Keeping Secrets

by Lisa Eugene

  Shit, what the hell is my mom saying? I could hardly focus.

  I’d never believed Dex’s line about not dating. I wondered many times if he had a girlfriend, or if he’d ever called that waitress. If he did, he didn’t spend much time with her. Whoever his woman was, she must be very understanding of his friendship with me. We spent a lot of time together. Sometimes he’d come over and just read or watch a game while I studied. Either way, I wasn’t complaining. I loved having him around. And even though I was curious about his love life, I’d never ask. In a way, I didn’t want to know. Plus, that part of his life was none of my business anyway.

  I finished the conversation with my mom and signed off the phone. Dex took a seat on my couch. I was about to tell him that I’d be dressed in a jiffy when my phone rang again. I shrugged apologetically, but he waved away my concern, peeling a banana he’d brought from the kitchen before taking a generous bite.

  Orange juice and bananas were probably all he’d found in my kitchen. They were my potassium replacements for when I got too weak or when the twitching got really bad after purging. They were good foods to replace electrolytes, but unfortunately very high in carbs and calories. One medium banana could have over a hundred calories, and a glass of OJ could easily have one hundred and fifty. I only supplemented with these foods when it was absolutely necessary.

  Dex picked up a newspaper from the coffee table and started reading while I turned my attention back to the phone.

  I groaned aloud when I saw the number of the caller. It was my recently engaged friend, Linda. The celebration was only three weeks away. I hadn’t RSVP’d yet. Truthfully, I hadn’t decided if I’d go, but now that she’d personally reached out, guilt would make it difficult to blow her off. I’d guessed right. She was making rounds, calling people she hadn’t heard from. I hung up and groaned again, hating the fact that I’d committed to another night of torture.

  “What’s wrong?” Dex asked from the couch.

  “My friend’s engaged.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, that’s awful.”

  I rolled my eyes and plopped down next to him. “No, she’s having an engagement party and I just told her I’d go, but I don’t really want to. The last time I went to an engagement party alone, it was brutal.”

  “Why?”

  “I was the only single person at the table. The couples seated with me sucked face the whole time. It was just annoying.”

  “Maybe you were just jealous.” He laughed and ducked when I tossed a pillow at him.

  “No way. I have no time for that stuff. I don’t date, remember? And I don’t intend to.”

  Folding the paper on his lap, he stared steadily. “Ever?”

  “Maybe when I’m all done with school. Right now, I don’t need the diversion. I have to stay focused.”

  He seemed to understand. His silver eyes zeroed in on my face. “I’ll go with you.”

  “What?”

  “To the engagement party.”

  I chuckled, surprised by the offer, appreciating the gesture. “No, I’ll be fine.”

  He sifted his fingers through my ponytail, so close I could smell his spicy scent mixed with a hint of soap. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “Why should you suffer alone? We’ll suffer together.”

  “Sounds like a great time,” I returned dryly.

  Tilting his head, his eyes dug into me. “If we’re together, it will be. We’ll have fun.”

  A big hand patted my knee like he was giving me another pep talk. I accepted the gesture, suddenly looking forward to going.

  His forehead wrinkled, partially hidden by dark unruly waves. “I’ll be in China, though, until the eighteenth.”

  “It’s after you come back. On the twenty-third.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. I stood and stretched, looking forward to our run. “I’ll go change. It’ll just take a minute.”

  A smirk dragged up his lips. “Said no girl, ever.”

  “I mean it.” I chuckled. “I won’t take long. You may not have noticed, but I’m not very girly. I don’t primp and preen.”

  “Right.”

  His head dipped in a nod, but I had a feeling he was mocking me. He toed off his sneakers and made a show of grabbing the paper and reclining on the couch like he was settling in for the long haul. I watched him stretch out his socked feet, cross them lazily on the coffee table. Pursing my lips, I planted my hands on my hips and sent a disapproving gaze to his feet.

  Eying me, he lowered the paper. “What’s the matter, Stats?”

  “Eew, socks on the coffee table.” My father would have heart failure.

  He looked at his socks, then looked at my face, then at his socks again. A smile tickled his lips. “These are clean, I swear. I just put them on. In fact, they’re mountain fresh. That’s what it said on the Tide bottle.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Feet don’t belong on a coffee table.”

  Brows raised, he considered that. Leaning forward, he pulled off one sock. Sniffed it. I almost laughed out loud at the look on his face. He looked like he was doing a fabric softener commercial.

  “Seriously. Mountain Fresh. Sniff.” He held out the sock and I recoiled.

  “Gross.”

  “It’s not like it’s after my run. Then I could understand.” He grinned and sniffed again. “No, really. It’s fucking fresh.”

  “You’re such a—man. No, thanks.” I took a step back as he rose from the couch.

  Seeing the playful intent in his eyes, I pedaled backward as he started toward me with his sock in his hand and a devilish grin on his face.

  “Dex! Eew, no way. I don’t need to sniff.”

  “This shit is seriously mountain fresh! You have to smell it. You’ll feel like you’re on top of the Alps.”

  I was laughing now, trying to back away from his outstretched hand. My calves hit the couch and I fell awkwardly backward. In two long-legged strides, Dex was on top of me. I buckled under him, giggling and trying to turn my face away from the offensive foot cover. I was writhing beneath him in a cocoon created by his big frame. His body was large, warm, molded with hard muscular hills and enticing slopes. I knew he could easily overpower me if he truly desired.

  Instead, he cheated and resorted to tickling me when I wouldn’t submit. That was my downfall. I was ridiculously ticklish. I wiggled and howled, the sound mixing with his own deep laughter. Eventually, I was gasping so hard, I couldn’t catch my breath. We were a tangle of twisted, jutting limbs and squirming bodies.

  “Okay! Okay!” I surrendered, laughing. “It’s mountain fresh! I’m on top of the Alps. Your sock smells like a fresh fucking mountain!”

  Dex sat up, grinning like he’d won an Olympic wrestling gold medal. I pushed myself up, combing the explosion of hair back from my face. My ponytail had loosened, my glasses lost somewhere in the tussle. I was about to withdraw my coerced praise when the look on his face knotted my tongue.

  I froze as his gaze raked over my face then slowly down my body, provoking a shudder deep inside me. I had a hard time reading his expression when his gaze returned to my eyes, but his usually olive skin was flush with color, his gray eyes smudged to a hot, smoky slate.

  I watched the muscles in his throat work down a swallow. His fists opened and closed tightly. He cleared his throat.

  “Um…” He motioned his chin to my shirt.

  I looked down and gasped.

  A few buttons of my shirt had opened, splitting he fabric apart and exposing my naked breasts. My nipples were dark pink and hard, poking out like large pebbles, a stark contrast to the mounds of pale white skin. My fingers flew to my shirt. Turning quickly, I covered myself and worked the buttons. My face heated. My fingers shook.

  I couldn’t look at Dex. I was mortified that he’d seen my ugly breasts. I could only imagine the repulsion on his face. Knowing him, he’d try to hide it. His uneven breath dispatched behind me. He was obviously still winded from our wrest
ling.

  “I think we’ve established that you’re pretty girly,” Dex chuckled hoarsely. “There’s certainly no doubt about that now.”

  His comment thawed the moment. I was glad for the relief. Pursing my lips, I turned and playfully shoved him back onto the couch. He grabbed a cushion and pulled it over his lap.

  “Yeah, well, I think we’ve established that your socks stink!”

  He laughed and reached for me, but I leaped from the couch and ran for the safety of my bedroom.

  Chapter Eleven

  To show emotion is a sign of weakness.

  Yes, Daddy.

  You must guard your feelings and stay in control.

  Yes, Daddy.

  Alexa

  I missed Dex already. His flight to Hong Kong had taken off at six that morning. He’d sent a text from JFK telling me to kick ass on a test I had coming up on Friday, adding that he’d miss me. I must have read that text a hundred times.

  It was Monday and the unit was busy with the new patients admitted over the weekend. We’d just finished rounds and I grabbed a cup of coffee from the cafeteria before heading back up to the unit. John was my partner today and we had to get started on a presentation on Mycoplasma Pneumonia, a condition we’d been seeing more of lately.

  I found him in the back room of the nurses’ station huddled with some of the staff around a small television set. I couldn’t tell what news report they were watching, but they were glued to the TV. I tapped John on the shoulder and he startled, jerking his head around.

  I took a big gulp of coffee. “We have to get star—”

  “Shh…give me a minute.” Putting a finger to his lips, he turned back to the news.

  One of the nurses shifted and I got a glance at the television. A reporter, looking more than a little frazzled, spoke quickly into a microphone. Behind her was a split screen with one side showing a picture of a plane and the other, an enlarged route map with lines arcing in every direction. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I didn’t like the sudden disquiet that came over me.

  “What happened?” I asked, putting down my cup.

  John turned around, shaking his head sadly. “A plane crashed.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “A plane crashed on it’s way to China this morning.”

  I must’ve misheard. “What?”

  “A plane that left JFK crashed into the ocean. Horrible.” He shook his head again. “Three hundred and fifty-eight people. They’ve started a recovery operation, but there’re not expecting any survivors. It broke into several pieces on impact.”

  My world tilted on its axis, buckling my knees, causing me to grab hold of a chair.

  “Are you okay?” John asked, eyeing me.

  Forcing myself to breathe, I turned and ran to my locker where I kept my phone, John behind me. My hands shook so badly, it took three attempts to dial open the combination lock. I took out my phone and punched in Dex’s number. The call went to voicemail. I tried again and it routed back to voicemail.

  “Dex, it’s me,” I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking. “Um…I heard about the crash. I-I-it’s awful. I just need to know that you’re okay. When you get this message, call me.”

  I was sick, feeling rocks drop into my belly. Turning, I slumped against the locker, trying to sneak rational thoughts pass my mental chaos.

  “Did you know someone on the plane?” John’s eyes were wide, horrified.

  I couldn’t speak. I just stared mutely. Whatever expression he saw on my face caused him to pull me close for a hug. I held on to him, telling him I was fine.

  But I wasn’t.

  At all.

  The worst thing to do would be to panic, to assume that Dex had been on that flight. There’d probably been several flights headed to China that left JFK this morning. He’d mentioned his flight number and I rummaged through my brain, desperately trying to remember it. Flight 801. That’d been it. The best thing would be to get as much information as I could, and to stay calm.

  Two hours later, I was losing my fucking mind. There’d been only one flight that left JFK for China that morning, Flight 801, the plane that had fallen out of the sky. Anxiety jumped inside me like grasshoppers, and I had a hard time concentrating on my assignment. Every few minutes, I’d find myself at the nurses’ station, eager for an update on the crash, maybe some clue as to who’d been on board—anything.

  I’d tried to look up Blakewell Industries, if that was even the name of his company—I had no idea. Maybe I could find Henry; surely he would’ve heard something. There were over one hundred businesses with Blakewell something in the name, in NYC alone.

  I called Dex’s cell again.

  9:30 a.m.: “Hi, it’s me. I haven’t heard back from you. I’m worried. Call me.”

  10:00 a.m.: “Dex, it’s me again. Please call me when you get this message.”

  11:00.a.m.: “Dex—oh, God, I hope you’re okay. Call me. Text me.”

  12:00.p.m.: “Dex, please. Please…fucking call me. I-I’m really freaking out here.”

  At lunchtime, I found an empty office and sat on the floor, my back choked against the wall. I was empty. A giant hole spiraled through me, widening by the second. God! I needed to eat. I needed to fill up to bursting and then I could purge all my frustration along with this crippling fear. I refused to believe the worst, but helplessness clawed down my throat.

  I didn’t date for fear of forming attachments. It wasn’t wise to become emotionally invested in a relationship. I wasn’t prepared to give so much of myself. Already dealing with enough emotionally, I had to channel all my energy to school. I couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  But something had happened in the last few months.

  We didn’t have a romantic relationship, but Dex had come to mean everything to me. He’d become my best friend. Never having a best friend before, the thought rattled me, surprised me that I could care so deeply for someone who wasn’t family. He’d become laced into the fabric of my life, spun threads of laughter and light into a dull, bleak tapestry. And to lose him would rip away my happiest edges.

  I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. The press of tears was strong, demanding release, but for some reason I couldn’t let go of them.

  I’d given up any pretense of courage. Fear circled my throat, steadily squeezing. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I rocked slowly. Then I hit the redial button.

  12:30 p.m.: “Okay. I-I’m a mess. I-I’m trying to st-stay hopeful, but I’m really freaking out. Dex—oh, Dex…shit, just pl-please call. I promise I won’t argue with you anymore, I’ll let you put your st-stinky socks on my coffee table, I’ll let you pick the restaurant whenever you want…just please…please…”

  I shut my eyes, hung up the phone, and just rocked.

  At one o’clock, my cell rang. My palm flew to my mouth when I saw Dex’s number. I could have crushed the phone with my bare fingers.

  “Stats? Babe… It’s me. Holy shit, I just got your messages.”

  My hands shook miserably. Inside I was bursting, firecrackers of emotion shooting in every direction.

  “I-I thought…”

  “I know, Stats. It’s crazy! I missed the plane. I got up late and rushed here, but I missed it! Thank God!”

  He let go of a long, shuddering breath, then paused, voice shaking slightly when he continued, “I was waiting for another flight when the news broke. I still can’t wrap my brain around it. It’s just crazy! And it’s nuts here at the airport. It’s on lockdown. They’re worried that it was a terrorist act.

  Since I was supposed to be on the plane and wasn’t, I was detained and questioned. They took my phone, went through it. It’s just…just…crazy! Federal agents are all over this place. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you were so worried, but I’m fine, Stats. I’m fine.”

  “Oh God, Dex! Thank God you missed it!” Horror at what could’ve been rushed down my back. I felt awful for the people who’d lost their lives in the crash, but
unimaginable joy exploded in my heart just from hearing Dex’s voice.

  He cursed and I heard a click on his phone. “That’s Henry. Let me talk to him real quick and I’ll call you back.” He chuckled. “Socks on the table? No arguing? Wow, I’m drawing up a contract.”

  “Okay,” I choked out, still too emotional to speak.

  The line was silent for a swollen moment. Then his deep voice came softly, “Stats…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “All I could think about was you.”

  I never got a chance to respond, wasn’t sure I even had the right words. I hung up the phone and sent everything I had up to heaven. Then I cried. Finally the tears came.

  I got the second-highest grade in the class on my anatomy lab practicum. Rhonda got the highest grade and made certain everyone knew it. I tried not to freak out. Mine wasn’t the best grade, but I’d done my best and had given it my best effort. Dex’s words strummed a note in my head, telling me that my best effort was a reward in itself, but it was difficult to reform a lifetime of thinking.

  That night, when he called from China, he was elated, full of praise for my second-place achievement. I was genuinely moved. No one had ever congratulated me for coming in second place. Ever.

  Even though he called every day, it wasn’t the same as knowing he was just a cab ride away, that we could see each other whenever we wanted. But it was enough to hear his voice, to know that he was alive and well…and thinking of me.

  On Saturday, I took the train to Queens then walked the ten blocks to my house. Mom needed help organizing the garage and decorating for the holidays. I slipped into the house through the side door, calling out to her.

  “She’s upstairs,” Dad said from behind me, causing me to turned with a start.