A Lie for a Lie

by Robin Merrow MacCready

  “You what?”

  “Yeah, a thousand years ago. Will looks just like his dad.” Mom waved her hand in front of my shocked expression.

  “What happened?” I said, sitting up.

  “A lot of things. But that’s a talk for another day.” On her way out she said, “Uncle Steve won’t be in the office today, but he left your check on his desk.”

  I was half listening. Mom and Mr. Beckham? This was turning into the summer I learned my parents had their own secrets.

  As soon as Mom left, I texted Jenn and told her about Mom and Will’s dad. When she didn’t text back, I looked out my window at the Costello house. There were three cars in the driveway: Doug’s, Bo’s truck, and Mrs. Costello’s car. I grabbed a cup of coffee and walked over.

  I heard the chatter before I reached the screen door. It was a noisy, messy home, and it should’ve freaked me out, being an anxious only child. But I felt completely at ease there.

  Mrs. Costello was at the dishwasher. “Kendra, come on in.” Jenn rinsed while her mom loaded.

  Jenn nodded in Bo’s direction. “He’s supposed to be doing this, but he and Doug are in a heated discussion about cars.”

  I gave Mrs. C. a sideways hug and joined in the loading.

  “I think Bo’s giving Doug a run for his money,” Mrs. C. said.

  “Yeah, but Doug is right on principle, and you know it,” Jenn said.

  Bo raised his voice. “That’s crazy. Why would you spend that amount of money on a new car when you can just fix an old one?” Bo argued.

  “Two words: air pollution,” Doug said. “The emissions on a truck like yours are causing the ozone layer to shrink and—”

  Bo cut him off. “Manufacturing new cars, and the shipping from Europe or Asia alone, causes way more pollution than my truck.” He threw up his hands like it was obvious.

  Doug smiled slightly. “I’m not sure you understand, Bo,” he said, leaning in like he was going to make a big point.

  I groaned. This was going to be interesting.

  “I don’t understand? You’re kidding me! I know my truck. I’ve taken her apart and put her back together twice, and she still runs. That Toyota is twenty years old, and she hardly burns any oil.”

  “It wouldn’t burn any if it was a plug-in.” Doug sat back, satisfied that he’d made his point.

  “What?” Bo looked confused.

  Doug clasped his hands together with finality and said, “And giving a car or a boat a gender is sexist.”

  Bo stood up. “I’m all done here.” He rinsed his coffee cup and put it in the dishwasher. And to Jenn he said, “Your boyfriend is a condescending asswipe.”

  I whispered in his ear. “Don’t listen to him; your truck is the bomb.”

  “Bye, Mom, see you at dinner.”

  Mrs. C. blew him a kiss while he rushed out the door.

  I called after him, “What was that? No hello? No good-bye?”

  Jenn closed the dishwasher, and Mrs. C. wiped the counter. I looked at Doug, who just shrugged and said, “He knows I’m right. He’s got a serious emotional attachment to his truck.”

  “Oh, please,” I said to him, and ran out just as Bo was backing into the road.

  “Hey, wait!” I yelled.

  He gave me a nod and drove off.

  Jenn met me at the door. “You want to know what’s going on?” She sat on the front stoop.

  “I’m afraid to ask,” I said, sitting down next to her and figuring it out at the same time.

  My phone beeped.

  “That’s probably Bo. He likes you,” Jenn said, adding air quotes around the word likes. “I beat it out of him last night.”

  I shook my head. “Nope.” I showed her the text.

  Will: I have dinner shift tonight. I’ll be there after 9.

  I stared at the text and weighed my dueling emotions. Sad about Bo and happy Will was texting me.

  Me: What about Nicole?

  Will: Working on it.

  While I cleaned the office, I daydreamed about Will and me on the island. You make me crazy, Kendra. And then Bo’s dark expression seeped into my thoughts; like a snapshot I couldn’t delete, it kept showing up in my head when I wanted to dream about Will. How did that happen? When did Bo’s feelings for me get so deep? When we wrestled in the truck? When we spied on Dad? Before that? It doesn’t matter.

  Will and I are a thing now.

  I put on my earphones and began shredding the papers left for me. After filling a few bags with tiny ribbons of white, I set them aside and cut into a box of staples, paper, pens, Post-its, working fast in time to the Previous Owner Mix. With each song, I relived being on the rock with Will.

  When I was done, I picked up my check on Uncle Steve’s desk. As I left, I paused at Dad’s office. His chair was the same one I used to twirl in when I was little. I made myself comfortable, tilting back with my feet on his desk, remembering my days of writing letters to imaginary clients and assembling long paper-clip chains. One time I used up all the Wite-Out and got scolded by Ellie.

  I pulled out the middle drawer to see if he still kept peppermint candies in there. The left-hand section was filled with the colorful red-and-white wrappers, and I popped one into my mouth. Then I fished around in the desk for anything that might tell me about his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, hopefully.

  In the lower right-hand drawer was a photo album. On the cover, Early Office was scribbled on a piece of masking tape. The album held pictures of Dad and Uncle Steve in law school, their first years here in Portland, our two families sailing, having Christmas together with Grandma, family vacations. A knot formed in my gut. It was a telling knot. It said, Close the album. But there was no way I could do that, because these were pictures of before the boat accident. Turn away, Kendra. The sweat forming on your brow is a signal to leave the scene.

  That was what I should have done, but I turned ahead to the sailing pictures. There was one of us at the dock in front of the Calliope that made my mouth go dry. Gail and Hal were hugging. I remember them now. He was tall and thin; she only went up to his chest, and he hid her head playfully under his arm. She was wearing a navy-blue hoodie, and she’d turned so that the picture showed only the UMaine bear on her back, and her smiling profile. Hal was smiling, too, and it was probably the last picture taken of him. Dad must have taken the shot, because it’s of Mom and me and Gail and Hal. Mom’s blond hair is flying in the wind, and I’m wearing my favorite bathing suit. It was a two-piece with boy shorts that had pockets, and I wore a matching bucket hat.

  In a rush I remembered the day. The nutty scent of zinc oxide, the taste of salt, the sting of the rain, the power of the waves, and the rush of the ocean as it filled my lungs. The vivid memory nauseated me. Standing quickly, I dropped the album, catching myself at the corner of the desk a second before running out of the office.

  The faster I walked, the faster my heart beat. The sweat prickled in my armpits and on my forehead.

  These are just anxious feelings. This will not turn into panic. I can do this without Dad. I did it last night at high tide, and I can talk myself through this again.

  Think about Will, Kendra. Remember what Will said to you. You make him crazy.

  Even though I went over my time with Will in sensory detail and I planned for our next moment together, it didn’t matter. The photos kept popping into my mind: me in my bucket hat, Mom’s blowing hair, and Hal with his last smile for the camera.

  I drove fast, way too fast, toward the brownstone, not home. When I got there, I braked gently enough to watch the woman and Jilly getting into their van. Instead of continuing to the highway, I turned at the end of the road, came down on the other side of the median, and put the car in park. I could see Jilly get out and run up to the hanging plant beside the door, where she dropped something in, and then she hopped down the steps and ran back to the van. Was it a key? If so, I could go in and see where Dad had spent so much time. I wanted to know everything. Like how long had the
y been together? When did they meet? What was the woman’s name?

  When they finally pulled away, I turned off the car engine, twisted on the camera’s zoom lens, and scanned the front of the brownstone. I focused on the big window beside the door. Something white moved in the lower panes, and I jumped back in my seat. Refocusing, I saw it was a cat rubbing against the window. Playing the role of a photographer, or something like that, I wandered the street shooting the trees, and the front doors on either side of the brownstone door. Be cool, I told myself as I casually bounced up the front steps and leaned over with my camera to look in the front window. The cat stretched and rubbed against the glass, and I took a picture. I saw that the inside was nice, but not too nice. I caught an Oriental rug, a dark couch, and plants. The cat blinked its eyes at me and settled on its haunches just as I snapped another picture. I took more shots—the intricate ironwork of the railing, the gargoyle door knocker, the cobblestone sidewalk—and then I heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled up.

  The blue van parked as I scrambled down the steps and started walking past it up the hill. I held the camera tightly against my chest to keep it from bouncing and looked at the ground. Jilly hopped out and passed closely enough so that I could read her T-shirt. MVP Longfellow Soccer #15.

  A car door slammed. “Can I help you?”

  Still walking away, I said, “Wrong house, sorry.” But then I turned. I had to get one good look at the face of the woman who had wrecked my life. She was looking across the street at my car, then back at me, then at the car again. Even with her sunglasses and two car lengths between us, I was positive I knew her from somewhere. I looked at her hard, willing myself to remember. And she didn’t turn away, either.

  It probably wasn’t as long a stare-down as I thought, but I was relieved when Jilly ran up to the van, dangling a mouth guard in one hand.

  “I found it!” she said, opening her door. “Come on!” she yelled. “We’re going to be late for the game!”

  The woman got into the van, and I walked in the opposite direction of my car until the van turned the corner.

  As soon as it did, I collapsed against a nearby tree to catch my breath. Even though my heart pounded, I wanted to go back to the brownstone. Since they were on their way to a game, they wouldn’t be back for at least two hours. My body was telling me to calm down and go home, but all I could think of was seeing where they lived.

  I made a deal with myself. If I set the timer on my phone and let myself in using the key Jilly had hidden in the planter, I could stay for ten minutes.

  The key was right where she had left it. The door opened onto a foyer with a stairway to the right and a step-down living room on the left. It was bright and warm. The girlfriend was into art, and there was a baby grand piano with photos on it in front of the big window where the cat sat.

  I made a beeline to the photos on the piano. When I saw a picture of Dad on the Calliope, my heart stopped. Studying each photo, I could see that these people were happy. There were soccer pictures, tennis team photos, and Jilly with a black Lab. Then there was a photo of the three of them on the rocks at a beach with the dog, seagulls above and wind-tossed hair. Posed. Like for a Christmas card.

  They’ve been together awhile, I thought; Jilly looks a little younger.

  I checked my phone. Only two minutes had passed. I looked around the room. I wanted to go upstairs, but if they came back, I’d be trapped. I opened the closet in the foyer and found a pair of hiking boots that I was pretty sure I’d seen Dad wear, a winter vest, and a couple of baseball caps. I looked out the window in the living room as I walked through to the kitchen. On the window seat, the white cat twitched its tail and kept its eyes on me as I checked out the bookshelves and knickknacks.

  Between the living room and the kitchen was a computer nook and across from it a folding door. I opened it and found a pantry/broom closet with floor-to-ceiling shelves on two walls, and on the third were hooks for a broom, mop, and dusting tool. I shut the door quickly and moved on, bothered, but not sure why.

  It was a small kitchen. The island in the middle had a stove with pots hanging above it. The sink and fridge were opposite the stove, and at the end of the room was an eating nook with three chairs. The soccer schedule and a social studies test with B- Much better, Jilly written on it were stuck under a Longfellow Elementary School magnet. I ran my finger down the dates until I found the day’s game: Kennebunk, an away game. I snapped a picture of the schedule and opened the fridge. The contents weren’t like those in our fridge at home; there were lots of kiddie foods, like yogurt with sprinkles, blue juice, and chocolate milk. Mom would never buy fake food for Dad and me. Even when I begged for something in a wrapper, she’d say, “I love you too much to let you eat junk.”

  My phone beeped and I jumped. Ten minutes had passed, and I hadn’t seen the upstairs. I checked the date of the next game. On my way out I stopped at the front door and pointed my camera at the baby grand. Click. Not a photo I wanted to remember, but I needed to have it for days when I pretended this wasn’t happening.

  CHAPTER 11

  Just as I pulled into my driveway, I got a text.

  Jenn: we want to meet you and Will on the island—sort of a double date.

  It was bizarre to see her type out we and mean Doug and her, not her and me. Now I was practically part of a we and I could text back.

  Me: Will has to work, but he’ll be there later.

  Instead of my usual all-natural style, I used the hair dryer and then the flat iron and gave my hair a shine with some gloss. Not bad, I thought as I added a touch of makeup to my eyes. I look good, I thought, so why do I have a knot in my gut, the one I get before an anxiety attack? Easy answer. Dad, Mom, Bo. As long as I could keep them from creeping into my mind, my summer plans would be on target.

  Later, when I pulled into the parking lot, it was half tide, and I didn’t even flinch at the sight of the water lapping at the rocks. The scent of salt and seaweed was strong, but it was okay because I had a way to cope, the same as last time—I thought of Will. I practiced things I could say to him as I climbed over tide pools and sidestepped slippery stones, camera around my neck and my bag slung across my body, messenger style.

  Before I knew it, I had crossed the entire causeway and was hiking up the stone steps to the fire pit. I scanned the circle, looking for Will, but he wasn’t there yet. Sam and Dory were setting up the music and the cooking area.

  Jenn and Doug had rebuilt the bar so it was closer to the fire circle, but out of the direction of the northwest wind that kicked up so often. Jenn had picked some wild roses and beach peas and put them in a water bottle, and Doug was burying beers in a cooler of ice.

  “Hey,” I said, joining Jenn at the bar.

  She rushed to me and flung her arms around my neck.

  “You’re happy to see me, I guess,” I said, patting her arm.

  The hug was over quickly, and she gazed at Doug as he shook the ice down in the chest to make room for more beer.

  “He’s so amazing,” she said, as if he actually was amazing. When I didn’t respond, she looked at me. “What?”

  “Nothing. Yeah, he’s great,” I said, but I couldn’t fake the enthusiasm.

  She sighed and looked back at him.

  “Something’s different.” As soon as I said it, she smiled and I knew.

  “You did it with Doug,” I whispered.

  “How’d you know?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I fished around for my camera.

  “I know. I can’t stop smiling.” She grinned, pink-faced and shy.

  This needed to be documented. I snapped a couple of pictures while she posed, and then I got next to her for a shot.

  “And what about you and Will?” she said, taking the camera from me and snapping one. “Did he break up with Nicole?”

  “He says he’s working on it.”

  As if on cue, there was a shout from the causeway as Will and his entourage made their way ac
ross the rocks, his shock of blond hair catching the last rays of light.

  I walked through the Café Rose de Plage, where Sam and Dory were hanging out.

  “Where’s Bo?” I asked.

  Sam shrugged.

  I saw his truck in the parking lot, but he was nowhere in sight.

  “So you and Will, huh?” Sam asked.

  I broke into a wide grin and nodded. “Yup.”

  Right then Bo appeared with an armload of wood for the fire. He didn’t look at me.

  “Hey, Bo,” I said, trying to remember the way we always talked to each other. I didn’t know how to act with him now.

  He grunted a hello.

  “Let’s get some wood,” I said to him.

  He sighed loudly but followed me down to the shore.

  “I know you’re into Will now,” he said, picking up a rock and tossing it.

  “Yeah, he and Nicole aren’t really exclusive.” I didn’t know where I was getting this stuff, but I didn’t want Bo’s disapproval.

  He scoffed. “Just be careful,” he said, now looking at me.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I knew I sounded defensive, but he’d used the big-brother tone.

  “I just—” He picked up another rock and threw it hard. “If it can’t be me, well, I want you to be with a good guy.” He smiled at me and gave me a gentle shove. “You know his track record with girls.”

  I nodded but brushed the comment aside. Bo was just being protective. “Are you still my second BFF?” I asked.

  He nodded. We did a lethargic BFF fist bump. He went off to gather more wood, and I went back to the fire circle to see Will, relieved to be past the awkwardness with Bo.

  “Hey,” I said as I came into the group.

  Will grabbed me and gave me a kiss in front of everyone. He raised his beer and gave a loud “Whoop!” Then he threw the cardboard from a six-pack into the fire. There was a crackle as the carton burst into flames. Will was a pyro, for sure.

  “Nice,” Doug said, nodding approvingly.

  “I’ll be right back,” Will said, heading into the bushes by the causeway. “Gotta visit the facilities.”