“Just things you’ve said. A lot of the time when you do something you think I won’t approve of, you seem to blame her. Now, a part of that is on you for not owning up to your mistakes, but also, if there’s some truth in what you’re saying, she’s not a healthy person to be around.”
The dog walked in from the living room. Spotting me, he ran over and rested his head on my lap. Stroking him made me feel a little better. “Have you ever been in this situation before?”
“More times than I probably think. We don’t always know it’s happening. Most people aren’t destined to be in our lives forever. We grow apart. That’s just how it is.”
“Does it get easier?”
“No, but you learn to recognize the signs so that you know what to do next time.”
“When was the last time it happened to you?”
“Boy, I haven’t had friends that I’m not related to in years,” he said with a laugh.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush.
“It’s not your fault; it’s mine. I’m the one that pushed everyone away because I was drinking too much.”
“Oh.”
“If there’s one lesson for you to take away from my past, let it be this: don’t let your drinking ruin your friendships. Alcohol might be there for you during the tough times, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a good friend.”
*
I needed to find myself some better friends. So I decided to find friends the only way I knew how: by organizing a party. I also accidentally on purpose forgot to invite Melrose and Juniper.
I put out a couple of nibbles—nothing crazy, people could bring their own food, I wasn’t dealing with allergies and intolerances and dietary preferences and all of that bullshit—then I turned up the music and waited for people to arrive.
And I have to say, it was one of the best turnouts I’d ever had. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because it was the Friday after payday. That always puts people in a party mood.
Whatever, I didn’t care.
What mattered was that I had people I could hang out with. They’d bring their own alcohol and drugs and I could make myself feel better by finding one or two things to take. Maybe I could find someone to keep my bed warm for the night, too.
The front door was left open so that people could come and go as they wanted to. It was getting warmer; the breeze from the open door helped to keep the house cool. Having an open-plan house helped too. Except when it was filled with people.
I cranked up the music to drown out the emptiness and confusion inside. Even playing my favorite trance songs didn’t help as much as usual. I was too busy anticipating Melrose’s arrival. Why had I decided to not invite her? It was inevitable she’d show up anyway. And since she hadn’t been invited, I’d get the third degree about what had happened to her invite.
And, inevitably, she did arrive, with her sort-of girlfriend Juniper in tow. It was hard to miss them with Melrose’s scarlet hair and Juniper’s blue hair. They both loved their statement hair and makeup, but they also hated it when you commented on it too much. Or at least, they made out like they did. I didn’t get it.
Melrose found me as I returned to my sound system. That was the downside to being the DJ: you were always easy to find. “Nice party.”
“Thanks,” I said. I put a new record on the turntable, then adjusted some settings on my laptop. I loved combining the sound and feel of old music with the technology of new music.
“I guess you forgot to include us in your text about it,” said Juniper, walking up to Melrose and putting her arm around her.
“Um, yeah. You know what it’s like when you’re inviting loads of people,” I lied.
“Yeah.” Melrose nodded, but her jaw was tight and her arms were crossed. She was pissed all right.
“I’d better get back to the music. This is the last song on the playlist,” I said.
“We wouldn’t want the music to stop, would we?” said Juniper.
I pushed past them—sort of intentionally and sort of because it was so crowded—and returned to the safety of my decks. My heart slowed as soon as I was away from the crowds and the confrontation with Melrose and Juniper. Why had I bothered not inviting them when I knew they’d come anyway? It was like they had a radar for parties or something.
I added a couple more songs to the playlist, then closed my eyes and focused on the music.
“Hey, could you play that song you did with Tate Gardener?”
I looked down to find the source of the voice. It wasn’t someone I knew, but she was hot. She had long, dark hair and bright green eyes. The glint in her eye suggested that her request wasn’t malicious; she was teasing me.
“Who said I do requests?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Well, when someone requests a song that I wrote with my ex-girlfriend at my house party, it kinda kills the mood,” I said. Who even used that as a pickup line? Something about her was off, but she was hot.
“But that line about sneaking away for one last kiss. It’s so…” She smacked her lips together. They were painted a blood red.
“What’s in it for me if I play it?”
She smirked. “Why don’t you play it and find out?”
“I’m not really one for surprises. I’d rather get a taste of what’s to come before I take a risk,” I said.
She smacked her lips together again, then stepped closer to me. She leaned in and whispered into my ear: “Meet me upstairs in five?”
I grinned. That I could do.
*
I scheduled enough songs to cover an hour or so, then I went upstairs. She was waiting at the top of the stairs, a broad grin on her face. I took her hand and led her into my bedroom. Melrose and Juniper were in there, giggling. When they saw me and the woman, they pushed past us and left.
As soon as we were alone, her lips were on mine. They were soft but dry; that lipstick wasn’t coming off, that was for sure. She kissed my neck, then began to unfasten my jeans. I undid my belt buckle and helped her as she pulled my jeans and boxers down. Well that was fast. Not that I was complaining.
She kissed down my body, stopping just below my belly button. There was a mischievous grin on her face. It wasn’t long before there was one on mine, too.
*
I’d been so distracted by what was going on in my bedroom that it wasn’t until we were finished that I noticed someone had changed my playlist. Everyone at my parties knew my sound system was off-limits. Who’d touched it?
“Call me? My name’s Sharon,” she said, scribbling her phone number on a piece of paper from her pocket and passing it to me.
“Sure,” I lied. I never called people after sex. It just complicated things.
She flashed me one last grin, then went downstairs. I tidied myself up, then exited my bedroom too. Around the same time, Melrose, Juniper, and a couple of others I didn’t know walked out of the bathroom, laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I said.
“Nothing,” said Juniper, cackling as the four of them walked away.
If that wasn’t suspicious, I didn’t know what was.
But I had more pressing matters to deal with. Who’d been messing with my sound system?
I didn’t know why I was surprised to find Juniper’s phone plugged into my speakers. I recognized it because of the anime case that she had on it. I didn’t know what anime it was from. She’d tried to tell me once, but I hadn’t cared, mostly because it was hers.
I unplugged it and started playing my music again. The party cheered. Well, at least I knew they liked my music. Even if most of them had probably been at the same party where I’d broken my arm and not cared.
No, that wasn’t their fault. They’d probably just panicked and not known what to do.
I turned the music up some more to try to drown out my thoughts. Then I went to get another drink from the kitchen. Someone had taken everything that was left and organized it neatly along the counter. There wa
sn’t much, but I’d take what I could get. I picked up the strongest beer I could find then went back to my decks. A few sips later, I felt a little better. Not amazingly so, but a little.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, downing my beer. It had a numbing feeling to it that made me feel way better.
“Excuse me?”
I opened one eye and turned my head to look at the person standing beside me. Oh shit. He was wearing a police uniform. OK, stay calm. Don’t overreact. Make sure they can see what I’m doing at all times. Don’t give them a reason to get pissed off.
“We’ve received a noise complaint about this residence. We were told you’re the owner. You’ll need to shut the party down.”
“Aww man!” I said. I resisted the urge to protest. Drunk as I was, I was still in enough control to know that protesting against a police officer wouldn’t end well.
“It’s time to wrap things up,” he said, his expression tight.
He was being polite, I’d give him that. But I knew all too well that it wouldn’t take much for him to turn nasty. That was a risk I wasn’t drunk enough to take.
I sighed, then turned off the music. The crowd booed, as I knew they would. “Sorry everyone, the police have had a noise complaint. Time to go.”
The crowd booed some more.
“We’ll carry on at my place!” said Juniper. “Everyone’s invited!”
The crowd cheered.
I rolled my eyes. Always trying to look like the best, coolest person around. Of course she’d be the one to save the day. Even if her place wasn’t big enough to hold even a quarter of the people there.
“Come on, everyone out,” said the police officer, trying to hurry things along.
When they’d all gone ten minutes later, I was amazed at how much better I felt. I had peace. And it turned out that I’d needed that more than I thought.
10
Tate
The holidays are here
It’s my favorite time of year
So let’s put the music on
Then give me your hand; let’s dance along.
— “Holidays are Here,” Tate Gardener
The best thing about the holidays was that it meant my friends who’d been away filming were back for a couple of days. I got to hang out with Liam for a couple of hours when he got back from filming his latest movie. He had a tight-knit family, so he sort-of understood how I was feeling with my family falling apart, given that he couldn’t imagine it happening to his family.
I was dreading the holidays. What was I supposed to do? Split them and spend half with my mom and half with my dad? Ugh. I so didn’t want to do that. I’d been trying to figure out what to do for weeks as Thanksgiving loomed, but I hadn’t come up with anything that worked.
“What are you doing for the holidays?” asked Liam as we lounged on his sofa eating vegan ice cream.
“Hibernating,” I mumbled.
He stared at me, waiting for me to elaborate.
I sighed. “It’s the first holiday with my parents separated. The first one since I found out I’m adopted. What can I even do?”
“Could you hang out with Trinity? I’d invite you to our place but my mom gets weird about non-family joining us,” said Liam.
“It’s OK,” I said. “Trinity likes to be alone. I tried for years to get her to come to our house for the holidays, but she’s in the habit of spending them on her own. I thought I’d see what the fascination is all about.”
“Do you think your parents will go for that?”
I scoffed. “No. No I do not.”
*
And they did not.
I thought they’d try to work something out so that I spent Thanksgiving with one of them and Christmas with the other. That seemed like the logical solution.
That wasn’t the solution I got.
They decided that the best thing to do was to pretend nothing had changed by having Thanksgiving just like we always had: the three of us. I cringed at the thought. It felt disingenuous. But no matter how much I protested, they insisted. Funny how they could present a united front even though they hated each other enough to get divorced.
Or not present a united front apparently, since as I walked into Mom’s new apartment, I heard them arguing in the kitchen. I crept to the closed kitchen door and leaned in so that I could hear them better.
“What were you thinking, asking her to help sort through your things? Of all the people you could’ve asked!”
“I was trying to keep her busy! It’s not like people are lining up to work with her right now!”
Wow. Low.
“And whose fault is that?”
“What, you’re saying it’s mine? After all these years and you’re blaming me for the one time nobody wants to work with her?” said Mom, her voice rising. It was no wonder they hadn’t heard me enter the apartment with how loud they were. If they got any louder, half of New York would be able to hear them.
“You let her go off on her own! And look what happened!”
“I’m sorry, who’s in charge of her show that got canceled? Oh. Right. You.”
“You know I don’t have any control over that!” said Dad.
Mom scoffed. “You have more control than you let on and you know it. Or you could come up with another show for her to star in like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“She doesn’t want that! And what lesson are we teaching her if I do that?”
“The same one you’ve been teaching the poor girl her whole life? That if she asks you to do something for her, you will? That she doesn’t have to work for anything because her daddy will solve all her problems?”
“Maybe if I didn’t feel so guilty for lying to her for her whole life I wouldn’t have bailed her out so often!”
I’m not sure who gasped harder at that—Mom or me. They were so busy arguing they still hadn’t notice me hiding behind the door.
“You could’ve told her at any time and you know it,” said Mom.
“And what would that have done? Ruined our marriage sooner or made Tate hate you sooner?”
I’d never heard them argue like that before. I wasn’t sure whether to let them know I was there so that it would get them to calm down (I hoped) or let them argue it out. What were you supposed to do in a situation like that?
“She doesn’t hate me,” said Mom pointedly. I imagined her straightening herself up into a defensive pose. And she was right, I didn’t hate her. But it was damned close.
“Then why has she barely spoken to you the last few months?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have told him that…
“She just needs space to think, that’s all,” said Mom. Which was true. Listening to them arguing about me during the holidays wasn’t helping.
Dad sighed. “Who are you kidding? Maybe if you woke up to what’s really going on around you and stopped living in your own little dreamland you’d see what’s really happening here.”
“And what’s that, Victor? That you were never here for our daughter, yet you’re still the favorite parent? Save me the lecture. It’s not like you know anything about parenting.”
“Apparently neither do you.”
Footsteps. I ran from the door and back into the living room, making a show of opening the front door loudly.
“Hey honey,” said Mom, emerging from the kitchen. She gave no indication that she’d just come from an argument like that. It didn’t even look like she’d been crying, which was interesting, as I could’ve sworn I’d heard her voice wobble once or twice in the kitchen.
She hugged me. I cringed, still struggling with the whole lying thing. Could I have pretended to be ill, or would they have just brought Thanksgiving to me?
“How was your drive over?” she asked.
“Um…fine.”
She never asked questions like that. It wasn’t like I was far away.
“Perhaps you should make it more often,” she said.
Ah, there it was.
<
br /> “Perhaps you shouldn’t have lied to me for twenty years,” I suggested, walking past her and into the kitchen before she could say any more.
Dad was making a coffee using the machine when I walked in. “Hi sweetheart,” he said. He gave me a hug and kissed my forehead. “How are you?”
“I’m OK,” I said. “You?”
“Excited for my next project. I’ll be away over Christmas, though,” he said.
“Oh. That sucks.” I’d secretly hoped to spend Christmas with him. “Where will you be?”
“London,” he said.
“Not as remote as usual, then,” I said. He had a habit of picking movies that filmed in far-off locations instead of, you know, a studio in the middle of civilization.
“Not this time,” he said with a laugh. “We all need a change of habit sometimes.” He looked around the kitchen. “Where’s your mom? I assumed she’d follow you in.”
“I may have made a comment that she didn’t like,” I said innocently.
“Tate,” said Dad flatly.
“What?”
“You can’t punish her and let me off the hook.”
“Oh I’m still annoyed at you, too, but it wasn’t your idea. And I didn’t find out because of you. Nor did you try to justify it instead of just apologizing like a normal person.”
The kitchen door slammed. Oh shit.
“She heard that, didn’t she?” I said.
He nodded. “She walked in as you said you didn’t find out because of me.”
“So she didn’t hear the whole thing, then.”
“No, just the worst part,” he said. “She’s more sensitive than you think. You should give her more of a chance.”
“What, so that she can keep acting like a baby? So that she can keep babying me?”
“She’s just doing what she thinks is best,” said Dad.
Whoa.
I leaned against the counter, having flashbacks to a conversation I’d had with Jack. He’d told me the way I was trying to help Trinity was what I wanted, not what she needed. Was that what my mother was doing to me? Was that where I’d gotten it from?
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