Lie to Me (an OddRocket title) (3 page)

I twisted the ring around my finger. Every time I looked at it, I felt a mix of hope and despair. I had to admit that a part of me wore it because, deep down, I wanted another chance, but Nick had just asked me to cover his shift so he could go out on a date. It was time for me to be okay with things being over.

Outside, standing on the edge of the dock, I faced the open water and, with a sudden burst of energy, twisted Nick's ring off my finger. My pulse racing, I held it in my palm and watched as the rain filled my hand. Drops ran down my forehead and into my eyes.

"I don't need you," I shouted and cocked my arm back. "And I don't need your cheesy, stupid ring." As hard as I could, I threw the ring high into the air over the deep water and watched it plop beneath the waves. I imagined it spiraling down to the bottom and sinking into the mud.

I lifted my hands and did a little dance on the end of the dock, kicking at the air. "Whooo hoooo!" His ring was gone and I felt great. I felt strong. I felt decisive. Powerful. Maybe I was evolving. Maybe next time I would look into his warm, brown eyes and say, “no.” Maybe even “hell no.” It was time to move on.

I turned around and immediately wanted to melt between the slats of the dock. I had an audience. Sitting under a makeshift, blue canvas roof, on a sailboat about two slips away, was a guy wearing a Husky Football sweatshirt and baseball hat. He was definitely within earshot of my performance with a clear line of sight to my one-girl show. For a split second, I thought he hadn't seen me, but then he tipped his baseball cap toward me as if giving me a compliment.

"I thought I was alone," I blurted, clutching my arms across my chest. Then the clouds overhead cracked wide open and within seconds the misting rain transformed into drops so big they felt like fingertips tapping my head.

"Want to get dry?" Baseball guy stood up, pointing to his roof. "Hop aboard."

I glanced up the dock where a curtain of rain totally obscured the shore. I needed to choose. Run for the restaurant, retreat to the bathroom or do something bold and accept an invitation from a stranger. I didn’t even have my sweater. I’d left it in the car.

Nice Cassie, Good Cassie knew the right thing to do. Run for the restaurant and get to work, but I'd just tossed Nick's ring away and the idea of being late gave me this delicious thrill.

"Why not," I said. I darted to the boat and stepped aboard.

Baseball guy handed me a thick, forest green towel. It smelled like talcum powder when I held it to my face. I took a seat on a bench under the sagging tarp. He sat across from me holding a steaming mug in his hands. I dried the ends of my hair with the towel, but stopped when I remembered Walter, the turtle. What if my hair stunk of pee and I rubbed this guy's towel all over my foul-smelling head?

I tried to look at him without staring. He wasn't good-looking in a pretty way like Nick; this guy was handsome, rugged, like his edges were rough, but golden. Tall and thin, his short blonde hair peeked out from under his black cap. He had soft blue eyes. His arms were lanky, but I could tell they were solid and strong. He was definitely older than me, but I couldn't tell by how much.
Probably a college guy
, I guessed from his Husky gear and the pile of textbooks on the bench behind him.

"This is summer in the northwest, right?" He pointed to the wall of rain and smiled.

Sitting this close to him, I felt less brave and more tongue-tied. I should have just hid out in the bathroom. That was more my style. I didn't talk to handsome strangers.

"So, did you get the guy out of your system?" He nodded toward the dock.

I must have looked mortified; I remember going from just tongue tied to totally mute.

"I wasn't trying to spy, seriously," he said, sounding apologetic. "Don’t feel awkward. It was your thing out there and I just happened to be here." When he looked at me, he radiated this warmth. It was hard not to believe him and I couldn't help but smile back. "Confession," he said, sounding conspiratorial. "When a relationship ends, I've been known to chuck a thing or two into the ocean, or the fire, or off a bridge."

I found my voice. "You have?"

"Sure," he said. "I've burned photos, clothes, books, stuffed animals… now I'm sounding a little nuts. Seriously, it was all very normal and I made sure to be a good Boy Scout and pour water on all the embers when I was done."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," I said, and then surprised myself by giggling. Suddenly, my outburst on the dock seemed more funny than embarrassing and my hand felt lighter without the weight of Nick's ring.

"It's working, right?" He lifted his cup toward me and I smelled the aroma of black coffee. "I think you're smiling now."

"Yeah," I said, looking at my tennis shoes.

"Bad break up?" He said, leaning back in his seat. "I'm a very good listener and trust me, I've got time." He nodded toward the bow of the boat. I could see, through the rain, varnish peeling off the teak deck in strips, the brass portholes oxidized and dull. More blue tarps were strung over the railings. This boat needed a lot of work.

"You don't want to hear about him."

"Are you kidding?" he said. "If you don’t talk to me, I’m going to have to work on my boat in the rain or read books about financial derivatives. Come on, everybody loves break-up stories, especially when they've got their own relationship drama."

"You have drama?"

He shrugged.

"Well," I took a breath and then I started talking. I told him how I'd known Nick forever, how quickly I'd fallen, the humiliating end the night of the bonfire. The words poured out of me. "Why wouldn't he just tell the truth?" I asked. "He ended it for someone else but he lied. So, why do they do it? Why do guys lie?"

"Um... sometimes guys lie because it's the coward’s way out. He thinks that by not telling you the truth, he's being kinder."

"Well, he isn't."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I think you know it doesn't matter. You'll stop caring about him when you're ready."

"I will?"

"Of course," he said. "You're going to be all right. I can tell. I'm a heartbreak specialist."

"You don't even know me."

"True." He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "But, I know you're a nice girl."

"Oh, my God, not nice. Anything but that."

"Well, you're probably still nice to this guy even though he doesn't deserve it."

"How do you know all that?"

"I'm good with people," he smiled and stood up outside the tarp, looking at an unexpected patch of blue sky. "Looks like you've got your sun break."

"Yeah, I'm late." I stood up and nodded toward the restaurant. "Work."

"You wait tables at the Hideaway?"

"Yeah, family business."

"Your parents?"

"Mom. Dad died, so just Mom."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I'm okay. I mean, it's not okay."

"I get it," he said, "By the way, I'm RD."

"Hi." I smiled. His eyes were so blue it made me think of shallow, clear water. Suddenly, he laughed and I realized I'd been staring. "I'm Cassandra," I said, my cheeks burning. I'd just stood there, mouth gaping, forgetting my own name.

"Cassandra, the prophet," he said, his voice playful.

"I think that was another girl."

"You're not a psychic?"

"Afraid not.” Through the hatch, I caught a glimpse of a yellow spinnaker and the edge of a blue star. He had stretched the sail out down below attempting to dry it off. I remembered the flash of color and the boat I'd watched crossing the Sound at the beach with Priya. "But I did see you sail in today," I said, pointing below deck. "Yellow spinnaker with blue stars."

He laughed. "Oh, I get it. You’re just stalking me." Most people, when they talk to you, their eyes dart away and stuff, but not RD. He really looked at me. His eyes felt like a close-up camera focusing in on the smallest detail of my face.

"It's kind of a hard sail to miss," I said. "And I'm definitely not psychic. I don't think psychics get dumped."

"True. But you look like you're worthy of a myth or two."

I shook off a wave of goose bumps. Was he flirting with me? I wasn't sure, but I liked how he talked, the way he looked at me, the way he joked with me as if nothing was over my head.

"I better go," I said, pointing to the sun. "I can't claim lost at sea any longer."

"Well, thanks for making my solitary morning a little less boring, Cassandra." RD held out his hand to help me off the boat.

"Thanks for helping me work through a potentially embarrassing meltdown." I took his hand, amazed how small I felt being touched by him. His fingers were warm, I think from his coffee mug.

After helping me over the rail and back onto the dock, RD sat back down, stretching his legs out. "I can tell you one thing for sure."

"Yeah?" Even after he let go of my fingers, my skin tingled.

"That guy will figure out he screwed up. Losing a beautiful girl like you is definitely a mistake."

I could not move.
Beautiful
. It's such a powerful word, especially when no one's ever said it to you before. Nick called me cute. He called me sweet, but never beautiful. No. Beautiful was a word reserved for girls like Priya. I rolled the word over in my mind, wanting him to say it again.
Beautiful
. Beautiful girl. With one word, I felt like RD had reached inside me and gently squeezed my heart.

"Later," RD said.

I ran down the dock, but before I opened the gate to escape up the hill, I turned and looked back. RD was on the dock adjusting the fenders. I swear I saw him pause and smile at me. It was as if I could feel his pale eyes reaching me through that gray rain. It may seem impossible that I'd remember everything like this, but I do. Every word, every touch, and the way I felt inside when it first began, because it started right then. RD said the word "beautiful" and somewhere between us a door opened. I was destined to fall, no matter how big of a mistake I was making.

The Hideaway is an old restaurant with crooked floors and big booths with seats covered in red, cracked vinyl. It looks like somebody built a roadside diner inside a bungalow by the sea. There are three different stained glass chandeliers. One actually contains a ring of horses that pull a carriage when the lights are turned on. Mom says that when she and Dad bought the place, they insisted the former owner throw in all the light fixtures including the one with the horses. People sure get weird about antiques.

The Hideaway is burgers and shakes and grilled cheese sandwiches. Locals come out of habit and people passing through the marina come because they know what to expect the moment they walk through the door. The Hideaway is Mom's other baby and I could tell from the way she held her mouth that I had not impressed her by being late for my shift.

"Sorry," I said, shaking the rain off my shoulders, trying to dry my shoes on the mat at the front door.

"And you're soaked," Mom said, handing me some hand towels from behind the counter. They were not fluffy and warm like RD's. "You're dripping water everywhere. Finish drying off before you catch a cold." Mom wore her curly red hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. My mother never put on a lot of eye make-up and she didn't have on her glasses. I always thought my mom looked pretty young for a mom, but right then I remember thinking that she didn't look young, she just looked tired. I immediately felt guilty about being so late.

"Sorry," I said, looking over my shoulder, half expecting RD to be standing behind me. "There was a turtle incident."

"Who were you talking to on the dock?" Addie asked. She sat in a booth by the main window under a purple chandelier made out of glass grapes. She had a hot fudge sundae piled high with whipped cream and nuts sitting on a pie plate right in front of her.

Unbelievable. My guilt vanished. "No way." I ignored Addie and turned to my mother. "She runs away from camp and she gets a sundae? And her turtle..." I kept my voice low since I didn't want to have a family meltdown with Nick nearby.

"Cassie, please. Not today. I need you to help Nick. He's got a few tables going and I'm not sure he can handle it, okay?" Mom closed her eyes and held her hands to her temple while she exhaled. "Please don't test me today." She turned her back to me and started a pot of coffee behind the counter.

Nick stood in front of table five, where a trio of women all drinking Chardonnay looked at him with equal parts confusion and sympathy. He was a very bad, but extremely good-looking, waiter. He held a stack of "Little Pirate" kid's menus under one arm and a plate of fish and chips in the other. The women laughed and pointed to another table; he'd obviously tried to bring them someone else's order. Even the customers couldn't resist helping him. I hoped those stupid women gave him a big tip so he'd be that much closer to buying the new drum set he wanted for his band. Maybe then he'd quit.

I headed into the kitchen. "How's Einstein doing?" Mariah said. She stood at the grill cooking up a burger and a fish patty. I could smell the French fries sizzling in their cage and the sweetness of grilling onions. At least Mariah had a clue about how bad Nick was out there on the floor.

"He's just peachy." I opened my locker and pulled out my red "Hideaway" apron. I slammed the metal door louder than necessary. "I hate this summer. I really truly hate it."

Mariah was a local island girl. She graduated from San Sebastian High and never left. She had naturally blond, wild hair and she was forever trying to quit smoking, so she constantly chewed gum. Not only did Mariah manage the Hideaway kitchen, she was also engaged to Harbormaster Bill who sometimes sailed, sometimes worked, sometimes did everything. I honestly didn't know how many years they'd been engaged, but she kept a stack of bridal magazines behind the counter and some of the issues were over five years old.

"Yeah, well, go easy on your mom, Cass." Mariah blew a bubble. "I don't think she wants to deal with getting a replacement right now."

I stood in front of the mirror as I tied on my apron. "I'm the one who begged her to give him a chance and she did. I'm being tortured for being nice. Nice and stupid."