Twelve Truths and a Lie (7 page)

M
e
: Sorry if I put you on the spot, you can totally back out. Our friends are crazy.

Aurora: No, it’s cool, I’d like to go. Well…like isn’t exactly the right word because why would I want to see the evil ex who broke your heart? So instead I’ll say—I want to be there to support you.

Me: Understood. Appreciate it.

Truth of the matter was that I was secretly thrilled to have her with me. More and more, I was growing to like her. A lot. She was a comfort to be around. And she kind of made my palms sweat at the same time, but I could get over that if I needed to.

She would help relieve some of the burden of what was quickly becoming an event I dreaded. But I didn’t want to be the one to back down. Not when I could catch up with old classmates that I once considered good friends.

Work flew by this time because it was testing week at school. I had to divide my kids into two separate groups to administer the standardized exams. Plenty of teachers felt the crackdown from the administration because we needed to maintain our funding.

I steered clear of the teachers’ lounge all week so that I didn’t see the frazzled faces or hear any rude remarks about my kids throwing off the whole school, especially if we were placed back on academic warning because our scores didn’t improve.

My kids were some of the brightest in the business. Just because they were special needs did not mean they lacked brains. Just like kids wearing hoodies in every major metropolitan city did not make them thugs. But I already knew the ruling would come down from the board on this fall’s ballot to ban the jackets from all schools in the district because of an incident that happened over winter break involving one of our own concealing a knife in one of his pockets.

On the flip side, certain clothes meant status in the hood and certain tests were triggers at school. Both were important to the social constructs of these students’ lives. So getting my kids through the exams in small batches without meltdowns was a blessing.

On Friday, I treated them to downtime because their brains were as fried as mine. They loved multiplication basketball and having snacks at their desk that Sandy had brought them from home.

At the end of every week, anonymous parcels were delivered by the local food bank for those families who couldn’t afford to feed their children on a regular basis.

Normally the packages contained food staples, like rice and pasta and beans, so that families could make them last the entire week. I anonymously hung the bags near certain kids’ jackets in the coatroom while Sandy lined them up for the final bell. On the way out, the kids grabbed their possessions without shame, but they knew what was inside those parcels.

Thankfully, even my most vocal kid, Christopher, kept his trap shut about it.

Before Darius swung out of the classroom to his bus, his container of food held tightly in his grip, he startled me by wrapping his arms around my waist to deliver a solid hug. He didn’t look at me, probably too embarrassed to make eye contact, so I stayed silent and patted his shoulders instead.

Then he was out the door. Sandy looked back at me with a watery smile as a giant lump formed in my own throat.

When I met Aurora out at the bar later that night, she looked whipped.

“Tough week?” I asked after ordering some nachos off the menu.

“Had a mom melt down and take it out on her kid,” she said in a shaky voice, which told me how emotionally drained she was. “Had to call children’s services.”

I nodded because just like her, I was a mandated reporter. If I didn’t call the hotline when I suspected abuse, my job could be in jeopardy. But it could get tricky.

“There goes the trust we’d built for months,” she said. “More than likely, Children’s Services will only make a couple of visits and close the case, especially if they know our agency is already involved. But that doesn’t mean the family will want to continue working with me. And they need the help, obviously.”

I blew out a breath right along with her. My school day ended at three o’clock and outside of prep work and grading papers, I could walk away from my job on the weekends. She, on the other hand, could not.

“Another kid reported suicidal ideation, had to do a safety plan, and possible admit to the psych ward.” She looked at her phone. “Still waiting on that decision. When it rains, it pours.”

“So much responsibility for people’s lives,” I said, and her shoulders seemed to carry the weight of that statement. I had the urge to reach over and massage her tight muscles in the middle of the bar. Instead, I gave her arm a quick squeeze in a show of support.

“Exactly,” she responded, biting her lip. “Feels like such a huge feat sometimes.”

“At least I get weekends and summers off,” I said, after sipping from my glass. “You guys are on call, right?”

“Right,” she replied, her eyes darting to her phone again.

“Will you be on call next weekend?” I asked, feeling guilty for even asking about the trip to my reunion.

“No, my co-worker has beeper duty,” she said. “So I can unwind or at least keep you from getting too hammered.”

“Ha!” I said, practically sputtering my beer. But there had been an edge to her comment, so I quickly turned to see her eyes. “I hope by now you realize that I know how to control my own liquor intake. What happened this past year was just—”

“None of my business,” she said, her arm flailing. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It was stupid—”

“Nah, it’s okay. If you’re going away with me for the weekend, maybe you need to know that I won’t be overindulging. Or driving drunk.”

Her breath caught and she looked down at her lap. I had hit on something and I hoped I didn’t just blow it with her. Damn.

“What I’m trying to say,” I said, my fingers sliding along her jaw, hoping she’d turn my way again. When she did, I saw pain in her eyes and I immediately wanted to make it all better for her, whatever it was. “I know that I was abusing alcohol on some of those nights I told you about. It was reckless and wrong. That’s not something I’m interested in doing anymore.”

My fingers were still on her chin as she stared into my eyes, maybe looking for any underpinnings of truth. “I really just want you to be able to enjoy yourself that weekend. Not have it be a chore.”

“I’m sure I will. You’re good company,” she said, and when I removed my fingers she finally sagged back in her seat, as if in relief. She placed her cell on the bar top so she could keep a close watch. “So tell me more about the reunion.”

“Well, the main event is at some convention center near the hotel, a formal dinner and dance,” I explained. “The Friday night before is an informal meet-and-greet at the local bar.”

She nodded. “Sounds doable.”

“And if Dessa and Mike are around,” I said, swallowing the dryness in my throat, “I wouldn’t mind if you…hell, I don’t know, just pretend, I guess.”

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Pretend what?”

“To, you know, like me or something?” God, did I really sound that pathetic? “Kind of how I did at the bar the other night to get those girls to leave.”

Her cheeks heated up, and when she licked her lips, I had to look away.

“You know what?” I said, regretting my words immediately. “I’m only kidding. I’m just nervous, that sounded really lame.”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” she replied, thumping her fist on my knee. “Your own form of revenge. You just want to seem happy and well-adjusted.”

“Exactly.” I blew out a breath. Moments like these, I felt like she really got me. “I’m not trying to be a dick about it. It’s just, they saw me so torn up a year ago—and I was, absolutely. But now…”

“Now you’re better for it, right?” she said as if seeing inside me. “You’ve learned a ton about yourself and you’ve moved on. You wouldn’t want to go back. I mean, would you?”

I looked into her deep blue eyes and felt something give way in my chest. “Never.”

She received call after call from a mental health center after that, regarding her suicidal client, so we decided to call it a night.

When I walked her to her car, she turned suddenly and threw her arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. My entire body tingled from the warmth of her slender frame and her lips being so close to the skin along my neckline.

She pulled away almost as quickly as she began, pressing the key fob to open the door to her car.

“What was that for?” I asked, having the desperate urge to yank her back into my arms and kiss her pink and puffy lips senseless.

“Just showing you that I don’t have to pretend,” she said, using air quotes. “I like you a ton already.”

And then she was slamming her car door and driving away, while I stood there completely confounded, my heart thumping a new pattern all its own.

I
had
my bag packed and was on my cell with Nicole, who was telling me that Michael was attempting to get a very cranky pair of twins down for a nap.

“Now watch out with those voodoo charms,” she said in a distracted voice.

“Cut it out,” I said, tearing my fingers through my hair, exasperated. “It’s getting old, okay?”

“Sorry, I can tell you’re getting ready to disown us,” she said, her voice changing over to somber. I could hear the twins screaming in the background and Michael speaking soothingly to them. I felt guilty for being overly sensitive about the matter. “I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” I said, placing my bag by the front door. Truth was, I hadn’t gotten bent out of shape about their teasing until I began secretly meeting with Cameron. So I knew it was only my own guilt rearing its ugly head. “I’d hate to have to kick my hand-picked family to the curb. Even though I love you to pieces.”

The screaming intensified for a long second and then suddenly stopped as I heard Michael mutter something about Elmo doing the trick and Nicole snickering under her breath into the phone. It made me long for the intense connection they shared.

“Hey, maybe this is the weekend to hook up with somebody random,” she said, low into the phone, so maybe Michael didn’t hear her conspiring. “Somebody out of town, so you won’t feel guilty about having to see him again.”

I held my breath, the very idea of it like a cold punch to my chest. All my thoughts had been so laser-focused on my budding friendship with Cameron, I hadn’t even considered the possibility of meeting other guys.

“You never know,” I muttered.

“Yeah, okay,” she said with a smile in her voice, not believing a word of it. “Now go have fun with Cameron. You’re doing a good deed.”

My eyebrows rose at that statement as I looked out my window to the parking lot. “You’re not even concerned about me and Cameron being away for the weekend together?”

“I guess not,” she said, as I heard her opening and shutting some doors. “Besides, he’s a guy your charms probably wouldn’t work on.”

Is that really how people saw him? Gosh, he had a lot to live up to. I was about to tell her to ask Michael what he was like the year before when he had a girlfriend, but then I remembered that they had only met a few months back through basketball, only later realizing they had a mutual friend in Maddie.

“Everybody has a sob story, you know,” I said, wiping up some stray crumbs on my counter from my morning English muffin.

There was a long pause on the other end and then, “Are you saying you want to get to know Cameron?”

“I have gotten to know him.” I gritted my teeth, which was unfair of me, because I’d purposely kept this information from my friends.

“What?” she asked, her voice bordering on shrill. “How?”

“We work in the same field,” I replied, which was only partially the reason. “One of my clients is in his school district. I know he’s a good guy and I—”

“You what?” she asked, almost in an accusatory tone.

“Are you going to become all judgy?” I sighed and sat down on my couch.

“Of course not.”

I rolled my eyes and propped my feet on the coffee table. When her girls got older, she was going to be one of those moms who stuck her nose into their business. And they would fight her tooth and nail and love her for it all the same. Like I did.

“Well,” I said, adjusting the pillow behind me. “I’ve kind of been talking to Cameron…a lot.”

“On the phone?” she asked. “Because of the kid you counsel that’s in his district?”

“Nope. We actually haven’t officially consulted on that case yet,” I said. “I’ve been meeting him out once a week for the past month.”

“Shut up,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“Because I wanted to keep something for myself,” I said, hoping like hell she understood. “We’ve become friends and he’s really cool and kind. So this weekend will be less awkward, probably, because we already know each other.”

My buzzer vibrated and I bounded off the couch. “He’s here to pick me up, so I’ve got to go.”

“I cannot believe you just sprung this on me when you’re on your way out the door,” she said, using her best whiny voice.

“It only proves that I can be just friends with a guy,” I said, heading to unchain the latch.

“And that’s all you feel?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said, but I knew it was a lie. The truth was, Cameron being at my door this very minute made me feel like a dozen moths had taken flight in my stomach and were attempting to break free.

“You better call me immediately after this weekend,” she said, using that sisterly tone.

“Gotta go,” I said, almost giddy. “Bye.”

I buzzed Cameron up and fidgeted in the doorway as he climbed the stairs.

“Hi,” I said, trying not to admire him in that deep blue T-shirt and light spring coat that fit him in all the right places, especially across his broad shoulders. “You could’ve just waited in your car.”

“I can help you with your bag.” I tried not to let my feminism show by keeping my lips in a straight line. He was only being kind. “Though I suspect you’d tell me to back off.”

A smirk played across my lips as he looked around my living room and then toward my kitchen island. My place was small but I was a neat freak, and I had decent furniture. “Your apartment is nice.”

I felt a blush steal across my cheeks imagining him being here for a completely different reason. “Thanks.”

He looked down at my travel bag. “You ready to go?”

“For sure.” He hesitated before reaching to grab for it. I kept my mouth shut and let him be a gentleman as I slid into my lightweight coat. It was finally beginning to feel like spring, but there was always a chance of a last minute snowfall in this neck of the woods. It was the chance you took living in a northeastern state.

“You nervous?” I asked him in the hall as I locked the door behind me.

“Nah,” he said, shrugging. “Besides, I’ll have my buddy with me.”

Something warm and gooey, like the best kind of dark chocolate, slid across my chest.

On the two-hour drive to his hometown, somewhere outside of Columbus, I asked him about his family as he adjusted the radio to some pop music station.

“I grew up with two brothers who are both married now,” he said, tapping his fingers on his thigh. “My parents are pretty cool.”

“So they’re still together?” I asked, wondering how my childhood might’ve been different with a second parent in the house.

“Yep, going on thirty-five years,” he said with a wistful smile on his face. “My mom is black and my dad is white, so back then their marriage was still pretty controversial for a smaller town.”

“I could imagine,” I said, thinking about how far this country had come in accepting diversity. And yet,
not
.

I looked at his handsome profile wondering whom he got his dark eyelashes from, along with those strong cheekbones.

“We lived in a pretty diverse neighborhood growing up. But I still had my challenges as a bi-racial kid,” he said. “Where do I fit? How black do I look or how white?”

“Gosh, being a kid is tough enough,” I said, thinking about my own awkward childhood. “We were all just trying to fit in.”

“I still get it from my students. They like to call me white when they’re pissed off and trying to lash out,” he explained, shaking his head. “It’s supposed to be an insult.”

“Like saying
your momma
?” I asked.

“Kind of,” he replied. “But a bit worse. It’s like saying, you are not part of us.”

I took a deep breath, appreciating that we could speak so openly. “So if you look white enough, you might skate past some blatant forms of racism?”

“Exactly,” he said, looking over at me and meeting my eyes.

“It’s true though, right?” I asked, thinking about how institutionalized discrimination was for so many different minority groups.

“Unfortunately,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “But I get it. Because on the other hand, my skin is still not white enough.”

We both looked down at our arms resting closely together on the console between us. His skin was smooth and tan and mine was white and freckled. We were different yet still shared so many of the same thoughts and values.

Which proved that the only thing that really mattered was what was happening underneath the skin and hair, lips and eyes. We all had the same pulsing veins and beating hearts. But it wasn’t that simple, unfortunately. Even in this day and age when so many strides had already been made.

“What about you?” Cameron asked, gripping the steering wheel, and I wondered if he’d just had the same thought—about how his fingers would look and feel entwined in mine.

“It was only my mom, my half-brother and me growing up,” I said. “In a nutshell, I never knew my father, and my mom died six years ago from a drunk driving accident. Thankfully nobody else was on the road that night when she hit a guardrail.”

“Fuck, no wonder…” he said, his eyes darting to mine and then quickly away. “I’m so sorry.”

“We’ve all got baggage we’re trying to work through.”

He nodded somberly. “And your brother?”

“He lives in California with his wife and two kids.”

He was silent thinking that through, a pained expression on his face. “Is that why, the other night at the bar, you said that you’ve been alone for a long time?”

“I said that?” I asked, feeling mortified. I looked at the passing landscape not wanting to meet his eyes. I didn’t remember being that raw in front of him.

“It was that night I told you all of my sins,” he replied, shrugging. “It’s no holds barred in the Chastity Club.”

I laughed at his wrestling reference and wondered if he played a bunch of sports growing up.

I turned in my seat to face him better. “So tell me more about this former friend of yours who will be at the reunion.”

His jaw tightened. “Mike and I had been best buds since middle school.”

I lifted the water bottle I’d brought to take a sip. “And then high school?”

“Right,” he said. “We were both cornerbacks on the football team, and people joked that we were our own force field against touchdowns.”

I smiled. “Do you miss playing?”

“God, no,” he said with a laugh. “Maybe the camaraderie. But not the injuries. By the time an NFL player hits thirty, he’s already pretty banged up.”

“So you’re saying you’ve got some bum knees?” I joked and tapped my knuckles on his muscular thigh.

I heard his low intake of breath, and he swallowed a couple of times before responding. “Not as bad as some other guys, I guess.”

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat and decided on a change of subject. “So, how is it that Mike got together with Dessa?”

When he looked even more uncomfortable, I realized how tough this was going to be for him. “None of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. You are about to meet them, so…” He took a deep breath. “I guess there was this one weekend when I was out of town and they, you know—”

“God, that sucks,” I said. “Did you realize right away?”

“Um, no,” he said, stealing a quick glance at me, as pink darkened his cheeks. “Wish I did.”

“Ugh. Asshats,” I said, hoping I could hold myself back at the reception from marching up to those two and shaking them repeatedly. “Let’s talk about something happy. Like…dogs. Dogs make me happy.”

“Dogs?” He laughed. “Wait, do you have one?”

“No,” I said, twisting the cap on my water. “But I want one.”

“We had a couple of mixed breeds growing up,” he said. “What kind?”

“A French bulldog,” I said with certainty. I’d done enough research on them over this past year, too chicken to make the leap. Plus, they were pricey.

His eyebrow arched. “So what’s stopping you, other than their obnoxious breathing issues?”

I playfully popped his shoulder and then shrugged. “Before I would’ve said work, being busy, not sure if the guy I was dating would care for a dog…”

“You can do whatever the hell you want. You know that, right?” he said, tapping me lightly on the wrist. “Even if you’re dating somebody, you have your own mind, your own preferences.”

“I do know that. I just wasn’t in touch with myself very much before,” I said, grimacing. “Because being in touch with yourself can be painful sometimes.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, sighing. And then he threw me a gorgeous lopsided grin. “We need to get you that dog.”