by Liz Hsu
“Yes, sweetheart,” he said in a tired voice, then took the final sip of whiskey.
I smiled. “In that case, I’ll let you pick the restaurant tonight.”
He teased me about how gracious I was as we headed out the door.
The next day, yoga seriously kicked my butt, or should I say hamstrings? Apparently, I really did have runners’ legs—tight. I stayed extra-long in the shower, groaning over my newfound muscles. When I finally emerged, I winced when I glanced at the clock and the amount of steam in the bathroom. I hoped Dad didn’t need a shower.
I debated blow-drying my hair and ultimately settled on a French braid since we were going to the lake and I’d probably get wet soon. Why bother styling it when it’d just get messed up anyway?
Back in my bedroom, I debated what to wear. I hadn’t lied to my dad, but I hadn’t said I was going to the lake, because I didn’t think he’d like that. Heck, I didn’t like that I was going to the lake, but it had been so embarrassing when Greg had just stared at me. I wanted friends. Greg’s parents and Luke’s had lake houses next to each other, so it was an opportunity to meet more people. Especially when everyone clearly had plans except me. I didn’t want to just blurt out, “I have lupus and should avoid the sun.” I also hadn’t wanted to just sit around the condo by myself and bother Dad.
I put on my favorite coral bikini—I loved coral—and slipped on a halter dress that hid that I was wearing a swimsuit. I threw in a change of underwear, shorts, the long UVB shirt I’d bought this summer, a ballcap, and a big bottle of sunscreen. My phone dinged with a message from Greg letting me know he was here, so I slipped out of my room and yelled to Dad that I was leaving.
It felt like déjà vu walking toward Greg in his big pickup truck in the muggy parking deck. I hadn’t really been impressed with Ross in the end and certainly wasn’t looking to replace him, but who was I to turn down friends? Maybe looks would be deceiving. I didn’t want to be completely dependent on Charles when he was aiming for one of the most competitive schools in the country and had more than a full schedule already.
Plus, Greg had been really nice, if a little flirty. I would give him a chance. I wasn’t looking for Ross 2.0 and if I dated, I wanted to be honest about lupus. I’d like to understand it better myself before I even went down that road. And if I did date someone…my skin heated as I thought about Charles’s long fingers sliding over the piano keys and his dimple when he cracked a joke.
If I did date, Greg wouldn’t be my first choice.
I forced the biggest smile I could muster and opened the truck door. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
Greg looked over at me as I slid into his bench seat. “Wow, Ray, that’s a great dress.”
“Thanks,” I said again, feeling myself blush as I buckled my seatbelt.
Was this dress too much? I had a boyish figure but decent-sized boobs, because of my narrow frame. With the lower cut of the halter top, they did hang out of this dress much more than my school clothing. Ross had always said they were fantastic, but I figured he’d have said anything to touch them. I used to work out so much, I was generally happy-ish with how I looked. Plus, growing up by the beach and living nearly non-stop in a bikini, then years of running in basically the same thing, made you more comfortable in your skin. But recently the extra bloating and lack of running made me worried happy-ish would be a thing of the past. That was scary; just about the only nice things people ever said about me were she’s pretty. Soon, I wouldn’t even have that.
So, I really didn’t want to dwell on my clothing. My looks.
“Anyhoo, you want to do architecture too, right? That’s what your dad said at the Brown Bag.”
“Oh, yeah. My dad loves it and it’d be awesome to see my building, you know?”
“I get it,” I said trying not to laugh at how his ‘oh, yeah’ and ‘you know’ rolled out. Midwest, Canadian, Michigander whatever this accent was called it was different. “Where are you thinking about applying to college?” I got out without a giggle.
“I’m not sure. Maybe somewhere in New York or Chicago. I want to study in a big city, but of course I’ll apply to Michigan too. What about you?”
I fiddled with my seatbelt. “Michigan and Georgia Tech are my top two schools, followed by Georgia. Tech and U of M are top twenty-five in the country for architecture, and Georgia is in the top fifty. Plus, in-state tuition.”
“I haven’t looked too much into Georgia schools, but I want to get away a little bit. Michigan isn’t a top choice for me just for that reason.”
“I’d be so happy if I got into Michigan it wouldn’t even be funny. I went to some lectures there this summer. It was amazing. Seriously amazing.”
He laughed. “Yeah, my dad told me. I got caught drinking, and you were voluntarily going to lectures. I do like it—architecture, that is—and it’s a good choice for me because I can intern with my dad’s firm, but I want to have fun too. But you really must love it, huh?”
“I love the old buildings and variety of styles. Turning something simple into a more efficient building and a work of art is just mad cool,” I said. “Savannah is beautiful. And I’ve visited Stockholm once or twice a year and a few other European cities growing up—Rome, Paris, Amsterdam, and of course our neighbor, Copenhagen. There were always discount tickets available and sometimes we’d go to a city for a few nights before flying home. The old buildings are so intricate. I like the idea of keeping that artistry and complexity alive in the present. I’ll probably also apply to KTH Royal Institute of Technology in Stockholm too, since it would be free.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah, why not? I’m a dual citizen. And that’s where my dad did his undergraduate studies. But I don’t know. I’m fluent in Swedish, but I don’t think my reading and writing are near college level. Plus, maybe it’s too far away.” I thought about my lupus. My grandparents were there, but I hated to think of depending on them if I got sick. I decided to change the subject. “Will you try to play football in college?”
“Yeah, no. I’m not that good. You have to practice all the time for that,” he said with a laugh.
“Yes, you do. My ex is being recruited by some Division I schools, including Georgia.”
He took his eyes off the road a second to peek at me. “Are you fucking kidding me, Savannah?”
I shook my head no.
“That’s dope as shit. He must have been at it all the time and a fantastic player.”
“Eyes on the road, and pretty much.”
Ross had practiced all the time. It had been one thing I’d admired about him. Like Charles’s dedication to his studies, Ross had been singularly focused on football. His talent wasn’t all God-given—I’d seen how many hours he gave and parties and drinks he turned down. I had no doubt he’d get a full ride.
“So there’s no way to impress you,” he said. “I’m not bilingual, like you, or a Division I athlete.”
“Why do you need to impress me?”
He laughed. “I all but had to beg to get you to come to the lake.”
I shifted a little uncomfortably. Skittles, I did not want to go to the lake. But I hadn’t wanted to seem like I was playing hard to get. “I am a little shy,” I said honestly. “It’d be really great to make some more friends. Charles is great, but he’s so busy. I almost feel guilty asking him to do anything.”
“Yeah, that kid is more machine than human. I’ve never seen anyone study and make grades like him. Even in government, which I can tell is not his thing.”
I bristled at the way he spoke about Charles. “Charles is not a machine.” He was one of the most considerate people I knew.
“No offense intended. What bands do you like?”
We talked about music and other lighter things until we pulled up to a big lake house that seemed too large to be a second house. It was an architect’s dream—hug
e windows and sleek lines, with a massive deck. Heck, it seemed too big to be a single-family house at all. I was certain our condo could fit in the foyer.
“Come on, Dad wants to say hi before we go next door to Luke’s place. My parents have been on my tail since they caught me drinking this summer. You’re”—he air-quoted “sweet as pie”—and slipped into his truly terrible Southern accent, before continuing, “Three AP classes, taking seven courses and not six. Hopefully if they think I’m dating you, they won’t—”
“Wait.” I grabbed his forearm, and my eyes flew to his. “We are not dating, Greg.”
His face turned red, and I felt embarrassed for being rude. “They just think I could use better friends. My dad already likes you, and they’ve been so strict lately. Haven’t you ever had trouble with your parents?” He shook his head, “Never mind, I’m sure you were always a perfect daughter.”
“No, my mom and I fought a lot,” I said, turning sympathetic. “She grounded me for two weeks when I got a hickey.”
“Hellraiser.”
“Don’t. Your Southern accent is terrible.” I couldn’t help giggling a little.
He walked around and opened my door, then held out his hand to help me down. “Ready, Ray?”
He led me to the front door and unlocked it. “Mom,” he yelled as we entered the house. “Dad, come meet Ray before we go over to Luke’s.”
Mr. Davis, and a very well-manicured woman with a perfectly styled bob haircut, greeted us as we entered the kitchen. “Hi, Ray. I’m Mrs. Davis. Larry said such nice things about you! It is wonderful to meet you.” She shook my hand. “Do you want a pop before you go next door?”
They could make fun of my accent all they wanted, but I never understood how pop became “pah-ap.”
“No, ma’am. Thank you, but I don’t drink much soda. Could I please have a water, though?”
“Sure. Greg?” She motioned for him to grab it and the rest of us sat down.
I talked to Mr. Davis about some of his projects.
“Ray, if you are interested, maybe you and Greg could come see the micro-living complex sometime,” Mr. Davis said as Greg brought me a water bottle.
“Thank you,” I said to Greg before turning back to his dad. “That would be amazing! I’d love to see it.”
“Yeah, Dad, we’d both like that,” Greg said. “We should probably head next door, though. Luke is waiting.”
“I’m not a huge fan of Luke,” Greg’s mom muttered, but no one made a fuss as we walked next door.
“I’m not sure if I owe you or if you just made me look bad,” Greg teased.
I was silent and starting to get nervous about meeting so many new people—not to mention, what it would be like to be in the sun. I hoped there’d be an umbrella.
Luke slurred out a greeting, his breath smelling like he’d already been drinking. The others who said hello seemed nice enough. Everyone was just in their swimsuits, so I stripped off my sundress, sprayed some more sun cream, and put on my hat. I didn’t want to stand out and thought surely a little while without the long sleeves wouldn’t be too bad. Plus, the sun on my skin felt incredible. I’d just keep an eye on my watch. Last time, I’d been in the sun for hours, and now I’d been on my lupus medications for six weeks, so I figured an hour or two of the sun would be fine.
I joined the others as they jumped in and out of the murky-blue water, even though swimming in a pond was weird. We couldn’t swim in fresh water back home, because of the gators. Still, it felt good to swim again—I’d always loved being in the ocean, and Mom used to joke I was part fish as a kid.
Most of the group was passing around a bottle of lemonade I knew contained alcohol with how loose-lipped, giggly, and red-cheeked everyone was getting. I declined it. I never drank and didn’t want to start now with all the medicine I was on.
I walked over to Greg and whispered in his ear after I saw him take a sip, “If you dare take another, I’ll ask your mom to drive me home because you’ve been drinking.”
He must have known I was telling the truth because he got a can of Coke and didn’t drink any more of the lemonade mix after that. My life was more important than popularity. I wasn’t getting in a car with someone who’d been drinking.
To my annoyance, Greg kept snuggling close to me for his other best friend Sean’s pictures, but as soon as he snapped one, he’d let me slip a step away. I didn’t want to fight in front of everyone, so I let it go. I preferred more personal space and didn’t want him to think this was a date after what he’d let slip in the car.
After we’d been there at least an hour, most of us had taken up chairs in a semicircle on the dock. The sun felt so good on my skin, even though I was debating putting on my long sleeves and hat. I gave it a few more minutes. Just because the sun didn’t like me anymore didn’t mean I hated it.
Luke thundered over and plunked down on the arm of my wooden chair, way too close for my comfort.
“So,” he said, loud enough that everyone looked up. “Why did you move up here from Savannah?” He had that booming I-drank-too-much voice.
“My dad’s work,” I responded, hoping he’d take that to mean he’d gotten a job transfer.
“But isn’t he, like, a friend of Greg’s dad and been here awhile?”
I nodded, but caught Greg watching the conversation from the water. I sent him a pleading glance, and he swam toward the ladder to climb out.
Luke smiled slyly. “I thought so. Why move to live with your dad?”
“Why not?” I said. I leaned back in the chair. I was seconds away from pushing him out of my way to get up, if it wouldn’t make even more of a scene.
“It’s weird, that’s why.” He wobbled on the armrest and I half hoped he’d fall off. When I didn’t respond, he leaned in, and you’d bet your bottom he’d been drinking. “My parents are divorced too. And my mom’s a divorce lawyer. Dads out-of-state don’t just suddenly get custody. Almost never. There’s always a story.”
I had no idea what to say. While my parents didn’t get along, custody had never been an issue needing more than the cursory legal paperwork required.
Luke pushed my shoulder hard enough it hurt. “Come on, tell us. Was your mom an addict or something? It has to be interesting. Did an ex get you knocked up?” He winked as a dripping wet Greg bristled, stalking closer like he was about to intervene.
I pushed out of the chair and away from Luke, who was clearly belligerently drunk or a big jerkface. Or both.
He grabbed my wrist, keeping me from leaving. “I don’t blame him. Greg didn’t exaggerate how hot you are.”
Greg’s hand thudded on Luke’s shoulder. “Luke, man, I think you’ve had too much.”
But Luke swiveled back. “Come on, Ray! Don’t leave us hanging. Tell us. I know there’s some story there.”
I tried to calm down, but when I looked at his obnoxious smirk and everyone else staring, I snapped. “I’m a virgin and my mom’s not an addict.” I tugged my hand and he let me go.
My hands shook as I tried to control my emotions. I wanted to puke; this was beyond mortifying. I skirted away as Greg whispered something to Luke, who pushed Greg off him. “I’m telling you, Greg. Dads don’t get custody for no reason, especially if they live out-of-state. There is more to the story.”
Greg handed me my bag. “Dude, you need to chill out. It’s none of our damn business. Ray, you ready to go? I think you’ve gotten enough sun anyway.”
I pulled my bag out of his hand and stalked to the car. I bet that stupid rash was back. This lake adventure had really gone to hell in a handbasket.
“Ray.” I heard Greg hurrying behind me and felt his hand on my shoulder. “Ray, I’m sorry. He’s a mean drunk. Sorry I couldn’t stop him sooner.”
I sighed. “Yeah, me too.”
Greg opened the door, and I got in after pulling on m
y shorts and shirt over my bikini. His truck was hot and uncomfortably silent. My fingers were white, and I realized I must be really upset; I wasn’t even cold. Someone had just talked crap about me in front of the coolest kids in school.
When I pulled down the mirror, I saw the malar rash was back on my face. My anger turned to something closer to fear as a small tremor shuddered through me. What was going to happen now?
Greg cranked the car but looked at me. “We used to be best friends, but he’s really turning into an asshole. He’s worse when he drinks.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t drink.”
“You’re probably right.” He sighed again. “I’ve told him the same thing. It’s hard to watch someone you’ve been friends with for years become someone you can’t stand.”
I went silent, not knowing how to respond. If it had been Jeff, my heart would be so hurt.
“Why your parents divorced and why you moved here is your own business.”
“My parents...I was a mistake,” I said. “They never married.” He’d been honest about his friendship with Luke falling apart. It only seemed fair for me to do the same. Especially since his dad likely knew how young mine was.
“Ray—”
“My dad was doing his Ph.D. at the London School of Economics, and my mom was a college sophomore. I used to only see him a few weeks a year. Most of that was flying back and forth to see my grandparents in Sweden. I wanted to get to know my dad. That’s why I moved here.” It was part of the reason. People would obviously talk anyway.
“Ray, I’m really fucking sorry.”
In the silence, the shame of knowing my parents hadn’t wanted me filled me as much as the disintegration of Greg’s turbulent friendship with Luke. Both made for a tediously long drive back. I looked twice at my face, spotting the malar rash on my cheeks.
“I’m sorry again,” Greg said when we got to the condo. “I wish today had been more fun.”
I could tell he meant it. “It’s fine. I just don’t like your friend. You seem nice, Greg. Don’t let him pull you down with him.”