Inner Secrets
Page 23
When I returned, she didn’t thank me for my sweet gesture. She just asked, “Where’s Angelina?”
“She’s just asserting her independence. Teens do this.” I softened. “Just give her some room.”
“Don’t tell me how to parent.”
“I don’t think that’s what she’s doing here,” Hope said. “I think Angie just needs a few minutes to get herself together.”
Julie snapped her eyes to Hope. Steam vented, wheels cranked, anger sizzled, and finally, the top flew off. “I am not going to take advice from some…” She tightened up her face, building up more steam, more anger. “From some…” her breaths hardened up fondue-like, crystalizing into harsh pellets.
Time froze long enough for me to see clearly the misguided jealousy she was ready to catapult onto Hope. I imagined Hope’s pristine aura fading into a gray post-Julie attack. I couldn’t watch this happen.
I pushed towards her, shedding my fear and flaunting a bravado I didn’t own. “From some…?” I pressed forward, stabbing her with my icy eyes, pricking her into silence mode.
Her eyes flickered. She swayed, backing up, reaching for the counter behind. “From some…” she stammered and bit her lip.
I pumped up my illusionary feathers and spread them wide so they couldn’t be missed. I dared her with my presence, pushing her flush against the counter’s edge, my face within inches of hers. “You’re in my house. And in my house at our Thanksgiving dinner, we sit down and give thanks. So, right now, you’re going to sit your ass down, then you’re going to drink wine and you’re going to eat a fucking turkey leg if it kills you to do so. Right?”
She puffed and then whimpered like a trapped raccoon fighting with the last of its energy to break free from the net and scamper off to lick her wounds and gain her pride back.
I inched even closer.
“Fine,” she screamed and pushed me back. “Give me glass of fucking wine.”
“Get it yourself.” I then turned back to save my buns from charring and faced a roomful of people with mouths hung down to the floor. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter Sixteen
HOPE
That January night of our late Thanksgiving dinner, while everyone slept on the couch in front of a “Law and Order” episode, I retreated downstairs to get a strong drink. Lucy met me down there.
“So, how was that for standing my ground?”
“I was scared.” I said.
“It felt good to put her in her place and have her see me as more than a little sister she could push around.”
“What did she say to you later on when you walked her to her car?”
“She asked me not to walk her to her car. But, I did anyway. You know me. I would never be able to sleep tonight if I didn’t at least help her save face a little for the ride home. My goal wasn’t to get Angie to hate her mom. So, I gave her a hug and told her I loved her. Then, I told her I hoped we could work it out.”
“I don’t think your sister is capable.”
“Well, now, don’t rush into that conclusion so quickly.” Lucy grabbed a glass, and I poured some Kahlua into it. “We had a good chat. She confessed that she was jealous of me and that she had some work ahead of her. She told me Angie really looked up to me and she didn’t want that to change. Angie even came to our side and listened.”
“See what happens when you listen to me?”
Lucy scooted in closer. “You’re a good role model.”
I breathed in her energy, her soul, her vibe. “I really enjoyed seeing that side of you tonight.”
She rested her eyes on mine. “I like that you enjoyed it.” She offered me a sip.
She placed the glass to my lips and poured a helping into my mouth. “That was sweet.”
She placed the glass down and latched onto my hands, then drew a breath. “I’m so attracted to you.”
I guided our entwined hands up to my lips and kissed them. I drifted on her gaze, losing myself in her eyes. I let go of her hands and played with her hair, sliding my fingers through it and enjoying its soft tickle. I twirled a long layer, flirting with it, teasing it into a spiral. “What can we do about this?”
“Make love to me,” Lucy whispered.
Caught up in this reverie, I took full advantage of the swing and caught her, and kissed her deeply until her breath entered my soul and tickled me down to my toes. “I want to. I really want to. But—”
“Shh.” She placed her finger on my lips. “I need to do this.”
I breathed her in as her fingers traced my lips. Our chests rose and fell at the same rate; in and out, up and down. I could take her right then. Just scoop her up and glide her to ecstasy, to a place she’d never recover from, never forfeit. The memory would etch itself in her mind. I’d show her what making love with a woman was all about, what she’d been missing all along, and why she and Adam couldn’t connect the way she craved. She could be mine, our bodies entwined like growing vines, unable to release until full range had been met.
This was my chance.
Her finger slowly circled down past my jaw, down my neck, down to where our breasts met. “Please,” she said. “Make love to me.”
I steered her, each move laced with more and more hazard. The danger excited me, spinning my head round and round. Dizzy and drunk, I inhaled deeply, and this cleared a path for sense to filter through. I opened my eyes and stared into her pretty ones. Innocence still skimmed their edges. Her soul was still pure. Her heart still open. Her mind was not corrupt with the poison of contempt for herself. She caressed my face, admiring me, bathing me in love.
How easily I could’ve slid into this tempting moment. But I wouldn’t risk it. I shuffled backwards, and she pulled me towards her as if wanting me to help her cross that line.
“I’d never forgive myself,” I said. I ran my fingers through her soft hair, enjoying the tease. “I care about you too much to let this happen this way. I can’t have you viewing me as the girl who tarnished your good soul.”
She kissed me tenderly. “This is why I adore you so much.” She played with my hair now, too, sliding her fingers through to the ends. “But, you say that like I’m perfect. I can assure you, I’m not. I’m guilty of things, too.”
I kissed the tip of her nose. “Nothing you can say will ever persuade me to think you’re anything less than perfect.”
Her fingers stopped sliding and landed on the end of a layer. She swallowed as if contemplating whether to confess a murder. “Nothing?”
“Absolutely nothing.” I reassured her with a series of feather light kisses down her neck.
She stretched back. “I’m feeling really guilty about something, and I really want to tell you. But, I’m scared.”
I cradled her again, but she squirmed free. “You can tell me anything.”
“Promise me that you won’t hate me.”
“Lucy, you don’t have to bottle anything up inside with me.” I pulled her in again. This time she let me. She trembled in my arms. I rocked her. “Just tell me.”
She buried her face in my chest and said, “I did something horrible.”
I continued to rock her. “It’s okay. Just free yourself. Tell me.”
“I read your journal.”
I stopped rocking her. “What do you mean you read my journal?”
She looked up at me, fear cased her eyes. “I read your journal. I saw it sitting there one day when I returned your wallet to your room and I read some of it.”
I spilled hundreds of secrets onto those pages, secrets no one should have seen. Not even Lucy. The red undies, the kisses, the countless times I wanted to make love to her, oh my gosh, then the Nebraska whore and all of the Isabella details. Anger seeped in. She read about things I had a hard time admitting to myself. “That’s deeply personal stuff.”
“I know,” she said, her face anguished with a rush of guilt. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you… I thought I could. I thought you wanted me to be honest and forthri
ght.”
I backed away. “Reading my private thoughts has nothing to do with being assertive.”
She hugged her chest. “Oh God, I never should’ve said anything.”
“You never should’ve invaded my privacy like that.”
“I stopped, though. I haven’t read it in weeks.”
“Weeks?” I flew my hands up in the air taking in the sheer gravity of this news, this betrayal. “So, it was more than once? You trampled all over my secrets multiple times? Like it was a fucking public newspaper?”
“I’m sorry.” Tears fell faster than she could wipe them away.
“Sorry? I feel so exposed.” I paced the floor thinking of all the times I carried on about her and about Adam and about the times I cheated on Ryan. “You had to dig through my underwear drawers and hunt it down.” I bent over in a rush of pain. “How could you do this?”
“I wanted to get to know you.”
“And you didn’t think of just asking me?”
Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I should’ve. You’re right.”
I stared at a girl I didn’t know any better than the first day I met her at work. “I need to get out of here.” I rushed past her.
“Hope, please, I’m so sorry.” She latched onto my shirt. “Please forgive me.”
I turned towards the stairs and left her without saying a word.
~
I spent the better part of my morning working out in the basement trying to avoid everyone in the house. After beating myself up for a couple of hours, I walked back upstairs. The whole gang, minus Lucy, was hanging out in the living room in pajamas, sipping coffee and eating left over burnt buns.
“Hey,” Reina said, “Sit down and eat some of these with us so you can stop making us feel so guilty with all of your exercise crap. It’s still the holidays in my mind. No exercise allowed.”
“Even Adam took the morning off from writing,” Ralph said.
Adam chomped on a bun. “They’re a little stale, but they’re still delicious.”
How would I ever hang with them again and feel like I belonged?
“I’ve got to run.” I passed by them and ran up the stairs.
I showered and then decided maybe I just needed to get out, get some fresh air and everything would feel better. On my way out, I decided to grab my journal. I was hoping to read it and realize nothing too much was said in it that would make me cringe.
A few minutes later, I arrived at the coffee shop down the street. Before I got out of my car, I opened the journal to a random page and read the entry.
August 19
Dear Journal, It’s Hope.
Today was a sad one. Lucy left the firm for good. I’ve never felt so lonely. I miss her so much already. In other news, PJ and Rachel are getting on my nerves. I’m not sure I even like them anymore. Does that make me a terrible person? Using friends because I have no other choice?
Oh well, what’s a girl to do?
I cringed. These were thoughts no one should have ever read. They were mine. Sacred. Guarded. Truths.
I tossed it under my seat and climbed out of my car, hoping a cup of coffee would save me from myself.
Well, I found it funny how things just sort of worked out when you really needed them to work out. Above the shop and the pizzeria next door was a small apartment. I had never looked up at it until that morning. I noticed the “for rent” sign. I asked the coffee shop owner if he knew anything about it and he said someone just moved out, a guy who had lived there twenty years. Apparently the landlord just posted the sign last week and no one had bitten on it, yet. He directed me to the pizza restaurant. “He owns and works it.”
So, as karma would play things out, karma made up for one of the lowest points in my life by placing me in the right place at the right time. The jolly Italian man behind the counter beamed when I told him I needed a place to rent. “It’s clean and safe, and you can even have a little dog or cat if you want. I just ask that you take care of it.”
“Can I see it first?”
“Oh, yes,” he bellowed a hearty laugh. “Come, follow me. I take you up there right this instant,” he said with a thick Italian accent.
He dug a wad of keys out of his apron, and I followed him out of the pizzeria and up the steep stairs to a door with a picture of Jesus on it. “The guy was deeply religious. You can remove if you don’t like it.”
We walked into the one room apartment. Its charm immediately drew me in. “It even comes furnished. The table and chairs are my mother’s from Italy. Finest Italian carpentry. Oh, and,” he walked over to the oversized, broken-in leather couch and yanked on a handle, “it’s a sleeper. You can open it when you get tired. Close it when you’re not.”
It smelled like pizza. Sun filtered in a large bow window in the back, offering a bird’s eye view of the quaint Main Street below. “How much?”
“How much you want to pay?”
“Two hundred fifty a month,” I said, low-balling him.
“You know what?” He looked me up and down, massaging his chin. “I tell you what. I’m a going to make you a deal, huh. Three hundred and the electricity and hot water are included. Eh? Good deal, right?”
I was thinking seven hundred would be a steal. “I think that’s fair.”
“How soon you want to move in?”
“How about right now?”
“Let’s a go back to the pizzeria and sign the papers.” He walked towards my new door. “Do you like pizza?”
“Love it.”
“How about provolone cheese? You like the provolone cheese?”
“Sure do.” I held the railing. I felt like I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone.
“Then, you come and be my guest. You sit at a table, eat the pizza with the provolone cheese and I get you the paperwork to sign.”
Within an hour I was back at Ralph’s packing up my stuff.
~
I’d been on my own for a week before I could face my journal again. I sat on my couch with a pen in hand and a mountain of emotions building in my heart. I spent every night crying for everything I lost. I missed my roommates, the bickering, the green energy drinks, my golden room, but mostly I ached for Lucy.
I opened my journal and began writing.
February 4
Dear Journal, it’s me. Hope again.
You are still my safe place, my place to unload, my place to gain a sense of sanity in this great big, scary world. Trust is such a precious gift. How do you rebuild it once it’s broken? This is the question that’s haunted me since leaving last Friday. This whole thing has me wondering what Ryan went through with me. I never even asked for his forgiveness. How could he forgive me when I never asked him to? Did he want to forgive me? Did he want to move past the obvious wrongdoing and carve a new path where understanding and a newfound respect for one another could reside? Or was he that humiliated and turned-off that he couldn’t even imagine allowing me into his world again? Thankfully, I’m not feeling any of these things toward Lucy. I’m angry. I feel betrayed. But, I don't believe she was coming from a place of malicious intent. Just as I think Ryan could’ve gotten to that point where he understood I wasn’t trying to be malicious either. I was tempted, drawn in, mesmerized by the lure of what was on that other side. I was weak and vulnerable and crossed the line. Isn’t that what Lucy did?
I believe Lucy is truly sorry for what she did, and as the days are going by I miss her and feel less anger, more understanding, and more accepting that she made a mistake. A very bad mistake, but a mistake. She wasn’t perfect after all. But who is? Aren’t we all just on this ride for the fun of it? Can’t it just be that? Does it have to be perfect?
The more I think about it, the more I am starting to realize that Lucy really scaled a monumental wall in telling me about this. I don’t believe she would’ve ever told Adam or anyone else for that matter. But she trusted me and told me. She’s just a sweet girl who is just as screwed up with her path as the rest
of us misfits. I’m no different in that respect.
I stopped writing and reread the passage. I needed Lucy to know that I didn’t hate her. So, I called her. And when she didn’t pick up, I left her a three-word message. “I forgive you.”
After I hung up, I felt the shift. I was almost balanced.
Next, I called Ryan and he actually answered on the second ring. “Hi, Hope.”
“Hi, Ryan.”
“What’s up?”
“Well, I’m calling because I, um, because I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I am so sorry for the way I treated us. I was so wrapped-up in discovering myself that I never considered anyone but me. I was selfish. I was wrong in the way I acted. And, I hope one day you can forgive me for what I did. I am truly sorry.”
He exhaled. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know that I am truly sorry for what I did.”
“You hurt me more than you’ll ever be able to imagine.”
“I know I did.”
“I was shocked, stunned. I couldn’t believe you could do that to me.”
I took the blow and swallowed the pain. “I’m embarrassed by what I did. I should’ve come clean to you first.”
“It took me a while to get over the shock.” He paused. “But, I did. One day I just woke up and I didn’t feel shocked anymore. I felt angry instead. And, that anger’s been simmering for too long now. It’s kept me back. I know it has.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“I believe you this time.” Another long pause stretched between us. “You know, I don’t feel it suddenly. I don’t feel the weight of it.”
I wept tears of relief. We didn’t speak, just sniffled back and forth for a minute. “Will you ever forgive me?”
“I do. I forgive you, Hope. I really do.”
“Thank you,” I said, breathing without burden. “Thank you for forgiving me.”