American Babe (6 page)

On the counter was a stack of magazines, every one of them a
Martha Stewart Living
. I sat down to leaf through one because I was that bored. Donna entered the kitchen. White tank top, yoga pants, barefoot, no pedicure.

“Morning, Babe,” she said in an almost chipper voice.

“So you figured out another place to sleep, I'm guessing? Or did you just say fuck sleep and take an Adderall?”

“The Adderall wouldn't have been such a bad idea, but unfortunately I ran out last week,” Donna said with a chummy laugh that made me feel weird.

She poured a cup of coffee out of a little machine called a Mr. Coffee and sat down next to me.

“No, Vee said I could sleep with her in her bed. It was actually nice. We used to share a bed when we were kids.”

“You're kidding.”

“Oh, I am so serious,” she assured me with a sarcastic but happy smirk.

Hearing about her childhood was odd because I didn't
really
know the first thing about this stranger whose body I happened to grow inside of. Ew.

“Where did you guys live again?” I asked her.

“Well, I was born in Ohio. But when my mom died, Joe moved us here to Maryland where the rest of our family was. Not that far from here, actually. Which, as you know now, gave me plenty of reasons to run away.”

“Well, you for sure did that.”

“I was never good at logical. My sister was. She was totally fine staying and accepting the tiny scale of her life here.” She took a long sip of coffee. “But every time I come back, I'm reminded that she fucking likes it here. Veronica's happy, you know? I don't get it. She's constantly running from a shift at work to a shift at her other work to a thing
for Knox or Cara. It must be exhausting. From the looks of her life, you'd think she'd be miserable, but she's happy.”

“And from the looks of
your
life one might think you're thriving but really you're miserable?”

Donna cocked her head a bit and just looked at me.

“Don't be a bitch,” she said.

“I really don't mean to be a bitch, but honestly, Donna, what you just said was sooooo bitchy.”

“What did I say?”

“You're basically saying that Veronica's life sucks but it's nice that she can enjoy it,” I told her, almost surprised that I was sticking up for Vee's boring and generally horrible life. Donna looked guilty.

“I so didn't mean it that way. I'm just saying I'm proud of her for making this work for her and her family. They struggle, you know? And she just keeps rolling along. I don't have that stick-to-itiveness in me. I don't think you do either.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm just saying—”

“Now
I'm
being attacked?”

“Hey, no one is being attacked here, Babe. I was just saying—”

“I know about Knox!” I blurted. Donna's eyes squinted as if to say,
Are you sure you want to go there?

“What are you talking about?” she asked calmly.

“He's exactly like me and nothing like his mother. He even looks like me, and we have the same fear of white carbs.”

“Babe, what are you insinuating here?”

“So you're admitting there's something to insinuate?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh, please, Donna,” I said and got up. I walked out to the deck—I didn't want Knox walking in and hearing this—and Donna followed me. I live for a dramatic kitchen scene, but if what I thought was true was actually true, finding out like this could fuck him up for sure.

“You gave birth to Knox and left him for Veronica to take care of just like you left me for Dad to take care of,” I said in a hushed-but-aggressive-but-chic-but-threatening-but-scared tone.

“Are you insane?”

“Nope.”

“Are you completely fucking insane?”

“Still no.”

Donna threw her arms up and started to walk away from me.

“Wait,” I whisper-yelled. “Can we just talk about this without you acting like a complete fucking baby?”

“Babe. There is nothing to talk about.”

“Then how can you explain the similarities? He even looks like me!”

“He does not. Relax.”

“He does! And all the shit your dad said to me yesterday. I'm just saying it's a lot and it hit me like a ton of coke bricks last night. The truth will be set free whether you like it or not!”

“Can you not shout?” Donna asked, in a mommish way. I wanted to slap her, but it was too early.

“Yeah, okay, sorry for raising my voice. This is so fucked, though, if it's true, and I totally think it is. Why should I trust you?” I pleaded.

“Fine. That's fair. I've given you plenty of reasons to be skeptical of the life choices I make, but I promise you, Babe, Knox is Vee's kid, and we need to end this conversation now.”

Her voice became so stern and serious by the end of the sentence that I knew I'd gone too far. I'd struck a nerve, and when people's nerves are struck, they can turn crazy. I'd learned that in rehab when I wrongly accused this short girl of stealing a
Vanity Fair
from the drawer in my desk. I was super wrong and she got super mad and she super tried to cut my hair off in the middle of the night and I super woke up and with feline grace and force tackled her to the ground and super by accident broke her collarbone. Not my fault, but still, not a cute moment.

ANYWAY. Donna, Knox, me, life.

“I'm gonna go take a shower,” she said, heading back inside.

I didn't say anything else to Donna that morning because I felt I'd said enough. I was basically positive that my grandfather was telling me the truth about Knox but I couldn't push it any more. I just had to let it sit inside me and rot away my insides like a cancer. A truth-cancer.

After a few minutes of stillness, I dragged my caped body back into the bright-as-fuck guest room, pulled the covers over my head, and reached for the pill bottle in my Proenza bag on the floor. I knocked back a couple Ambiens and hummed the melody to Lou Reed's “Perfect Day” until I felt Namaste.

For being such a dead zone, Maryland was turning out to be surprisingly stressful.

B
efore falling asleep, I texted Gen and Roman.

Babe
Why have neither of you texted me to see if I'm alive or dead?

Gen
Obvs we would have heard if you died.

Babe
How would you have heard?

Gen
Like on the news or some shit. Or Mabinty would've texted.

Babe
You think it'll be on the news when I die?

Gen
Maybe

Babe
So you don't think that?

Gen
It's poss

Babe
Roman what do you think?

Babe
Roman?

Babe
Romie.

Babe
Romanowsky

Babe
Rebecca Roman Stamos

Gen
I think he's at Pilates

Babe
So? He keeps his phone on always.

Babe
Whatever.

Babe
Thanks for thinking it'll be on the news when I die. I
mean, I think you're right. A lot of people are going to be sad/shocked when I die. But that's actually really sweet of you to acknowledge, Genevieve

Babe
SO do you wanna know what I'm doing/where I am/what I'm wearing or what?

Gen
Not really

Babe
K then tell me what you're doing

Gen
I'm texting with you

Babe
Cute. Where?

Gen
This dude's house

Babe
Oh yeah, it's early there. What dude??

Babe
And since when did we say dude?

Gen
I know, that was horrible, no idea why I said that. This GUY. This GUYs house

Babe
Yeah that feels so much better

Babe
What guy?

Gen
Honestly, I can't remember his name but his house is the absolute shit. So happy I woke up here. I guess he went to work? I haven't looked around for a note or anything but he's definitely not in this bedroom. Or at least I think he's not.

Babe
Tell me everything

Gen
Honestly it's not even a fun hookup story

Babe
I don't give a shit. Dish. Now. I'm so bored.

Gen
Fine.

Gen
I was at Sunset Tower last night with Lauren and Lauren and we ran into these guys who knew them so we all started dancing and I ended up drinking some molly water and making out with this guy's ear for literally forty-five minutes, which sounds insane but it was sexy and he just wasn't stopping me and you know how I can go off on someone's ear if they don't pull away

Babe
I hate that you like doing that

Gen
I hate it too, but it's who I am and I can't change that

Babe
And I respect that. I hate it but I respect it

Gen
Thanks

Babe
So how did you end up in this strange and sexy bed?

Gen
After the club, I decided it's a good idea to get into this guy's Ferrari with him. He's wasted btw

Babe
Gen

Gen
I know. So he really wanted road head and he was hot enough so I obliged

Babe
Pic for proof

Gen
I don't have one. But if you Google ‘Marc Saudi Arabia Tiger Rescue' he should be like the first pic that comes up

Babe
Just did

Babe
Hot

Gen
Right?

Babe
I mean, love that for you. Not for me.

Gen
No trust me you'd wanna fuck him Babe

Babe
Trust me I wouldn't

Gen
Trust me you would

Babe
Trust me. I would not.

Gen
No but like you would. Trust me.

Babe
I think I like definitely, one million percent, would never fuck that guy, even if someone was holding a gun to my head. But LOVE him for you!

Gen
Anyway

Gen
He was really funny and had soft ear skin AND he told me that he had a tiger sanctuary in his backyard

Babe
And?

Gen
Yes! And you know how much I love wild cats. His house is a literal castle. There are three Damien Hirsts in the kitchen. There's a woman dressed as a mermaid who
swims in his pool every day from 5pm to 5am. Could you die?

Babe
I'll pass, but you do love a wild cat moment. I always thought that was a pinch too Kardashian of you but I'm not here to judge

Gen
Think what you will

Babe
You know I always do

Gen
His cats are amazing. We went in and played with them which is so fun on molly and really the whole night ended up being lovely. There were some other people that came over and I swear one of them was Jaden Smith. AND he gave me these huge diamond studs that he said he was gonna give to some other girl. Such a sweetheart. But I don't exactly remember having sex with him and I am in his bed and he is not which weirds me out just a tiny bit.

Babe
I think you should grab your shit, call an uber, and pump the fuck out of there

Gen
Yeah, I'm totally gonna do that. After I shower. I smell like a pet store from the tigers.

Babe
Just vomited

Babe
Love you

Gen
Love you. Have fun.

Babe
You don't even know where I am

Gen
Oh yeah, where are you?

Babe
Donna invited me to her dad's 80th birthday party so I came to Maryland and I'm meeting like all of these family people that I didn't even know existed

Gen
Weird

Babe
You have no idea. Stay tuned for updates

Gen
K

Babe
Get out of that zoo

Gen
K

Roman
Hey binches! What I miss.

Babe
Nothing I gotta go sleep. It's nap time here.

Roman
Where?

Babe
Night my queens

Gen
Later slut

Roman
Fine. Bye. Genevieve call me

I
woke up a little bit later. Six p.m.

Fabulous
, I thought, one more day down basically. Existence in Maryland, albeit temporary, may not have been as hellish as I'd imagined it to be, but I wasn't trying to sow seeds for a new life and grow roots there. So I figured I'd stay for two more days. I'd smoke a few more cigarettes with underage Cara, find new ways to be passive-aggressive toward my mom, and get to know sweet angel Knox a little bit better. I even mulled over the possibility of burning that carpeted pizza place down, stealing Knox, and taking him to LA to be my assistant/cousin/son/protégé.

“What's the possibility of getting a good massage in this town in the next thirty minutes?” I asked as I emerged from the bedroom and into the living room. It was empty.

“Hello?”

Was the whole house empty?

“HELLO?” I said louder. “It's me, Babe. Is anyone home?”

“In here,” I heard Knox's voice say from the kitchen.

The kitchen was cluttered with cooking supplies and food things but there was no one else around besides the little chef, smock and everything. Is it called a smock? Apron? Chef's robe? I can never remember the names of tools. Anyway, he was standing on a footstool at the edge of the counter, his little head almost buried in a large metal mixing bowl. “Hey, Babe,” he said.