Target on Our Backs
Page 71
It's hard to get over something when you don't know what happened, when you don't understand what went wrong. Without closure, the wound remains open, and it's hard as hell to get it to heal.
I get out of the car then, wrapping my arms around my chest. I'm wearing a scarf and a sweater with a pair of black leggings, my usual getup, but I couldn't put on my boots.
Hurt foot and all that.
So I'm wearing a pair of black slippers, the padding softening the blow from my footsteps on the sidewalk. Ugh. I look absurd. I shuffle over toward Melody, and she looks up when she senses me, plastering a smile on her face. It's genuine. Nothing about her is fake. Quirky as she may be, Melody wears her heart on her sleeve.
"Kissimmee!" She pushes away from the wall, looking me over, her smile dimming when she spots my feet. "Oh my God, are you sleepwalking?"
I pause in front of her. "Nope, definitely awake."
She meets my gaze, horror twisting her features. Instantly, her hand darts out, smacking me right in the forehead. "Jesus, girl, do you have a fever? Are you delirious? This is Manhattan and you're going all People of Wal-Mart on us, wearing slippers out of the house!"
Laughing, I shove her hand away. "I hurt my foot, so it was either this or go barefoot."
"Barefoot," she says right away. "You could pull off the whole bohemian hobo chic look. But this? Nobody can pull off this."
She looks seriously distressed, like she's going to burst a blood vessel over my choice of footwear. Rolling my eyes, I playfully shove her. "Yeah, well, unlike you I choose comfort over style."
"I know." She sighs dramatically, her smile returning. "It's your only flaw."
My only flaw.
Yeah, right.
"So how'd you hurt your foot?" she asks.
I hesitate for a moment before answering. "Kicked out a car window."
That horror is back on her face before she cracks. She thinks I'm joking… or maybe she just hopes I am. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," I tell her. "Thought I was being kidnapped."
"Really?"
"Really. But Naz came and got me, took me home… called a veterinarian he knows, who sewed me up with a needle and some thread. Hurt like a bitch."
"Wow." She shakes her head. "Sounds like you had one hell of a night."
"You don't know the half of it," I tell her. "You see, before I thought I was being kidnapped, I actually was. So they kidnapped me from my kidnapper, who I'm pretty sure was actually just suicidal. He was going to blow us all up."
She laughs. "Wow."
"Right?"
"So… how'd you really hurt it?"
I pause, smiling softly, looking down at my foot. "Cut it on some glass."
She stares at me for a moment. She's still smiling, but there's concern in her eyes. She's trying not to let on, but she's worried. "But you're okay?"
She's not talking about my foot, not directly. Melody knows so much more than she wants anyone to believe. If they think she's oblivious, that means she's not a threat. She avoids scrutiny. It keeps her safe. But I know her well by now, and she's proven time and again how smart she is.
She probably had this all figured out before I even did.
"Yeah, I'm… okay."
I realize I mean it as I say it.
I'm okay.
Things aren't perfect, and I'm more than a little scared, but I'm okay.
It's going to be okay.
I believe it.
"Well, that's all that really matters," she says, scrunching up her nose. "And I guess I'll forgive your fashion faux pass, since you obviously just don't know any better. I mean, two years later and you're still wearing that damn scarf."
"I like my scarf," I say defensively, reaching up and stroking it. "At least I'm not running around half naked with a cold front moving in."
She makes a face. "Don't hate the playa."
"Hate the game."
"Exactly. See! Finally, you're getting it! There might be hope for you yet."
I laugh. Unlikely. I'll never be someone I'm not.
"Anyway," I say, turning around, glancing at the idling car. "I should probably get going. Naz is waiting. I just wanted to stop by, to see you, to…"
To say goodbye.
Fuck, this is hard.
Melody looks past me, straight at the car, and I can see her expression change. Somewhere, deep inside, she knows.
She knows what this is.
Call it intuition, or the bond between friends. She can sense the shift in the atmosphere. Everything's changing all around us as we stand here. The world is shifting on its axis, the magnetic poles pulling us apart, slowly but certainly. It won't be the same anymore.
I used to sense it with my mother.
I guess that part of my mother lives on in me.
"You're moving on," she says quietly. "Is that what you're telling me?"
Yeah, it is.
"It's just… time, I guess." I don't know how to explain it. "After everything that's happened and with everything that's going on, it just feels right to get out of New York for now."
"For now," she says, "but not forever, right?"
"Do you think I could actually leave forever?"
"No, I wouldn't let you."
That's what I thought.
I don't have a chance to respond to that, as she pulls me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me tightly, almost painfully.
"Promise you won't forget about me," she whispers.
"I promise," I say right away. "Don't have to worry about that."
"I'll call you seventy-six times a day," she says. "I'll write you letters with those smelly glitter gel pens like they had back in middle school. I'll draw you pictures in the margins. BFF's and all that gushy shit. I'll even dot my i's with hearts."
She pulls away, smiling, although I can see there are tears in her eyes. She's trying to hold them back, to take this in stride, but like I said... goodbyes are hard.
"And I want to hear all about that baby," she says. "I want to be there, I want to know him… or her… Oh God, especially if it's a her. She's going to need Auntie Mel to teach her all about patterns, about fabrics, and how to coordinate without being matchy-matchy. She's going to need me to teach her all about fashion because God knows you can't do it. You'll have the poor girl wearing socks with sandals."
"Okay, I'm not that bad."
"Come on, your husband owns a turtleneck sweater. You need me, Karissa."
"Don't worry. You'll know her… or him."
"I hope it's a her."
Me? I don't care. I just hope the baby is okay, whichever it is, boy or girl.
"So yeah," I say quietly, motioning toward the car. "I should go now."
She nods, pulling me into another hug. "Take care of yourself."
"You, too."
"I'm going to miss you."
"I'll miss you, too, but it'll be okay." I take a step back, and then another, pausing as I smile. "Through every dark night, there's a brighter day."
I get out of the car then, wrapping my arms around my chest. I'm wearing a scarf and a sweater with a pair of black leggings, my usual getup, but I couldn't put on my boots.
Hurt foot and all that.
So I'm wearing a pair of black slippers, the padding softening the blow from my footsteps on the sidewalk. Ugh. I look absurd. I shuffle over toward Melody, and she looks up when she senses me, plastering a smile on her face. It's genuine. Nothing about her is fake. Quirky as she may be, Melody wears her heart on her sleeve.
"Kissimmee!" She pushes away from the wall, looking me over, her smile dimming when she spots my feet. "Oh my God, are you sleepwalking?"
I pause in front of her. "Nope, definitely awake."
She meets my gaze, horror twisting her features. Instantly, her hand darts out, smacking me right in the forehead. "Jesus, girl, do you have a fever? Are you delirious? This is Manhattan and you're going all People of Wal-Mart on us, wearing slippers out of the house!"
Laughing, I shove her hand away. "I hurt my foot, so it was either this or go barefoot."
"Barefoot," she says right away. "You could pull off the whole bohemian hobo chic look. But this? Nobody can pull off this."
She looks seriously distressed, like she's going to burst a blood vessel over my choice of footwear. Rolling my eyes, I playfully shove her. "Yeah, well, unlike you I choose comfort over style."
"I know." She sighs dramatically, her smile returning. "It's your only flaw."
My only flaw.
Yeah, right.
"So how'd you hurt your foot?" she asks.
I hesitate for a moment before answering. "Kicked out a car window."
That horror is back on her face before she cracks. She thinks I'm joking… or maybe she just hopes I am. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," I tell her. "Thought I was being kidnapped."
"Really?"
"Really. But Naz came and got me, took me home… called a veterinarian he knows, who sewed me up with a needle and some thread. Hurt like a bitch."
"Wow." She shakes her head. "Sounds like you had one hell of a night."
"You don't know the half of it," I tell her. "You see, before I thought I was being kidnapped, I actually was. So they kidnapped me from my kidnapper, who I'm pretty sure was actually just suicidal. He was going to blow us all up."
She laughs. "Wow."
"Right?"
"So… how'd you really hurt it?"
I pause, smiling softly, looking down at my foot. "Cut it on some glass."
She stares at me for a moment. She's still smiling, but there's concern in her eyes. She's trying not to let on, but she's worried. "But you're okay?"
She's not talking about my foot, not directly. Melody knows so much more than she wants anyone to believe. If they think she's oblivious, that means she's not a threat. She avoids scrutiny. It keeps her safe. But I know her well by now, and she's proven time and again how smart she is.
She probably had this all figured out before I even did.
"Yeah, I'm… okay."
I realize I mean it as I say it.
I'm okay.
Things aren't perfect, and I'm more than a little scared, but I'm okay.
It's going to be okay.
I believe it.
"Well, that's all that really matters," she says, scrunching up her nose. "And I guess I'll forgive your fashion faux pass, since you obviously just don't know any better. I mean, two years later and you're still wearing that damn scarf."
"I like my scarf," I say defensively, reaching up and stroking it. "At least I'm not running around half naked with a cold front moving in."
She makes a face. "Don't hate the playa."
"Hate the game."
"Exactly. See! Finally, you're getting it! There might be hope for you yet."
I laugh. Unlikely. I'll never be someone I'm not.
"Anyway," I say, turning around, glancing at the idling car. "I should probably get going. Naz is waiting. I just wanted to stop by, to see you, to…"
To say goodbye.
Fuck, this is hard.
Melody looks past me, straight at the car, and I can see her expression change. Somewhere, deep inside, she knows.
She knows what this is.
Call it intuition, or the bond between friends. She can sense the shift in the atmosphere. Everything's changing all around us as we stand here. The world is shifting on its axis, the magnetic poles pulling us apart, slowly but certainly. It won't be the same anymore.
I used to sense it with my mother.
I guess that part of my mother lives on in me.
"You're moving on," she says quietly. "Is that what you're telling me?"
Yeah, it is.
"It's just… time, I guess." I don't know how to explain it. "After everything that's happened and with everything that's going on, it just feels right to get out of New York for now."
"For now," she says, "but not forever, right?"
"Do you think I could actually leave forever?"
"No, I wouldn't let you."
That's what I thought.
I don't have a chance to respond to that, as she pulls me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me tightly, almost painfully.
"Promise you won't forget about me," she whispers.
"I promise," I say right away. "Don't have to worry about that."
"I'll call you seventy-six times a day," she says. "I'll write you letters with those smelly glitter gel pens like they had back in middle school. I'll draw you pictures in the margins. BFF's and all that gushy shit. I'll even dot my i's with hearts."
She pulls away, smiling, although I can see there are tears in her eyes. She's trying to hold them back, to take this in stride, but like I said... goodbyes are hard.
"And I want to hear all about that baby," she says. "I want to be there, I want to know him… or her… Oh God, especially if it's a her. She's going to need Auntie Mel to teach her all about patterns, about fabrics, and how to coordinate without being matchy-matchy. She's going to need me to teach her all about fashion because God knows you can't do it. You'll have the poor girl wearing socks with sandals."
"Okay, I'm not that bad."
"Come on, your husband owns a turtleneck sweater. You need me, Karissa."
"Don't worry. You'll know her… or him."
"I hope it's a her."
Me? I don't care. I just hope the baby is okay, whichever it is, boy or girl.
"So yeah," I say quietly, motioning toward the car. "I should go now."
She nods, pulling me into another hug. "Take care of yourself."
"You, too."
"I'm going to miss you."
"I'll miss you, too, but it'll be okay." I take a step back, and then another, pausing as I smile. "Through every dark night, there's a brighter day."
