She Loves You, She Loves You Not... (6 page)

She sounds disappointed.

She lowers herself into the velvet wing chair next to the sofa. All the furniture is new. Matching white leather sofa set and blue velvet wing chairs, which don’t exactly fit the whole rustic cabin illusion she’s trying to create. How many log cabins have four levels, floor-to-ceiling picture windows, and state-of-the-art electronics?

“What’d you do today?” she asks.

“Nothing. Took a drive. The job at the Emporium was already filled.”

Carly makes a pouty face.

“Maybe I could work with you,” I say.

“Doing what?” She reaches into her purse for her buzzing cell.

“I don’t know.” I think,
Handing out numbers to your johns?

She ignores the call. She’s wearing this corsetlike top that pushes up her boobs, and knee-length black leggings. She’s poured a pitcher of lavender perfume on herself.

How could Dad have fallen for a person like Carly? And vice versa. I can’t see them together at all. Now I wonder if they ever were married. Dad never talked about a wedding, and Carly’s kept her maiden name.

Carly rolls her right shoulder a couple of times and says, “I pulled a muscle or something.” She winces. “Would you mind getting me the tube of Ben-Gay down in my exercise room?”

As I pass her, she reaches out to clench my wrist. “I’m glad you’re here, Alyssa. You could come to work with me, but there wouldn’t be anything for you to do.”

“I could collect the money off the dresser,” I blurt out.

She slices me in half with a look.

Oh my God. Did I say that?

“Most of my clients are on account.”

Which means she has regulars. She releases me.

In the bathroom downstairs, she has drawers full of products—skin creams, anti-itch creams, muscle relaxants. The tube of Ben-Gay is half-empty.

“Thanks,” she says as I hand it to her.

I sit and watch as she presses a glob onto her fingertips and pulls down the strap of her corset. Traces of glitter sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the high arched window. She glitters her shoulders? Chest too. She doesn’t look or dress old enough to have a teenage daughter. I’m not surprised she
wouldn’t want anyone to know about me. Still, it had hurt when Finn said that.

There’s not one picture of me in this whole house. I’ve checked.

“How did you hurt your shoulder?” I ask. Why don’t I just ask if she’s a call girl, stop dancing around the truth?

“I think it happened when I was showing a new client how to lift weights properly.” She screws up her face. “He’s probably at Summit Medical right now in a full body cast.”

My nose puckers at the menthol vapor, and I sneeze. I sneeze again. I have a really sensitive nose. Sarah wore this lemon-lime body gel, but it was light and delicate.

Why does my brain always circle back to her?

“Where’d you drive to?” Carly asks as she gets up and goes to the wet bar.

“Around the mountain. Halfway around.”

“You shouldn’t be wandering in the mountains alone, especially without a phone.”

Well, excuse me if I’m restless and bored and I don’t have a phone or anyone to call even if I did.

Ice cubes clink into a glass. “You should’ve called me. I would’ve rescheduled my appointments for the day, and we could’ve driven to Vail, maybe. Gone shopping.” She returns with two glasses of bubbly liquid, a lime wedge in each. Mine tastes like 7-Up, nonalcoholic. Hers is amber-colored.

“Wow. What are you watching?” she asks, lowering herself to the sofa.

Shit. I get up to retrieve the TV remote from the coffee table
and thumb the power off. Did she see the girls kissing on Logo, rolling around in the sand? I’ll have to be careful what I watch on cable. Dad would have a heart attack if he knew there was a gay TV station.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV,” Carly says, curling her legs under her. “What shows do you like?” With her fingernails, she swirls the ice cubes in her glass.

“I don’t know. A couple of soaps.
Gossip Girl
.” Dad hates all those “trashy” shows. And if there’s a gay character, forget it.

Carly turns and looks at me, at the side of my face, until I feel blood rush to my cheeks. “I wish I still had your skin. Come. Sit.” She pats the sofa.

“I have stuff to do,” I mumble.

Carly says at my back, “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

My heart pummels my chest. I promised myself I’d always be out from now on, but the situation scares me. My friends have all ditched me. My family. I have a little savings left, but not enough to get an apartment or anything.

She adds, “You know I don’t have a problem with you being lesbian or bisexual.”

I whirl. “I’m not bisexual.”

“I have lots of gay friends. Your father is just so narrow-minded and—” The cell in her purse buzzes again, and she holds up an index finger. She checks the ID and answers, “This is Carly.” She listens. “Well, how are you, stranger? It’s been a while. A massage?” She crosses her eyes at me and rolls her shoulder. “I think I can fit you in.” She gets up and walks past me, pressing a palm against my cheek, and then bounds up the stairs, laughing at something the caller said.

This enormous weight lifts off my shoulders, and I think,
Wow. My whole life would’ve been different if I’d grown up with Carly.

But she didn’t want kids, I guess. Specifically me.

Sarah wanted kids. She talked about it all the time, how much she wanted kids, how scared she was she’d never live a normal life. I kept telling her just because you’re lesbian doesn’t mean you can’t have children.

“Yeah, but it isn’t easy,” she said. “It isn’t… natural.”

Ben was there. “What isn’t natural?” he interjected. “The sperm meets the egg. They exchange vows. Who cares how it happens?”

Sarah laughed. When was that? Was that when it started?

Carly tramps down the stairs, her hair freshly combed and banded with a scrunchie into a ponytail. She says, “He’s a big tipper. Otherwise I’d blow him off.”

Did she have to use that expression? “That’s okay.” I shrug. “You have to work.”

Her eyes nail me, like she caught the undertone in my voice. “I won’t be long.” She heads for the door and then stops. “Oh. Wait. I won’t be home. I have to dance tonight at Willy’s. I’ve totally lost track of time. Does that ever happen to you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you’ll get grounded.”

She laughs as she closes the door behind her.

December

Dad ambushed you when you eased open the front door at one
AM
. “Do you know what time it is, young lady?”

“I lost track,” you said, out of breath after running home from Gracie Field. “Sorry.”

“You’re grounded.” He stormed up the stairs.

“For how long?” You ran after him.

“Until I say.”

Bastard.

You stalked to your room and yanked off your coat, threw it onto the floor. Threw all your clothes on top of it, cursing him. Why was he so hard on you? Everything you did, you did to please him. You studied hard to get good grades. You did your chores without complaint. You tried to like Tanith. That was the hardest thing, his bringing her into your lives. You’d had him to yourself for seven years before he met and married Tanith. Seven perfect years.

Tanith was never your mother, your real mother. As much as she tried to be.

Dad knocked on your door. “I want to talk to you, Alyssa.”

Great. Now you were naked. “Just a minute.” You crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to your chin. “Enter,” you said.

He stood there with his arms folded. You could feel the menacing vibes emanating from him. “I’m sorry about missing curfew. My watch stopped.” Which was a lie, and Dad knew it.

He said, “Are you embarrassed for your boyfriend to meet your family? Are we not good enough for him?”

“What? No,” you said.

“Then why won’t you bring him home? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing.”

He approached you. The smell of Sarah was strong on your hands and face, so you bunched up the sheet over your nose.

“There must be something.” Dad dropped his arms, sounding more hurt than mad. He sat on the edge of your bed. “You used to bring all your friends home. Is he a drug dealer or something? A gangbanger? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” You’d never brought “all” your friends home.

Dad stared at you, through you. You started shaking all over. You couldn’t breathe. This squeak escaped from your throat.

“I can’t understand you,” Dad said. “Take the sheet out of your mouth.”

You scooted back farther against the wall, pulling the covers with you. Dad’s eyes bored into yours, waiting. This torchlike heat scorched every square inch of your skin, like you were burning in hell.

You couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t even form on your lips. You could never tell him about Sarah. About yourself.

He waited. He’d wait until you said what he wanted to hear.

You swallowed hard. “Okay, I’ll bring him home to meet you.”

Dad’s eyes warmed. He patted your kneecap and stood. “Invite him for dinner. I promise we’ll be on our best behavior—even if he is a weirdo or a nerd. You’d better not be into drugs.”

“I’m not.”

Dad headed for the door. “You’re still grounded,” he said over his shoulder as he turned off the light.

You whispered in the dark, “Okay.”

Ben had been my best friend since ninth grade, when we both came out to each other. He was like my brother, only better because I could talk to him about anything. I can’t even count all the times he cried on my shoulder after his heart was broken by one boyfriend or another. When Sarah and I got together, he was so happy for us. For me.

I texted Ben to meet me in the media center during my study period and his lunch hour. “Hey,” he said, pulling up a chair at my table. “Wassup, girlfriend?”

“I need a favor from you,” I told him.

“Anything,” he said.

I knew he’d do anything for me. Vice versa.

“Don’t say that until you hear what it is.”

“Is it lurid? Are we breaking in to Fascinations and stealing vibrators?”

“You wish.”

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a Tupperware
bowl and fork. “Want some?” He removed the lid. “It’s my mom’s linguine with clam sauce.
Delicioso
.”

It smelled buttery and rich. “No thanks.” My stomach was in knots about what I was planning to do. Ben poised his fork over the bowl.

“Go ahead. Eat,” I told him.

He dug in.

“Someone led my dad to believe I have a boyfriend, and now I need one.”

Ben snorted. “Someone?”

“It wasn’t me.” It was Tanith. So what?

Ben twirled linguine on his fork. “Why don’t you just be honest with your dad? You’re going to have to tell him sometime.”

I let out a sigh. “Not in this life.”

Ben stuffed the forkful of pasta in his mouth and fake-swooned. “You sure?” He passed the bowl under my nose, and I pushed it away.

“Remember that time I wrote your whole history report when you were all devastated about Devon moving to Ohio?” I said.

A flash of pain crossed Ben’s face as he chewed and swallowed.

God. How cruel to remind him.

“Blackmail does not become you.” He took a smaller bite, not looking at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it. Sorry for myself. Sorry for taking advantage of our friendship.

“What does Sarah think about this?” he asked.

“She doesn’t know, and please don’t tell her.”

Ben raised his eyes. “Alyssa—”

“It’ll only be for a couple of weeks. A month at the most. Then I’ll tell my dad we broke up, and he’ll get off my back. I’m grounded, anyway, so I don’t know how I’m going to see Sarah outside of school.”

Ben finished his linguine in silence. He recapped his bowl, stuffed it back inside his pack, and said, “I hate lying about who I am. You know that. It took me this long to get over the fear of being totally out.”

A lump of shame clogged my throat, and I stood to go.

He grabbed my hand. “But for you, I’ll do it.”

Maybe it was all my fault for putting him in the middle.

My eyelids flutter open to blinding sunlight, and I pull the sheet over my face. It feels stuffy in the house, like Carly forgot to turn on the AC.

My stomach growls, so I drag myself down to the kitchen. No note from Carly. Nothing in the fridge that appeals to me. Carly lives on salad. The microwave clock reads 8:51. How can time move so slowly? At home it seems the summers fly by; I never want them to end.

I take a long, cool shower and get dressed. I choose a book to read but can’t get into it. Downstairs, I turn on the TV, and the channel is still on Logo. It’s showing repeats of
The L Word
, and it reminds me of Sarah’s birthday present. I want to hurl. I want to forget. I close my eyes, and Ben’s face comes into focus.

He was convincing. He came for dinner all dressed up. He
hugged me at the door and shook my dad’s hand hard. He complimented Tanith on her pot roast. He was a gamer, so he and Paulie talked shop. I could feel Dad’s eyes drilling into Ben all evening, and I was sure Dad would see through the facade, but he didn’t.

You only see what you want to see. I learned that the hard way.

“How long have you two been going out?” Dad asked Ben.

Ben turned to me. “How long’s it been, Alyssa?”

My cheeks burned. “I don’t know. A couple of months.”

Ben said to Dad, “Nine weeks, three days, six hours, and”—he glanced at his watch—“thirteen minutes.”

Dad chuckled.

After dinner, Paulie and Ben set up Guitar Hero, and I went back into the kitchen to help Tanith clean up. She said, “I’ve got it under control. Go back to your… company.”

A flash of understanding flickered in her eyes. She knew, or at least suspected.

Before I went up to bed that night, Dad clenched my arm and hand. He stared into my eyes. “He’s all right,” Dad said. “Nice guy. I don’t know what you were worried about.”