by Amber Garza
"I can't wait for you to meet her. I just know she'll love you. What do you think your parents are going to say when you tell them about us?"
My stomach clenches. "Um...who knows? It doesn't matter." Releasing him, I head toward my suitcase. Star raises her eyebrows at me, and I know exactly what she's thinking. Taking a deep breath, I walk toward my bed and run the pads of my fingers over my suitcase. "Well, we better get out of here if we want to make our flight on time."
Ryker comes up behind me, circling his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you, beautiful."
I melt beneath his words. Spinning around, I kiss him softly on the lips. "Me too, Mr. Rockstar." Then I smile slyly. "Should I leave a tube of lipstick to tide you over?"
"I thought I explained that it doesn't work like that. It needs to be on you." He bites my lips. "But you can give me a little fix before you head off."
"I'll consider it my charitable act of the day," I respond and press my lips to his. My fingers play with the bottom of his coarse hair, while his tongue pushes into my mouth. His hands dig into my hips, causing a flush of desire to run through me.
"Um..." Star's voice cuts into the moment. "We really do need to get going. So break it up, you two."
Groaning, I pull away from Ryker. When I give him one last hug, I think about how I really am going to miss him. In my head I know he's all wrong for me, but my heart doesn't seem to care about that.
After Ryker leaves, Star turns to me. "You're not going to tell your parents about him, are you?"
I shake my head. "No way."
"Didn't think so."
"They'll never approve." I reach out and grab the handle of my suitcase. After pulling it up and hearing it click into place, I roll the suitcase behind me.
"They don't even approve of me." Star snorts.
"Don't take it personally. They barely approve of me." I force out a laugh, but I almost choke on it. Already the suffocating feeling I always get around my parents is starting to close in on me. By the time I get home I won't even be able to catch a breath. A cold sweat rises on my body and I feel like I'm falling. All of the control I've held on to while being here is slipping away, and I know by the time we land in California I won't even have the slimmest grasp on it. I just hope I can hold it together. Things have been good since I got here. My little problem has been under control, but I fear going home will cause it to re-surface.
"You okay, Lola?" Star's hand clamps on my shoulder.
I nod. "Yeah. Fine."
"You sure?" Her eyebrows knit together in concern.
"Look at us switching roles all of the sudden," I say, even though I know it’s not the first time Star has had to take care of me. We both act like it’s always been the other way around, but we’re both fooling ourselves. With fake brevity, I push her hand off and lift my head high. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get outta here."
"Lola, stop slouching," Mom scolds from the other end of the table. She and Dad sit at opposite ends of our enormous dining table, the chair backs sticking out of their heads like they've sprouted horns. My sister, Camille, smirks from where she sits across from me.
My rebellious side is tempted to slouch further, but when I catch my dad's stern eye I sit up straight. Lifting my fork, I stuff a forkful of chicken into my mouth. It's no pub food or enormous burrito, but I'm starving, so it tastes good. Maybe a little dry, but it'll do. Mom isn’t exactly a great chef. It’s why we have all of our events catered. I’m certain that Thanksgiving will be too. I chew quietly, keeping my posture straight.
"So, what's it like sharing a bathroom with, like, the entire floor at your dorm?" Camille asks sarcastically.
It seems like a rhetorical question, so I don't plan on answering. But when I notice everyone staring at me expectantly, I swallow and say, "It's not that bad."
"Oh, come on. It's gotta be gross. You don't have to pretend like it's not," Camille says.
I narrow my eyes at her and speak through gritted teeth. "What is it like still being home and mooching off of Mom and Dad?"
"Lola, that was uncalled for," Mom says.
I ball my napkin in my lap, using it like a stress ball. "She started it," I mumble under my breath, and then chastise myself for sounding like a spoiled child.
"Girls, let's not fight. Lola is only home for a few days. Let's make the most of it," Dad interjects.
That quiets the table and I go back to scarfing down my food. The only sounds are the crackling of ice cubes in my cup and the scraping of utensils on the plates. Once my piece of chicken is gone, I reach for the platter in the center of the table and spoon another piece onto my plate.
Mom's eyebrow lifts, and my chest tightens. Determined not to let her silent accusation get to me, I just take another bite. Across from me, Camille pushes her plate back. I notice that she's left half of what she served herself. Not that I'm surprised. Camille prides herself on her slim figure. She tosses a strand of her long black hair over her shoulder, her dark eyes landing on me.
My cell vibrates in the pocket of my pants. I glance down.
"No phones at the table, Lola. You know that." Mom sighs in exasperation, acting like my couple of months away from this place has tainted me forever.
"Sorry," I mumble, my fingers itching to grab my phone. I'm guessing the text is from Ryker, and I'm desperate to see what it says. Words from him would be a welcome relief right now.
"You got a boyfriend in Seattle, Lola?" Camille eyes me suspiciously.
My sister and I have never gotten along very well. Ever since I was born I think she's secretly hated me. Camille is one of these people who can't share anything. I think she's had it out for me from the first moment she glimpsed me in Mom's arms. It's only gotten worse over the years. I've always had more friends than her and certainly more attention from guys.
“No, no boyfriend.” The lie hurts as I force it from my throat, and it burns my tongue like acid. It feels wrong to deny Ryker. We may not have been dating long, but he’s become a part of me. He’s under my skin, and pretending he doesn’t exist is like erasing a portion of myself.
“Well, that’s great, because we have a surprise guest coming to Thanksgiving this year.” Mom is practically giddy.
“Really?” My stomach rolls.
“Yes, one of your dad’s colleagues is coming and bringing his son. He’s your age and he’s pre-med!”
Oh goodie. “What’s his name?” I ask, because I’m curious. I’m sure it’s something stuffy like Miles or Neil.
“Nolan,” she says.
Close enough. I try to picture pre-med Nolan taking me to a club or to the park where he had his first kiss. No, I have the feeling a guy named Nolan who is studying to be a doctor would never be as much fun as Ryker. Before I get asked anymore questions, I shove a few more forkfuls of food into my mouth.
“Well, you certainly have gained an appetite.” Mom clucks her tongue.
And there it is. The first dig. I chew slower and set my fork down, my hands trembling. I feel Mom’s gaze lingering on my stomach. My pants do fit a little tighter, and I know I’ve put on a few pounds since being away. The pull to the bathroom is strong, but I swallow hard and stay rooted in my seat. I don’t dare take another bite though. I let the rest of my food sit on my plate, mocking me with every passing minute. Finally dinner is over and Mom excuses us.
With jerky movements, I push away from the table and walk swiftly down the hallway and up the stairs. When I reach the top, I feel the pull like hands reaching out to me and grasping tightly. I enter the bathroom, knowing what I have to do. Knowing the only way to get relief. After locking the door, I drop to my knees in front of the toilet. I lift my hand, my index finger extended when a buzzing in my pocket startles me. Startled, I drop my hand and pluck out my phone. Ryker.
I hesitate just for one second. Then I stand up and push talk.
“Hey, beautiful.” Just hearing his voice fills me with comfort and peace. I draw stren
gth from his sweet words.
Pushing open the bathroom door I step into the hall. “Hey,” I speak barely above a whisper, keeping my hand cupped around the phone while racing to my room.
“Everything okay?”
I step into my room, close the door securely and sink down on my bed. I’m drowning in a sea of pink and lace. It circles around me, strangling me. Taking a deep breath, I fight against the claustrophobic feeling. “Yeah, fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. Is all that pampering getting to you?” Ryker jokes.
I force myself to laugh along with him even though what I really want to do is cry. Not wanting to talk about my family, I change the subject. “So who is the best rock band of our time?”
“What?”
I lie back on my pillow and stretch out my legs while keeping the phone pressed to my ear. Closing my eyes, I pretend I’m back in Seattle with Ryker instead of here suffocating in my childhood room. I ignore the floral potpourri scent, and try to conjure up the scent of Ryker’s leather jacket and his mint shampoo. In my mind, I envision my dorm room even with all its messiness and clutter. “On our first date you played a song and said it was by the best rock band of our time.”
“Oh yeah. Fatal Seduction.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Have you seriously never heard of them?”
“I don’t really listen to music. I mean, every once in awhile I turn on the radio, but that’s usually a pop station.”
“Man,” Ryker breathes out the word. “I don’t know what I’d do without music. Music’s one of those things that keeps me sane. It’s there for me no matter what I’m going through. I have songs I listen to when I’m happy, sad, upset, or lonely. It’s like an escape for me, you know?”
A tear pricks at the corner of my eye. I blink it back. “Yeah, I do.”
“So if music isn’t your thing, what do you turn to when you need a pick me up?”
You, I want to say, but I don’t. “Um…I don’t know. I like movies.”
“Movies?” Ryker chuckles. “Okay. How about I take you to one when you get back?”
“Promise?” I say, my spirits already lifting at just the thought of seeing him again.
“I promise, beautiful.”
When I hang up, I know that I will skate on that promise for the next few days. That promise will get me through endless criticisms from Mom and meeting pre-med Nolan. That promise will keep me sane and help me survive until I can be back in Ryker’s arms again - back to the place where I’m safe and comfortable.
12
Ryker
“So when do I get to meet with this lovely girl you can’t stop talking about?” Mom asks, sliding the bowl of mashed potatoes in my direction.
Even though it’s always been just the two of us for Thanksgiving, that’s never stopped her from making a feast that could feed an entire army. The little table in the tiny kitchen of her one-bedroom apartment is overflowing with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits and vegetables. I scoop another heaping serving of potatoes onto my plate and then drizzle thick gravy on top.
“Hopefully soon, Mom.” My lips curl upward at the thought of Lola. If only she were here right now. I imagine she’d be wearing that red lipstick that drives me crazy, and she’d probably have on one of those black dresses she always wears. Having her here would definitely liven things up. I can’t even believe I’m thinking like this. I’ve never wanted to bring a girl home to meet my mom, especially not on a holiday. Man, that girl really has a hold on me. Funny thing is I have no desire to slacken that hold. If anything, I’d like to tighten it.
“Well, she’s welcome here anytime.” Mom reaches out and pats my hand with one of her smooth ones. Mom had me when she was really young, and she’s always been the youngest of all my friends’ parents. Her skin is still smooth and tight, but lately I’ve noticed a few wrinkles gathering at the corner of her eyes and mouth. Still, her short golden hair is devoid of any gray, and her blue eyes still sparkle. She wears minimal makeup, and today she’s in her typical jeans and casual top. Her secretarial job at the law firm requires her to dress up all week, so at home she never does.
“Thanks. I know she’d love to meet you,” I add that last part in even though I’m not sure it’s true. Lola’s never showed interest in meeting my mom. In fact, she avoids the subject every time I broach it. However, I think that has more to do with her parents than mine. It’s clear that she doesn’t want me to meet her parents, although I’m not sure why. I suspect it’s because she’s not as serious about our relationship as I am. I’m determined to change that though. She’s promised to keep an open mind and let me prove my feelings to her, and I plan to do just that.
“Can I get you anything else?” Mom starts to stand, but I stop her with my hand.
“No, Mom. Sit. You’ve done enough.” Mom has raised me alone my whole life and she’s done an amazing job. I hate when she waits on me now. I want to be able to give to her for a change. That’s one of the reasons I work so hard on my music. I’m hoping that one day I’ll be able to make enough money that I’ll be able to help out my mom.
“Thanks.” She grins at me with her pale pink lips. ““I’m glad you’re finally moving on after Fiona.”
I stiffen at Mom’s mention of her name. We don’t usually talk about her.
“Yeah.” I bite my lip, hoping she’ll drop the whole thing.
“You deserve to be happy.”
“I’ve always been happy, Mom,” I assure her. Life has sometimes been tough, but Mom’s always done her best and made things as good as possible. “What about you? Dating anyone?” It’s a question I ask her every time I visit, but the answer’s always the same.
She lowers her fork, setting it on the table with a clatter. “Of course not.”
“Why not? You’re pretty…for an old lady.” I nudge her so she knows I’m joking.
“Oh, Ry. I’m done with men.”
“Mom.” I sigh, dropping my own fork. “It was such a long time ago. You have to move on. Besides, not every guy is like dad. There are good guys out there.”
“It’s not that simple.” She waves away my words. Then she looks up at me with a serious expression. “Have you told Lola about your dad?”
My stomach tightens, and I shake my head. Unable to take another bite of my food, I push the plate back. “I can’t, Mom.”
“If you’re serious about her I think you need to tell her. You don’t want her to find out from someone else.”
“Who would tell her? No one knows.” Well, not many people know. Certainly no one that’s going to tell Lola.
“No relationship should start out with secrets. I know better than anyone how that will end.” Her knowing look causes panic to rise inside of me. Mom’s right. Of course she is.
Still I can’t tell Lola right now. I may never be able to. It’ll ruin everything. If she’s already on the fence about us this will push her right over the edge, I’m sure of it. “I don’t know, Mom. Maybe this is one secret that needs to stay buried. I mean, you know what happened when I told Fiona.”
“Oh, Fiona was an idiot.” Mom swats away my words with her hand. “She wasn’t the girl for you. Everyone could see that except for you. You had blinders on when it came to that girl. Hopefully this Lola is different.”
My chest tightens at her words. I think about how Beckett thinks Lola is exactly like Fiona. I feel like he’s wrong, but somewhere deep inside I worry that he’s right. I think it’s why I’m so bothered when Lola acts distant. In those moments she reminds me so much of Fiona and it scares me.
After dinner, I force Mom to sit in the family room while I do dishes and clean up. She can hardly stand it and she tries to help a dozen times. I successfully shoo her away every time. That woman has no idea how to relax, I swear. While my arm is elbow deep in sink water and soap, my mind flickers to Lola. I wonder how her Thanksgiving is going. I’m pretty sure she’s not doing dishes right now. From what she’s s
hared about her family, I’m fairly certain that they have a maid or housekeeper or something. I glance around the tiny kitchen with the linoleum floors that are buckled and browning, the stained tile counters and dishwasher that barely works. This isn’t the same apartment I grew up in. Mom downsized when I moved out, but it might as well have been. They’ve all been very similar.
Lola and I have clearly lived very different lives. However, we seem to fit together somehow.
After filling the dishwasher, I start it and then lean against the counter. I pull my phone out of my pocket and shoot off a text to Lola.
I’m going through withdrawals.
I stare at the screen for several minutes, but nothing happens. My heart sinks thinking about Lola having the time of her life in California. Perhaps she doesn’t miss me at all. I hear Mom in the family room shuffling about. The TV clicks on and canned laughter plays.
In need of a fix, huh?
When my cell goes off in my hand, I flinch. A chuckle escapes from my lips and I hurriedly text back. Badly.
I’ll be home soon.
I freeze. Did she say “home”? Does she think of Seattle as her home now? Maybe it was just a slip up. I need to know. Home, huh? I thought you were home right now.
Oh. Oops. U know what I mean.
My heart sinks. It was just a mistake. I can’t wait.
Me too.
I smile. Well, at least she misses me too. I’ll take it.
Lola’s only been home a few hours when I show up at her dorm room. The minute she opens the door I fling my arms around her so hard I lift her feet from the floor. Then I kiss her deeply.