhere in the suburbs, I think. Anyway, the point is, she’s not doing so well.”
    Nora held her breath, as if to block the pinprick of fear rising behind it. “Can you be more specific?”
    â€œShe’s . . . well, her