by Avery Aster
Rising to my feet, I jab my finger into his chest. “I apologized to you for what I did in the past. That was done without malicious intent. But this right here? What you’ve just done is way beyond hurtful and malicious. It’s cruel and shows that you’re just what I thought you were all along.”
Eyes narrowing, he asks, “And what’s that?”
“I won’t stoop to your level and give you the satisfaction of knowing just how big a piece of shit you really are. Something already tells me you’re already quite aware.”
He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for this to happen. I mean, I did, but last night, after we talked and you explained everything to me, I wouldn’t have gone through with this. But I guess it was too late to stop.”
“Looks like we’re even,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Not really. Your article ruined my life. Something tells me this article doesn’t really bother you.”
Livid, I jump to my feet. “For the love of all things good in this world, I did not fucking ruin your life. Your drinking, your drugs, your steroids and womanizing ruined your life. Am I clear?”
“Perfectly.” He crosses his arms, taking a deep breath, then arches his back and stares almost through me.
“And yes, I couldn’t give two shits what this magazine says about me. Or what you think of me, for that matter.” I scoop Hedda up, settle her into my purse, and head toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll send for my things. I’m outta here. I don’t need this crap in my life, Rod.”
“You can’t go.”
“Watch me.”
“What about your sobriety?”
“Fuck sobriety and fuck you,” I shout back at him before leaving.
To be honest, I haven’t craved a drink in a long time. But right now, right this very second, the urge to get loaded is all I can think about.
Poppy White, At Your Service
Vive
I stand in the driveway, waiting for my Uber. Surprisingly, no one has come out to stop me from going. Juno, Laird, and Suzanne are already in the fields working their morning chores. Rod popped his head out the door a few times, but I gave him the finger and told him to go back inside. Piper, the therapist, only comes once a week, so it wasn’t like there was some medical staff coming out to talk me out of it like they usually did at the rehab facilities.
A champagne pink-hued Bentley pulls into the farm.
What the…?
A woman with jet-black hair in a bob and a bright pink miniskirt with a cream-colored blouse gets out of the convertible and shouts, “Hey, hooker!”
“Hey, bitch,” I reply in Poppy’s direction. “Boy, am I glad to see you. Get back in the car. You’re taking me into the city. I’m going home.”
“What? Why?” she says, all flustered as I give her a quick hug and a kiss on both cheeks before pushing her back into the car.
She drives for a few minutes as we head toward the North Shore of Long Island. I look out at Gardiners Bay. Deep and never ending, the Atlantic Ocean stares back at me as she pulls the car over onto a side road that heads toward the beach.
“Block Island is just right over there.” I point east.
“Do you remember when we were, oh God, maybe twenty years of age and went to that party at some mansion?” Pushing her Chanel sunglasses up into her lava-colored hair, she faces me. Her eyes are violet, like Elizabeth Taylor’s. They’re natural, no contacts or anything. So annoying.
“I do. That was when I was dating that really hot guy who turned out to be a burglar. He was a hot one. I don’t think I’ve ever had sex like that in my entire life.”
“He was into some kinky shit.” I laugh, remembering all the trouble we got into at Columbia University.
“He sure was.” She gets out of the car, takes her heels off, throws them onto the seat, and asks, “Vive, you gonna tell me what happened back at Shull?”
I shake my head. “You already know. You called me about it yesterday.” I look at the console, a copy of HerSay magazine resting against a pack of gum. I reach for a piece and pop it in my mouth before putting Hedda’s leash on and stepping out of the car.
“You gonna kill me?” Poppy asks. “I didn’t plan for that piece. Our days of fighting are over.”
“I know you didn’t.” I reach for her hand as we make our way over the water. The sun is warm, the air is cool, and the wind creates the perfect breezy balance between the two.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know it must’ve hurt. Taddy, Lex, and Blake all called me this morning and ripped me a new one.”
“They did not!”
“They sure did. Instead of one asshole, now I have two.” She spins around for me to stare at her.
“You’re so silly. You look perfect, as always.” I set Hedda down onto the sand. She finds her stride walking alongside me.
It’s funny. As blind and deaf as my fur baby is, she usually always keeps up. Today though, she seems to be struggling.
“What’s wrong with her?” Poppy notices too.
“She’s probably just hungry.” I reach into my purse and pull out a few kernels of roasted lamb snacks. I kneel beside her and hold out my hand, expecting her to gobble them up. She doesn’t. Instead, her hind legs come out and she plops herself down in the sand.
“Hedda’s probably exhausted. I know I would be.” Poppy takes a seat in the sand next to me. “I bet she’s glad to have you back, all sober and happy.”
“Whoever said I was happy?”
“You look it.”
“According to this article, I look fa—”
“Shut up. Don’t say it. You were too thin before. I mean, you looked gaunt. I know fashion and gossip journalists pride themselves on that, but Vive, come on. You are stunning.” She puts her arm around me.
We talk for the next hour about her TV show, my magazine, last night with Rod, what he did to me, Ash Balmain’s motives for buying my business, and what my life would look like if I were to leave the halfway house.
“All right. I’ll go back to the farm, give it another shot.”
We get to our feet. My fur baby appears to still be asleep, so I pull her leash to wake her. “Hedda let’s go.”
No response.
My stomach flips.
Poppy drops to her knees, petting Hedda on the back of her head, over her ears, down her back and tail. “Viveca, I think she’s dead!” She presses her face against Hedda’s snout. “She’s not breathing.”
I fall on top of her and rock her little body in my hands.
Poppy hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry. I know how much Hedda means to you.”
I lie in the sand, staring at the slits of her closed eyes, praying that she’ll come alive and start yelping at me, but she doesn’t.
“Do you want me to call someone?” Poppy asks.
“No. No, just let me sit with my Hedda for a little bit longer. Please.”
Poppy offers a sympathetic smile, then makes her way back to the car.
I sit in silence with Hedda in my arms and let out every tear inside me. I cry so hard. Harder than when my first love back at Avon Porter accidently died. Harder than when I had to give up my baby girl for adoption. Harder than when I realized that my only chance at sobriety was electric shock therapy. I cry and cry until I just can’t cry any more.
Hours pass. The sun shifts from east to west. I must’ve dozed off. The next thing I know, Poppy’s at my feet. There’s a shovel in her hands.
“A man up the road lent me his shovel. I told him about Hedda. He said we could bury her over there, by the sandbank. That’s where the baby turtles nest. Hedda won’t be disturbed.” Poppy reaches for my hand.
We walk together to where the sea grass grows tall.
I sit in the dirt, rocking my dog back and forth, looking on at Poppy as she digs for me.
In her Chanel suit, face perfectly made up, smelling of cit
rus, nails pink and shiny, Poppy slams the shovel into the ground. “This ground is solid. No sand. Hedda will be fine here. Tomorrow I’ll come back with a plaque with her name on it.”
“You really are a wonderful friend.” My voice cracks and I descend into sobbing once more.
“Well duh.” Poppy smirks back at me, wiping a bead of sweat across her forehead.
She digs and digs. The grave must be about four feet deep when she finally stops. “There. Get some flowers from over there.”
I remove the gold sweater I had around my shoulders and wrap Hedda up like I’m protecting an Eskimo baby from the cold. Once I’ve lowered her body into the grave, Poppy throws a handful of purple coneflowers over the bundle.
“Do you think she’ll be okay here?” I ask, realizing I sound like I’m losing my mind.
Poppy nods. “It’s perfect.” She begins to shovel the dirt back over the grave, packing it on the top. Once it’s covered, I place eight large stones over the dirt, forming them into a cross.
“I can’t believe she’s gone.” I hug Poppy tightly. “You know when I got her?”
“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always had Hedda at your side.”
“I was fifteen. I had given up Baby Rose for adoption. Taddy thought I needed something to love, so Lex and Blake went to a local store in Connecticut, just after we’d been released from juvie, and got me Hedda. She lived in the dorms with us for years.”
“The headmaster never found out?”
“Oh, the school knew. How could they not? I guess when you made as many financial contributions to the endowment as my parents did, a little dog like Hedda didn’t matter.”
Poppy smiles at that. “Would you like to say a prayer before we go?”
I nod and kneel beside the stones. “Dear Lord, thank you for blessing me with Hedda all these years. She’s brought me so much joy and peace in times of pain and sadness. I’m sober now and I’m going to stay sober for Hedda, for you, and for myself. Please watch over her and know that she is always with me.”
“That was beautiful, Vive.”
“Amen.”
We make our way back to the car and start the drive to the farm.
“Are you going to have Debauchery do a smear story on Rod?” Poppy asks as she throws the Bentley into Park.
I glare over at the farmhouse, noticing him, shirtless and carrying a bushel of fruit toward a loading truck.
“Nope.” Unable to find the strength to move, I stay in my seat for a minute.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to do anything. You are.”
“Come again?”
Knowing exactly what to do next, I smile at Poppy and say, “I need another favor.”
Redemption
Rod
I lie in bed, thinking about Vive. She didn’t talk to me when she came back. Instead, she took her meal in her room and hasn’t come out since. I called Ash earlier in the day and asked him to print a retraction.
He refused.
My friendship with that man is over.
At the sound of a knock at my door, I call out “It’s open.”
“Hey,” Vive says in a soft voice. “May I come in?”
Sitting up, I turn on the light next to the bed.
Her eyes are red and puffy as if she’s been crying.
“Juno told me about Hedda. You’ve had such a rough day. First I act like a total asshole, and then your dog passes. I’m really sorry, Vive.”
“Yeah. My first week here has been a bit bumpy. But there’s been some good things that’ve happened too.” She closes the door and makes her way over to the side of my bed.
“Like what?” I motion for her to take a seat.
“I met you. We had fun together. Didn’t we?”
“We sure did.”
“Rod, I really missed that togetherness with someone special. I haven’t felt like that or had those feelings about someone in a long time.”
“Admit it. You love me.” He laughs.
“I could see myself falling madly and deeply in love with you, yes.”
“I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I got so caught up in the moment that I just said what I felt.”
“Are you always so transparent and in touch with your feelings?”
“Usually.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m distant. Sometimes cold even. Can you handle that?”
“Do you want me to handle you?” I ask, implying I want a relationship with her. I do very much want to get to know Vive better.
She laughs. “The rules of halfway house living and sobriety are no romance and no sex.”
“We broke the rules.”
“Yes, I would like us to spend time together and see where it goes.”
I try to hide my grin but I can’t. I reach over and pull her close to me, kissing her hungrily.
“I’m not finished.”
“What more is there to say?”
“That magazine article….”
Errr. “Oh. That.” I release my grip on her hand. “I already called Ash and gave him a piece of my mind.”
“And what did he say in return?”
“Told me to go fuck myself.”
“That’s Ash for ya.” She giggles. “I spent today with Poppy White. Ash is her boss. As you know, he wants to buy my magazine. I’m considering selling it to him.”
“Why?” I feel my forehead wrinkle in confusion.
“While we were burying Hedda by the beach, I realized it’s time for me to let go of my past. Debauchery has brought a lot of people a lot of pain over the years. There are many Roddick-like stories out there of people I’ve harmed. I don’t want that karma in my life forever.”
“Makes complete sense.”
“Plus, I still owe you that redemption story. But it won’t be in print.”
My eyes narrow. “Oh no?”
“Nope. Poppy has agreed to give you one full hour on her talk show. You can tell your side of the story, talk about your ex-wife, your son, your sobriety. Let all of your dirty laundry air out. Your fans will eat it up.”
Shocked, I stare at her. “My publicist has called Poppy’s office about a hundred times over the years, begging her to let me come on her show and tell my side of the story. I find it a little odd that she’s suddenly changing her mind.”
Vive’s chin rises as she eyes me closely. “Don’t read too much into it. Poppy is fickle. She changes her mind from time to time.”
“Did you offer your magazine up for sale in exchange for this story?”
“Maybe….”
“Vive.”
“Don’t get all full of yourself. I didn’t do it for you.”
I chuckle. “Oh no? Who did you do it for, then?”
“For me. One of the things I learned in rehab was to live my life following the Golden Rule. You can’t really do that when you’re running a magazine called Debauchery, now can you?”
“I guess not.”
She snuggles up next to me. “May I ask you a question? I need you to me one hundred percent honest with me. Well, actually it’s three questions….”
“Shoot.”
“Did you really come to this farm to stay sober or to try and ruin my life?”
“To stay sober. Ruining your life was just a bonus,” I answer honestly. I didn’t know about Vive boarding here until after I’d already committed to my therapist about going.
“Second question. It might take me some time to say ‘I love you’ back. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes. You’ll say it one day. I know you will.” I put my hands behind my head confidently, glancing down at my six-pack. “I mean, how could you not?” I joke, cocky grin spreading across my face.
“True. Okay, third and final question. Are you really into curvy girls?”
“You have no idea.” I roll over her, kissing her passionately before pulling back and staring straight into her crystal blue eyes. “I love every inch of your body.”
“I love your body too.”
“Ah-huh. See, you said it. I love you.”
“No. I said I love your body.”
“Same thing.” I laugh, nuzzling the nape of her neck and kissing the soft flesh.
We cuddle and talk. When she falls asleep in my arms, my heart fills with happiness. This woman, who I didn’t really know and hated from afar, is starting to let her walls down.
That’s the funny thing about how we judge people. We never really know where they’re coming from or what their motives are. That is, until we ask.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this entire experience, it’s that things are never quite what they seem.
Back to Manhattan
Upper East Side, New York
Vive
One Year Later
The doorbell rings.
Rod’s son, who he now has custody of on the weekends, opens the door to our penthouse that we moved into yesterday. Located in the East Sixties, with panoramic views of Central Park, it’s just like my old apartment, only bigger and better.
Happy to see us, my besties huddle in the foyer with smiles on their faces.
“Sweet Jesus. I can’t believe you’re back.” Taddy hugs me tightly. The smell of her tuberose perfume overwhelms me. “This place is gorgeous. Holy shit, Vive.”
“I’m so happy you’re home. I was gonna bring champagne but then realized you don’t drink. So here’s some very expensive and yummy sparkling water from France.” Lex hands me the gift. “I’m so proud of you for staying sober this long.”
I haven’t relapsed once. Falling in love will do that to ya.
“Miss Thang, you are working those curves,” Blake adds, rubbing his hands up and down my thighs before giving me a kiss on the lips.
I pause and laugh.
“Did you tell them yet?” Rod asks, glancing at my besties, who are all clueless.
Shaking my head, I spin around, letting them admire my bump.
“No!” Taddy shouts.
“Yes. I’m pregnant. Sixteen weeks.”
“How could you keep this from us?” Lex asks, a hurt look on her face.
“When’s the wedding?” Blake’s beautiful blue eyes narrow as he waits for Rod to answer.
“I’ve already asked for her hand in marriage,” Rod defends, turning to me.