Perfect Lie (12 page)

“Yeah. After thirteen that was pretty much how it went for me too.”

“Why did they send you here?” I glanced over my shoulder, and Abel was still smiling from the nostalgia.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough to go into that right now. Maybe some other time.”

I nodded and went back to cooking our omelet. Abel’s mood swings were giving me whiplash. One minute he was so frustrating that I wanted to scream, and the next he was coaxing tiny details out of me that I hadn’t even told Marie. I felt like we had a secret in common, and that was enough to help me readjust the load on my shoulders and stand just a little taller.

“I hope you like omelets.”

“I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“You don’t, but one way or another, you’ll eat it. Makes it easier if you enjoy them.”

“You’re cold‐blooded, Kettle. I love omelets.”

I smiled to myself as I slid his omelet onto a plate and cut it in half. I nudged his legs, and he pulled his feet off my chair so I could sit down. I placed the plate between us and held out two forks. He took one as his dimples settled deeply into his sun‐kissed cheeks.

“Thank you.”

I nodded and took a bite as he did the same. The sounds that came from his throat were pure sin as he devoured his half. He began to steal bites from my side, and I threatened to stab him with my fork, but I let him anyway because I wasn’t nearly as hungry as he was, and it was nice to have someone appreciate my food.

He didn’t stop until the plate was clean. Then he relaxed back in the seat with his hand over his stomach. “That was amazing.”

I grabbed our plate and forks to wash them, and Abel went into the living room. I heard the low hum of the television, and I guessed he had given up on sleeping at all. I turned off the light over the stove and made my way toward my bedroom.

“Lie,” Abel whispered, and I turned to see him sitting on the couch, remote in hand and the soft light from the TV illuminating his face. He patted the cushion next to him, and I reluctantly went to join
him. I knew it would be hell trying to get back to sleep, and I didn’t want any more memories of my childhood flooding my dreams.

I plopped down with a cushion between us as he flipped through the channels. He would pause and glance at me for my reaction. If I didn’t give one, he’d continue on.

“Oh! That’s
Wild Things
. I haven’t seen that in forever. Keep it on this.” I pulled my legs up under me to get more comfortable.

We watched in silence, and it wasn’t until about twenty minutes later that I realized how stupid my choice was. I kept my eyes focused on the screen as the infamous threesome scene played out. I felt Abel glance my way, and he readjusted the way he was sitting. It was embarrassingly awkward, but I relished in the fact that it was making him as uncomfortable as I was.

“So…” he whispered quietly. “You’re kind of a perv.”

I glared at him, and he laughed, but his smile faded, and what was on the television was momentarily forgotten. The sounds of moans and kisses filled the background, and my heart thudded loudly in my ears. I watched the lights bounce off Abel’s face, the hard angle of his jaw more prominent and his blue‐green eyes glowing from the dim lighting. My mouth became dry, and I ran my tongue over my lips as he swallowed, his breathing noticeably heavier.

“Kill me noooow,” Trish wined, and our heads snapped in the direction of the hallway.

“I’ll get you some aspirin.” I jumped up from the couch, and I heard the channel switch to a talk show.

Chapter Nine

Wild Things

I cooked Trish an egg‐white omelet as she snuggled on the couch with Abel. It wasn’t an entirely selfless act because it afforded me a few moments of solitude while Abel was forced to listen to her incessant whining. She batted her eyes and stuck out her overly glossed lip, and he was putty in her hands, even after she’d stolen his pills. Men are idiots, and Abel was their king.

I cooked and hummed a song that had been stuck in my head for days, and after two verses, I realized it was the P!nk song Abel had sung in his car. Occasionally my personal concert was interrupted by laughter, and I angrily flipped Trish’s omelet, causing it to split apart in the pan. Beggars can’t be choosers.

I took Trish her food, and she didn’t even thank me as I handed her the plate and took a seat on the mismatched blue recliner across the room. I turned my attention to the television, which was now back on
Wild Things
. I glanced at Abel, and he was looking at me, and even though the scene on now was innocent, I felt the tightening in my belly that I’d had as we sat next to each other a few minutes ago. My eyes dared a glance at Trish, who now occupied my spot and was oblivious to my turmoil.

“What kind of cheese is this?” she asked.

“The kind you eat.” I rolled my eyes as she continued to stare at me, and if she hadn’t blinked, I’d swear she was one of those rubber sex dolls. “It’s breast cheese.”

“What?”

I kept a straight face as I turned toward her. “Oh, yeah. You’ve heard of headcheese, right?” I made a face like she was stupid if she hadn’t heard of it, and she reluctantly nodded. “Well, this is breast cheese. It is all the rage in London. It’s made from the breast milk of millionaire women.”

“Seriously?” She dropped her fork as disgust washed over her expression.

Abel laughed but cleared his throat as Trish looked at him angrily. He nodded and pointed back to me. “I think I’ve heard about that. It’s like…a delicacy, right?”

“Yes. That’s it. It’s a delicacy.” I smiled brightly at Trish, who slowly picked up her fork.

“Yeah…yeah. I’m sure I’ve heard of it. Duh. I’m just…tired.” She hesitantly took another bite, and I struggled to hold back a giggle.

Trish made a face as she chewed, and I looked back at the movie. “It’s provolone.” I sighed as I curled up on the chair and let my eyes go unfocused. I heard her mutter, “Bitch” under her breath, but I didn’t care. I struggled to keep myself awake, knowing it would be better to go to bed early tonight, but my body disagreed. I faintly heard them in the background.

“We never got to finish our date last night,” Trish said.

“Lie is right there.” His voice had an edge of annoyance, but she didn’t notice as she continued.

“She won’t care. She’s passed out.” There was a giggle, and it sounded like they were readjusting themselves on the couch.

“Haven’t you corrupted her enough?” Abel asked her.

“Come on. I know she’s a wet blanket, but it’s not like she’s a virgin or something. She has a boyfriend.”

I tried to hear the song that had been stuck in my head, but I couldn’t get it to drown out the sound of their voices.

“Has anyone actually seen this mystery boyfriend?” Abel’s voice was soft, but it cut through me like a hot knife.

Fucking jerk. I resisted the urge to jump up and run to my room. It would just be more humiliating. I felt the sting of warm tears, and I turned my head ever so slightly into the back of the chair. At least I was facing away from them; it was my only reprieve from this degradation.

“He’s probably not even real.” Trish giggled, and I hoped she choked on her omelet. There was more rustling around.

“She’s gonna wake up,” Abel said.

“Fine. Come to my room.” There was a pause then the sound of footsteps down the hall and the quiet click of Trish’s bedroom door closing, or maybe that was my heart cracking. I couldn’t be sure.

As soon as the coast was clear, I tiptoed to my room and closed the door. I made a beeline for the closet and dug out my box of secret memories. It held all the happy moments of my life, and it was no bigger than a shoebox.

I slid off the lid and made my way to my bed. I crossed my legs as I sat in the center and pulled each item out as I recalled the exact moment in time it had come from.

First was the picture of Brock from the shelter that he had stolen from his file. I stared at his black‐and‐white image as I recalled helping him choose which shirt to wear that day, only for it to be ruined by Tommy Larsen’s blood when he got hit in the nose with a basketball during our exercise time.

I pulled out another item. It was a small scrap of paper that simply read, “Bird.” I held it against my chest as a smile pulled at my lips and tears stung my eyes.

I took everything out and surrounded myself with Brock’s love. I put in my earbuds and played sad songs to drift off to sleep so I wouldn’t have to hear what was going on in the next room.

“I want to kiss you, Bird,” Brock whispered in the darkness of my room as he held me in his arms.

“No.” I giggled and pulled back from him, but he held me tightly against his chest as he glanced at the closed door, which we stood only a few feet away from.

“Why not?”

“We’ll get in trouble if someone finds us in here in the dark.” I pushed lightly against his chest, and he reluctantly released me, taking a few steps back to turn on the light and pull the door open. He’d
still get in trouble for being with me, but it wouldn’t look nearly as bad. I took a few steps back and sat on the edge of my bed. I gestured to my roommate’s bed with my chin.

Brock’s gaze followed mine, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “What?” he asked, and I narrowed my eyes.

“Heather flipped out this morning because someone stole all her underwear.”

“Probably the first time anyone touched her skanky panties.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious. Guess who had to deal with her meltdown?”

Brock didn’t say anything; he just ran his hand over his hair as he bit back a laugh.

“Oh, you think it’s funny?” I grabbed my pillow and tossed it at him. He caught it before it hit his chest and tossed it gently back to my bed. “You said you wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bird, where I come from, if someone steals your shoes, they catch a beatdown. She got off easy, and I bet she won’t do it again.” He raised an eyebrow as he casually strolled toward me.

“You can’t fight my battles for me.”

His hand ran through my hair before his fingers tangled into a fist, and he gently pulled my head back so I’d look up at him. “You can’t just sit back and let people walk over you. You don’t deserve that, and I’m not going to sit back and watch as it happens. You mean too much to me.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked playfully, as he bent down and pressed his lips against my forehead. He breathed in deeply before pulling back.

“You have no idea, Bird.” His forehead rested against mine, and I let my eyes fall closed. “No idea.”

The music stopped, and I blinked myself awake. Abel held my phone in his hand, and he placed it next to me and picked up a picture of Brock.

“Mystery solved.”

I sat up and snatched the picture from his hand. “Go home.”

“I was just leaving. I wanted to say bye. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“I won’t be here.”

“Where will you be?”

“Not here,” I snapped, as I rolled away from him.

“All right. I’ll see you around then, I guess.”

I didn’t say anything, and his eyes danced over the mementos one last time before he left. It took only a moment for his annoying presence to be replaced with Trish’s.

“Oh, my God!” she squealed, and I stared down at the picture of Brock so she couldn’t see how much what she’d said in the living room had hurt me. It didn’t matter anyway. She wouldn’t care. “Abel’s fucking hot, right? I mean, like, epic fucking hotness.”

“Yeah, if you can get past his horrible personality.” I glanced up at her, and her hands were on her hips. “Right. He’s perfect for you.”

“I know! I mean, come on. He’s like sex on a freaking stick.”

“I’m happy for you. You guys deserve each other.”

“Thanks, Lie.” She squealed again and left my room so I could sulk in private. I grabbed my phone and sent a quick text to Marie.

I put everything back in my box and hid it in the closet before Marie responded and told me she’d be at her office in half an hour.

I forced myself to shower and make myself presentable. I wasn’t the biggest fan of makeup, but it was all part of the new and improved Delilah.

The walk to Marie’s office was quick, and there was hardly anyone around since church hadn’t let out yet. The door to her office was locked, so I knocked and waited for an answer. She pulled it open with one hand as the other secured a barrette in her hair.

“Sorry it took me so long,” she said. “I slept in this morning, and traffic was hectic.”

“No worries. Sorry to bug you on your day off.” I stepped inside and waited for her to lead me to her private room.

“It’s no problem, Lie. I’m glad you want to talk.”

Marie took her usual seat, and I walked over to the window, not wanting to look her in the eye as I spoke.

“What happened?”

“I don’t like it here.”

“I thought you liked Florida better than Mississippi.”

“Things change.” I glanced over my shoulder at her, and her eyes were on me, a notepad in her lap and a pen between her fingertips.

“What changed?”

“I obviously didn’t. I’m still me on the inside no matter what I do.”

“You can’t judge your self‐worth by the opinions of others.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it all ever happened, ya know? Maybe I made it all up. Maybe I’m the crazy one.”

“Most people with mental illness don’t know they have it, so the odds are in your favor.”

I looked back again, and Marie was smiling. “Are you allowed to make jokes?” I asked her. “Isn’t that against the therapist superhero code?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Secrets are what I’m good at.” I looked out the window to the palm tree just outside. The bright‐green fronds hid the dead brown ones below. It was kind of like me. The makeup and stylish clothes hid the ugliness underneath. “Brock thought it brought us closer, keeping secrets from the world.”

“What did you think?”

“We didn’t have much of a choice.” I shrugged as I dragged the pad of my index finger down the glass. “I think it was a positive way to look at things.”