The Truth About Faking

by Leigh Talbert Moore

  “What?” he says.

  I realize I’m staring and look down. “Back on Sunday you wanted to talk,” I say. “What about?”

  He swirls his cup a few seconds then puts it down. “I wish we could go somewhere else first.”

  I study my half-drunk beverage and decide I’m finished. “This was really good, but I feel full all of a sudden. Or I’ve had enough.”

  His blue eyes move from my hand to my face, and then meet my eyes. Something is very open and vulnerable in his expression. He’s like a little boy who just saw something super-scary or something he really wants to do. I can’t tell which it is. Maybe both?

  He reaches across the table and I take his hand. We walk out to our cars, and he says he’ll follow me to my house. I shrug and agree, and once we’re there, he meets me on our front steps.

  “Would you walk with me?” he asks. “This is a nice neighborhood for walking.”

  I glance up the street at the quiet sidewalks and dim yellow streetlights. I’ve never really thought about it, but it’s true.

  “Sure,” I say. We start walking in the direction of the newer houses, in the direction of the creek. He never takes my hand, so I cross one arm over my waist as I look ahead. His phone buzzes again softly.

  “You think that’s something urgent?” I ask nodding toward his pocket.

  “Huh?” At least he pretends not to know what the strange sound is. “Oh… No. It’s just a friend.”

  “The same friend who was texting you at the movie?”

  “You saw that?”

  “Mm hm.”

  We’re quiet again, walking, but I’m growing tired of this. “So is it a girlfriend?”

  “Huh?”

  “The texting?”

  “Oh, no. No,” he looks down. “It’s just this guy.” In the dim light I swear I see his face turn pink. “I mean… yeah,” he continues, like he’s just learning to speak English. “This guy. He’s always forwarding funny jokes and stuff.”

  “A guy?” I ask. “Is it somebody I know?”

  “Uh… no.” Trent seems nervous for the first time all night, and I feel that wave of something coming. The same something I felt in the coffee shop.

  “I like jokes,” I say, trying to ease the tension. “Read me one.”

  “Oh, well… it’s not something you’d get.”

  “Too dirty?” I smile.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just inside stuff. You know.”

  I don’t, but I don’t question him.

  “I thought maybe it was Stephanie.”

  “Stephanie? Why would she be texting me?”

  “Oh you know, because you guys dated and… well, she asked about you.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Nothing, really.” I try to remember what she did say. “She just asked if we were going out again. That’s all.”

  He seems to relax at that. We’d turned while we were walking, and now we’re back at my house again standing by his car.

  “Harley,” he starts then stops. He reaches forward and lifts the door handle, holding it open for me. “Can I talk to you just a little bit more?”

  “Sure.” I shrug and get in the car. He runs around and gets in, too, but he doesn’t start the engine. Instead he faces me. Then he turns away again. Then he takes a deep breath and faces me again.

  “You know that thing about your mom?” he starts. “What did you think about that?”

  “What?” His behavior is so bizarre, I don’t understand the question.

  “I mean the thing with Ricky and all. What did you think?”

  “You mean about whether my mom and Ricky were having an affair? I was humiliated. And scared. And mad—”

  “Not that,” he interrupts. Then his voice drops. “I mean, about him saying he’s gay.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

  It’s true. I’ve thought a lot about my mom, and I’ve been angry with her for choosing loyalty to Ricky over Dad and me. But I haven’t really thought much about the other part of the story. Other than how Ricky’s revelation also outed Mrs. Perkins.

  “What if…” Trent’s voice is so quiet I have to lean in close. “What if someone you know is like that?”

  “Well, I know Ricky. I mean he’s been at my house for almost a year—”

  “I mean, what if it’s someone…” he looks up at me then, and his lavender-blue eyes are serious. “Like me.”

  He’s staring at me, watching my every move, waiting for my reaction.

  “Trent,” I feel like I’m waking up from a dream, but not a completely unexpected dream. Still, I’m not sure I’m hearing it right. “Are you saying you’re—”

  “Like Ricky,” he says.

  I just stare at him. “You’re gay?” I whisper.

  He looks down. “Yes. I mean, I think so.”

  “You think so?” I don’t want to make him feel weird, but it seems like that would be something you’d know.

  He nods.

  “But you dated Stephanie for so long.”

  “Yeah,” he sort of laughs. “She probably knows. I mean, because I never… I never wanted to—”

  “But why would you think that?” I interrupt. For some reason, a part of me can’t accept this so fast. Not about my one-time Mr. Right, hottie-future-husband. As far as I know, he’s only dated Stephanie. And me, sort of. I guess. Of course, he’s only been in Shadow Falls eighteen months, but still. It’s too soon for me to accept he’s on the other team.

  “You just know,” he says.

  I shake my head. “But… how?”

  “I don’t know. You just do,” he says again. “Like, well, look at you. You’re really beautiful and sweet. And I should want to kiss you, right?”

  “I guess.” I feel self-conscious that he said I’m beautiful and that he’s thinking about kissing me. Then I remember our one awful kiss. “But that wasn’t… maybe you just need more practice.”

  “But I don’t want to practice,” he says looking at me. “At least, not with you.”

  I feel my face get hot. “So was I like your last try? Did I make you decide—”

  He starts to laugh. “No! That’s not how it works.”

  He laughs a little more, then he stops and leans his head back. He takes a deep breath and turns to me with a smile like I’m somebody new. Somebody he’s just met for the first time and not Harley Andrews who he’s known since sophomore year.

  “I can’t believe I just told you that,” he says. “That I just said it out loud to you.”

  I can’t believe it either. Even if I almost guessed it, I’m still not ready to believe it.

  “Why did you?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “You’re just… you’ve always been so nice to me. Like after class and stuff. You always seem to care. And you have the sweetest smile.”

  Wow. Talk about backfires.

  “And that day outside the gym, remember that?” he asks.

  I nod. How could I forget? I’ve been living on that day since it happened.

  “I saw you were different from them. From Stephanie,” he says. “I knew you’d understand what it’s like to feel afraid, or like you don’t fit in.”

  I remember our conversation the night of our one awful kiss, and him talking about his dad and being on the football team. I glance up at him, and realize how much he’s saying to me now. Like he’s finally getting a chance to speak.

  “Then when I saw how your mom was with Ricky,” he says. “I figured if he was safe with her, if he could trust her…”

  “Then you could trust me.” I finish softly.

  “Can I trust you, Harley?” He looks at me, and again, his eyes are so earnest. He’s just told me what might be the most important thing in his life, and I’m not sure I deserve to know it. I suddenly feel very protective of him.

  “Yes! Of course,” I say. “But what does that mean?”

  “I just… I’m s
till figuring things out,” he says, looking down again. “And I’m not ready for everybody to know yet.”

  “But you just told me.”

  “I know, but that’s because, well, with the texting and the kissing, I couldn’t keep lying to you.”

  “You could’ve just not asked me out again.” It seems the most obvious solution to me.

  “I know. But,” he hesitates. “I needed to tell somebody. And I like talking to you.”

  He likes talking to me? This is the most he’s said to me in like, ever.

  “So you didn’t tell Stephanie?”

  “I couldn’t tell her this. And my mom has no idea,” he pauses. “If she knew…”

  He doesn’t finish the sentence, but I have a feeling I can guess what she’d say. After what he’s told me about her and what she tried to do to my mom, I feel like I can understand him not wanting to tell her. At least not until he’s ready.

  “So I’m the only person who knows?”

  “And Ricky.”

  “Ricky!”

  “Yeah. I kind of asked him for his advice.”

  That makes sense, I guess.

  “And now he’s gone,” Trent says softly.

  I glance at him and the sadness is back in his eyes. It reminds me of how I feel about Jason. I miss him so much.

  “Jason’s dad’s a psychiatrist.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes flash in a way I’ve never seen before.

  “I mean, Jason just said he’s a good listener.”

  “It’s his dad, Harley.”

  I want to die. I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  “I don’t have mental problems.”

  “No! Of course you don’t.”

  I’m quiet then. I look down at my hands and wonder if I should get out of the car now. We sit a moment in awkward silence, until Trent chuckles.

  “You’re not so good at this,” he says.

  I exhale in relief. “I know! I just… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he says, reaching over and tugging my braid.

  I smile, relieved. “But I won’t tell anybody. You can trust me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’d better go now.” I reach for the door handle.

  It doesn’t make sense, considering how I feel about Jason and how my feelings for Trent have evolved, but I really want to go inside and cry. Not because my heart is broken exactly, but because I spent so much time dreaming about a future husband who never really existed.

  But before I can go, Trent leans forward and this time, instead of a peck on the cheek, he pulls me into a hug. It’s warm and grateful, and as I hug him back, I realize it’s all okay. I’m not angry or hurt or anything. I’m glad he told me. And so I spent a year daydreaming, praying, and obsessing about a guy who has absolutely zero interest in me that way. Or possibly any girl for that matter. I’m not the first female in history to do it.

  Then I realize what else just happened. I just sat in a car outside my house, alone, with a boy who just told me the biggest secret of his life. A secret he asked me not to tell anyone, and I agreed. And then he pulled me into a long embrace, which I suppose to anyone outside probably looked like we were making out. And boy, would they be wrong.

  I turn and stare at my house for a few seconds and consider running inside to wake my mom. I want to hug her and cry and tell her I understand now. But I don’t. It’s late, and I’m exhausted. We can talk in the morning, and after that, I can’t wait to find Jason. I close my eyes, picturing his face. Tomorrow I’ll find him and kiss him and tell him we can be together, and we’ll be so happy.

  Fifteen

  I open my eyes the next morning to the sound of my phone. It’s a text from Shelly.

  Party 2night. David’s. U in?

  I think about it. A party at David’s is perfect. Jason’s sure to be there.

  Sure, I text her back.

  Then I quickly type in Jason’s number.

  Party 2night. David’s. U going?

  I wait a few seconds, but there’s no reply. I roll onto my stomach and look at the clock. It’s later than the morning when he took me to breakfast. I lean my head on my hand and exhale. I shake my phone, then I nearly throw it across the room when it whistles.

  Yes.

  I squeal, I’m so excited to see the word. It’s like he’s standing here saying it in person. My fingers tremble a little when I type back.

  CUthere?

  Dunno. Maybe.

  That isn’t exactly what I hoped to read, but it’ll have to do for now.

  OK! :o) I type back and immediately start planning.

  So he’s still a little mad, that’s understandable. I’ll spend the day getting all fixed up, and then tell him the good news tonight in person, face to face, looking my absolute best. Once he knows what’s really going on, he’ll understand. Then he’ll smile and lean forward… I close my eyes and lie back on my bed imagining his soft lips touching mine. Mmm.

  I’m still smiling when my phone whistles again. I flip over and grab it, but it’s Trent.

  Party 2night. David’s. U going?

  I stare at the phone and think about last night and all he told me. Everything’s changed between us, but somehow I like it better. I wonder if this means we’ll talk more now or what exactly our relationship will be like. I guess we’re just friends. Just really good friends. I smile.

  Yep. I text back. CU there?

  U bet!

  So it’s Saturday morning, and Mom’s sitting in her office drinking tea. I go straight in and drop to my knees beside her, wrapping my arms around her waist and hugging close to her. She sets her mug down and drapes her arms across my back. Then she leans forward and I feel her kiss my head.

  “What’s this all about?” she asks.

  “I love you very much,” I say. “And I’m sorry.”

  “What?”

  “You were right. I really didn’t understand anything.”

  She’s quiet a minute and then she starts rubbing my back.

  “It’s okay,” she says. She slides her cool palm over my forehead and smoothes it over my hair. “I hope at least you’ve seen how destructive it is to make snap decisions about people. To set your mind on things being on way or the other and then locking people into roles and stereotypes.”

  I sit up and nod. “Right. Stereotypes.”

  I’m pretty sure she’s not talking about me at this point, but then her eyes meet mine. “I love you, Harley. And I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said.”

  “Which part?”

  “About me not telling you things.” Her eyes move around my face before returning to mine. Then she smiles. “You’re a young woman now, and I should include you more.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I’m learning to trust you.”

  I lay my head on her lap again and let her stroke my cheek. I think about what Jason said that night when I told him about Ricky and my mom. That I might be proud of her before it’s all over. I’m not quite ready for that to be the case, but it’s possible.

  “Mom?” I hesitate before continuing.

  “Yes?”

  “The church, Dad, is against who Ricky is.” And Trent, I think. “So how’d you… I mean, what did you say to him?”

  She’s quiet a minute, her hand still on my head. Then I hear her sigh.

  “God can do amazing things,” she says. “It’s not our job to put Him in a box and decide what He can do or with whom. It’s our job to encourage and pray and love.”

  I sit up and look at her. I don’t know what to say, but I feel like I understand what she means. “So you didn’t say anything to him?”

  “You know,” she becomes thoughtful. “Jesus met people where they were. He didn’t make them come to him.”

  “He got called names for it, too.”

  “It’s true,” she smiles and tucks a piece of hair back into my messy
braid. “But it’s the best way to live your life. It’s a cliché now, but the philosophy was around long before the T-shirt.”

  “Right.” I nod, ready to say it with her.

  “You have to be the change you want to see in the world,” she says.

  I snort and then giggle.

  “What?”

  “Gandhi,” I say.

  “So?”

  “I was expecting ‘What Would Jesus Do’ or something.”

  “Oh.” Her face relaxes and she smiles. “Well, of course. That goes without saying.”

  I look at her a moment. I don’t want to fight, but I know I have to get things straight with her. I have to finish telling her how I feel, even though I’m way less angry about it all now.

  “It felt like you chose him over me,” I say. “Like as soon as Ricky showed up, he was all you were interested in.”

  She’s quiet a moment, and then she looks down at her hands. “You’re right,” she says. “I did get distracted by Ricky’s problems. And I’m sorry.”

  I can’t believe it. I’ve been so angry, but that’s all I ever wanted her to say. I put my head down on her lap again. I’m not really crying or anything, but my eyes are wet.

  “Oh, Harley,” she sighs. “You mean more to me than anything. You just… you didn’t need me as much then.”

  I take a deep breath and think about her words. “I was just so worried.”

  She smoothes my hair back. “I know. And I’m so sorry for making you worry. I really am.” Then she smiles and lifts my chin. “Forgive me?”

  I meet her eyes and my frustration releases. I nod, and I feel like smiling now, too. I am proud of her.

  “So last night,” her voice lightens. “Was the do-over date any better than the first one?”

  She starts pulling out my leftover braid, and my hair falls in crimped waves around my shoulders.

  “It was… different.” I wonder if my promise to Trent includes not telling my mom. It probably does, but I wish she could know how similar our situations are.

  “Well, he’s very cute at least. And a sharp dresser.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “No?” she frowns.

  “I just… well… I really like Jason. A lot.” I say. And that’s the truth.