by Jolene Perry
“You look confused,” she says.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I’M DONE RUNNING. IN TOWN.
“I’m sorry.” I look frantically between Hélèna and the door, feeling desperate to get back out.
“I’ll take a shower. See you in a few.” She gives me a small wave.
My mouth’s open like an idiot, but no explanation about Amber comes out. I sprint out of the boat in hopes to catch her before something else gets in our way.
- - -
“Amber! Wait up!” I finally find her on my way back down. I’m sweaty from running up the hill, and out of breath from both panic and my short sprint.
“Hey.” Her voice sounds so sad and tired, and once again I wish she’d let me hug her and push it away.
“I want to talk. Please.” I’ve said please more to this girl than probably anyone else in my whole life, aside from Mom. And really, it’s not fair since I was around Mom all the time.
“Alright.” She sighs. “Let’s talk.”
Great. She agreed. Now what? “Let me just say the worst thing first.”
“The worst?”
“She kissed me at the airport. I mean, it was her, and I didn’t have a chance to think or…”
“And you kissed her back?”
It seemed a little bad at the time, but not horrible. What am I doing? “It’s just that. I forgot. I mean.” I run a hand through my hair. “I can’t even remember the last time I picked her up or she picked me up that we didn’t kiss that way, and she just did, but I totally pulled back…”
“After kissing her.” Amber crosses her arms as we walk, and pushes her legs faster.
Shit. I’m losing this one. Another one. Why the hell do I keep trying so hard?
“Amber! Wait dammit!” I jog up behind her.
“I don’t have the energy for this right now.” She stops and lets out a breath.
“I didn’t invite her. She probably thinks I’m crazy, but I haven’t touched her. Please, please, let me just talk.”
“Aside from the kiss. You haven’t touched her aside from the kiss.” Her hands on her hips. Her jaw is tight. She swallows. She’s thinking. She’s not running away. “It comes down to meaning or not meaning to do things, Antony. Remember?”
Shit. I do remember. That was me lecturing her over Kent. “I feel pathetic. I know I’m not perfect. I know I’m like, probably a disaster for someone like you, but…” but I’m more desperate for you all the time.
“But there are a ton of girls who think you’re the sweetest, greatest thing ever. I get it, Antony.” The annoyance in her voice comes across crystal clear.
“No.” I shake my head. And yeah, I did want to say that, but I didn’t say it. “I need your help.”
“You’re chasing me down to tell me you kissed someone else and that you need my help?” Her brows rise, and I have this sinking feeling she’s about to blow me off. It’ll be a first for me, which really sucks.
“Please. Even I’m sick of hearing me say that word. Please just walk with me, okay?”
“Do you know how I feel right now? Do my feelings register here at all?” She taps the side of my head.
“No, I don’t know how you’re feeling. I guess I—”
“How would you feel if I kissed Kent?”
“I’d kick his ass.” The words come out before I can think or filter.
She shakes her head. “Well, that’s not how I feel. It hurts like I can’t breathe.”
I rest a hand on either shoulder and slowly rub her upper arms. “Shit, Amber. I swear…”
“You swear. Whatever.” She stares at the ground. It’s a whole different kind of rejection, and one I’m not sure I can take.
“Fine.” I stand taller. “Hurt me back.”
Her jaw is clenched as she steps toward me. Her breath hits my face. “I’m not strong enough to do the same kind of damage.”
And just when I didn’t think I could feel worse, I do. My head rests forward, she still hasn’t moved away and the warmth from her touches me, but I don’t get to touch her. Not right now.
“Let’s sit.” She moves away.
“Okay.” I follow her in silence, a little unsure of how to begin.
She takes a seat on a bench and I sit next to her, just not as close as I’d like to, which, again, really sucks. This distance all came from one stupid conversation about girls. Well, and Hélèna showing up. Okay, and my stupid need to kiss her back. It’s like for a moment, I felt like I was needed in a way that Amber doesn’t want me. Not yet.
“Okay,” I start.
She holds her hand up between us.
Guess this means we’re not talking yet. Her arms are crossed and she’s staring at the playground.
“So, I…”
But she silences me with her hand again. It almost looks like she’s trying not to cry? Did I do this?
I wait. My heart’s starting to panic, pounding crazily.
“What’s up?” She’s way too cool. She may have invited me to sit with her, but she’s still in the process of blowing me off.
I need to say something important, something big. “I miss you.” That’s it? Even I think that’s lame.
“What is it you need my help with?” She folds her arms more tightly.
“Fine.” I sit back and fold my arms. We can both play this stupid game. “I like Hélèna. She’s a good friend, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“You seriously called me over here to ask me about the girl you kissed? Are you mental?” Her face pulls into a scowl.
She kissed me, but something says that I should probably keep that to myself. Okay. I’m not playing anymore. Really, I can’t afford to. I unfold my arms and rest my hand on her leg. “I really, really like you. I want Hélèna to go home, but I don’t know how to tell her without hurting her feelings. Okay?”
Amber’s shoulders relax. Her arms relax. She lets her head fall down and stares at her lap.
“Be honest. Completely.”
“That doesn’t work.”
Her head snaps toward me, and as much as I wished she’d look at me a moment ago, now I wish she’d look away. Her scowl is fierce. “What do you mean that doesn’t work?”
“I mean. I tried that with you. I told you everything you asked, and you got upset. I was just trying to share, answer your questions.”
“But everything you said just confirmed all the things I was scared about with you.” The vulnerability in her scattered blue eyes makes me want to kiss her.
“But don’t you get that I’m not honest with anyone else the way I am with you?” I lean toward her and breathe in, which is a really stupid thing to do when you like a girl more than she likes you.
“That’s not it. I mean, that’s not all of it.”
“Well, what’s the rest of it? I want to fix this.” Why am I putting so much work into this girl when a sure thing is sitting on Dad’s boat? The moment the thought rolls through, I know why. I’m totally falling for this girl, and I want to. Not just to be with her, but to be around her, to know her.
“It’s everything. You asked if you could sit closer. I said yes and then your arms were around me and your legs were around me, and then you started to kiss me.”
“Right.” Because being close is nice.
“And then when we did kiss, it’s like it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. So, yeah. It’s more than you being honest and me being afraid of the things you told me about other girls. It’s me knowing you’re the kind of guy who will always want more, and when you’ve taken everything from me, you’ll…”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” She chews on her lip as she stares at the ground.
She does know. She just won’t say. I’m not perfect, but she’s making me out to be some kind of prick that I’m not. At least not anymore.
“Well, like I said, be honest with her if you actually want her to know what’s going on with you.” She looks away.
“I�
��m not good at that.” And so far it has bit me in the ass.
Her head whips toward me, and I immediately know I’ve screwed up again. “Well, you’re going to have to get good at it, if you ever want to be part of a relationship that means something.”
And I know she’s talking about us. I just know it. And it sucks because I have no idea how to talk to Hélèna, and I obviously suck at talking to Amber, too.
She leans in, kisses my cheek, stands up and walks away. “You let me know if you get this sorted out with Hélèna, but I don’t want to hear from you until you do. I can’t feel like this. I just can’t. It sucks.” And her voice almost sounds like she’s crying, but she’s walking away from me with purpose, so I don’t follow.
And I get it. I’m hurting her, even though I’m doing everything right, or trying to. Okay. So I should have called Amber the moment I knew Hélèna was coming. And if I had been thinking straight, I’d have taken Amber with me. That would have been the smart thing. Also, I should have said something about Amber when me and Hélèna were at dinner. I’m messing up all over the place, but I’ve just never had to try this hard before.
Why did Hélèna have to come? Before Amber, Hélèna would have been exactly what I need.
Amber, one girl, has completely turned me inside out.
I sit at the empty playground for a long time. I don’t check my phone, and don’t look at the time. When it starts to get dark, I head back. I’m a prick for leaving Hélèna with my dad all evening.
I walk back down to Dad’s boat, feeling sorry for myself, the big pussy that I am. But as I pass Amber’s, I hear her talking.
“You really like him,” her mom says.
My heart stops. I really, really need to hear this.
“It doesn’t matter, Mom. Have you seen that girl? I mean, they look like they belong together. And the way she says his name all perfect… Antony.”
I can picture Amber right now rolling her eyes, but there would be some discomfort, or pain in there, too. Jealousy? She’s hard for me to read, but I know I’m getting better.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“Don’t. Just, don’t give me sympathy. I knew. I mean, I knew the second I saw him frowning on the front of his dad’s boat on the day he got here that I needed to keep my distance.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
The pause is long. It’s so long, I wonder if they’ve both given up. I’m going crazy out here before I realize I’ve nearly crushed my paper cup of coffee.
“Because there’s so much to him. As shallow as he wants us all to think he is, he’s not. He thinks deeply, and he feels deeply. One day he won’t be embarrassed about that anymore.”
“And he’ll be like his dad.”
I almost choke.
Amber laughs. “No. Antony will never be like his dad.”
And as good as my name sounds coming from Hélèna, it’s nothing compared to the way it sounds in the honest voice of Amber.
Now I know I’ll have to talk to Hélèna. The problem is that I don’t know how to be honest with her, or if she’ll even get me anymore. I don’t think I can take hurting two girls in one day.
Nineteen
When I step into the boat, Dad and Hélèna are laughing over the table, a bottle of Dad’s scotch between them.
“Qu-est-ce-que tu fais?” What are you doing?
“Don’t be rude,” Hélèna says back. “We can speak English. I know how.”
“I speak better French that you speak English,” I point out.
“But I’m prettier and no one cares.” Her accent is thick.
Dad laughs. “I’ll be in my room. Let you two catch up.” He stands and walks out.
I wish I could pace or something. Anything to get rid of some of this nervous energy.
“You have problems, yes?”
“Yes.” I sit.
“Why did you not answer my letters?”
“I’m not checking email.” And I really don’t have a good explanation that I want to discuss with her.
“You have, uh, purpose for this?”
Mom. Mom’s my reason, but I can’t say it. Not to Hélèna. Nothing comes out.
“You and I have fun together. It’s why I’m here, and now I’m here and I see that you don’t want to have fun with me anymore.” Her smiles falters just enough that I know I’m hurting or affecting her somehow. I had no idea I had any of that kind of power over her.
“No, it’s not…” that. But it is that. But how do I tell her that there’s someone else I’d rather be having fun with? There’s no good way. “I’m just still messed up. Make sense?” I have to tell her about Amber. Have to.
“Your mom?” The look of hurt has turned to one of concern. That’s better.
“That’s part of it.” My mouth opens to tell her about Amber, but Hélèna starts talking again.
“Did you hear my mom got a part in a movie?” Her smile is wider, and she’s back to speaking French.
“No.” This starts a long round of conversation that probably neither of us cares much about, but we know enough of the same people that it’s still fun to get caught up. But we don’t touch. We sit across the table from one another, and we don’t even hint at anything real between us.
Her yawn is wide as she stretches her thin arms over her head. “I’m going to bed.”
I stand. And now that I’m standing, she’s looking at me like I might join her.
The door opens, and Dad steps in.
Hélèna scoots off the couch and takes the few steps to my door. I follow, not wanting her to feel bad, but having no idea how to keep my distance without getting into a big conversation about the girl who might or might not be my girlfriend.
“Are you joining me?” she whispers. Her fingers slide from the center of my chest to the top of my pants, sending a shiver through my spine.
“I can’t.” And the insane thing is that I don’t want to. Since the first time I was with Hélèna, I always knew I’d jump at any chance she gave me, and I’m turning her down. In a big way. After she traveled so far so come see me.
“If you change your mind.” She tries to give me her flirtatious smirk, but there’s more depth there than I expected from her. She leans up and kisses me softly on one cheek and then the other, and with a bigger smile, back to the first.
“Bonsoir.”
“Bonsoir,” I whisper back.
The door closes between us, and I stand in the hallway like a moron.
“Come join me on deck.” Dad steps up the stairs he just came down.
And for once, I’m actually looking forward to sitting with him and talking a bit. Anything is better than standing alone in the tiny hallway.
I sit on the opposite side of the table from him, a glass already waiting.
“Those two girls are sort of like the two different parts of your life, aren’t they?” His voice is quiet, just loud enough for me to hear.
“I guess they are.” That’s exactly it. Hélèna represents everything I love about being a rich kid from New York. Amber is…well, she’s definitely not the kind of girl I would have bothered dating before coming here. Too much trouble. Too much work for not enough pay-off. The sick tearing apart feeling I get in my gut when I think about Mom hits me. She’d love Amber. She’d love that Amber was making me work for her. Hard. And I’m loving it.
Mom wanted me here as much to learn stuff like this as she wanted her assignment.
“I get why Mom wanted me here,” I say. “She didn’t just dump me.”
Dad’s head snaps toward me. “Of course she didn’t dump you.”
We both take a drink and sit in silence. It’s obvious to him, because he wasn’t the one left behind.
“Why do you think she wanted you here?”
It feels so weird to be having a real conversation with someone who isn’t Mom…or well, Amber. “To get to know you a little.”
“And have you?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don�
�t know.” My eyes meet his. “Yeah. I kind of understand why you live on a boat.”
He chuckles softly.
“We both write.” That’s something we share. Just about the only thing, except for being crazy about a girl a few boats down.
“You’re a deep thinker. It comes out in your writing.”
“Thanks.”
“Why else?”
“What?”
“Why else do you think she wanted you here?”
“She was always worried that I got things too easily, and I’d point out how long I had to plead and how hard I had to work in school for her to take me to Paris for Christmas.” I chuckle, but don’t really mean it because it hurts too much to talk about Mom.
Dad nods. “She may have mentioned that on the phone.”
I think they talked more than I imagined. “You two got along.”
He scratches his head. “We got along as soon as we decided we didn’t get along well enough to live together.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice.” I hope he catches the sarcasm in my voice.
“Your mom and I got along great. We actually talked pretty often.”
“You miss her, too.” The words dig and claw at me and I wish them unsaid as soon as they come out.
“I do.” Dad touches a corner of his eye with a finger.
I can’t sit here while he cries about Mom. I can’t. My legs shove me to standing. “I’m gonna...”
“Antony, I can’t tell you what to do, but if you keep running from this, from your mom or from what you’re feeling. It’s all going to come crashing down.”
“I’m not running.” I’m pushing it down. Away.
“Anything else you want to talk about?”
The question pushes up my throat. “Why did you leave, Dad? I was three. I never knew you. I only kind of know you now. Why did you leave?”
“Sit.” He gestures. “Just for a sec.”
I do as he asks.
“Because I messed up. I never liked New York, and so few people make it in what your mother was trying to do. Before you were born even, we were more like friends than anything else. We were determined to stick together, maybe longer than we should have.”
“But why didn’t you stick around, even after you split?” Was I not worth sticking around for?