Lies My Girlfriend Told Me
Page 10
It was for Swanee, of course. I don’t know why I kept making them for her when she never wore them. Except she did always say she loved them.
I can’t finish this one; I can’t even stand to look at it. I set it aside. The buttons I’ve collected over the years have come from clothes I bought at thrift stores and Goodwill. I sort through them for a matched pair to make earrings for someone—maybe Jewell. She wears lots of beads and bangles. Or Joss. I feel guilty about not defending her to Liana.
Joss texts me around nine AM to tell me they’re home AT LAST!!!! She asks if she can come over. I text her that we’re going to Winter Park today.
She texts:
Can I go?
I don’t want her to. Not today.
I lie:
Dad says he wants it to be just family
A minute later she texts back:
Then can you drop me off at a friend’s before you leave?
I can do that.
Sure
Mom’s still at the hospital, and Dad’s in the living room, giving Ethan a bottle. “I need to run out for a minute,” I tell Dad.
He glances up. “How long’s a minute?”
I mock sneer at him. “Like, half an hour.”
“No more than an hour,” he says. “And if your mom gets home early, we’ll call you.”
I take the keys and dash to the garage. When I ring the bell at the Durbins’, Joss answers.
“Hi,” I say. “How was your trip?”
“Awesome,” she deadpans.
Genjko passes behind her with his duffel and heads for his room, giving off an aura of live ammo. Lost his Zen, I guess.
“We’re outta here,” Joss mutters.
Jewell snags Joss’s sleeve. “Where are you going?”
Joss scowls. “None of your business.”
“Hi, Jewell,” I say as her cell rings. She ignores me to answer it.
Asher’s cell bleeps and he disappears into the living room. A moment later he reappears and says, “I have to go out for a while.”
Joss follows me to the porch. “And we all know why.”
Why? I wonder.
Jewell’s car emerges from the garage.
As her parents head off in opposite directions, Joss says, “I don’t know how they waited this long.”
My eyes ask the question, and Joss answers, “They have an open marriage.”
I must look flabbergasted.
Joss smirks. “Mommy and Daddy have f**k buddies.” She studies my face as if to gauge my reaction. I try my hardest to regain some sort of impassivity.
Swan never mentioned that, but then it’s something that wouldn’t come up in casual conversation. She might’ve been embarrassed. I know I would’ve been.
Joss says, “My own f**k buddy awaits.”
I think, She’s kidding, right? She’s barely fifteen—not old enough to have sex. But then, how old is old enough? I sort of wish I’d done it earlier so I won’t be a virgin the rest of my life.
She gives me directions, and as we’re driving she pulls out a cell. I see her text OMW, for “on my way.” Whatever he texts back makes Joss giggle. I wonder if whoever she’s seeing got her the phone. It’s actually a relief; maybe she’ll stop bugging me about Swan’s phone.
When she disconnects, I say, “Will you please look in Swan’s room for a ring?”
Joss’s voice hardens. “I told you. There. Is. No. Ring.”
We drive for fifteen minutes, and then half an hour, and more. “Where are we going?” I ask. Because this is longer than the quick trip I expected.
“Right here.” She points to the entrance of a trailer park. “Stop.” She unfastens her seat belt and opens the car door.
The guy who’s waiting in the doorway looks at least thirty. Isn’t it illegal to date a minor? And if they’re having sex, that’s statutory rape.
God, Joss, I think. Aren’t you in enough trouble?
Before I can ask if she’ll need a ride home—like, right now—she’s ushered inside and the door shuts behind her.
At home I remote open the garage door and see that Mom’s back from the hospital. It’s after eleven, too late to drive to Winter Park. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you,” she snaps as soon as I walk through the door.
If Joss’s “friend” hadn’t lived in Kansas… If I’d been thoughtful enough to call… I go to fish my phone out of my bag, but grab Swanee’s instead.
“Whose cell is that?” Mom asks.
I drop it back in my bag and avoid her eyes, and the question, while I’m searching for my phone. I have voice mail. “My cell’s dead,” I lie. “I forgot to charge it.”
“You didn’t answer my first question.” Mom holds out her hand.
I’m not giving her Swanee’s cell. “It’s Betheny’s. She left it in the cafeteria on Friday, and I picked it up to give it back to her.” This sense of Swanee envelops me. Once you start to lie, it’s hard to stop. In fact, it almost becomes a game.
Just then my cell vibrates. Shit. I glance at the caller ID and it’s not a number I know offhand. A knot of resentment forms in my chest because I’m not Joss’s chauffeur. Then I feel bad because I should get my ass over there and save her. I shrug at Mom, like I don’t know how my phone magically recharged itself. “Hello?” I answer, walking around Mom and toward the stairs.
Liana says, “It’s me. You can hang up if you want to.”
My pulse races. “Oh, hey, Betheny,” I say. “Yeah, I have your cell. Can I bring it over later? We’re going to Winter Park.”
I check with Mom for confirmation and she shakes her head no.
“Or I could do it after I’m ungrounded for life.”
Liana doesn’t respond. She must think I’m crazy.
“My mom says hi.” I lope up the stairs, adding, “He did? Cool.”
Liana disconnects. I want to call her back so badly and find out why she called.
I start to dial, but can’t. We shouldn’t be in contact. Obviously, Swanee didn’t want us to know about each other, and I think she’d be freaked to find out we’d met.
Score one for us.
Why does it matter what Swanee might’ve thought? I just don’t want Liana to think… whatever she does at the moment. I don’t get her, though. Why does she unfriend me and then call? I send her a text:
Sorry about that. My mom was standing right there
I key:
Do you want something?
Duh. She wouldn’t have called otherwise. I delete that line and try to think what else to say. Nothing comes to mind, so I press Send.
She doesn’t text back. I wait five, ten minutes. Mom comes upstairs and opens my door. “I’m going to lie down for a while. Your dad might conk out in front of the TV, so if Ethan wakes up, would you mind giving him a bottle?”
If he’ll take it from me. Which he won’t.
“I need to go to Betheny’s,” I say, “and drop off her cell.”
“Why can’t she come here?”
“She’s… grounded.”
“Betheny?” Mom arches her eyebrows.
Think fast. “She’s been so busy with cheerleading and all her clubs that her grades have dropped.”
“Which reminds me.” Mom folds her arms. “I looked online at your grades and noticed you didn’t turn in several assignments. And you missed five days of school in January. I don’t know why the school didn’t call your father or me.”
“Their records are wrong.” In fact, Swan called in for me, pretending to be my mother. She’d perfected her “authoritative” voice over the phone. I remember this one prank call she made.…
Mom’s looking at me like she doesn’t believe a word of it. She goes on, “I can understand how difficult these last few weeks have been for you, but please don’t let your schoolwork suffer.”
A lump clogs my throat. She must see that I can’t explain. I can, but the reason is sitting in an urn on a mantel.
She relaxes her arms. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to go to Winter Park today.”
I pick up my backpack and unload a pile of books on my bed. “Doesn’t matter. You’re right. I have a ton of homework.”
Mom says, “If you need a break from studying, you can go to Betheny’s. But just for a little while.”
“Mom.” I catch her before she leaves. “Don’t athletes have to have physicals before they can participate in sports?”
She gives me a blank look before she understands what I’m asking. “They do,” she says, “but ventricular fibrillation, which is the usual cause of sudden cardiac arrest, may not be detected in sports physicals. I think the rules are changing to be more thorough, but don’t quote me on that.”
Before closing the door, she adds, “Sometimes it’s just out of our hands.”
Chapter 12
I’ll only be gone a couple of hours, and in the realm of eternal salvation, who marks time?
I almost miss her red car as I drive past it in the rear of the mall lot. I feel happy she’s here. Why? Probably because if she wasn’t I would’ve driven to Greeley for nothing.
The mall is almost empty because it’s Sunday. I head down the center aisle—the only aisle—through a seating area where a couple of older people are reading newspapers and drinking coffee.
As I approach Victoria’s Secret, I slow. In my head I have it all worked out, what I’ll say:
“Hi. You called me?”
She’ll be shocked to see me in person. Or will she? Do people go running to her whenever she beckons?
“Did you want to say something?” I’ll ask.
Because we’ve said everything there is to say. Haven’t we?
She’ll go, “No.” She’ll lower those big brown eyes and look embarrassed. Or be triumphant that she’s yanked my chain.
I’ll say…
I haven’t worked out the rest of the conversation.
She’s inside the store, near the front, not doing anything. Just gazing out into the mall. I duck behind a bank of gumball machines across from the store, feeling like an idiot.
She didn’t notice me, I don’t think. She stands there with this blank expression on her face, her eyes glazed over. A bolt of anguish shoots straight through me: She’s coming to terms with Swan’s death.
The most I’ve ever done is window-shop at Victoria’s Secret and wish I had the guts to go inside and browse.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have to force my feet to move, to step out from around from the gumball machines and enter the store. Liana’s eyes widen when she sees me.
“Hi,” I say. I forget my next line; I have to improvise. “Would you help me? I’m looking for a gift for my great-aunt.”
Liana says flatly, “Do you have something in mind? How old is she?”
I remove a red negligee from a nearby rack and hold it up. “She turns eighty-five tomorrow.”
That coaxes a smile out of her.
“Liana, there’s inventory to do as soon as you’re done talking to your friend,” a voice calls from the cash register.
Liana rolls her eyes and says under her breath, “My supervisor.”
I call back, “I’m not a friend. I’m a customer.”
“Oh. Excuse me.” The supervisor skirts the counter with an armload of bras.
When she’s out of earshot, I say, “I was thinking my great-aunt Wilma might like some lacy butt floss.”
Liana shakes her head. “You’re bad.” She considers for a minute, and then says, “I have just the thing.”
Do her eyes twinkle, or am I hallucinating? She leads me to a center rack, where a collection of corsets and babydolls hang. She takes one off the rack and shows it to me.
“Definitely Great-Aunt Wilma.” It’s leopard and lace with black garters.
Liana grins. “It’s called a merry widow.” Her eyes sort of lose their luster. After a long second, she says, “I dare you to put it on.”
The mischievous glint is back. I take the lingerie from her and say, “Where’s the fitting room?”
She points.
As I pass her supervisor, I smile sweetly.
The fitting room is ice cold and goose bumps rise on my skin, especially since I have to strip down to practically nothing to shimmy into the garment.
It’s totally revealing. My butt cheeks and boobs hang out. A knock sounds on the door and Liana says, “How’s it going in there?”
Dare I? I unlock the door and swing it open.
She eyes me up and down, making me feel even more na**d than I am. Then she covers her mouth and starts to giggle. That makes me giggle, and I pull her inside the dressing room.
“I should make you try it on,” I say.
She can’t stop giggling.
“Shut up. Does it make me look fat?”
“No,” Liana says. “You look…” She swallows hard. Her face sobers and she glances away. “Can I ask, how did you and Swan meet?”
I want to change back into my regular clothes if we’re going to have a serious discussion, but she sits on the bench, facing me.
“On a ski trip the over winter break,” I tell her. We’re close enough that I can feel her body warmth. “A friend of Swan’s was supposed to come, but she sprained her ankle.”
Liana blinks. “Ice-skating with her the week before. I fell and sprained my ankle.”
Cacophonies of consequences churn in my brain. What if Liana had gone to Winter Park? What if Swanee and I had never met? What if Swanee hadn’t died?
I can’t finish this one; I can’t even stand to look at it. I set it aside. The buttons I’ve collected over the years have come from clothes I bought at thrift stores and Goodwill. I sort through them for a matched pair to make earrings for someone—maybe Jewell. She wears lots of beads and bangles. Or Joss. I feel guilty about not defending her to Liana.
Joss texts me around nine AM to tell me they’re home AT LAST!!!! She asks if she can come over. I text her that we’re going to Winter Park today.
She texts:
Can I go?
I don’t want her to. Not today.
I lie:
Dad says he wants it to be just family
A minute later she texts back:
Then can you drop me off at a friend’s before you leave?
I can do that.
Sure
Mom’s still at the hospital, and Dad’s in the living room, giving Ethan a bottle. “I need to run out for a minute,” I tell Dad.
He glances up. “How long’s a minute?”
I mock sneer at him. “Like, half an hour.”
“No more than an hour,” he says. “And if your mom gets home early, we’ll call you.”
I take the keys and dash to the garage. When I ring the bell at the Durbins’, Joss answers.
“Hi,” I say. “How was your trip?”
“Awesome,” she deadpans.
Genjko passes behind her with his duffel and heads for his room, giving off an aura of live ammo. Lost his Zen, I guess.
“We’re outta here,” Joss mutters.
Jewell snags Joss’s sleeve. “Where are you going?”
Joss scowls. “None of your business.”
“Hi, Jewell,” I say as her cell rings. She ignores me to answer it.
Asher’s cell bleeps and he disappears into the living room. A moment later he reappears and says, “I have to go out for a while.”
Joss follows me to the porch. “And we all know why.”
Why? I wonder.
Jewell’s car emerges from the garage.
As her parents head off in opposite directions, Joss says, “I don’t know how they waited this long.”
My eyes ask the question, and Joss answers, “They have an open marriage.”
I must look flabbergasted.
Joss smirks. “Mommy and Daddy have f**k buddies.” She studies my face as if to gauge my reaction. I try my hardest to regain some sort of impassivity.
Swan never mentioned that, but then it’s something that wouldn’t come up in casual conversation. She might’ve been embarrassed. I know I would’ve been.
Joss says, “My own f**k buddy awaits.”
I think, She’s kidding, right? She’s barely fifteen—not old enough to have sex. But then, how old is old enough? I sort of wish I’d done it earlier so I won’t be a virgin the rest of my life.
She gives me directions, and as we’re driving she pulls out a cell. I see her text OMW, for “on my way.” Whatever he texts back makes Joss giggle. I wonder if whoever she’s seeing got her the phone. It’s actually a relief; maybe she’ll stop bugging me about Swan’s phone.
When she disconnects, I say, “Will you please look in Swan’s room for a ring?”
Joss’s voice hardens. “I told you. There. Is. No. Ring.”
We drive for fifteen minutes, and then half an hour, and more. “Where are we going?” I ask. Because this is longer than the quick trip I expected.
“Right here.” She points to the entrance of a trailer park. “Stop.” She unfastens her seat belt and opens the car door.
The guy who’s waiting in the doorway looks at least thirty. Isn’t it illegal to date a minor? And if they’re having sex, that’s statutory rape.
God, Joss, I think. Aren’t you in enough trouble?
Before I can ask if she’ll need a ride home—like, right now—she’s ushered inside and the door shuts behind her.
At home I remote open the garage door and see that Mom’s back from the hospital. It’s after eleven, too late to drive to Winter Park. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you,” she snaps as soon as I walk through the door.
If Joss’s “friend” hadn’t lived in Kansas… If I’d been thoughtful enough to call… I go to fish my phone out of my bag, but grab Swanee’s instead.
“Whose cell is that?” Mom asks.
I drop it back in my bag and avoid her eyes, and the question, while I’m searching for my phone. I have voice mail. “My cell’s dead,” I lie. “I forgot to charge it.”
“You didn’t answer my first question.” Mom holds out her hand.
I’m not giving her Swanee’s cell. “It’s Betheny’s. She left it in the cafeteria on Friday, and I picked it up to give it back to her.” This sense of Swanee envelops me. Once you start to lie, it’s hard to stop. In fact, it almost becomes a game.
Just then my cell vibrates. Shit. I glance at the caller ID and it’s not a number I know offhand. A knot of resentment forms in my chest because I’m not Joss’s chauffeur. Then I feel bad because I should get my ass over there and save her. I shrug at Mom, like I don’t know how my phone magically recharged itself. “Hello?” I answer, walking around Mom and toward the stairs.
Liana says, “It’s me. You can hang up if you want to.”
My pulse races. “Oh, hey, Betheny,” I say. “Yeah, I have your cell. Can I bring it over later? We’re going to Winter Park.”
I check with Mom for confirmation and she shakes her head no.
“Or I could do it after I’m ungrounded for life.”
Liana doesn’t respond. She must think I’m crazy.
“My mom says hi.” I lope up the stairs, adding, “He did? Cool.”
Liana disconnects. I want to call her back so badly and find out why she called.
I start to dial, but can’t. We shouldn’t be in contact. Obviously, Swanee didn’t want us to know about each other, and I think she’d be freaked to find out we’d met.
Score one for us.
Why does it matter what Swanee might’ve thought? I just don’t want Liana to think… whatever she does at the moment. I don’t get her, though. Why does she unfriend me and then call? I send her a text:
Sorry about that. My mom was standing right there
I key:
Do you want something?
Duh. She wouldn’t have called otherwise. I delete that line and try to think what else to say. Nothing comes to mind, so I press Send.
She doesn’t text back. I wait five, ten minutes. Mom comes upstairs and opens my door. “I’m going to lie down for a while. Your dad might conk out in front of the TV, so if Ethan wakes up, would you mind giving him a bottle?”
If he’ll take it from me. Which he won’t.
“I need to go to Betheny’s,” I say, “and drop off her cell.”
“Why can’t she come here?”
“She’s… grounded.”
“Betheny?” Mom arches her eyebrows.
Think fast. “She’s been so busy with cheerleading and all her clubs that her grades have dropped.”
“Which reminds me.” Mom folds her arms. “I looked online at your grades and noticed you didn’t turn in several assignments. And you missed five days of school in January. I don’t know why the school didn’t call your father or me.”
“Their records are wrong.” In fact, Swan called in for me, pretending to be my mother. She’d perfected her “authoritative” voice over the phone. I remember this one prank call she made.…
Mom’s looking at me like she doesn’t believe a word of it. She goes on, “I can understand how difficult these last few weeks have been for you, but please don’t let your schoolwork suffer.”
A lump clogs my throat. She must see that I can’t explain. I can, but the reason is sitting in an urn on a mantel.
She relaxes her arms. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to go to Winter Park today.”
I pick up my backpack and unload a pile of books on my bed. “Doesn’t matter. You’re right. I have a ton of homework.”
Mom says, “If you need a break from studying, you can go to Betheny’s. But just for a little while.”
“Mom.” I catch her before she leaves. “Don’t athletes have to have physicals before they can participate in sports?”
She gives me a blank look before she understands what I’m asking. “They do,” she says, “but ventricular fibrillation, which is the usual cause of sudden cardiac arrest, may not be detected in sports physicals. I think the rules are changing to be more thorough, but don’t quote me on that.”
Before closing the door, she adds, “Sometimes it’s just out of our hands.”
Chapter 12
I’ll only be gone a couple of hours, and in the realm of eternal salvation, who marks time?
I almost miss her red car as I drive past it in the rear of the mall lot. I feel happy she’s here. Why? Probably because if she wasn’t I would’ve driven to Greeley for nothing.
The mall is almost empty because it’s Sunday. I head down the center aisle—the only aisle—through a seating area where a couple of older people are reading newspapers and drinking coffee.
As I approach Victoria’s Secret, I slow. In my head I have it all worked out, what I’ll say:
“Hi. You called me?”
She’ll be shocked to see me in person. Or will she? Do people go running to her whenever she beckons?
“Did you want to say something?” I’ll ask.
Because we’ve said everything there is to say. Haven’t we?
She’ll go, “No.” She’ll lower those big brown eyes and look embarrassed. Or be triumphant that she’s yanked my chain.
I’ll say…
I haven’t worked out the rest of the conversation.
She’s inside the store, near the front, not doing anything. Just gazing out into the mall. I duck behind a bank of gumball machines across from the store, feeling like an idiot.
She didn’t notice me, I don’t think. She stands there with this blank expression on her face, her eyes glazed over. A bolt of anguish shoots straight through me: She’s coming to terms with Swan’s death.
The most I’ve ever done is window-shop at Victoria’s Secret and wish I had the guts to go inside and browse.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have to force my feet to move, to step out from around from the gumball machines and enter the store. Liana’s eyes widen when she sees me.
“Hi,” I say. I forget my next line; I have to improvise. “Would you help me? I’m looking for a gift for my great-aunt.”
Liana says flatly, “Do you have something in mind? How old is she?”
I remove a red negligee from a nearby rack and hold it up. “She turns eighty-five tomorrow.”
That coaxes a smile out of her.
“Liana, there’s inventory to do as soon as you’re done talking to your friend,” a voice calls from the cash register.
Liana rolls her eyes and says under her breath, “My supervisor.”
I call back, “I’m not a friend. I’m a customer.”
“Oh. Excuse me.” The supervisor skirts the counter with an armload of bras.
When she’s out of earshot, I say, “I was thinking my great-aunt Wilma might like some lacy butt floss.”
Liana shakes her head. “You’re bad.” She considers for a minute, and then says, “I have just the thing.”
Do her eyes twinkle, or am I hallucinating? She leads me to a center rack, where a collection of corsets and babydolls hang. She takes one off the rack and shows it to me.
“Definitely Great-Aunt Wilma.” It’s leopard and lace with black garters.
Liana grins. “It’s called a merry widow.” Her eyes sort of lose their luster. After a long second, she says, “I dare you to put it on.”
The mischievous glint is back. I take the lingerie from her and say, “Where’s the fitting room?”
She points.
As I pass her supervisor, I smile sweetly.
The fitting room is ice cold and goose bumps rise on my skin, especially since I have to strip down to practically nothing to shimmy into the garment.
It’s totally revealing. My butt cheeks and boobs hang out. A knock sounds on the door and Liana says, “How’s it going in there?”
Dare I? I unlock the door and swing it open.
She eyes me up and down, making me feel even more na**d than I am. Then she covers her mouth and starts to giggle. That makes me giggle, and I pull her inside the dressing room.
“I should make you try it on,” I say.
She can’t stop giggling.
“Shut up. Does it make me look fat?”
“No,” Liana says. “You look…” She swallows hard. Her face sobers and she glances away. “Can I ask, how did you and Swan meet?”
I want to change back into my regular clothes if we’re going to have a serious discussion, but she sits on the bench, facing me.
“On a ski trip the over winter break,” I tell her. We’re close enough that I can feel her body warmth. “A friend of Swan’s was supposed to come, but she sprained her ankle.”
Liana blinks. “Ice-skating with her the week before. I fell and sprained my ankle.”
Cacophonies of consequences churn in my brain. What if Liana had gone to Winter Park? What if Swanee and I had never met? What if Swanee hadn’t died?
