Luckily we were next in line to order, so I was saved from having to answer right away. This gave me time to figure out what I could possibly say to make her understand why I didn’t think I’d be doing anything for New Year’s Eve this year. But by the time we’d found a table and settled in with our fries, I still wasn’t any closer to an answer. For her or for myself.
Things with Michael were strained to say the least. Not only was he stressed about Josh—who was slipping back into his old ways at an alarming pace—but it had been five days since the canned worm explosion and nothing had really been resolved. When he’d dropped me off the night of his parents’ party, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, I’d climbed out of the car knowing that from that moment on everything would be different. Awkward. And it was. We still saw each other every day, spent time either alone or with friends or with my family or his, but every second seemed loaded with unspoken words and anxiety over exactly when the other shoe would drop. We didn’t talk about Lauren or Dylan, but they were always present in the background, the elephants in the room that we both saw but didn’t mention. I knew that any day now, those elephants were going to grow tired of being ignored and start a stampede.
And there was no way to predict the intensity of their destruction, or what would be left standing by the time the New Year rolled around.
“I’m not sure what our plans are,” I said to Robin now, and then I told her everything while she sat there, eyes huge, unconsciously shoveling fries into her mouth.
“Wow,” she said when I finished. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I gave her a look that said How could I tell you when I can barely even get you on the phone these days? “Now you know. We’re not as perfect for each other as you always thought.”
“You are, though. That’s why you guys will get through this, like you got through every other test in your relationship. This is just another bump in the road.”
“I don’t know. This isn’t the same as some bitchy girl flirting with him or my mom trying to forbid me from seeing him. I don’t know if we’ll bounce back from this one.”
“Don’t say that.” She stretched out her legs, which were clad in dark skinny jeans and those crazy Catwoman boots. “Look, to be totally honest with you, I can’t imagine being with one guy for as long as you’ve been with Michael. But what you guys have is rare, Tay. You are perfect for each other. I knew it from the beginning and so did you.”
“If we’re so perfect together, then why is this happening? We shouldn’t have other people coming between us just because he went away to college.”
“Jesus, Taylor, cut yourself some slack. You guys aren’t married. You both have a pulse. Feeling attracted to other people isn’t a mortal sin, you know. The most solid couples in the world go through this once in a while. I bet your dad checks out hot college chicks all the time at work.”
I cringed. “Robin. I’m trying to eat here.”
“It’s true.”
Maybe it was true, but that didn’t make it any less traumatic. Besides, Michael and I had gone beyond simply checking out the opposite sex; everyone did that, committed or not. But not everyone allowed it to go further, past the superficial stage. Not everyone felt secure enough in their relationship to keep it from happening in the first place.
We finished our fries and left, Robin texting like mad right up until we got in the car. “Can you drop me at Isabelle’s?” she asked, flipping down the visor to check her teeth for potato gunk.
“I guess so.” I’d been hoping we could spend more time together, though I realized by now that I’d become the “time killer” friend, the one you only hung around with when you had nothing more exciting going on.
We drove to Redwood Hills and stopped in front of Isabelle’s house, which was decorated to the hilt with soft white lights. The driveway was empty, and I wondered briefly if her parents had left her alone for Christmas.
“Want to come in?” Robin asked, gathering her purse and phone. “We’re going to make pear martinis and watch Food TV all night. Izzie’s bonkers over those cooking shows.”
“No, thanks. I have plans for later.”
“Oh,” she said, not bothering to ask what they were. “Well, thanks for the lift. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Yep,” I said, not bothering to add that I wouldn’t hold my breath. “Hey, if you want, you can spend Christmas at Dad’s with me. I’ll be there until the twenty-sixth. Let me know tomorrow, okay?”
She swung the door shut. “Sure, if I survive Brady hell.”
Waving, I pulled away from the curb and pointed the car in the direction of home. It felt weird being in Redwood Hills when I wasn’t going to Michael’s house. He’d been gone all day, visiting some of his many relatives, but we’d planned to meet up later at R.J.’s house.
At home I found my father and stepmother in the kitchen, cooking dinner together. Lynn was doing the bulk of the work while Dad did the little tasks, like washing lettuce and setting the oven timer. When I offered to help they brushed me off, but not in an unwelcoming way. Still, I felt the way I always did when I was in the presence of my dad and stepmom together like this—superfluous. An outsider. Barred from the cohesive circle that always surrounded them.
As I watched them working together so fluidly, anticipating each other’s moves before they happened, I couldn’t imagine either of them having eyes for anyone but each other.
****
Four hours later I was standing on R.J.’s front steps, in the cold, waiting for someone to answer my knock. After what seemed like forever, the door swung open and there stood R.J., beer bottle in hand. I hadn’t seen him—or any of Michael’s crowd, for that matter—since August. Most of them had gone away to college, and those who hadn’t were off doing exotic things like trekking around Peru on their parents’ dime.
“Oh, Taylor, hey.” R.J. moved aside to let me in. “Sorry, didn’t hear the door. We’re downstairs.”
I followed him through the messy kitchen and down to the finished basement where everyone usually gathered. It was like a tavern down there with the pool table, stocked bar, and dark wood floors. Right outside the bathroom was where Michael and I had spoken to each other for the very first time, fourteen months ago. In the beginning, I never expected we’d make it so far.
“Look who I found,” R.J. said as we walked into the basement.
There were several people scattered around the room but my eyes latched onto Michael, who was sprawled on the couch with a beer in one hand, talking to Ethan and Jeremy. “Hey,” he said when he saw me, and then he gave me the smile he’d been using all week, the one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The one that made my stomach hurt.
I went over to him and he sat up, making room for me. Everyone else greeted me and I joined in on the cheerful banter, all the while pretending that everything was awesome and normal. From the way R.J. kept glancing at us—or trying not to, more like—it was obvious that Michael had talked to him about us. About me. That didn’t bother me, but I hoped Michael’s friends didn’t think I was the only offender here.
The night wore on endlessly. I was in a room surrounded by dozens of people, including my boyfriend, but all I felt was lonely. Michael had never shut me out like this before. We’d had our share of problems, but we’d always made an effort to discuss them. Right now, my need for a resolution to this issue was like an air-blocking bulge in my throat. An obstruction. And whatever waited on the other side of it, good or bad, it had to be better than going on like this.
I made up some flimsy excuse for going upstairs, knowing Michael would see through it and follow me. And he did, even though the several beers he’d consumed had no doubt dulled his perception. Michael didn’t usually drink so much, at least not around me, but I chalked it up to one more thing I didn’t know about him anymore.
We went into the guest room, a spot we’d utilized many times before, and locked the door behind us. Michael reached for m
e in the darkness, easing me against his body. His mouth was cool and slightly bitter-tasting from the beer, but after a minute I stopped noticing. All that registered was the warmth of his hands on my skin, the solid weight of him as we sank into the soft mattress.
It wasn’t until we were halfway into it that I realized it wasn’t working anymore. At some point a wall had gone up between us, blocking what little connection we had left. Michael rolled off me and sighed.
“Maybe we should go,” he said, sounding utterly depressed.
I lay there shivering as the cool air hit my skin. All I could manage was, “Are you staying here tonight or do you want me to drive you home?”
“Home.”
We got dressed and went back down to the basement, where we made up yet another excuse to leave. People seemed to pick up on the bad vibe and let us go without comment, probably hoping that the next time they saw us, we’d be back to normal.
Normal, I thought as Michael and I walked to my car. What was normal for us, anyway? I flashed on the night he came over to my dad’s house, the first time I’d seen him in two long months, and how effortlessly we had slipped back into our respective roles. We’d picked up right where we’d left off, even with all that happened.
Denial. Was that our normal now?
It was snowing, tiny light flakes that melted when they hit the pavement. If it had been any other time, any other night, I would have wondered aloud at the possibility of a white Christmas. But I got into the car without a word.
“That’s never happened to me before,” Michael said as we rolled along the water-slicked streets to his house.
I assumed he meant what had happened—or hadn’t happened—in R.J.’s guest room. “Well, you did have like five beers.”
He didn’t comment. We both knew alcohol wasn’t the problem here.
We arrived at his house in no time. I pulled into the driveway next to Josh’s Mustang, debating on whether I should leave the motor running or shut it off and invite myself in so we could talk. I decided to remain idle and wait for Michael to take action. If he didn’t want me around, I wasn’t going to force it. But he made no move to leave the car, so I turned it off. The heat seemed to dissipate almost immediately. We sat in silence for a few minutes, each of us entranced by the snowflakes as they landed on the windshield. They would keep their shape for a second or two, then dissolve into rain.
“I want to know about that guy.”
The abruptness of his voice startled me. “What?”
“The guy who—.” He stopped, glancing at me, his eyes glassy from the beer and miserable from everything else. “Do I have to say it?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Tell me his name.”
Now I was pissed. Had he forgotten his part in all this? “Why?” I said. “So you can find him and beat him up like some Neanderthal caveman?” Even as I was saying this, I understood why he’d want to do just that. I’d had plenty of violent thoughts about Lauren. “Nothing happened with him, Michael. I haven’t betrayed you any more than you’ve betrayed me. God, I’ve been ignoring him for weeks because I feel guilty just talking to him. What else can I do? Change schools?”
Michael’s jaw was twitching like crazy. He’d shaved off his stubble earlier, which made the slight movement even more noticeable. “It kills me to think about you with someone else,” he said, rubbing the side of his face as if soothing the spasms away. “I can’t stand it.”
I blinked back some angry tears. “How do you think I feel when I call you and there’s some girl in your room?”
He didn’t answer and we grew quiet again. It was getting cold so I put my gloves back on, crossed my arms. Michael shifted in his seat. My car always felt so much smaller with his tall frame inside it, as if it were shrinking bit by bit, adjusting itself around him.
“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he said, sounding exhausted.
“Me either.”
For a long time after, I would remember exactly how he looked right then, the way his hands lay in his lap, clenched into fists. I’d remember the air in the car and how it grew heavier and thicker until I felt crushed under the weight of it, unable to draw a full breath. I’d remember his face when he finally looked at me and said the words I’d been waiting to hear since the day he left for Avery:
“Maybe we should take a break for a while.”
It all hit me then. Long-distance relationships didn’t work. They were virtually impossible to sustain. We’d been fools to even try.
“A break,” I said, trying it out on my tongue. It tasted acidic. Foreign. “Does this so-called break involve seeing other people?”
“If that’s what you want.”
What I want? What about what we want? But that didn’t matter anymore.
“Okay,” I said.
And just like that, we were through.
Chapter 13
“You smell like alfredo sauce,” Lia told me when I stopped in front of her on the sidewalk.
“I must’ve spilled some on myself.” I’d just finished a four-hour shift at Moretti’s and hadn’t bothered to change out of my uniform. For what we were about to do, it didn’t matter what I looked (or smelled) like anyway.
“Don’t be scared,” Lia said, patting my arm. “It’s not going to hurt that much.”
“I’m not scared.”
She turned and led me into Cascades Spa, a tiny space located in a strip mall between an animal hospital and a smoothie bar. Inside, it was modern and sleek and smelled like nail polish.
“Hi, Mom!” Lia called to the bone-thin woman walking across the hardwood floor toward us, her spiked heels clacking on the polished surface. She had short black hair and deeply-tanned skin. Lia looked at me and said, “My mom is, like, the best esthetician in Weldon. You can trust her.”
“Oh, Lia, stop,” her mom said, waving her hand. Her nails were long and manicured like Lia’s. “I wouldn’t say I’m the best but I do okay.” She turned her dark brown eyes on me, Lia’s eyes, and appraised me as if I were a complex painting in an art museum. “What would you like to have done, hon?”
I turned to Lia, waiting for some help. “Brow wax,” she said.
Lia’s mom nodded and took me to her waxing room, sitting me down in a big padded chair. Lia came in too, for moral support.
“I’m Patricia, by the way,” her mom said, running her cold fingers over my eyebrows.
“I’m Taylor.”
“Lia says you two know each other from school. It’s nice to see a new face around here. I’m not saying Jessica and Mallory aren’t delightful, but I’m always telling Lia she should branch out and make other friends.”
“Mom!” Lia said, rolling her eyes skyward. “You make me sound like I’m this huge loser.”
Patricia smiled, revealing a set of ultra straight, ultra white teeth. I could see where Lia got her preoccupation with appearances. That preoccupation was the only reason I was at a salon at eight-thirty on a Thursday night in the first place, when what I really wanted to do was go home and go to bed. But Lia had been persistent, and I gave in for two reasons—1) because my brows were getting out of control, and 2) she’d done a lot for me in the past month and I felt like I owed her.
My bonding with Lia had surprised me. She’d always been Jess’s friend, the girl with the amazing hair who inserted the word “like” into every other sentence and called girls she didn’t like “skank hoes”. I’d always suspected that she was a lot nicer than she let on, but it wasn’t until school started up again after Christmas vacation that my hunch was officially confirmed.
At that point I was still reliving what happened with Michael over and over in my head. The breaking up wasn’t even the worst part. It was the after. I felt numb that night as I backed out of his driveway and onto the street. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I was almost out of Redwood Hills and could no longer see the road in front of me. I had to pull over into a Wendy’s parking lot and stay ther
e until I got myself together.
But by the time school started over a week later, I still hadn’t gotten myself together. All my friends knew about the break-up, but they’d all had different reactions. Ashley was Ashley, meaning she understood my pain but wanted me to suck it up at the same time. Brooke was kind as usual but she was busy with the school musical and Alex. Robin had fallen off the face of the earth. Jessica was sympathetic at first but quickly grew impatient with me, even going as far as to suggest that I’d lost my sense of humor along with my boyfriend. Part of her attitude stemmed from the grudge she was still holding over the Holiday Dance, when I’d left without letting her know. And because Jessica felt rebuffed, Mallory did too.
But not Lia. For the first time since I’d known the three of them, she didn’t follow their lead. Instead, she provided me with an ear and a shoulder. She let me act depressed when I wanted to act depressed. She convinced me not to call Michael whenever I missed him so much it hurt, and she was always ready with a scornful insult when we talked about Lauren or any other girl he may have been seeing by now. She’d risked rejection and reprisal to be there for me, and I figured I at least owed her the satisfaction of witnessing my brow makeover while throwing her mom some business at the same time.
“This may sting a little,” Lia’s mother said now as she patted the waxing strips into place. “Ready?”
I braced myself. “Ready.”
Rip. Hot pain shot through my entire face, making my eyes water. When the second rip came, I was still reeling from the first. Now both eyes were streaming.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lia said cheerfully.
When I was able to open my eyes, I glowered at her. Patricia held a mirror up to my face so I could survey her work. The skin around my eyebrows looked like raw hamburger, but the brows themselves were shaped to perfection. I wiped my eyes and smiled through the pain. “Thanks.”
“The swelling and redness will go away in a few days,” Patricia said.
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