Why Can't I Be You (9781101602843)

by Larkin, Allie

  “You okay?” Myra asked, when I came back. She handed me a to-go bag and a large soda. Fish only had a cup of coffee.

  “Fine,” I said, taking a sip of the soda. It was regular, not diet, and I wasn’t used to how sweet real soda is. I always drank diet. Jessie, apparently, not so much.

  “I can’t believe I’m letting you guys eat tacos in my truck,” Fish said, when we all climbed back in. “Robbie is going to have a heart attack.” I’d managed to preserve my seat by the window. Myra was short. It made sense for her to sit in the middle.

  “It’s your truck,” Myra said.

  “Yeah,” Fish said, shaking his head, “tell Robbie.”

  “Sure you’re not hungry?” Myra said to Fish, opening up one of her little paper packages. Lettuce fell out into her lap, and she carefully picked it off her leg and threw it back in the bag.

  “Unlike you,” Fish said, “I keep food in my house. I had lunch before I left.” He took a swig of his coffee and balanced it between his knees while he drove. He kept looking at me. I busied myself with unwrapping my tacos and pretended not to notice his glances.

  Apparently, unlike me, Jessie Morgan liked her tacos extra spicy. Beads of sweat formed on my upper lip; I could feel my face turning red. My tongue was in so much pain that it almost went numb. I drank my soda and wished I could fish out the ice to hold in my mouth without raising suspicion. There was a packet of Tater Tot–like potato things in the bottom of the bag. I ate them slowly and methodically between bites of taco, to keep myself from openly weeping.

  “I don’t know how you eat spicy food like that,” Myra said, shaking her head. “You must have an iron stomach or something.”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying not to choke.

  There were three tacos in the bag, but I could only make it through two. “You want?” I said, passing the last one over to Fish. I didn’t want to talk to him, but there was no way I was getting that last taco down, and I didn’t want to leave it in the car while we were hiking. The whole truck would smell.

  “Sure,” Fish said, reaching across Myra to take it from me. His smile was hopeful, like the taco was some sort of peace offering. It wasn’t. I turned away again as soon as the taco was safely in his hand.

  I knew I needed to pretend that the mountains were old hat, but they weren’t. We were specks in a valley. Everything was bigger than I thought it could be. The clouds had cleared, and the sky was bright blue.

  Fish turned onto a side street, and we followed a narrow road that twisted down into a ravine and then up again into a small development of deserted ski chalets. I started to feel sick to my stomach. I had been so worried about everyone finding out my identity that I hadn’t thought about the fact that I was in a car with strangers in a remote location.

  No one knew where I was. I hadn’t told Luanne or Deagan or my mother or my boss. It was so stupid. Myra and Fish could be anyone. Maybe they knew all along that I wasn’t Jessie. They could be conning me right back. Maybe this was all some kind of elaborate human trafficking plan, and they were going to sell me to a creepy old man in the woods. That’s why no one had said anything about Fish’s girlfriend. Fish spending the night with me was just part of the plan. My heart pounded and my stomach churned. I couldn’t stop sweating.

  We parked and crossed a footbridge. Myra pulled her camera out and ran back to take a few pictures of the vacant chalets, leaving me alone with Fish.

  “God, Jess! Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “Excuse me?” I said, looking around us, trying to figure out where I would go, how I could get away if I needed to. The boots were going to be a problem. I couldn’t sprint off into the woods in boots that were two sizes too big.

  “Why are you running cold on me already?” Fish said. “It took you like, what? Twelve hours? Unbelievable!”

  He took a step toward me. I stepped back.

  “I’m unbelievable?” I said. “I saw you with that woman today. It only took you like, what? Twelve hours.” It was ridiculous that I was yelling at him, but I couldn’t help it. I felt like a raw nerve.

  “What woman?”

  “Downtown. That blond lady, with the golden retriever.”

  “She’s a client,” he said, rubbing at the stubble on his chin with his index finger. “I was helping her with dog commands.” His eyes were so kind. His face was so sweet. He might have been an adulterer, but my thoughts of him as a kingpin in a human trafficking ring were starting to deflate.

  “What kind of doctor does that? I’ve heard of doctors doing house calls, but not street calls. You had your hands all over her.”

  I knew it wasn’t fair, but Deagan had probably cheated on me, and my dad had cheated on my mom. The idea of being the other woman was more than I could handle. He was out on the street, pretending to be the perfect caring boyfriend to this lady, and she probably thought he was. She had absolutely no idea Fish had slept with me the night before. I was devastated for her. “How could you?”

  “I’m not a doctor, Jessie,” Fish said, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on the soles of his shoes. He smiled. “I train guide dogs.”

  “But you said you were premed in college.”

  “And then my dad had a stroke, and I felt like life was too short,” he said, bumping my shoulder with his. I didn’t back away this time. “There’s no point in doing something if your heart isn’t in it.”

  “So she really was a client?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not the other woman?”

  Fish took one hand out of his pocket, grabbed my hand, and pulled me toward him. “You could never be the other woman,” he said, kissing me.

  I kissed back.

  And then we heard Myra’s camera click. “Caught you!” she said, running back to us. “I knew it!”

  A river ran through the ravine, and the path looked down on it from steep heights. It seemed like there should be a guide rail or rope or fence. Myra and Fish hiked easily, navigating roots and rocks and slippery moss without even looking. With the terrain and my toilet-paper-filled boots, and the fact that I’d never really been hiking before, I worried I’d trip and tumble down into the raging river at any moment. I was so out of breath from trying to keep up with them that I could barely do more than listen and nod.

  “That’s why I dropped out of med school,” Fish said. “I went into medicine because I wanted to help people. But when I took time off for my dad, I started training Chip to help around the house and I realized it was what I wanted to do. This way I can help people, but I still have time to build my house and be with my dad and work on the truck with Robbie.”

  Something skittered into the leaves next to the trail. I stifled a shriek.

  Fish was too busy talking to notice. “Sometimes when an opportunity is in front of you, you’re so busy asking if you’re good enough for the challenge, you forget to ask if it’s good enough for you, you know?”

  “Yes,” I said breathlessly.

  “So now instead of spending my days in some medical building, under fluorescent lights, I trade time between the kennels and lifestyle training. I get to work outside. I get to train dogs. Give people mobility.”

  “That’s amazing,” I said, barely managing to squeak out the words. I hugged the inside of the path and tried my best to look confident, like I knew what I was doing.

  “I’m so out of shape!” I said, clutching the stitch in my side when a particularly steep incline started to get the better of me. “Rochester is really flat. My legs aren’t used to these hills anymore.”

  “Muscle memory,” Fish said. “It’ll all come back to you.”

  When we got to the edge of a waterfall, Fish helped me over slippery rocks and held my hand tightly, even after I was on sure footing again. I watched the way he tried to fight
a smile, like he wasn’t quite sure it was safe to let me know just how happy he was to be there with me.

  Even though my lungs felt like they were about to give up, and my feet were throbbing, I was actually enjoying the hike. I loved the dampness of the air and the piney scent of the trees. I loved the way the moss was so green it almost seemed to glow. Myra nimbly made her way over a heap of rocks to get a picture of the rushing water, and I wished I could keep everything about that moment.

  By the time we got back to Myra’s house, the toilet paper in my boots was soaked and pilled up into little damp balls. My feet were red and blistered. I dumped the soggy wads of paper in the toilet and flushed it. When I put my loafers back on, my feet were so swollen they barely fit.

  “Shoot!” Myra said, as I was walking down the stairs. She and Fish were sitting in the kitchen, and I could hear a coffeepot gurgling. Myra was looking at her cell phone.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, joining them.

  Myra put her phone down on the table. “I have to go to the store. There’s an order that’s supposed to come in tomorrow that’s coming in today. Apparently the fulfillment company doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘closed.’”

  “I should really check on my dad anyway,” Fish said. “Want to come with, Jess? I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

  “Sure,” I said. As much as I knew it was probably best to limit the circle of people I met while I was pretending to be Jessie, I wanted to be with Fish. I wanted to know more about him.

  “Great,” Fish said. “You go do your store stuff, My, and we’ll meet you back here later.”

  “Works for me,” Myra said. She ran upstairs to change out of her hiking clothes. When she left the room, Fish reached over and kissed me.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to the fact that I can do that,” he said, smoothing my hair behind my ear before he kissed me again.

  We turned down a gravel road, and then drove for several minutes under a dark canopy of trees. There were no signs of civilization. I began to think I’d misunderstood and we were going hiking again, but when we finally neared the end of the road, I saw a big log cabin. There was a second-floor balcony and a grand stone staircase leading up to the front door from the driveway. Behind the main house was another house, framed out and partially completed. It looked a lot like the chalets we’d seen on our hike. There was a huge pile of rocks next to the foundation.

  “I’m building that one for me,” Fish said. “The fireplace is next.”

  “You’re building it yourself?” That’s what he’d meant earlier when he talked about having time to build his house. I’d assumed he meant time to hire a builder, pick out fixtures, and decide if the kitchen should have an island or a breakfast bar.

  “With my own two hands,” Fish said, taking his keys out of the ignition and tossing them from one hand to the other. “Robbie comes out and helps too. It’s good guy time. Although, actually, Heather puts us to shame.”

  I loved the idea of all of them working together. Heather wielding a power drill and wearing a tool belt.

  “Hey, Dad!” Fish called out, as he opened the front door.

  An enormous German Shepherd came barreling down the stairs to the foyer in a black-and-tan blur. He jumped up, put his paws on my shoulders, and licked my face. He was almost as tall as me. It took all I had not to scream. I stumbled until my back hit the wall.

  “Chip! Off!” Fish said firmly. “Sit!” Chip’s butt hit the ground instantly. He wagged his tail along the floor and looked up at Fish.

  “Chip’s not a real guide dog,” Fish said, running his hand along his face. “I swear I do a much better job with my guide dogs. But he started out as a pet. My dad got him when I went to school, to keep him from feeling like an empty nester. He spoiled the heck out of him. I didn’t start training Chip until after the stroke.”

  “He’s beautiful,” I said. Chip looked at me with his big brown eyes, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He almost looked like he was smiling.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t freak out!” Fish said. “You always hated dogs.”

  “I’m older and wiser,” I said, petting Chip. He leaned his head into my leg and looked up at me. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and tell him everything.

  Before my parents got divorced, my dad brought home a Springer Spaniel. I woke up Christmas morning to a soft, sweet puppy wearing a big red bow around her neck, licking my face. It was like a dream come true. And then she peed on the carpet, and my mom started screaming and the puppy started shaking. But at least when I hid in my room, waiting for the shouting to stop, I had Brownie with me. I held her tight. We sat on the floor of my closet, and I let her chew on one of my socks.

  We only had Brownie for about a week before my mom took her to the pound. And then there was more yelling when my dad came home from work and found out. I sat in my closet to wait it out alone, drawing pictures of Brownie by flashlight so I wouldn’t forget what she looked like.

  “Gilbert! Is that you?” a wobbly, hoarse voice called from upstairs. There was a slight pause between each word, like it took him a moment to move on to the next one.

  “Dad!” Fish shouted. “You’ll never guess who’s here!”

  We walked up the stairs from the foyer to the living room, and as soon as our heads were at floor level, the voice said, “It’s no one I recognize, but she sure is pretty.”

  My heart flip-flopped. I didn’t know much about strokes. Maybe he wouldn’t have recognized the real Jessie either.

  He was a small man. He sat slightly crooked in a big chair made from branches. His feet rested on an ottoman, and his legs looked like bent twigs. He was holding a book in his lap with his forearm. His hand was contorted into a claw. He had thick gray hair combed neatly against his head and blue eyes like Fish’s.

  “Dad,” Fish said, “it’s Jessie Morgan. You remember Jessie.”

  He waved his hand at Fish. His fingers flapped against his palm. “Psh, there’s nothing wrong with my memory. I’m not senile, Gilbert,” he said. “Although I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I couldn’t nag you as much if I forgot to.” His smile was high on one side and limp on the other but still bright and warm.

  “Dad, it’s Jessie,” Fish said.

  “Well, then,” he said, “come over and say hello, Jessie.” He leaned forward and patted the ottoman for me to sit down. The book fell off his lap. Chip ran over and pawed at it until he could get a grip on it with his mouth. He picked it up and nudged it back onto the edge of the chair.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “I can’t take books out of the library. Teeth marks,” he said, laughing. “Here. Sit.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or the dog. I sat on the edge of the ottoman. Chip sat next to the chair.

  “Hi, Mr. Foster,” I said, thankful that I remembered Fish’s last name from the reunion poster. I was shaking and hoped it wasn’t visible. I kept my hands in the pockets of Fish’s jacket until Chip put his head in my lap and I couldn’t resist petting him.

  “You’re an adult,” Mr. Foster said. “None of this ‘mister’ crap. You can call me Ernie.” He patted my arm. His hand was stiff and knotted. “Where are your manners?” he said to Fish. He had an impish look in his eyes. Despite the fact that I worried he was on to me, I really liked him. “Offer her some tea.”

  “Jessie, would you like some tea?” Fish said, laughing.

  “Sure,” I said.

  When Fish went into the kitchen, Ernie leaned in and said, “Are you responsible for the spring in his step?”

  I felt my face get hot.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Well, I hope so.” He studied my face carefully. I was pretty sure if he suspected that I might be an impostor, he would have come out with it alread
y. He didn’t seem like someone who held much back.

  He pointed behind me, and I turned around. We both watched Fish in the kitchen, filling the kettle, getting out mugs and tea bags. “He’s a good man,” Ernie said. “He’s a good son.” He cleared his throat. “He deserves to have a spring in his step.” He shook his head. It was more like a wobble. “I’m not a fan of that Karen girl.”

  “Oh,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Karen who was still in Florida. I knew the kids weren’t Fish’s. I knew she’d been friends with Jessie, but I didn’t know much more about her.

  “Don’t look sad,” Ernie said. “She’s not competition. I think she just wishes she were.”

  I scratched Chip behind the ears. He made me feel calm.

  “So where do you live?” Ernie asked me.

  “Rochester,” I said. “New York.”

  “Oh, you don’t want to live there. Cold and snowy and far away from Gilbert.”

  “Dad,” Fish called from the kitchen. “Are you forcing me on Jessie?”

  “I like this one,” Ernie said. “There’s something about her.”

  “I like her too,” Fish said, bringing a tray with tea, milk, and sugar into the living room. He set it down on the coffee table and set up a tray table next to Ernie.

  “I think Chip’s in love,” Ernie said, gesturing to me.

  Fish laughed. “It’s just so funny to see you cuddling up to a dog like that, Jess.”

  Ernie winked at me. It made my pulse spike. Why would he be nice to me if he did know? Why would he be nice to me if he didn’t? Jessie led Fish on for years. What kind of good parent would encourage their kid to go back for more? Fish deserved better than Jessie. Fish deserved better than me too.