Bittersweet (18 page)

Edy’s eyes slammed to slits. “Yeah. I’ve got an opening Friday night. You busy then?”

“Only a little. How about you? Saturday morning sound good?”

“Nope,” she said. “I’ve got ballet. It’s been a standing appointment for nearly twelve years.”

He turned away. “So be it then.”

“So be it then!”

“So be it!”

It was like Rani said; dance mattered as much as football. No one would make her feel guilty for pursuing it, least of all him. Especially not while pictures of him and his fiancée floated around.

His
fiancée
. With her closing in on her seventeenth birthday, the word hit her hard. Hassan and Mala were bound to marriage. They were expected to become man and wife. They were nearing the age of consent. Sure Hassan was expected to finish college first, but the threat loomed large for Edy and girl could only take so much.

“Listen. I’m glad you came,” Hassan said just as Edy said, “I know you’ve been seeing Mala all the time.”

He stared at her, cursed in Punjabi, and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, listen. Wow. This must look bad, huh? But it’s not, because you weren’t supposed to find out about it until after I was done.”

“What!”

Hassan jumped, more like a frightful rabbit than a tiger in the moment. “Oh, jeez. Keep it down.” He glanced at the door. “Let me that this again.”

“You do that. You try it again.” And get a hand to the face if you get it all wrong. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, waiting, impatient.

 “Cake. Okay, first of all, I didn’t know she was here at first. I ran into her. Then I tracked her down so I could try and talk her into not marrying me. I thought if we both rejected the idea a wedding would be impossible. With me and Mala both against it, our families would have to back off.”

“But she wants to marry you,” Edy said dryly, noting the need for multiple visits.

“Well,” Hassan said carefully. “She wants to honor her parents.”

And your muscles. And your lips. And your hair running through her fingers.

Hassan found his chair again and pulled up close; so they touched knee to knee. Edy saw the fatigue in his face, the anxiety hung heavy on his shoulders.

“You thought I cheated on you.”

Judgment. Disappointment.

Edy looked away. “No. I mean, I don’t know. People made me afraid, I guess. I was afraid of what your mother had done.” She stole a look at him finally. “I know how convincing she can be.” What was she saying? She didn’t even know. Her heart thumped out a chaotic tune, wild from his nearness.

“And you think I’d hurt you like that? You think I can be convinced not to love you?” Pain draped him at once, flooding his features and darkening the green of his eyes. He ran a finger along her knee, eyes downcast, voice heavy. “I don’t even know where to start.” He looked at her. Really looked at her and exhaled. “I don’t care who’s not for us. We’re for us, Edy. So let my mother run wild if she wants. I love you. I’m in love with you. There’s no expiration on that. Now. Later. Forever. Understand?”

He leaned forward to tilt her chin for a kiss. Unable to help herself, she met his lips in a tiny way.

“I have something else to say,” Edy said.

Hassan pulled away with the corner of his mouth tilting down.

“I saw Mala, too,” she told him. “At a game. I didn’t tell you because I figured you didn’t know she was in the city. I know recruiters have been coming to every game and scrutinizing your every move. I didn’t think you needed the distraction.”

Hassan exhaled. “Well, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said all night.”

Edy snorted out a laugh before remembering they were supposed to keep the noise down. With a hand over her mouth, she grabbed a pillow and swung for him. Hassan caught it with one hand and used the other to pull her closer.

“Don’t doubt me,” he said and brushed lips to her forehead. “Not you. Not ever. I couldn’t take that.”

Nightfall came. It would serve as her cover. Silence fell as the Pradhans pulled out of their drive. Edy stood at the downstairs window and waited; first, for her pulse to slow, and second, for courage.

Neither came.

Across the street, the pink painted lady slumbered in darkness, shades drawn, windowed eyes shut. With the Dodge F-150 missing from the drive, Edy knew it was time. She had a single clammy hand gripping keys in her pocket; she started for the door on wilting legs and froze.  She could do this. She would do this. She’d made up her mind, already. Her left hand slipped into her jacket’s other pocket; touched the cool metal of a switchblade, and withdrew as if burned. Now or never. Her heart smashed insane in her chest.

Edy crossed the street to the Green house, half choked in the irony and deception. She considered the fallout of her actions, mind scaling a labyrinth of consequences. Her mother, her father, Hassan, he could break up with her over this. It would be within his rights. By knocking on the Green door in the dark, while Hassan was away at a game, Edy became not just a fool unable to resist the lure of truth, but a girlfriend of questionable motives and loyalty. She could shatter the trust between them. Or Wyatt could hurt her, like Lottie.

Was Wyatt’s truth worth all that? Was truth and fairness worth some of it? Her heart told her ‘no’, that she wouldn’t sacrifice a hard earned love, yet she did. She
did.
She had begun her friendship with Wyatt under rotten motives, but she had become his friend and would hear him out. She wasn’t a bad person. She’d prove it.

Edy raised her fist to knock and the door swung open.

“Hey,” Wyatt said.

“Hey,” Edy said.

She stepped into shadows and they shut out the world.

“Upstairs, in my room,” Wyatt said. “In case my dad comes back.”

Edy gripped the knife again, nodded, and followed him close. Step by creaking step she climbed the narrow staircase, eyes on Wyatt’s thin silhouette, and a few fingers on one dust-dim banister.

His bedroom faced her house. Rustic plank wood flooring creaked underfoot, while the twin bed with white bedding and simple desk felt sterile, drafty, removed in forlorn confines. Wyatt shut the door behind them.

“Hey,” Wyatt said.

“Hey,” Edy said.

He gestured to the bed. “Have a seat.”

Her gaze slid over and rested there, at the place where he slept. One smooth, threadbare blanket, one pillow encased in white, all smooth, taunt.

“No, thank you,” Edy said and pulled out the folding chair at his desk.

Wyatt’s lips parted. He extended his arm in a jerky reach and drew back, cheeks blotched. “Can I get you some water? Some … air maybe?” He flinched in outward annoyance and stepped back, rabbit-like in anxiousness.

Edy shook her head and glanced out the window. He really did have prime viewing of her home, the street below, and if she squinted, the tree between the windows, too.

Wyatt sat down across from her. “You read my letter,” he said. “You read my letter and you came.” Incredulity slacked his features.

“Yes. I wanted to give you a chance,” Edy said. “I wanted to—be the one to give you a chance.” She didn’t know what the words meant exactly, only that they were sincere and persistent in her heart.

He nodded as if that and she made perfect sense.

“You want to hear about Lottie,” he said.

“I need to know about Lottie, yes.”

He studied his hands, suddenly fascinated with the lines; he cleared his throat as if the truth trapped in there. “Lottie’s my favorite cousin. You’d love her if you met. She’s funny, smart, pretty, as flawless as you could imagine.” He stole a look at Edy. “She was my best and only friend. We did everything together. We had inside jokes, long walks, movie nights and everything.” He grinned. “Hey. I remember we went to this Friendly’s and ordered two Jim Dandy sundaes. When the bill came Lottie wanted to ditch, so we ran without paying.” With his grin unreciprocated, he decided to tuck it away for another time. “She was spontaneous like that, you know? Doing things for the rush. Later on, I found out she did have the money to pay.”

This wasn’t the Lottie Edy had imagined. She’d given her cherub features and a gentle demeanor after envisioning Wyatt’s brutality. Now this new Lottie, it didn’t matter, if he’d done what he’d done. Still, she sunk in Edy’s abdomen like a stone, daring recognition, demanding acceptance.

“We scheduled all our classes together and slept at each other’s houses,” Wyatt said. “It had always been me and Lottie, see? It was always the two of us.” Defiance turned his face to stone; anger hardened his mouth.

“Until it wasn’t,” Edy whispered. “It wasn’t just the two of you.”

“She got a boyfriend and changed.  We changed because of him.” Wyatt shifted and in the dim light, under the glint of anger, his best features were highlighted. The quiet ruggedness of hard decisions, brown eyes that glinted with passion. “She’d make fun of me,” he said. “Whenever her boyfriend was around. She’d … throw things because that’s what he and his friends did.”

Bully. Coward. Disloyal traitor and trash.
A well of spite boiled over, scalding Edy where only sympathy for Lottie had been. She shoved it back, a little harder, more force, and thought, “he still had no right.” Edy swept her judgments away. She needed the whole story, creepy crawlies and all.

“We were at her house,” Wyatt said. “And it was like the old days. Her boyfriend wasn’t there. We made kettle popcorn and watched
American Pie,
both were our favorites. Then Lottie started in with these weird questions. She asked if I liked girls.” Wyatt stiffened, cheeks like two slabs of salmon. “I told her to stop it, that she wasn’t funny. Of course, I like girls. Then she told me to describe what it was I liked. I—I couldn’t, not put on the spot like that.” He flushed deeper. “That’s when she said that maybe I liked boys.”

“We talked about kissing next. If I had done it, if I knew how.” He flicked a look at Edy. “She said that
if
I liked girls and
if
I ever wanted one, I should know what to do. She offered to show me how to kiss.” He looked away. “So I’d know.”

A sick wetness slithered down deep in Edy’s belly. “Your cousin?” she said. “And you—you accepted?”

He accepted.

“So, you’re kissing your cousin,” Edy said, tamping down on her gag reflex. “Or your cousin’s kissing you. Then what?”

Wyatt shook his head. “I leaned in to her, eyes closed, and she slapped me. Hard.”

Edy’s head jerked. She fought revulsion and pity. “But why?”

“Because she’s Lottie and it was another practical joke for her.”

Okay, what?

Wyatt looked away, visibly shaken, eyes damp. “I couldn’t take it. I—I hit her back. Hard.”

Lottie, Davis, victim, found semi-conscious on living room floor. Breathing is without distress. Multiple blows to the face, torso, and legs.

“Then you fought,” Edy said.

Closer examination of the reporting party turned up surface abrasions on both hands and a half inch scratch on the left cheek.

“Afterward, you got scared and called the police. When they got there, Lottie wouldn’t identify you.”

Wyatt stared at her, eyes wide in terror. Here was the truth before them, spread wide for inspection.

“Once I hit her,” he said. “She went crazy. I couldn’t get her to stop fighting me. I clunked her in the head with this wooden vase. She went down and stayed down after that.”

Edy stared at her hands. Their conversation had taken an unexpected turn. He wanted words from her, comfort, condemnation, a decision.

“You said you hated me,” she said. “That you hated and wanted to hurt me.”

Wyatt’s mouth tightened, his jaw tightened and his shoulders tensed. “I said more than that to you.”

“Yeah. You said you loved me, too,” Edy said.

“Because I do.”

She glanced out his window. Her house and the Pradhan’s still sat in darkness.

“I love Hassan,” she said.

“You were taught to love him,” Wyatt said. “You were made to love him. Use your own, your own heart—”  

“I shouldn’t be here,” Edy said and jerked to her feet. “It’s just that you’d dropped out of school—”

“I’m homeschooled.” Wyatt said.

“And I’ve been so worried—”

“Maybe it’s more than worry.”

“I’m your friend, Wyatt. Don’t plant emotions where there aren’t any.” Edy started for the door and then hesitated. “It isn’t healthy.”

Wyatt stood. “Everything between us—”

“Stop it! There is no ‘us’!” She backed to the door. “I feel sorry for you. You’ve been mistreated your whole life and your parents have never cared for you right. Maybe that’s why you attach like this. It’s unnatural. You—you need help.”

“I need help?” Wyatt stopped. The lights flickered. Off. On. Off.

“What’s happening?” Edy said.

“I don’t know. A bulb has blown. A fuse is blown. A bill wasn’t paid. It’s hard to say.”

Breathe. Relax. Do not panic.

“Edy?” Wyatt said. “Is that what you really think? That I need help? Professional help?” he said in the dark.

Find courage to tell the truth. Even in the dark. Especially in the dark, when the way out doesn’t seem clearest.

“Yes,” Edy said. “I do.”

She listened for a sign of movement, hand on her knife, knees loose.

“I could do it,” he said. “I could do it for you.”

“Get help for yourself, because you need it, Wyatt. That’s all.”

“I’d do it for you,” he repeated, firmer still.

Edy sighed. She knew what he wanted and tugged against the will to give it. The right decision was what? Convince him to get psychiatric help or say nothing to preserve her relationship?

“Do it for me,” Edy said. “Just make sure it gets done.”