Fakers

by Meg Collett

  “It looks tolerable,” Stevie said with a sigh, handing the laptop back to Kyra.

  It actually looked more than tolerable. It was a huge estate with a lake, stables, and tennis courts. The house itself was a giant log mansion with lots of windows and sunny rooms. Stevie wouldn’t be bored for a minute.

  “Okay, let’s go with this one then,” Kyra said, trying to be cheerful. Stevie was slumped against the wall, picking at her fingernails. “Stevie?”

  She looked up. “Yeah, sorry. Let’s do it.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just bummed, I guess. I wish I could spend the rest of the summer with you.” She looked out the window, where the sound of kids’ laughter and the ocean waves poured in. Everyone was outside enjoying their weekend. “I just wish…I didn’t have a problem. No, I just wish it wasn’t a problem.”

  Kyra knew what Stevie was thinking, because she’d often thought the same thing about her depression. Stevie thought something was wrong with her on a fundamental level, as if she was a weaker human because alcohol did this to her. There were no words to comfort her friend, to convince her that she wasn’t a bad person.

  Except just being honest.

  “I used to cut myself,” Kyra said quietly. “In high school and college. Actually, that’s a lie.” She raked her hand through her hair. She had Stevie’s full attention now. “I’ve done it more recently than college. Sometimes I can’t stop myself because it’s all I can think about.” She went on, even though Stevie looked shocked. “It helped me…handle things. The pain masked the bad emotions. It numbed me so that I stopped feeling…so much. It was a relief. Or at least, I thought it was, before I started going to a therapist a year ago. Now I understand that it’s not healthy, but I’ve regressed a couple times.”

  “Being drunk was like that.” Stevie leaned forward, her eyes on Kyra. “It was armor for me. Nothing could get inside and hurt me when I was drunk.”

  “Except yourself.”

  The silence stretched out between them. Stevie was the first to break it. “When was the last time you cut?”

  Kyra took a deep breath. She could lie, but her friend deserved better. “Not since I’ve been here, but I’ve thought about it. Sometimes it feels nearly impossible not to give in.” Even now, her eyes drifted to her bathroom, where her blade sat tucked deeply into the shadows of her medicine cabinet.

  She thought for only a second before she started pulling off the bracelets. One by one, the thick woven ones came off, followed by the dangly pretty ones that she’d made herself. She never took them off, so it was a struggle to wiggle her wrist out. Underneath, row after row, were narrow, straight scars. They were tiny and deep and so close to each other that they looked like one continuous scar of white, tortured flesh.

  “Kyra,” Stevie whispered.

  “We’re not broken, Stevie,” Kyra said. “We just cope the best way we know how, but it’s not the best way, because it hurts us. So we have to learn a new way, a better way. Because we deserve the happiness we fake.”

  They were silent for a long time, staring at Kyra’s wrist, until one by one, Stevie handed Kyra’s bracelets back to her so that she could put them all back in place, masking her marks. “You need a better way too,” Stevie finally said.

  “I know. My therapist and I were working on it when I moved down here.”

  “Do you have a therapist here that you can talk to? Or maybe, like, medication to take or something?” Stevie asked, fumbling with the words.

  “I haven’t called anyone down here yet. I thought…well, I thought this place would fix me.” Kyra considered her lack of closure, even after spending the week visiting her mother’s grave. If she didn’t lie to herself, she knew she needed to call a therapist. Soon.

  “Shit, Kyra.” Stevie dropped her head into her hands.

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe you could come with me?” She looked up, bright with the idea. Her eyes were wide and excited, like she’d just found the solution.

  “You need to focus on you right now. I’ll distract you,” Kyra said, but it was a bad lie. If she was a stronger person, she would be going to rehab with Stevie. “I’ll just look up a therapist.”

  Stevie’s face fell. “Well, okay. That’s good.”

  Kyra stood up, stretching. “Come on. We need to call The Lodge.” She grabbed her phone off her bed, noticing she had yet another call from Aunt Carol, and put in the number for the facility. She offered it to Stevie.

  “Great,” Stevie mumbled. “Here we go.”

  To give her privacy, Kyra left the room. She went downstairs slowly, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist as she went. She’d gotten lucky since she’d moved here—nothing had triggered her to want to cut. Being around Stevie and Hale helped, but that couldn’t last forever. She needed to find someone to talk to before she lost it.

  She went into the kitchen and made her and Stevie a salad for lunch. As she worked, she hummed along to a song in her head. The ocean outside her new bay windows distracted her too, so that she repeatedly had to remind herself of what she was doing. By the time Stevie came downstairs, Kyra almost had her salad polished off.

  “Well,” Stevie said. Kyra looked up to where her friend stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “They said I can come tomorrow.”

  Kyra’s mouth fell open. “Holy cow! That’s, like, tomorrow.”

  “No shit.” Stevie made a face.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That I’d be there.” Stevie shrugged.

  Kyra jumped up and crossed the kitchen to hug her friend. “Stevie, that’s great!”

  “No, it would be great if you were coming,” she corrected.

  Kyra gritted her teeth, but her smile stayed in place. “I promise that I’ll call someone. Now you need to pack.”

  Her face turned slightly green as she bit her lip. “All the alcohol is over there,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Oh.” Kyra’s mouth hung open slightly for a second before she recovered. “Right, well, I could go over there and pack for you?”

  “Is this something I should want to do? Like go over and pour all that shit out? Shouldn’t I have this big moment where I break all the bottles and throw them around?”

  Kyra hugged Stevie again. “I think that’s only in the movies,” she said into Stevie’s hair.

  “Good. ‘Cause I don’t think I’m strong enough for that.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed. “Stevie, you’re the strongest person I know,” she whispered. Before she could get more emotional, she stepped away. “What if I go over there and get rid of it. Then you can come over and we can pack together?”

  Stevie thought for a second before she bobbed her head. “I can do that, I think.”

  “Okay, good. I made lunch. You can eat, and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  “Here’s your phone. There’s a key to the back door under the blue flower pot.”

  “Thanks,” she said, taking her phone back from Stevie. “Call you soon.”

  “Can’t wait,” Stevie said dryly as Kyra went out the back door.

  Nearly an hour later, she discovered there were a lot of bottles to pour out. Stevie practically had a full bar of stocked liquor. After that, she tended to all the beer in the refrigerator and the wine cooler, which was filled to the brim. At the last second, she decided to check Stevie’s bedroom.

  She found a bottle of whiskey under the bed and a flask in Stevie’s makeup bag. She dumped them in the bathroom sink, watching as the amber liquid gurgled down the drain. Turning away, she tossed the containers into the trash and tied it up to join the other bags downstairs.

  Before she called Stevie, she walked the trash out to the front drive. As she closed the garbage lid, Mrs. Walker and her ugly, yapping dog walked toward Kyra. She waved as they went past in the effort to be friendly, but she didn’t miss the disapproving purse of Mrs. Walker’s lips or the shake of her head.

  Kyr
a flipped the woman off even though Mrs. Walker’s back was turned. She dialed Stevie’s number. Her friend picked up on the first ring.

  “So, what’s the current trend in rehab these days?” Kyra asked.

  twenty-three

  The next morning as Kyra hefted a particularly large suitcase into her Jeep, she heard a honk. Hale parked along the curb, and before he’d had time to turn off the truck, Cade sprung out, grinning like an excited puppy. Stevie’s expression darkened.

  “Please tell me you didn’t plan a surprise going-away party,” Stevie said, glowering at Cade when he waved to her. “I don’t think I can handle it.”

  Kyra laughed. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Hey, Stevie!” Cade said. He pulled her into a big bear hug, which Stevie reluctantly returned. “We wanted to ride with you, if that is okay?”

  “Hey,” Hale said, coming up beside Kyra. His shoulder brushed against hers, sending a shiver down her spine. She smiled up at him.

  “Hey,” she echoed.

  “Fine.” Stevie pointed to the last of her luggage. “You can load those in the Jeep.”

  “All of these?” Cade asked, his eyebrows rising as he surveyed the rather large pile.

  “Well, yeah.” Stevie opened the passenger door and hopped in. “Always be prepared, or whatever.”

  Kyra, Hale, and Cade finished loading the Jeep before they all got inside. It was still pretty early in the morning, but they all had a sheen of sweat on their foreheads. Kyra cranked up the air conditioning before she pulled onto the street.

  Their conversations on the way to The Lodge were light and superficial. Cade told jokes for Stevie, but she rarely laughed. All in all, it was a tense drive. Kyra kept cutting her eyes to Stevie, who mostly passed the time staring out her window.

  Their trip took them back to the mainland. The trees were dense here, and the salty smell to the air was gone. Kyra slowed as she looked for the entrance, but it wasn’t hard to miss.

  A large wooden sign distinguished the drive. She put on her blinker, even though she hadn’t passed a car for miles, and turned in. Along either side of the road were huge, sweeping Bradford pears. There must have been nearly a hundred of them, because the drive was two miles long. Finally it split, and she followed a sign pointing toward the main house.

  The house itself emerged from the woods. It was massive and sprawling, but still managed to look inviting, with bright landscaping and large windows. She pulled around the circular drive and parked in front of the steps leading to the main entrance. Everyone in the car craned their necks to look up at the house, which was made of rich red logs. It was a mix of modern and rustic that Kyra thought suited the place perfectly.

  As they got out, the front door opened and a man in a crisp white uniform hurried down the stairs. “Miss Stevie?” he asked, looking between Stevie and Kyra.

  “That would be me,” Stevie said.

  “Ah! Welcome to The Lodge, Miss Stevie. My name is David. May I take your bags?” David asked.

  Cade laughed. “David, you will need about three more of you if you want to take her bags. She came prepared.”

  David smiled politely, as if he’d seen this all before. “I understand.”

  “I will help,” Cade offered, flicking a quick look to Stevie. She didn’t notice as she turned to Kyra.

  Hale sighed and hefted up two bags. “Fine. Guess I’ll help too.”

  “If I don’t make it out of here alive, I want you to have my condom collection.” Stevie sniffed, pulling Kyra into a dramatic hug when the guys were out of earshot. “And use a few on Hale Cooper, then dump him.”

  “What?” Kyra asked, laughing uncertainly.

  “You heard me,” Stevie said, the seriousness etching onto her face when she looked at Kyra. The cuts on her face still looked fresh and painful in the bright sunlight. “I’ve dated my share of guys like Hale. He doesn’t understand girls like us, and when he leaves, he’ll break your heart.”

  “He understands.” Of course, she hadn’t told him about her cuts, so he didn’t know everything.

  Stevie let go of Kyra with a shrug, her expression revealing that she knew exactly what Kyra was thinking. “I’m just saying be careful.”

  Hale and Cade walked back down the stairs. This time, David came back with a trolley, which he rolled down the handicap ramp and to the Jeep. Kyra ignored them and focused on Stevie. “I’ll be fine. Focus on you, okay? Get better and come home.”

  Stevie swung her gigantic purse over her shoulder. “Sure thing,” she said too casually to make Kyra comfortable. “Ready, David?”

  David strained to get the cart rolling again. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Stevie strutted away with Cade dogging at her heels. He talked to her the whole way into the building, where Stevie must have given in, because she finally stopped and hugged him. Through the glass doors, Kyra saw her friend rolling her eyes. That didn’t stop her from planting a big kiss on Cade’s still-talking mouth.

  “She’ll be okay,” Hale said, tucking a piece of Kyra’s hair out of her face.

  “She has to be,” she said quietly as Cade came bounding back down the stairs with a sloppy grin on his face. “Ready?” she asked the guys.

  Everyone climbed back into the Jeep without saying much except Cade, who made a few comments about how the place looked nice inside. Kyra didn’t respond. The car rolled down the drive, with the house growing smaller with each slow turn of the wheel. She watched the trees slowly shroud her view from the side mirror. For some reason, she felt like she was abandoning Stevie.

  Her heart sank, and she gripped the wheel tighter. She had to force herself to keep her foot on the gas. Stevie needed this, and she wouldn’t be gone forever. But Kyra still wanted to cry.

  “What if we stop and see Mom on the way home?” Hale asked, surprising Kyra out of her thoughts. She glanced over at him.

  “Sure,” Cade said. “We can pick up some groceries for her on our way in.”

  “Is that fine with you?”

  “Uh, sure. If you want me to meet her,” Kyra said. Hale settled back in his seat and let his hand flutter up and down outside the window, as if he was riding the waves of air.

  “She’ll like you,” Hale said before he reached over and turned up the radio.

  Kyra didn’t know if he was trying to distract her from Stevie or what, but she appreciated it. She relaxed and settled in for the drive back to the island. Hale took her hand and held it on the console, which only made the drive even more pleasant.

  He started giving her directions once they were on the island and had picked up some groceries. They were in the part of Canaan with the old lighthouse. She saw the top of it as they crested a hill, and she wondered if Hale had played along its rocky base when he was a kid.

  “Is this where you grew up?” she asked, turning into a narrow gravel drive.

  “Yep. Born and raised,” he said.

  A bright yellow cottage with cream shutters emerged through the thick foliage. Creeping, colorful vines climbed trellises along the front of the house. Huge bushes and wildflowers sprung up all over the yard. It looked like a secret garden tucked away, and she imagined Hale’s mother spending hours outside tending to her gardens when she’d been healthy.

  Kyra parked the Jeep in the drive and got out while Hale and Cade gathered up the groceries. The dense trees kept out the sound of the waves, but she sensed the salt in the thickness of the air. The front door opened and a young lady appeared.

  “Hey, Nancy,” Cade said as he walked up to the door.

  “Nancy is Mom’s live-in nurse,” Hale mentioned to Kyra as they followed Cade to the door.

  “Hi, I’m Kyra.” She offered her hand, but Nancy pulled her in for a hug.

  “Nice to meet you!” Nancy said, releasing Kyra. She hurried into the house after Cade, leaving the door open for Kyra and Hale.

  “She’s not much for personal space,” Hale whispered.

  Inside the house was painted in b
right colors to reflect the outside’s cheerfulness. Every window was open to let in fresh air, and any available surface held a vase full of sweet, blooming flowers, but Kyra still smelled the slight scent of medicine and stagnant sickness. She couldn’t help but smile when she walked past a revolving record player playing an old country song.

  Hale turned into the kitchen in front of Kyra. “Hey, Mom,” he said. “I brought a visitor today.”

  Kyra’s smile turned nervous when she entered the kitchen. Nancy and Cade were already putting away groceries while a frail woman sat at the kitchen table, arranging freshly picked flowers. Her sharp green eyes found Kyra instantly, and she realized that the warmth of the house was a mere reflection of this woman.

  Her hair was gone. The slickness of her scalp shined from the sunlight coming through the windows behind her. She looked illuminated from within as she sat in the sun’s rays. Her long, trembling fingers were delicate as she paused, holding up lilies that looked as if she’d dipped them in paint.

  “Hello, Mrs. Cooper. I’m Kyra.” She crossed the room and reached for the woman’s hand, but once again, she was pulled into a weak hug. She smelled the lilies, and like the delicate petals between them, Kyra tried not the crush the frail woman.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Kyra! What a pretty name.” Her voice was high-pitched and excited. “Please call me Annabelle. Have a seat. I’ve just been arranging some of my flowers.” Hale’s mother motioned to the chair across from her at the table. Kyra sat and looked over the flowers.

  “These are beautiful,” she said, smiling up at Annabelle.

  “Thank you! Nancy picked them this morning. We like to keep freshly cut flowers in the house.” Annabelle’s eyes flickered with warmth and amusement, reminding Kyra instantly of Hale. “Are you new to town, Kyra?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I bought a house over on Gardenia Street. Hale and Cade are redoing it for me.”

  “Ah, the Aberdeen house. It has good bones. My boys will make it into a good home for you.” Her eyes narrowed again as they searched Kyra’s face. “Are you Florence’s granddaughter?”