Kate – Last night was amazing. YOU are amazing. Let’s do IT again soon. ;)
A door opens from somewhere behind me. I turn around just in time to see a poof of blonde hair as Eliza slips into her classroom.
October 22, 2015
Deacon wants to have coffee and talk. I’m dreading what he has to say, because I’m not stupid and know that it likely concerns Kara. At the same time, it would be a relief to be away from him, given his illegal activities. But that would add a layer of complication to everything.
He smiles at me as I get in the car, but it’s written on his face that it’s over. It’s a short drive to Jansen Brewing, and almost comical that I’m about to be broken up with in one.
He orders his coffee black. I get a latte and follow him to a table in the corner.
“You look great,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“So, Emily, what I wanted to talk about … shit…” He leans back in his chair. “I brought you—”
“Just spit it out, please,” I interrupt.
He sighs. “It’s Kara. I’m sorry.” He crosses his arms and rubs his chin. “It’s just a really complicated situation.”
Perhaps the worst possible thing that could happen is happening right now. I’d hoped I was wrong, that he just brought me here to explain. I need him, and he’s trying to drop me—just like Eliza seemingly is. The only interaction I’ve had with her since this Kara bitch showed up has been strictly about the Vegas trip and the wedding and my birthday. And I’ve initiated most of that contact. We haven’t been meeting up, and we don’t talk about anything else. She’s distant, always making an excuse as to why she’s too busy for breakfast or why she can’t go running. I’m beginning to suspect she’s just going through the motions either out of feeling threatened or because of everything I know. She’s probably hoping I’ll eventually disappear. No way I’m giving up when I’m this close. But telling Brooks everything right now will only accomplish the destruction of their relationship—if that. And that’s only half the goal. I need more time. I need Deacon.
“Are you breaking it off with me?” Genuine tears form in my eyes, because I am fucked.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know what to do. I want to keep seeing you, but at the same time I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still love Kara. I wish I didn’t.”
“Deacon, please,” I plead, wiping a sliding tear from my face.
“God, I’m sorry.” He reaches across the table for my hand. He holds it, but in a way you’d console a friend.
I look down at my latte. There’s no use in trying to convince him. He’s made up his mind. “I understand. But, like you said before, it was pretty convenient how she showed up out of nowhere. Like she just wants you back because she heard you were seeing someone.”
He winces, my words hurting him. The truth always does. “Fair enough. But even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean anything. People regret things at different times. Everyone has reasons.”
My mind goes back to his house, back to the Darth Vader poster. I wonder if he was referring to himself as well—his slimy mistakes. Fuck his good looks and his charisma that shield the algae growing inside him.
If Deacon has decided to go back to Kara, the last thing I want to do is sit and grovel and beg. It’ll only make me look weak, and I am not Ivy. I’m Emily. And Emily is not weak. It’s having the strength to walk away that’ll have him calling me days from now. Hopefully.
“You’re right,” I agree. “I guess this is it, then?”
“I’m so sorry, Emily. Really, I am.”
I gulp the rest of my latte, then leave my trash for him to pick up. “Good luck, Deacon.” I grab my purse and get up from the table. Walk away from the cancer that he is, and I don’t look back.
Not a word from Deacon in the four days since he broke it off with me. So much for that strength and resolve. It appears he’s really done. I’ve never felt this level of panic in my life. Things will be so much harder now. How can I make someone realize they love me when I can’t be around them? I feel like a failure. It’s like I had every number right on a lotto ticket except for one. Damn Kara and her perfect shade of red hair and their lingering feelings.
I’ll have to make things work with Eliza, but I can’t force her to hang out with me.
I walk across the hall. Pound on Jared’s door. He was supposed to be an innocent bystander, but fuck the games. I thought I could get them both drunk at my birthday party and strategically take questionable photos of them. Then, get them to Brooks somehow so that he could wonder what the fuck his fiancée was doing, hanging all over another man. It was just going to be one element of my plan to destroy her, to make him question who she really is. But maybe I can kill two birds with one stone.
The door opens, but only a few inches. “Jesus,” he whispers. “It’s nine in the morning on a Sunday.” He looks back toward his bedroom.
“Can you talk for a minute?”
“Can we do this later?” he asks. He closes the door more, peering at me with one sleepy eye.
“I need to talk. Now. Get dressed and come over for a minute.”
“Wh—” he starts, but I’m already closing my apartment door when he says, “Fine.”
His knock comes a few minutes later. I yell for him to come in. We walk out onto the deck, where I have coffee waiting. It’s the least I could do after waking him up so early.
He still looks tired, but he’s perked up a bit. “What’s up? And can you make this quick? I only have a minute.”
“I’m sure if she hasn’t woken up by now, you’re good,” I roll my eyes.
“Who?” His chestnut eyes give away his guilt.
“You have a different chick over every other day. Don’t play coy with me.”
He shakes his head. “Whatever,” he mutters. “You gonna have an attitude every morning now?”
“Probably.” I smile.
“You’re such a bitch,” he laughs.
“You like it.” I shrug.
He smiles.
“My birthday party … this weekend.”
“What about it? I told you I’ll be there.”
“I need you to flirt with my friend.”
“What?”
“Flirt with her. You’re hot.”
“Well … is she hot?” he chuckles.
“Meh. She’s all right, I guess.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Uh…”
“I’m kidding. Yes, she’s hot,” I assure him. “But that doesn’t matter. You’ll both be drunk. She’s a lush.”
“Wait, wait…” He puts his hands up. “Are you asking me to take advantage of an incapacitated person?”
“No!” I snap. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I just want you to flirt with her and keep her busy.”
“Why? What’s the point when I have you?” His confidence is cute.
“Because while you’re flirting with her, I’ll be breaking into her apartment.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I thought you said this was your friend.”
“Okay, maybe that description was a bit off.” I shrug.
“You think? This sounds shady. And it’s definitely illegal. What exactly is in this for me, anyway?”
“Nothing.” I motion to his coffee cup, which he has yet to drink from.
He picks it up. Takes a sip. “So then why would I do it?”
“Because if you don’t, I might just accidentally tell the world about your women’s panties collection.”
He raises his eyebrows and shifts in his chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh. Okay. So I guess all the used panties under your bed just happened to fall and jump into the basket,” I laugh. “There had to be more than fifty.”
“When did you— ”
“If you want to keep trying new women on your dick every week—and if you don’t want to be known as the weirdo with a disturbingly large collection of used panties—you’ll d
o what I asked. That, and I’ll give you a thousand bucks if you keep her occupied long enough for me to get what I need.”
“Done,” he surrenders. “All you had to say was ‘a thousand bucks.’ But what in the world is in there that’s so important that you’re going through all this trouble?”
“It’s not the game that’s important,” I say. “It’s the prize won in the end.” I smile.
Halloween 2015
Today I turn twenty-six, even though I really turned twenty-eight in July. It’s great becoming a new person. I can make up whatever I want, and turning the clock back two years is definitely a perk. Men love to push the envelope and see just how young they can go. Younger women are fresh, exciting.
Music thumps around me, vibrating the walls of my apartment. I’m glad I chose Halloween, because otherwise I’d probably get noise complaints. My apartment bursts with the random people Jared promised to fill it with—enough slutty bees and bunnies to run a Hooters costume contest. I went for sexy mermaid, my sequined miniskirt and fishnets standing out from the mundane. Eliza idles in a corner, looking uncomfortable in her low-effort black shirt and cat ears. Her forced smile and weak hug when she arrived highlighted her fakery. Bitch. I can’t wait to break her heart.
And that heartbreak will be her own fault. With a January wedding, I would have had ample time to be the perfect friend, flying smoothly under the radar without raising any suspicion that may exist now, and make Brooks fall head over heels in love with me and sever the relationship quietly. Things would have been much gentler. But with this tight timeline, the task of coming between them would maybe prove impossible if it weren’t for all of her scandalous behavior. Lucky me.
“Are you okay?” I ask her after I maneuver through the bodies.
“Just miss Brooks,” she says, biting her lip.
I don’t say anything, but I rub her on the back.
She huffs. “I’m sure he’s partying it up with Deacon and the other guys right now.” She grimaces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”
She’s a liar. “It’s okay. I’m over it.” But I’m not, because I’m losing my grip on her. I can feel it. Getting into her apartment is critical. I keep waffling on whether periodically swiping clothes from the mall and some ancient cheating is going to even be enough to make Brooks walk away for good. But it’s all I’ve got. The wedding moving up has fucked up everything. It’s easy to prove the stealing, but I need to find evidence of Tenth Grade Guy in her memorabilia. It would be so much easier had I just taped her confession, except that shows manipulation. Emily is perfect and not vindictive, so that’s out. There has to be something in those boxes. A picture, a letter, something.
I hand her the vodka and orange juice. She regards it with disgust. “I don’t think I should.”
“Why not?”
“Watching calories.”
“Uh, why? You’re skinny.”
“My stupid dress was a little tight at the fitting.” Her face is full of shame.
“Oh.” Dammit. I need her to drink!
“I’m also just a little down since Brooks is gone.” She frowns.
“All the more reason to drink. Come on!”
“Maybe…” She shrugs, bringing the drink to her mouth, but it doesn’t stay there for long.
I yell for Jared, dressed in his Thor gear with his chest on display. Wave him over. “Jared, this is Eliza. Eliza, Jared.”
They smile at each other. If I’m not mistaken, I saw a twinkle in her eyes—an acknowledgment that he’s hot.
“Why so sad looking?” Jared asks.
She shrugs but doesn’t respond. This isn’t going very well. I expected her to be more social with Jared, because he’s fucking John Stamos minus twenty years. Who wouldn’t want to talk to John Stamos?
Thirty minutes pass. Eliza and I have been sitting on the couch people-watching. There are some loud bitches standing dangerously close to Mom and Dad. Urns are weird and creepy, so Mom and Dad rest peacefully beneath some beautiful flowers instead. If those bitches knock over my parents, I’ll kick their asses all the way down the street.
Eyes flitting between the bitches and Eliza, I try to make small-talk. But Eliza is greedy and gives me one-word responses. Jared gave up soon after I introduced them and has moved on to talk with friends. I’m not even upset about it, because she’s the queen of difficult.
“I’m sorry, I’m ruining your birthday,” she says finally.
“No, you’re not,” I lie. “I understand.”
There’s a hint of remorse in her eyes for how bitchy and unavailable she’s been. It almost feels like a tender moment in a real friendship. Almost.
“I’m so tired,” she yawns. “I think I need to go home and go to bed.”
“What? No! You have to stay,” I protest.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t feel like doing anything. Especially socializing.”
She starts to get up, and Jared looks at me curiously. I need to get into her apartment.
“Can you just stay for ten or fifteen minutes, then? Jared and I are kind of talking since Deacon and I are over. He has a present for me in his car, but I can’t leave all these people alone in my apartment.”
“That seems like a lifetime.”
“Pleeeeeease,” I beg. “I promise it won’t be longer than fifteen minutes.”
“Why can’t he just give it to you later after it’s over or go get it himself?”
“I don’t know. He won’t tell me.”
“Okay,” she groans. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, thank you!” I hug her. Push past all the fucking strangers I don’t know. Walk up to two a French maid and skimpy Cinderella dancing seductively with their arms in the air. “If you knock over my vase, I’ll knock you out the window,” I say, but I keep walking until I reach Jared and tug on his arm. “Let’s go.”
“This is nuts,” Jared whispers.
“Shh!”
“How are you even going to get in?”
“I swiped her key.”
“Oh my God, this is crazy.” He shakes his head.
“Look, walk down to the shop and get me some chocolates or something. If Eliza asks what you got me, I have to show her something.”
“Okay. But you owe me so big for all of this.”
I open her apartment. Throw pillows litter the floor. A drink on the table drips condensation. Some makeup is spread out on the bar area. A bit unkempt, but not too bad.
Quietly, I close the door. “Here, kitty kitty,” I call. No sign of the cat.
My heart beats rapidly, feet unsteady as I enter her closet. I toss the elementary, middle, and high school boxes aside, going straight for the other college box I didn’t get to rummage through. I lift the lid. But it’s empty.
Why would Eliza have an empty box? What would be the point?
I waste no time analyzing. I grab the other college box I’d looked through before. Everything is still there. I shove both of the college ones back in the corner, disappointed. It doesn’t make any sense, why someone would keep an empty box.
Unless she emptied it because she knew I’d been in here.
I check my phone. Seven minutes have passed. I must be quick. I need to put the other three boxes back and get out of here before she gives up and comes home.
But as I’m putting everything back, I can’t help but open her elementary box.
There’s lots of drawings and school papers and projects. School photos from each year. At the bottom of the box is a journal. Written on the front in hot pink: “Eliza’s Diary: KEEP OUT!” I flip it open. Skim each page. Nothing catches my eye until the end of the middle. I flip back several pages, certain I saw my name written in large, red bubble letters. I find it, the page marked February at the top, though the year isn’t specified.
Dear Diary ~ I hate Ivy Hobbs SO MUCH! She got the Reader Award today. She is such a teacher’s pet! I hate her! And she only has like three outfits!
My hands
grow clammy, despite my best effort not to care about what she thought of me so long ago.
I keep flipping, skipping the insignificant entries.
Dear Diary ~ Ivy is on the softball team now. GOD! The coach put her at shortstop! I can’t believe it! I deserved that position! I HATE HER! I want her to go away!
Another.
Dear Diary ~ I WANT IVY HOBBS TO GO AWAYYYYYYY! I don’t reaaaaally care because I like Jacob but I don’t know why that new boy Brooks even likes her.
Dear Diary ~ Jacob broke up with me yesterday. I want to go to sleep and never wake up! He doesn’t like me anymore :(
Dear Diary ~ I sorta did a bad thing today before practice. But before I tell you, I wanna tell you something else. One day last week I was in the garden with my grandmother. I told her all about Ivy and how annoying she is. Then I realized that’s what grows on the outside of my grandmother’s house. Ivy. I asked her if it was poisonous like poison ivy is. She said regular ivy is only poisonous if you eat it (it can make you PARALYZED!), so most people aren’t afraid of it because it’s pretty and people don’t eat leaves. But she said once ivy starts growing around you that it can be impossible to get rid of it. That it just grows and grows and grows and weaves its way into everything. I wonder if that’s why Ivy’s mom and dad named her that, because they knew how annoying she would be. My friends are starting to ignore me now because Ivy is always there. I’m not going to eat her but she’s still dangerous to me. She poisons me in other ways because she is RUINING my life by being around!
So anyway, before practice Ivy would NOT shut up. She kept trying to talk to me and it was so embarrassing. She’s POOR and not very pretty, and her shoes always have holes. I tried to ignore her but she wouldn’t stop. I’m not gonna lose my friends because of her! I feel a little bad but I swung the bat even though I knew she was behind me. I think she got really hurt and had to go to the hospital or something but she WOULDN’T SHUT UP. I had to stop her from growing her leaves around me before it was too late.
The Evolution of Ivy: Poison Page 17