Never (3 page)

Her overprotectiveness drove me crazy, but really it was one of the things I loved about her. No matter what, I knew she loved me. But a lie changed everything.

Juliet and I met as kids. Juliet’s mom worked for my family as a maid. Even from the beginning I knew Mom was no fan of our friendship, but she let it go because she figured it was harmless and unavoidable since the Stowes lived on our property.

Despite our backgrounds, we were best friends. Juliet helped me make the academy’s basketball team by whooping my ass until I got better. I didn’t treat her any different because she was a girl, wrestling and exploring every inch of the estate and woods beyond. She used to tell me how her mother would fuss at her for ruining her clothes and ‘playing like a boy’. Juliet’s usual response was a shrug or an eye roll about how girls should be allowed to do anything boys could do. She was a feminist before we even knew what that word meant.

The years passed and suddenly there was no escaping the fact that she was a girl—and a hot one at that. When I told her I wouldn’t wrestle with her anymore I lied and said it was because I didn’t want to hurt her. She didn’t talk to me for two weeks, but how could I tell her that...
things
happened to me when she was pressed against my body?

I knew all about the birds and the bees and I spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about her, wondering what kissing her would be like. Touching her. But I also knew that friendships didn’t survive after you crossed that line. Losing her wasn’t something I was willing to accept.

Not that it mattered in the end.

Anger punched me in the gut and I felt the all too familiar desire to pummel something when I thought back to all of the lies Mom told me. That Juliet and her mother left that night because Mrs. Stowe found a job somewhere else. That she'd lied to me to protect me from making a mistake.

The only mistake I made was only kissing Juliet once before she left. And thinking that my mother was different from all the other society wives in our neighborhood.

The phone stopped vibrating and I unclenched my fists. I knew I wasn’t off the hook that easy. There’d be a voicemail, Mom’s usually commanding voice timid and guilty. She’d tell me that she was thinking about me. Plead for me to call her back and let her explain. Tell me she loved me. I’d feel guilty for a few minutes before I realized that I didn’t need an explanation. I knew why she lied to me all those years ago. Why she would have kept lying if Juliet and I didn’t figure out the truth. It was all about appearance. The facade of the doting wife, the successful marriage. The mask of the philanthropist, tirelessly giving of her time and money. To the world she was the balance to my father’s tenacious business clout. Rebecca McNamara—the tender, caring wife and mother.

“What a joke,” I muttered, slamming my textbook shut because I was too riled up to work anyway. I knew she wasn’t perfect. That as much as people acted like she was Mother Theresa with a black American Express card, she was only human. The perfection was the lie she told the world. Public relations. A perfectly tailored image to go beside one of the wealthiest men in the country. But to me, she was Mom. I never doubted her faith in me. Never thought she’d betray my trust.

I was wrong.

I massaged my temple, the throb starting behind my eyes and slowly fanning out until my whole head felt heavy.

I talked a big game, but I had to force myself not to answer the phone. Even though it had been two weeks since the confrontation back at home and I was still mad as hell, she was my mother.  I knew she’d been driven to her actions by Dad’s affair, but she still made the conscious choice of sending away the only girl I’d ever really cared about and lied to me about it.

As soon as the thought rolled out the memory of the pain in her eyes cut through that logic like a knife.
How hard must it have been to grin and bear it all these years?

I stood up, feeling the urge to pick up the phone and call her back. Have it out with my mother and finally dismantle the wall I’d built to keep her out. Get back to the place where I avoided her because she was annoying and not because she’d hurt me.

It would be so much easier if I could just lay it all on Dad. He was cold and distant and I was always suspected he’d been up to something all those nights spent away. He was the one that did the cheating. He forced her into the position of having to see the woman he’d betrayed her with day in and day out. Mom with her calls and progress reports and suffocating love. The woman that raised me so he didn’t have to.

The woman that sent away Juliet and didn’t have the balls to tell me until I forced it out of her.

I need a beer.

I went to the fridge, knowing I should just polish off the OJ and stay away from the beer. I had a paper to write and a quiz and test to study for. I begrudgingly reached over the twelve-pack for the jug of OJ, moving to the cabinet for a glass.When the phone buzzed to life, I muttered a ‘fuck it’ and grabbed the bottle of Smirnoff vodka and filled up the cup the rest of the way with the good stuff. I told myself it was pretty much a man’s mimosa. And it definitely wouldn’t get me drunk but it would dull the guilt that settled in my throat when I didn’t answer the phone the second time.

I went back to the sofa, stealing glances at the phone.

Angry gulp.

Steely glare.

When it rang a third time, I stormed to the table and brought it to my ear.

“Look Mom—”

“Lucas?” The voice was a few notes deeper than Mom’s. The thickness of it was relaxingly familiar.

I put down my glass. “Eloise.”

“Eww!” I could picture her rolling her big green eyes. “Only Mom calls me that. And Dad, when I actually see him face to face.” She cleared her throat. “Speaking of Mom—”

“Don’t, Elle,” I said brusquely. I pulled the phone from my ear. She was calling me from an international number, so she was still abroad. “Unbelievable. She got you to call and guilt trip me into talking to her, huh?”

“Geez,” she huffed like she was offended. “Paranoid much?” She went quiet, which was so far from like her that she pretty much answered my question.

“Look, I’m really busy and I’m not in the mood to deal with another liar.”

“Alright, alright,” she said quickly. “Yes, Mom called me and asked me to talk to you.”

I slid my thumb away from the ‘end call’ button. “And she told you what was going on?”

“I just figured it was the usual drama. Your major. Dad. Or Ken.”

I tightened my grip on the phone at the sound of my younger brother’s name. “We don’t argue about Ken.”

“Now who’s lying?”

Ken was four years younger than me and he came out spoiling for a fight. When he was born, Mom used to compare us, telling horror stories about my colic and how she barely got a night of sleep the first six months. Ken was the perfect baby, sleeping through the night his very first night home from the hospital.

If I did something, he followed suit, having to do it better, always one-upping me. Dad had all but said Ken was his favorite, probably the son that he wanted to run the business when he retired, but Ken wanted to study medicine, not business and finance. When I said I didn’t want to go in the family business, I was practically disowned. My parents couldn’t have been prouder the day my little brother said he wanted to be a doctor.

I used to think it was sibling rivalry. Even when he got on my nerves he was still my brother and I’d do anything for him or Elle. Last summer before he left for his first semester at Yale, I tried to initiate a ceasefire and create some sort of relationship with him. I jokingly offered some words of wisdom but before I could get out much more besides the word ‘advice’ he’d looked me dead in the face and confirmed my suspicions that we’d never be more than brothers in name only.

Let me stop you right there, man. Seeing as you can’t give me any academic tips since you were supposed to be graduating in May and you’re going back to Seattle to finish a business degree, I think I’m good. And if this is about girls, well, I’m not into the same kind of girls you’re into.

Cold as fucking ice. He was definitely his father’s son.

“Look Lucas, I don’t care about why you two are fighting, but I’m supposed to be carpe diem-ing,” Elle said tightly. I don’t want to be put in the middle.”

“Why are you telling
me
that?” I bit off. I could almost hear Mom playing Elle’s heart strings, acting like she was the victim and making this all about me. I was just picking on my poor, defenseless mother. Why else wouldn’t she tell Elle
why
we were on the outs?

“You want to know why we’re arguing?”

“No, I don’t,” Elle said without missing a beat.

“I’m going to tell you.”

“Lucas—”

“Dad had an affair.”

The line went quiet and I pulled the phone away and looked at the screen, thinking the call must have dropped, but it was still connected. “Eloise?”

“I heard you,” she said, barely above a whisper. Loud enough for me to hear that I’d screwed up.

Three words...and I felt like the worst brother alive. I was supposed to be there for her, protect her from pain. Instead, I let my anger get the best of me and I was the one doing the hurting.

I hung my head.
What the hell is wrong with you?
“Elle, I’m so sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Her voice was stronger. Angry. “Since you’re feeling chatty, please tell me how Dad’s...” She paused. “Affair has anything to do with you and Mom not talking?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I said, wishing I could take it back.

“Answer me, Lucas,” she snapped.

I knew my sister well enough to know that she wasn’t going to drop this.

I breathed deep and exhaled. “The affair was with the maid.” I closed my eyes. “Juliet’s mom.”

“
Your
Juliet?” she gasped, even though she knew the answer.

“Yeah.”

I heard rustling on her end, like she was pulling herself up, dropping everything to give me her full attention. “I still don’t understand.”

“Well, Mom threw Mrs. Stowe out on her ass. And then she lied about it.”

“And...?” Elle said slowly, like she was missing some part of the story, a piece that would make it all clear.

“She lied to me,” I said, feeling the heat of anger as I rose to my feet. Why didn’t she get how big a deal this was? “And Juliet and her mother had nowhere to go—”

“Hold on a second,” my sister interrupted, her voice darker than I’d ever heard it. “You’re pissed off at Mom because she kicked out the woman that screwed Daddy?”

When she put it like that, I
did
sound like the bad guy. “You don’t understand. Juliet—”

“I don’t care about Juliet, Lucas!” she said shrilly. “I care about Mom. I’m sorry your girlfriend’s mom lost her job, but
our
mom pretty much lost her husband.”

The line went quiet and I let her words sink in. I’d never really dwelled on that part of the story. As soon as I learned Mom lied to me and had a hand in Juliet being sent away, nothing else mattered.

I shook away the guilt, pulling my righteous anger back on. “She didn’t lose Dad. It’s not like she left him.”

“Exactly,” Elle said vehemently. “She just had to look at him. Sleep with him. Be his wife.”

“For herself,” I retorted, struggling to hold onto my anger. Trying to ward off the overwhelming feeling that my sister had a point.

“Maybe,” she said after a moment, her voice filled with heartbreaking sadness. “But she also stayed for us. She kept our family together, right or wrong. And you’re punishing her for it.” She paused and I swore I heard a sniffle. “I expected this kind of selfishness from Ken, but not you.”

“Elle—”

But it was too late. The line was silent and I didn’t have to look at the screen to know she’d hung up on me.

Chapter Four: Juliet

I put my phone on silent, a rush of relief crashing into me. After fielding texts from Lucas and Kim all afternoon, I was more than happy to faux-unplug—especially considering Candace Mann dominated the conversation.

I’d never admit it to anyone but I went to her Facebook event page and read the details. The party would be held at her sorority house a few blocks from Seattle U, a house notorious for raging keggers, according to Kim.

In the description, Candi managed to contradict herself three times. The first was when she claimed it was a ‘small get-together’ when the invited list proved she’d sent out hundreds of invitations and sixty-five people already rsvp’d yes. The second was her mention of it being casual and in the same breath, saying that it was a themed event: A Graphic Affair. Apparently everyone was supposed to wear their favorite graphic t-shirt. The third was when she said that if she invited you, it was because she ‘pretty much thought you were the best thing ever’. She and I both knew the reason she’d invited me.

She wanted me front and center while she tried to seduce Lucas.

When I laid out Candi’s endgame, Lucas laughed at me. When I didn’t respond to his text for hours, he tried to make up for it by claiming that I was the only one he cared about.

The rational part of my brain knew that was true. Every touch, every kiss reminded me that what we had was real. But I was human—and no happiness in my life came without some sort of catch.

After Lucas kissed me and Mom and I left the McNamara estate all those years ago, I huddled in the backseat, feeling like my heart had been torn in two. I prayed, wanting to feel anything but the pain of losing him.

Before that kiss when Mom told me we were leaving, I cried for me and Lucas’ friendship. I cried because I still hadn’t told him that I decided to try out for the hockey team. I cried because he lost the last game we played and I was forcing him to watch the only romance movie that didn’t make me roll my eyes,
The African Queen
with Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn. I cried because I was losing my best friend before I had the chance to tell him that I wanted him to be so much more. I didn’t have the time to confess that I watched the clock at school, counting down the minutes until I could see him. That whenever he was near my heart sped up in my chest. That he made me feel the way all those songs claimed love felt like. I’d been working up the courage to finally come clean, lay it all on the line and hope he didn’t laugh in my face.