Mirror in the Sky

by Aditi Khorana

  “Pretend,” he responded with an authority that made me turn to him.

  “Pretend what?”

  “That you do. I promise you, no one will ever know the difference.” Then he turned to me, holding out his hand. “Let’s make a pact. We’ll meet up when we’re twenty-five. We’ll both have amazing lives by then, as far away from here as possible.”

  I had another one of those moments then—the shimmer of disbelief, like wondering if you’re in a dream.

  “You’re going to be in the city. That’s not far away.”

  “Just wait,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me. “You’re going to be . . . fantastic,” he said. I watched him, realizing the thing that he didn’t quite understand. Even hope was a luxury, a privilege I had never before given myself the chance to experience. But all I could think in that moment was how right my hand felt in his.

  “You guys finally made it! What took you so long?” Halle announced. She was tiptoeing barefoot across the endless marble patio. Her feet looked tiny and delicate against the white alabaster.

  Nick let go of my hand. “Lots of deer crossings.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Halle reached for Nick with a territorial arm, kissing him on the mouth. I looked away, trying to discern the location of the sound system, but my eyes returned to Halle and Nick. Slowly, she pulled away, reaching into the hemline of her bikini, producing a delicately rolled joint.

  “Have a smoke with me?” she asked, looking at me.

  I had never smoked before, and the thought of doing it for the first time in front of these people, in front of Halle, frightened me. “I probably shouldn’t.”

  Halle smiled at me. “It’s okay if you’ve never done it before. I mean, there’s a first time for everything.” Maybe Nick picked up on the condescension in her tone, or maybe he didn’t.

  “Of course she’s smoked before,” he said, taking the joint from Halle’s hand and pulling a lighter out of his pocket. He lit it, taking a drag, the smoke curling in the air, slowly making its way around the limber branches of those oak trees that looked alive. He handed me the joint and gave me a meaningful look. I hesitated for a moment before I took it from his hand and took a tentative puff, coughing and gagging as I handed it back to him. He smiled at me as though we had a secret language—one that even Halle wasn’t in on.

  Nick put an arm around her. “Where’s V?”

  “Manning the bar. Let’s go find her and bring her this scotch. Come on,” Halle said, reaching for my hand, a gesture that caught me entirely off guard. I had seen her do this occasionally with Alexa or Veronica. Even with Sarah Hoffstedt. It made me feel, for a moment, as though I was one of them.

  We walked by Ariel and Janicza, sitting with their feet in the pool, laughing as they downed champagne straight out of a bottle that they were passing back and forth between them. Jimmy Kaminsky was playing a messy game of beer pong with Hunter Caraway on the outdoor dining table, which was lined with platters of fruit and cheese and crackers, all breaking and spilling and exploding every time a Ping-Pong ball hit a plate. It was the kind of violence against beauty that would have offended my mother.

  “Hey, Tara.” Jimmy stopped and reached for me, giving me a hug that lasted too long to feel comfortable. “Come play with us,” he said.

  “Later,” Nick answered for me. “We’ll be right out, dude.”

  We walked past Alexa, who was napping in a large pod-shaped chair. She looked as though she was already drunk. There were a bunch of other people too, drinking, talking, taking dips in the pool.

  “Veronica makes the best cocktails,” Halle told me. “She’s always bartender at my parties.”

  “She likes to make herself useful.” Nick smiled. “Wait till you see the bar.”

  He looked at me as though he was genuinely happy to have me here. I wondered for a moment what Sarah Hoffstedt was doing tonight. It made me think about how the GPS system in my father’s car would loudly declare “rerouting” whenever we were lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Both Sarah’s path and my own now seemed subject to this sort of complex pivot, only I still wasn’t sure where this turn would take me.

  We entered through the back of the house and made our way through a maze of high-ceilinged corridors adorned with art that I knew I had seen in art books. Each room we passed through was filled with tasteful modern furniture and tribal-looking kilim rugs.

  We stopped at an open kitchen that was the size of my entire house. A row of windows overlooked a side yard and a greenhouse, and a long wooden table that could probably seat twenty people sat squarely in the center of the room. Halle opened the door to a fridge that was three times the size of the fridge in our kitchen and pulled out a handful of cheeses wrapped in wax paper and a bowl of cherries.

  “I’m going to make another plate. Why don’t you guys go grab some drinks?”

  Nick nodded and gestured for me to follow him, and I did, through a teakwood-paneled dining hall with a stained glass window.

  “It’s a Chagall,” he whispered to me when he saw me staring at it. “A real one.”

  Just beyond the dining room was a rustic-looking bar. Veronica stood behind it. She was wearing a pair of glasses, and her hair was blown out.

  “Nicholas Osterman. You’re finally here. Hey, Tara. What can I get for you guys?”

  “A vodka tonic for me, and a glass of water for Alexa,” Nick told her.

  “He’s so thoughtful, isn’t he?” she asked, winking at me. “What about you? There’s beer on tap, like, eight different kinds, and I just unearthed this bottle from the cellar. Think her parents will miss it?”

  Nick squinted at the label. “Domaine Leroy Grand Cru . . . probably not.”

  “Yeah, there were, like, ten of them. Have a glass with me?” she asked.

  “Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “Do these people look like they’d miss this one bottle? Please.” Veronica smiled sweetly, pulling forth a wine opener. “Thanks for sharing with me. I don’t want it wasted on idiots like Hunter or Jimmy.”

  “Hunter’s not so bad.” It was Halle. She was standing with an elbow on Nick’s shoulder, a perfectly curated plate of cheese and crackers and cherries in her hand, her sarong tied low around the dune of her hips. “I don’t know why you don’t give him a chance, Veronica.” Her lips twisted into a taunting smile. “He absolutely loooooves you.”

  Veronica gave Halle a sideways glance, a look that clearly suggested she didn’t want to discuss it.

  “I’ll let you have some girl time. I’m going to take this water to Alexa,” Nick said, tucking a strand of Halle’s hair behind her ear.

  “Oh yeah, she’s way drunk. Poor thing, barely ate anything all day,” Halle said.

  Veronica shot Nick a look, but he merely nodded. “I’ll see you all outside,” he said. He gave Halle a kiss before he took off.

  “Did you bring your bathing suit? You’re a swimmer, right?” Halle asked me.

  “Yeah, but I don’t have my suit.”

  “I can lend you one. God knows I just use mine to lounge near the pool. I hate the water.”

  “Here we go, the Saint Barts story again,” Veronica quipped.

  “I know you’ve heard it a million times, but Tara hasn’t.” Halle smiled a patient smile at Veronica.

  “Go ahead,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes.

  Halle turned to me, ignoring Veronica. “I almost drowned when I was four years old, got caught in a riptide. Totally horrible. I’ll never forget it, just the sound of the ocean in your ears. I thought I was going to die. I have nightmares even now. It’s practically the only thing I’m scared of—water.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I took a big sip of wine. It tasted earthy and a little sour.

  Halle took my cue and did the same. “God, this really is a good bottle. Where’d you find it, Veronic
a?” she asked.

  “Way in the back, with the best stuff.”

  Halle turned to me again. “But you’re like some sort of superstar swimmer, aren’t you, Tara?”

  I laughed. “I’m on the swim team, but no superstar.”

  “You’re just being modest. It’s sweet. Anyway, the pool is pretty much wasted on me. We have the indoor one and the outdoor one. You should come by and swim sometime.” She smiled before she turned to Veronica. “I tell Veronica to use it all the time, but she’s not interested.”

  I looked at Halle, noticing for the first time that her eyes were bloodshot and her pupils dilated. She was drunk or high or both. Maybe that was why she was being so friendly.

  “What are you most afraid of?” she asked me then, taking me by surprise.

  I opened my mouth, but I wasn’t sure of what to say. And besides, divulging my fears to Halle, of all people, was something I wasn’t ready to do.

  “Maybe you need a drink before you tell us,” she said. “Speaking of . . . you know what I think would be so fun?”

  “What would be so fun, Halle?” Veronica asked, cleaning up the detritus on the surface of the bar.

  “To get the two of you drunk!”

  Veronica shook her head. “I don’t have any interest in being a big drunken mess.” Her eyes were still on the bar, a towel in her hand, and she was scrubbing the side of a cutting board with such ferocity it made me uncomfortable.

  Halle turned to me, smiling. “Tara, do you want to get drunk with me?”

  There was something awkward about the moment, a tension between Veronica and Halle, and I felt like I was in the middle of something I didn’t understand.

  “I mean, I get it if you haven’t gotten wasted before. I don’t want to pressure you or anything.” And even though her smile was friendly, there was a hint of a dare in her voice. She was right, I had never had a sip of alcohol before that night, and the idea of getting drunk scared me a little. Halle’s eyes were on me, challenging me. If I didn’t drink with her, I was a square, an outsider, and if I did, I was going to be leaping into unfamiliar territory in front of all these people I didn’t know. But then I thought about the day I had endured, the fight between my parents, my mother announcing that she was leaving. I thought about the first day of school, holding Mario in my arms, watching him die.

  I picked up the bottle of Grand Cru and poured about a quarter of it into my glass, causing both Veronica and Halle to laugh uncontrollably.

  Sometimes I’m still able to remember bits and pieces of that night, like a hazy dream. At some point, Halle went to her room to fetch a turntable and set it up by the edge of the pool, playing records—the Pixies and Radiohead and Fool’s Gold and Tame Impala. Jimmy Kaminsky wrapped his arm around my waist and tried to kiss my neck. I laughed and pushed him away.

  “You look really pretty today, Tara.”

  “Thanks,” I said, but I was too busy observing everyone to pay much attention to him. I watched Nick care for Alexa, stopping to talk to Veronica every few minutes with a look of concern in his eyes. They had an odd sort of sibling-type bond I had never noticed before. I noticed him jetting in and out of the house, making sure everyone had drinks in their hands, chatting up the girls and giving the boys high fives. I headed inside when I saw him and Halle kissing by the hot tub.

  But there are two moments I remember best about that night, almost like those pivotal scenes you recall from a movie you watched some time back—those moments imprinted on your memory.

  I stepped into a bathroom that was bigger than my parents’ bedroom. There was a tiled fountain and tub that could fit at least six people, and two sinks and two gleaming white toilets, each in their own closets. An entire wall of the bathroom consisted of a bookshelf filled with books. Maybe it was that joint that I smoked, but just looking at that enormous bookshelf in the bathroom, I burst out laughing.

  Veronica must have heard me, because she knocked on the door and joined me. We sat on the marble floor, perusing the selection of tomes. Among them, we found first editions of Tom Sawyer, To Kill a Mockingbird, and A Tale of Two Cities.

  “It’s, like . . . first editions of our entire freshman-year English curriculum!” she said.

  “And it’s, like . . . two feet from the toilet.”

  “I never even noticed these books. Come to think of it, I don’t even know if I’ve ever used this bathroom. There are, like, sixteen in this house.”

  “Sixteen bathrooms?” I shrieked. Veronica nodded, and we both started laughing again. And then we were both on the floor, cracking up so hard we couldn’t stop. When we finally did, it was Veronica who spoke, weariness in her voice.

  “I get so sick of her sometimes.”

  “Who, Halle?”

  “Who else?” Veronica rolled her eyes at me.

  “I thought you guys were best friends.” My feelings about Halle had somehow shifted in one night. Her openness had disarmed me, but I still found myself resenting her, especially when I saw the way Nick was around her. The distribution of luck seemed entirely off in this world. Here was Halle—beautiful, smart, wealthy, charming, and she had a great boyfriend who adored her.

  My father was always telling me that envy is a terrible thing, as though you could actually do something about it when you felt it. But you couldn’t. It was like your DNA, so much a part of you that there was little you could do to alter it. And yet, I wondered if the other Tara on Terra Nova was jealous of Halle. Probably not, I decided. She was probably gracious, above base feelings like envy and fear.

  “Best friends . . . I guess. Whatever that means,” Veronica said to me now. “It’s a major pain when you’ve been friends with the same people your whole life. I’ve known Halle since we were in nursery school. She knows all my triggers, all my weaknesses, and she throws them out at me every chance she gets, just for the fun of it. All that stuff with Hunter . . .” Here she stopped and shook her head. “People become such . . . caricatures of themselves. Halle and her constant maneuvering. Alexa and her goddamned ‘food allergies.’” Veronica made air quotes, her hands in the air above our heads. “Hunter’s a total moron with half a brain, in case you never noticed . . . And Nick . . . I guess he’s not so bad. We used to swim together naked in the kiddie pool when we were in preschool.”

  “I didn’t realize you’ve known Nick for that long.”

  “Oh, I have. He’s such a . . . boy. I don’t know what you see in him.”

  “Me? I don’t think you . . .”

  “Oh, I think I do. I see the way you look at him with hearts in your eyes. You’ve been doing it for years. And the thing is, he likes you too, he’ll just never realize it because he’s so blinded by his stupid conception of Halle. And the thing is . . . she’s already totally over him.”

  My heart raced at the mention of Nick liking me too. I thought about how he had called me pretty in the car. “Does Halle . . .”

  “Know that you’re obsessed with her boyfriend? No. And besides, she doesn’t care; she’s way too self-involved to actually care about anyone.”

  I was quiet for a long time before Veronica got up and looked back at me, pulling her hair into a high ponytail and fastening it with the tie she had around her wrist. “I won’t tell anyone, Tara. I promise.”

  It was like getting those e-mails; I felt again as though I was somehow now privy to things that I had never before seen or suspected. There were cracks in the veneer, fallouts and unspoken irritations. They were transitioning too, that entire group of friends, as friends sometimes are, like a mosaic being broken and remade. What I didn’t know then was how much I would be a part of it or how much would break. I was still too caught up in the dizzying astonishment of the fact that I was becoming one of them.

  My last memory of that night is the one I hope to hold on to always, especially since it’s the kind of thing that happens o
nly when you’re at the right place at the right time, and you catch a glimpse of something that makes you believe in endless possibilities. Or maybe it’s a moment that’s precious to me because it’s gone. We’ll never come together like that ever again. Or maybe we were just really high, I don’t know.

  “Do you guys really think there are alternate versions of us up there?” Nick asked, looking up into that beautifully clear sky you can only see in places like backcountry Greenwich, the stars glittering like a fistful of diamonds flung into the air.

  Everyone had left except for Nick, Veronica, Alexa, Halle, and me. We lay in the grass, surrounded by the detritus of the party, passing around yet another joint. Whiskey and wine warmed my stomach, and I was too inexperienced to know what happens the next morning when you mix that much whiskey with that much wine.

  “Yeah, obviously. That’s what that NASA bitmap thing was all about,” Veronica said.

  “No. I mean, like, millions of versions. Not just on Terra Nova, but on other planets too,” Nick said.

  “This is going to sound really weird, but sometimes I think we’re not really here,” I said to him.

  He laughed aloud. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re just . . . avatars of another mind that exists someplace out there. All of that”—I pointed to the sky—“what we call the cosmos, it’s just circuitry—like we’re looking at some huge . . . motherboard lighting up and firing, and we call it stars and planets and sky. We’re really up there. We just think we’re here.” I didn’t even know that I believed this till I said it.

  “My mind is blown,” said Nick, laughing.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Alexa asked, perplexed. She had finally woken up at the end of the party, only to join us in recline on the lawn.

  “Tara thinks we’re avatars,” Veronica told her.

  “You know what I think?” Halle murmured. “I think there are, like, numerous versions of us, numerous avatars on countless planets, all controlled by a singular mind that wants to live out a multitude of experiences.”