Out of the Easy

by Ruta Sepetys

“Decisions, they shape our destiny.” Without opening the book, he began to recite from David Copperfield. “‘Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else … ’” I nodded and finished it with him. “‘These pages must show.’”

The characters’ lives were so much more interesting than the lonely heartbeat of my own.

But the stain was still there. Some things just won’t go away, no matter how hard you scrub.

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever … it will never pass into nothingness.”

“Darcy or Gatsby,” said Patrick. “Oh, come on. Can’t you do any better than that?” I scoffed. “That’s obvious. Darcy.”

I wasn’t named after a virtuous character in Little Women. I was named after a woman who sold five-dollar hookers on Basin Street. And my mother thought I should be proud of that.

“There. This one’s on me.” Generous. I hadn’t ordered anything.

She was so kind and generous, it made me think of the line from David Copperfield, that a loving heart was better and stronger than wisdom.

If someone meant something to you, you put their photo in a silver frame and displayed it, like these. I had never seen anything like it. Willie didn’t have any framed photos. Neither did Mother.

I didn’t agree with Cokie. It wasn’t just rich folks. Mother was soul broke, too.

“I’m fine.” That was my stock answer.

“What do you think those East Coast petits fours would say about that?” I nodded. “Pretty salty.”

Why are you just standing there? What, you need to hear me say it? Happy birthday. There.

But I wasn’t sure which school you gonna pick—’cuz they all gonna want you—so we stopped the trail in Connecticut.

Unless it was Cokie, gifts from men weren’t free.

Willie’s is kind of a family, isn’t it?

Charlie Marlowe never wrote horror, but somehow horror was writing Charlie Marlowe.

I could smell Patrick on the clothes—a frosty pine scent—and somehow it was comforting.

“Uh-huh. There you are, all tired, standin’ in your boyfriend’s clothes, but here’s the secret.” Jesse moved in close. “You like me.”

Two hours of sleep was worse than no sleep.

“Okay, you asked what I was thinking. What I’m thinking is”—he turned to me and smiled—“you better get yourself a winter coat, Motor City. It’s cold in Massachusetts.”

I used to feel sick to my stomach when I heard Mother tell a lie. How can you do it? How do you live with yourself? I used to wonder.

He was speaking to Charlie through the music. He was ignoring me through it.

I smiled. Patrick didn’t scare me. It made sense.

Yes, Mother was stupid. And greedy. A murderer? I didn’t want to believe it.

“No, I’m going to miss you, my wicked stepmother.” Willie put down her pen and turned in her chair. “How do you know I’m not your fairy godmother?”

“There’s something about you, Josephine. And I like the lipstick.” He pulled away. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Charlotte found Betty’s crush funny. I found it annoying.

You got dreams and the potential to make ’em real.

“You’re acting like there’s bears out here or something.” “I’m not talkin’ ’bout no animals. I’m talkin’ ’bout criminals.”

I no longer wondered why Ray and Frieda were afraid of the dark. I was too.

“A dame that knows the ropes isn’t likely to get tied up.”

Part of me hoped Jesse would come back, but the other part of me hoped for another letter from Patrick.

Willie never spoke about her childhood. I stared at the picture, shocked that she had ever been a child at all.

They all helped. Everyone was there. Except me.

“Why do I have to entertain? My father just died,” lamented Patrick. “I don’t want to socialize.” “It’s not entertaining. You’re giving people the chance to express their condolences and comfort you.” The words tasted sour. I agreed with Patrick.

She put her arm around me without actually touching me and kissed the air near my cheek. I put my arms around her wilted frame. She recoiled at the contact.

“Well, the chief wanted me to come talk to you. I told him he was going to a goat’s house for wool, but he’s got a checklist, you know.” Coming to me was like going to a goat’s house?

I still wanted to believe it was possible, that my wings, no matter how thin and torn, could still somehow carry me away from a life of lies and perverted men. I wanted to use my mind for study and research instead of trickery and street hustle.

The frustration that was my life seared out of me in a fury so absolute I couldn’t contain it.

It was Jesse. I could tell him.

I love you the more in that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

Black was more practical. I could be buried in them if things didn’t work out.

Willie was indestructible, steel tough. Seeing her like this terrified me.

A fancy, smart man like that assumed I was in college, and you know what? It made me want to live up to the vision he had of me. He gave me hope.

“Yes, Willie, but what sort of cruel twist of fate is it that the man I dream to be my father is killed by my mother? It’s almost Shakespearean.”

“You’re a lot like Willie. She’d want you to take her place.” Evangeline stared me down. “She loved you best, you know.”

“Last name might be a good idea, but don’t change Josie,” he said. “No?” “Nope.” He fiddled with a knob on the dash. “I like the way it feels when I say it.”

“I agree. Nothing will ever make up for Willie being gone.”

“I’m gonna finish school and then you know what? I’m comin’ for you, Josie Coquard.” Jesse smiled.