by Suzie Carr
Despite how well we were getting by as friends, I still dreamed about kissing her, about caressing her toned body, about curling my legs around her waist and nuzzling up to her soft skin. I even fantasized about her making love to me, planting her love in me through gentle kisses and curious desires.
I wanted to know if she felt the same way. But, I was on the no-journal-reading wagon again, and this time, I would not fail her. Her inner secrets were hers to keep now. I had earned her trust, though undeservedly, and I wouldn’t screw with it any longer. I would trust in her and in the process of friendship from there on out. Hope made that easy. I could ask her anything now. Nothing was off limits. No one else had ever offered me that gift. Not even the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.
~
Julie was supposed to arrive with Angie at ten o’clock, and didn’t arrive until ten thirty eight. They burst through the front door. Angie swung off her shoes and bolted past me, anger written all over her face, and Julie planted her heeled foot in the foyer and refused to step in any further.
“This isn’t working any more. I’m driving an hour and a half to come here and what you’re doing is not working. You can’t take her to the shelter and expect her to pass an algebra exam. You do get that, right?”
“Whoa.” I threw my hands up on surrender. “What’s happening here?”
“What’s happening is I am wasting half a tank of gas tramping her up and down Interstate ninety-five thinking the whole time that something good has to be coming out of all of this effort, and then come to find out, she failed her fourth test of the quarter. She tells me this just as I’m pulling into your driveway.”
“Try to calm down. We can work with her on this.”
“Bullshit. This whole process is ridiculous. She’s worse off than ever. I’m driving up here like a fool thinking you’re really working with her and come to find out you’re crafting favors for your silly boyfriend’s party and visiting animals at a shelter, putting all sorts of wild dreams into her head.” Her nostrils flared.
Mine did, too.
Angie appeared. “You are a fool,” she said to her mother. “You’re just mad that Aunt Lucy is actually more fun than you.”
“Angie, don’t—,” I said.
“Yes, Aunt Lucy,” she said, “someone has to stand up to her.” She talked about her mother like she wasn’t even in the room.
“Get in the car. I’m taking you home. I’m not making this trip again tomorrow to pick you up.”
She marched out the front door, down the walkway, to the end of the drive, and into her BMW.
Angie flung her hands up in the air. “I hate her. Do you see what I have to go through? Do you see why I run away and hang out in abandoned mills instead of in my pretty pink room that’s dolled up for the daughter she wishes I was?”
I hugged her. “She’s your mother, regardless. She’s got issues just like the rest of us.”
“You need to stand up to her better.” And at that, Angie rushed out the door and slammed it shut.
I walked into the great room, ashamed. Hope was stretching on the floor. “Sounds like you might need a run.”
“I need a hell of a lot more than that.” I plopped down on the floor next to her. “Now my niece thinks I’m a louse.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation. At least you’re a cute louse.”
I punched her arm. “Be nice.”
She stood up and extended her hand out to me. “Come on. Let’s go for a nice easy jog.”
“I’m not wearing a sports bra. And, I don’t feel like changing.”
“Even better.” She latched onto my hand and pulled me out the front door like I was hers for the taking. I didn’t fight it.
HOPE
I still wasn’t certain whether Lucy stayed with Adam because she was afraid to be alone, afraid to admit she really preferred women, or afraid to hurt him and not be able to feel centered around a life that didn’t involve keeping him happy, even at the sacrifice of her own joy.
If Julie had spoken to me the way she did to Lucy that day, I would’ve swung my fist into her face so fast, she would’ve gone flying through the front door and landed at the foot of her BMW.
This fear was the one thing that bothered me about Lucy. I wanted to toss her into the pit of fire and prove to her fighting her way out would be far more satisfying than staying in to face the heat just for the sake of not wanting to hurt my feelings.
She avoided conflict like a frog avoided a scorpion. She was afraid it would sting her so fiercely that she’d die from it and never get to hop around enjoying the sweet freedom of life as she knew it, life at its comfort stage, life without bumps, twists, ragged edges and all those obstacles that grew a person into someone weathered, rich and diverse. She stayed nestled in the status quo, cutting herself off from the thrill of possibility and growth.
I believed all she needed was a good nudge off the ledge where she’d have no choice but to free fall into the wild blue yonder of space without a net to fall into that would save her from uncertain fate. Only then would she ever gain the momentum and strength needed to live a life that was truly hers to live and not based on someone else’s dream.
I desperately wanted to teach her this for selfish reasons. I knew if she flew with the wind of change at her back, that she’d be open to all sorts of possibilities, and one of them would be me. She’d shed all those insecurities that kept her still and dance instead with exhilaration like she did so many times when alone with me. This was when I loved her most, when Adam was not around, when she was free and uninhibited to explore new sights, new heights, and new promises.
If only she could see that, too.
I wrote my blog for the week around this very concept, hoping maybe she’d see herself in it and be motivated to stand out on the edge and jump with her own power and her own set of wings.
After editing it several times, I posted it, satisfied that I drove home my point in a non-assuming manner. After this, I moseyed on down to get some breakfast. The gang was there, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. I was growing to love this new family dynamic of mine.
“Where’s Adam?” Ralph asked.
“He’s checking his numbers again.” Lucy rolled her eyes.
“He’s got to stop with this obsessing, don’t you think?” he asked.
“The availability of real-time sales figures is not a benefit,” Lucy said. “Especially to someone like Adam who checks it every half hour.” She poured milk into a bowl of Raisin Bran. She offered the box to me. “Want some?”
I waved her off. “No thanks. But I will have some of this roti.” I went to pick up one, and Reina slapped my hand. “Not, yet. They’ll be ready to eat in a few minutes, after I cook up some scrambled eggs.”
“You have to be careful with that stuff,” Ralph said. “It’ll expand that tight little waistline of yours.”
“I think she’ll be alright,” Lucy said, eyeing my waist before honing in on a spoonful of cereal.
I flicked his bulging bicep. “What do these things really do for you anyway,” I teased.
“More than your tiny little arms could ever do.” He picked me up from behind in a bear hug and swung me around. I grunted and kicked his knees, wrestling out of his grip. He was like that annoying older brother I never had. He said stupid things all the time that would anger most people. One of these days, I feared for him that he’d say the wrong thing to the wrong person and get walloped across the face or kicked in the balls. He was a goofball with no filter. A cowboy without his gun. A firefighter without his hose. Just a pumped-up muscle man with no one to admire the hard work. I loved him.
He dropped me and took off to the foot of the stairs. “Adam,” he shouted up. “I’ll be out in the car. If you’re not there in two minutes, I’m taking off.”
Adam sauntered down the stairs. His mouth twisted in that usual way after his sales were down. “I’m ready.”
“Grab yourself a
water bottle. You’re going to need it. We’re doing kettle bell.”
I felt sorry for him. He looked pathetic, like a worn out jacket all wrinkled and tattered. His face told his story of a man with his dreams being sucked out of his core. I reached into the fridge and tossed him the bottle, saving the precious energy he’d need for Ralph’s workout.
“Thanks,” he said, managing a smile. He stopped by Lucy and kissed the top of her head. “If you get a chance, can you resend my last tweet in about an hour? Sales are down and I need to make sure I’m present.”
“Of course,”’ Lucy said, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear and then spooning in another mouthful of Raisin Bran between her pretty rosy lips. I saw the wry look clear as day.
Shoot me. I’d rather be lying in a puddle of my own blood, gasping for air, and clutching my chest than pretending to love someone I didn’t.
A few minutes later, when Reina finally left the kitchen, I wasted no time. “You are so afraid to rock the boat and tell him how you really feel.”
Her eyes flew open wide. She shook her head. “He’s a nice guy going through turmoil right now. He thought his writing career was going to take off and solve all of his financial woes, and it hasn’t. I can’t kick a man when he’s down.”
“Do you really think he’s brilliant?”
She scoffed. “What difference does it make what I think? It’s the readers who count.”
I barged onward. “Have you finished reading his novel, yet?”
She pulled in her bottom lip and refused to look me in the eye. “I’ve read some of it.”
“Did you like it?”
Now she looked right at me. “Are you trying to make me feel more horrible than I already do? You obviously know my answer if you’re asking.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” I was trying to get her to be honest with him for once. I leveled the playing field by pouring myself a bowl of cereal, too.
We munched in silence for a few awkward minutes. Then, she said to me. “I don’t think he’s brilliant. In fact, I think his writing is the most boring stuff ever. And the worst part of it is, he really counts on me to tell him the truth. He begged me to dissect it, rip it apart, mark it up with a red pen and slash everything that wasn’t right. But, to do that, I’d have to slash the entire novel. I can’t do that.”
She stopped talking and waited for me to speak. All I could summons was a “Wow.”
“Wow?”
“How good did that feel to get that off your chest?” I asked her.
Her face eased and she managed a smile, small, but it was still visible and freed up some breathing for her. “I didn’t even know I was holding all of that in.”
“You need to tell him.”
“No way. It’s not my job to crush him.”
“Then, whose job is it?”
Her smile faded. “I hate this. I hate that I have to deal with this. Why should I have to destroy his ego? Maybe I just hate science fiction. Maybe science fiction readers will love what he’s writing and they just need to be coaxed into buying the book. Maybe he’s really the next Stephen King of science fiction.”
“Do you really believe that?”
She sunk her face into her hands. “No.”
I took this opportunity to nestle my hand against her hair. “If writing books is really what he wants to do with his life, then don’t you think you owe it to him to tell him what’s wrong with his writing so he can make it better and get on with his pursuit?”
“That’s like telling your mate she’s fat.”
“Sometimes a little stirring up is what’s needed. It could save his future. He might just need a writing course to set him straight on writing stuff that’ll get pages turning.”
“I hate conflict.”
I tangled my fingers in her hair even more. “I know. That’s what makes you so sweet. But sweet isn’t always what’s best. Sometimes you have to toss in a little sour to get the balance just right.”
She stuck out her tongue at me and I tried to snatch it. She was too quick for me.
LUCY
After reading Hope’s blog, I thought about her advice and knew she was right.
If I couldn’t tell Adam the truth, what good was I doing him? I didn’t have to come right out and kill the guy with insults. I could temper the mood with constructive feedback, using the principle I learned in my class of five positives for every one negative.
Would I want him to tell me I was a terrible TA? I already knew I hadn’t acted like the best one towards the end of the semester. It would just reaffirm it for me. Did he really feel he was a brilliant writer? Couldn’t he tell something lacked? Was a person’s ego that powerful that it could block all sense of reality from poking through it? If I didn’t tell him he needed improvement, how would he ever grow?
I sat with him one night and asked him to read me chapter one of his next book. I’d never asked such a request. He plopped down on the bed and got right down to it.
He sat by my side, book in hand, reading his work out loud. He tripped over sentence by sentence squirming at his run-ons and acknowledging his typos by grabbing a pencil and marking these areas for future reference.
I couldn't tell if he was embarrassed, disappointed, or angry. His face reddened and he sighed heavily with each discovery. I didn’t have to say a word, it seemed. He discovered his mistakes all on his own, which was exactly what I had hoped would happen.
“Geez, I didn’t realize there were so many mistakes.” He scribbled in the margin.
I just shrugged and suggested he read his books out loud like this from now on.
After the first scene, he tossed the book and relaxed on his side, propping his head on his elbow. “I’m hungry.”
“Let’s go make something to eat.”
And so we marched down to the kitchen and began making a salad.
“I think Hope’s attracted to you,” Adam said. “Do you see it, too?”
I carved a tomato like I was dissecting a rare specimen. I seriously considered his question; let it tumble around my mind. “Why would you say that?” My skin burned.
He tore at the head of lettuce, ripping it into shreds. “It’s the way she looks at you. I’ve caught her several times checking you out. You don’t notice?”
I flushed some more. “No.” I scoffed. “We’re just friends. I would never think of her that way.” My heart raced.
“What do you think she was getting at in her blog this week?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s reflecting on her life.”
“So, you do read her blog?” He tossed his chopped onion and slivered carrots into the lettuce.
I swallowed a lump, already knowing where this was going. “I browsed it. It comes in my email inbox.”
“So should mine. But that’s right. You followed with your junk email account.” He turned on the faucet and rinsed his knife. “I noticed.”
I tossed my tomatoes into the mix, trying my best to avoid facing the fact that I didn’t support my own boyfriend’s writing, but I did my roommate’s. “Don’t be upset. It’s just a habit whenever I sign up for anything. Hope signed me up for hers, otherwise I would’ve used my junk one for hers, too.” I plucked up a pepper from the vegetable strainer. I chopped its head off with a precise swoop of the blade. “I’ll sign up for yours with my good email account.”
“That’d be great.” He plopped handfuls of salad on each of our plates. “I think I’ll just go eat this upstairs and correct some of those errors I saw.”
And just like that, our first serious conversation in several months ended. “No problem.”
As he walked away, I bit into a carrot stick and contemplated my lie. I was so damn tired of lying.
Chapter Fifteen
The night before the race and Adam’s surprise party, all of us roommates got together to play charades again. Ralph’s kids were there. Reina’s boyfriend, Rajesh, was there. Everyone was there exce
pt for Adam. He was upstairs obsessing over his revisions.
After a while, Ralph’s kids started chasing each other up and down the staircase, banging each other against walls, giggling and screaming. I helped Rajesh mix up some punch while the rest of the gang debated over who would win the Super Bowl that year.
We were all laughing and enjoying the night until Adam stormed down the stairs and asked me through gritted teeth to come upstairs with him. I followed, leaving Rajesh to finish our fruit juice medley. Adam led me, walking like he was hiding a dead body in our room and needed me to come straight away. He slammed the door behind us.
“I can’t take it.” He flung his arms up in the air. “I can’t take living here another minute. These people are all driving me crazy. I can’t focus. I keep hearing those freaking kids screaming and carrying on like they’re killing each other. We need to find a new place to live.”
Daggers shot out of his eyes. He paced the floor tossing out a sigh every time he heard someone laugh. “See? How am I supposed to get any writing done with all that noise? They have no respect for what I’m doing up here.”
He rambled on like a crazy person. “Adam, this doesn’t happen every night. Besides, it’s a Friday. Maybe this is a good clue that you should come down and join us and relax a bit.”
“Relax?” He scratched his head, upending his layers. “I don’t want to relax. I want to fix this book. I want to write my next one. I can’t do that with all of these people living under one roof.” He tossed words out, dumping them from side to side like garbage. “Did you know that Reina burps when she thinks no one’s home? And, Ralph talks to himself about positive this and positive that? Hana, she babbles incessantly on the phone to her family in Hong Kong, and do you know how annoying it is that I can’t understand a word she’s saying? Everything that comes out of her mouth is like an emergency when she’s probably just talking about the weather.” He grunted and raised his head to the ceiling. “I’m going crazy here.”