Little Lies

by H Hunting

  Kodiak squeezes my hand, so I glance at him, thinking he’s giving me some silent moral support, but he mostly looks like he’s going to crap his pants.

  I give him a look before I turn back to my dad. “I mean, come on, Dad. He lives down the street. We’re adults, and we’re being responsible. And let’s be real, I stayed home last year because you and Mom wanted me to, not because I didn’t feel ready to do this.” I motion to our surroundings. “And I would have gladly moved into the dorms if I hadn’t thought you and River would have had a coronary over it.”

  My dad crosses his arms over his chest. “You tried the dorms, and it only lasted two days.”

  Mom didn’t say anything to him about my brief attempt at living in the dorms, until Dad noticed the bank transactions, the withdrawal and the refund. By that time I was back in the house and things with me and Kodiak had changed completely, but he still likes to try to use it as leverage of some kind.

  “My roommate was a whack job. If I’d applied for the dorms right from the beginning, I could’ve gotten a single, and it wouldn’t have been an issue. Anyway, that’s beside the point. I’ve been successful at college. I’m dealing fine, and I still have monthly sessions with Queenie. I get that maybe you didn’t expect this, but I think your hesitation is a lot less about me not being ready and more about you not being ready to let me go. I realize I’m always going to be your little girl, but that doesn’t mean I’m still a little girl. You need to let me grow up and make my own decisions.”

  “She has a point, Alex,” my mom says.

  He glances at her, his brow pulling down in a furrow that makes him look so much like River. “I know you’re not a little girl anymore.”

  “Then give me some freedom to be an adult.”

  Dad runs his hand through his hair. “I thought we were already doing the freedom thing. What happened to baby steps?”

  “This was the baby step.”

  “Well, moving to New York with your boyfriend seems like a whole bunch of leaps all at once.”

  “I’m sure for you it is, but it’s not like you don’t know Kodiak. We grew up together. He’s Maverick’s best friend.” I take a deep breath and blow it out, feeling my frustration grow. “I’m only having this discussion because I’d love to have your support. I’m not asking for permission, though. Neither of us is.” I motion between Kodiak and me.

  “We’re not?” His eyes are wide.

  I roll mine. “No. We aren’t.” I huff out a sigh. “Look, I get it. My childhood was traumatic for all of us, and I recognize you all did your best to manage things, but don’t you think it’s time to let us figure things out on our own?” I make eye contact with every adult at the table.

  Rook and my dad slowly sink back in their chairs, and Lainey and my mom give me sad, but proud smiles.

  “You know she’s right, Alex. I think we’ve probably done enough interfering when it comes to these two. Maybe it would be a good idea to trust them and their ability to cope instead of finding reasons not to,” Mom says.

  My dad rubs his chin and mutters, “Ah hell.” He nods slowly. “Does it have to be New York?”

  “That’s where the internship is, so yeah, Dad, it has to be New York. Why don’t you look at it this way: You’ve done your job. You’ve helped raise a competent, confident young woman, and I want to take this amazing shot to pursue my dream. And I’m smart enough to bring along someone who is 100 percent behind me on this and will most definitely make sure I’m okay.”

  “I’m so sorry we’ve made it so hard for you,” Lainey says softly.

  “You were doing what you thought was right,” Kodiak replies, his tone equally gentle.

  “Rook and I have connections in New York. We’ll see about getting you into a training camp out there for the summer,” my dad says. “But only if you want us to make calls.”

  I look to Kodiak.

  “Uh, yeah, that’d be great, Alex. I mean sir.”

  “I’ve changed your diapers, Kody. You don’t have to start calling me sir.” My dad gives me an apologetic smile. “I only ever want what’s best for you.”

  “I know. You wouldn’t have put all that money into therapy and sewing machines and an art room if you didn’t.”

  That gets a chuckle out of everyone.

  The house alarm beeps, a signal that either Maverick or River is home.

  Everyone turns when River shouts, “Whose bomb-ass truck is in the drive—” He comes to a very abrupt halt the moment he enters the dining room with Josiah at his side. “What the hell is going on?”

  River’s eyes lock with mine, and I give him an apologetic shrug. “I texted you.”

  “Right. Okay. I didn’t check my messages.”

  Mom stands and pulls him into a hug, then gives him a questioning smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

  “Huh?” He glances at Josiah, and I can see the moment he decides not to disappoint him.

  Kodiak squeezes my hand.

  River clears his throat, gaze darting from me, to Dad, and then to Mom. “This is Josiah. And uh . . .” He looks at Josiah. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  And just like that, me and Kodiak moving to New York together isn’t the biggest news anymore.

  Mom nods knowingly. “I figured. Well, let’s get you two boys a chair so we can get to know Josiah better.”

  Three hours and a whole lot of yummy food and surprisingly easy conversation later, our parents gather their things and get ready to head home.

  Dad pulls me into a hug. “You’ve grown into quite an incredible person, Lavender. It’s hard to let you go.”

  “I know, and I love you for it, but I promise I can hold my own these days.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “I know you can, and I know Kody will be a good partner for you. Otherwise he’ll have me to answer to.”

  I laugh, because what can I really say to that. He’s my dad, and I’m always going to be his little girl.

  Mom slips her arm around my waist. We’re close to the same height. We watch as Dad and River have a whispered conversation.

  “You knew River was gay?” I ask.

  She lifts a shoulder in a slight shrug. “I suspected. I mean, whenever we went to the beach, it was never the girls he was staring at.”

  She has a point.

  Dad puts a hand on River’s shoulder, and his expression shifts to one I’m familiar with. It’s the one I called his marshmallow face when I was little, when he would go all soft and warm and compassionate. Whatever he says to River makes him duck his head. Dad pulls him in for a hug—and not one of those manly, back-pat jobs, but a real hug. I can practically feel the emotion in it.

  They needed this.

  We all did.

  Present day

  AS SOON AS finals are over, and Kodiak and Maverick graduate, Kodiak and I pack our things and move into a condo sublet our parents found in New York City. Although the internship offered accommodations, my dad and Kodiak’s mom researched the most statistically safe location within walking distance of my internship and a short subway ride from Kodiak’s training camp. Hence the sublet.

  New York is busy and noisy and overwhelming. The bustle makes my heart race, but the internship is totally worth it. It takes all of twenty-four hours in the theater for me to come to the conclusion that this is my dream job.

  My mentor, Priscilla, doesn’t coddle me. And even better, everyone I work with asks for my opinion. They push my creative boundaries and test my skill set. I love everything about it. For the first time in my life, I understand what it means to feel truly comfortable in my own skin.

  Kodiak and I are learning how to manage life together. It isn’t seamless, or perfect, but it’s real, and it’s honest, and it’s us. He’s an excessive neat freak, and I’m less rigid about immediately putting everything away as soon as I’m done with it.

  Regardless of our differences, we get each other on a level that feels soul deep. Sure, we’re yo
ung, and we have our entire lives ahead of us, and so many things could change. But in those first few weeks, we carve out a hectic existence for ourselves, and I finally feel at peace with our past and how we managed to get here, to this place where we’re wholly in love.

  I stayed late at the theater tonight so I could finish a particularly tricky part of the costume I’m working on. Priscilla has been so supportive, always there to answer questions and teach me tricks to make things easier. It’s almost eight o’clock by the time I get home to our ridiculously nice, two-bedroom sublet on the twentieth floor.

  I’m hopeful that Kodiak is in the mood for a little fun and stress relief tonight. There are times when I worry I’m becoming a sex addict, but then I remind myself Kodiak is a twenty-two-year-old athlete—his birthday has come and gone—and there’s nothing wrong with having a high sex drive. Besides, sex counts as exercise. Also, orgasms are a great, natural relaxant.

  Kodiak actually looked it up when I made a joke about our slightly over-prolific sex life, paranoid that maybe we were having it too often. Then he read two books on sex addiction. And another one on bondage and voyeurism.

  All they seemed to do was make him hornier and confirm that we were totally normal.

  I let myself into the condo, and my excitement dampens when I hear him talking. Maybe one of the guys he plays hockey with is over. He’s made a few friends, as have I, but he never mentioned company tonight. I toe off my shoes and head down the hall, pausing when I catch him pacing the length of the living room with his phone in his hand.

  He’s wearing only a pair of athletic shorts, his heavily muscled back flexing as he runs a hand roughly through his hair. “I’m not going to Vancouver.”

  He’s on speakerphone, but his dad’s voice is low and muffled, so I don’t catch his response.

  “There has to be another option. That can’t be the only team who wants me. Can’t you pull some strings? What about Chicago?”

  “That’s not how it works, Kodiak.” Rook’s voice is gentle, rational.

  “You pulled strings for training camp this summer, though. You have to be able to do something! It’s too far away. Lavender has two years of college left, and then we can go wherever.”

  “You don’t know what things are going to look like two years from now, and you can’t base this decision on one person. And we don’t know that Vancouver is going to be the only option.”

  “It’s the only one I’m hearing about! I’m not being separated from her again. You’ll never understand what it’s like. I’m not you. I can’t walk away from the person I love and just deal for a year. I will lose my fucking mind!”

  There’s some muttering on the other end of the line, and suddenly it’s his mom on the phone instead of his dad, her voice soft, but strong. “Kodiak, remember that your words have an impact on the people they’re directed at, and throwing the past in someone’s face is not a way to manage your emotions.”

  The shift in his demeanor is immediate. “You don’t understand, Mom.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. I will never truly be able to understand what this is like for you, or for Lavender, because it’s not my experience. You can be angry about the past, but at some point, you have to let it go and live in your present. I know you’re worried about signing a contract that will take you away from Lavender again, but you can’t tether yourself to her, or rely on her as the sole source of your happiness. Otherwise you’re going in reverse.”

  “We’re doing so good right now, though. I don’t want to lose this.”

  “No one says you have to, Kodiak.”

  “How is it gonna work if I’m halfway across the country? I’ll be traveling nine months out of the year.” He rubs the space between his eyes.

  “Have faith that your relationship is strong enough to withstand this,” she tells him.

  “What if I’m not strong enough?” he asks softly as I step into the living room. He catches the movement, and his face pales. “Lavender’s home. I gotta go. I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I’m sorry. I’ll see you in a few days.” He ends the call and tosses the phone on the couch. “How much of that did you hear?”

  There’s no point in lying. “Vancouver wants you.”

  He shakes his head. “I won’t do it. I won’t take the deal.”

  I bridge the gap between us, link our pinkies, and guide him to the couch. He sits heavily and rests his forearms on his thighs.

  “We knew this was coming.” I run my fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, but he bows his head.

  “I won’t go to the West Coast. I’m not leaving you.” His knees bounce, even though I know he’s trying to force them to stay still.

  “Kodiak, look at me.” He glances at me briefly, and all I see is fear. These are the times I don’t envy him and his massive brain. He unpacks every scenario in his head and runs it through, finding a fatalistic ending that drags him down into a soul-crushing abyss of terror.

  I straddle his thighs and place my palm on the side of his neck. His pulse pounds violently. “I know you’re scared, but you have to take the deal.”

  “I don’t want to risk losing you,” he whispers.

  “Why do you think you’d lose me?”

  “It’s the other side of the country. I’ll hardly see you.” His face is etched with pain. “What if you decide it’s too hard? What if I can’t handle it?”

  “Of course it’s going to be hard, but have faith that we can handle it.” I stroke his cheek, hating that I have to do this. “You have to promise me you’ll take a deal, Kodiak, even if it’s on the West Coast. You wouldn’t let me walk away from an opportunity to live my dream, and I won’t let you do that either.”

  “It’s not the same. This is a two-month internship, not a contract that’s going to lock you in for years in another country.”

  I sigh, weighing how best to approach this. “I will not let you waste your talent on fear of the unknown. And I refuse to carry that kind of guilt around with me for the rest of my life. We already know what that looks like.”

  His panic flares, and despite the fact that I’m sitting on his legs, they still manage a couple of bounces before they still. “What’re you saying?”

  “You can’t put your life on hold. You have to sign with a team this year.”

  His eyes harden, and his jaw tightens. I sincerely hope we’re not gearing up for a fight. “What if that’s not what I want? What if I want to go to grad school instead?”

  I make a face. “You would’ve applied if that’s what you wanted, and you didn’t. Your mom posts the video of you playing hockey in your crib every year on your birthday. You played almost before you could walk. This is what you were meant to do, and you will be amazing no matter what team you play for or where. But you will play for a team this year.”

  Fear and anger twine together. “This sounds a lot like an ultimatum, Lavender.”

  I stroke his cheek; my anxiety mirrors his. “What do you think will happen to us if you throw away everything you’ve been working for just so you can be close to me? Isn’t that us falling into the same pattern of dependency we’ve worked so hard to overcome? How do you think that will end?”

  He puts his hand over mine, and his eyes fall shut. He inhales deeply and releases the breath slowly, seeking calm as he absorbs my words. I allow him to fall back into the past, reliving every instance in which he tried to save me from myself, but couldn’t. He was great at calming the aftermath, but only I could ever save myself. Now it’s my turn to save him from me.

  When he opens his eyes, he whispers, “Badly. It would end badly.”

  I nod and give him a small, sad smile. “We’ll make it work, wherever you go.” I hope it’s not a little lie, because in my heart I believe it to be the truth.

  Otherwise, what was the point of all the suffering in the first place?

  THE NEXT FEW days are tense and anxious. I try not to show my distraction when I’m at the theater, but it’s tough.
I’m watching the clock, counting the hours until I can be home with Kodiak.

  The moment either of us walks in the door, we’re on each other. We barely make time for dinner or sleep, too consumed with getting in as much togetherness as we can before he has to fly to Chicago for the weekend.

  He’ll only be gone a few days, but there’s a sense of urgency that increases as the days dwindle into hours.

  On Thursday morning, Kodiak watches me get ready for work. I pull on one of my light summer dresses and fix my hair in a ponytail. I don’t bother with contacts these days, or makeup.

  “Do you wonder if it would’ve been easier if I’d stayed in Chicago and let you come here on your own?” He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a polo and black pants, his suitcase packed and waiting by the front door.

  “But then we wouldn’t know what it’s like to live together,” I offer.

  “You’ve become my definition of home, and if I get picked up by a team out west, I’ll feel displaced.”

  Kodiak’s way has always been able to filter the thoughts in his head and express only the ones he feels are most vital. I cross the room and step between his legs. We’ve been up since four and had sex three times between then and now, and still my body warms to his proximity.

  I take his hand and place it against the side of my neck as he does the same to me. It will always be our thing. “We will adapt. How do you think our parents survived all those years with our dads on the road so much of the time? It’s an adjustment. And to answer your original question, I don’t know if it would’ve been easier or not. But we’ll always have this time that was just ours to hold on to when being apart hurts.”

  “I wish it hadn’t taken me this long to learn how to love you without consuming you.”

  I take his face in my hands. “You say it like you hold all the blame. We were equally complicit in our fall. Sometimes we have to break so we can recreate a stronger version of ourselves.” I press my lips to his, but pull back before he can deepen the kiss. “Promise me you’ll sign a contract.”

  “I promise.” He makes an X over my heart and rises, sealing it with a searing, desperate kiss.