The Truth Beneath the Lies

by Amanda Searcy

  I lie flat on the hill. I have to wait.

  My pocket rings.

  The world stops. Even the wind seems to cease its howl. I paw at the black monster that’s lit up, buzzing and singing.

  I silence it. I don’t know what to do. I glance down at Adrian. He doesn’t turn around.

  I have to answer.

  “What?” I whisper into the phone with my head down, like maybe that will block the sound.

  “No ‘hello’? No ‘how ya doing’? No ‘how’s the weather’?”

  “How’s the weather?” If I don’t humor him, he will never let me hang up.

  He sighs. “Raining. Always raining.”

  A shadow passes over me. Hands clamp down on my shoulders.

  “Where are we going?” I ask for the tenth time. And for the tenth time, Jordan raises his eyebrows and smirks.

  I watch the trees and the houses go by out the window. We cross a bridge and then another one. I try to draw a mental map of all we pass. I want to remember this—being with Jordan outside of Clairmont—forever.

  The November gloom flops over the land like a wet wool blanket as we get closer to the water that stretches out past the horizon. We turn onto an unmarked dirt tract. Jordan gives me a huge, excited smile. He hits the gas and whoops.

  The Jeep flies over ruts. The whole interior rattles. My seat belt tightens to keep me in place. I grab the armrest, but I can’t help laughing. Jordan’s excitement is contagious.

  The road curves through thick trees that black out the sky and threaten to swallow us whole. With a sudden lurch, we hit payment, and the ride smooths out.

  I peel my fingers off the armrest as we pull up to a house. Jordan stops on the circular drive in front. My jaw drops. The scene outside my window is like a page from Marie’s Frank Lloyd Wright calendar. The house is flat-roofed and boxy. All right angles and glass. Polished wood and geometric overhangs.

  I snap my whole body around to face Jordan. He juts his chin at the structure. “Blood money house.”

  A snake of disappointment slithers around me when I notice the Camaro parked by the trees on the side of the house. Drake’s home.

  Jordan’s already standing on the sliver of front porch before I manage to tear my eyes away from the house and get out of the Jeep. He holds the front door open for me, and my breath is taken away—again. The entire backside of the house is made of floor-to-ceiling windows. They look out on a vista of the ocean and a small, private inlet that washes against the cliff the house is perched on.

  “You have your own ocean,” I say before I realize how stupid it sounds. Jordan wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder.

  “Yes,” he whispers.

  I hear laughter coming from a hallway. Jordan straightens up. He holds me, like he’s prepared to throw me out of the way of an oncoming monster. The laughter gets closer. Two people—a man’s deep laugh and a high-pitched giggle.

  Drake comes around the corner. On his head, he wears a pink paper crown. Loops of green and purple Mardi Gras beads hang around his neck. Jordan squeezes my arms. Drake freezes. A little blond girl bumps into the back of his legs. Her crown teeters on her head and dips over her eyes.

  The girl can’t be more than five. She adjusts her crown and surveys us, but she doesn’t come out from behind Drake. I feel Jordan’s body stiffen. He steps around me.

  He kneels down so that he’s at eye level with the girl. “Hi, sweetie,” he says. He looks up at Drake. “What’s she doing here?”

  Drake’s eyes are wide and focused on me. “Kayla.”

  “What’s she doing here?” Jordan asks again.

  “The babysitter is sick. She couldn’t get ahold of anyone, so she called the house phone.” Drake says this to me. He doesn’t look at Jordan.

  Jordan pulls a half-eaten package of M&M’s from his pocket. He holds it out to the girl. She shyly steps out from behind Drake and takes them. “Can you go play in your room?” The girl holds the candy in front of her like a prize and disappears down the hallway.

  “Since you’re here,” Jordan says to Drake, “we need to talk about your rent money.” Jordan turns and faces me. “Sorry, we’ll be right back.” He motions to the immaculate white living room. “Make yourself at home.”

  After they leave, I try to sit, but I have too much energy. Who is the little girl, and what does she have to do with Jordan? I’m suddenly afraid that I’ve walked in on something I’m not supposed to know about. Like Jordan has a deep, dark secret. He’d have told me if he had a kid, right?

  I have to know. Drake and Jordan are still ensconced in a back room. I walk down the hallway.

  I find the girl sitting on the floor in a room that contains a little bed and a random assortment of toys. Dolls, trucks, finger paints, a blank sketchbook, a muscly action figure, a plastic tea set. It’s like someone didn’t know what to buy a child, so they grabbed something from each aisle of the toy store. The walls are blank and the closet empty but for a couple of dresses on child-sized hangers.

  This can’t be where she normally lives. It feels so cold, and she looks lost in the midst of all the nothing. Who is she?

  I sit down across from her. “Hi, I’m Kayla. What’s your name?”

  “Grace,” she whispers without looking up at me. She seems overwhelmed at having to talk to a stranger. I felt that same way many times when I was little. My heart goes out to her.

  “Do you want to paint a picture?” I ask, and hold up the finger paints. I pull a page out of the sketchbook and open the blue paint. I dip my finger in and draw a line down the center. As I dip my finger in the red, I feel her eyes watching me. I place a piece of paper in front of her. She copies my blue line.

  Soon our hands are covered in paint. I forget and rub my cheek. The girl giggles when I realize what I’ve done. I reach out and give her a matching paint smear.

  When our papers will hold no more, we step back and admire them.

  “What pretty pictures.” I jump at Jordan’s voice behind me. He laughs when I turn around and he sees the paint on my face.

  “I got bored sitting in the living room. Grace was kind enough to play with me.” I wink at the girl. She turns scarlet.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up, Gracie.” The girl hesitates for a second, but then lets Jordan lead her into the bathroom across the hall. The shower curtain is covered in yellow rubber duckies. A matching ducky-shaped soap sits on the counter. Jordan lifts the girl up to the sink with one arm around her waist and picks up the soap.

  “Quack, quack.” He swims the soap in front of the girl. Then he dips it under the running water and makes a muffled quacking sound. The girl giggles. They’re great together. I don’t know who this girl is, but she looks at Jordan with big, admiring eyes. I’ve never had a father, but I imagine that’s what it would be like.

  When the paint has been scrubbed off, and the girl dried with a fluffy towel, she skips back to her room.

  Jordan leans against the wall and gives me a dreamy smile. I move toward him. I have never wanted to kiss anyone as much in my entire life. But I have to know.

  “Who is she?” I whisper.

  Jordan rolls off the wall. “Come on.”

  I follow him across the house to a giant bedroom. Like in the living room, the glass wall slides open to a redwood balcony. The bed is rumpled, covers thrown all over the place. The fireplace across from it is cold and unused. Jordan sits on the bed. He’s completely relaxed, which tells me something. This is his bedroom.

  My insides jitter. I can’t move any farther into the room. Overwhelming emotions swirl through me. Confusion, anxiety, and something a little naughty I don’t want to name. My heart beats in my ears.

  “The bathroom’s right there.” He points.

  “What?” I’m anchored in the doorway.

  “Your hands.”

  I look down. I was so caught up in Jordan and the girl that I forgot that I was covered in paint. “Right. I’ll wash them
,” I say, like I’m expecting praise for coming up with such a brilliant idea.

  I shut the bathroom door. My face resembles a bruised tomato in the dim white illumination provided by a single skylight. I scrub the paint off and let my hands drip over the sink.

  I’m in Jordan’s bathroom, attached to Jordan’s bedroom. I don’t know what he expects to happen now. We’ve spent months talking. I like him—a lot. I trust him. But we still haven’t even kissed. I don’t know where we stand. And I’m definitely not ready to jump all in.

  Jordan knocks on the door, and my heart almost explodes from the force of its beating. “Let’s take a walk,” he says, and I exhale in relief so loudly that he probably hears it through the door.

  My coat is in the Jeep, and I’m not prepared for the blast of cold, wet mist that hits me when Jordan slides open the door. I cross my arms and try to hold in my body heat. Jordan, who is usually Mr. Observant, doesn’t notice.

  A staircase leads off the balcony down the cliff to a path that winds through a smattering of trees to a small dock on the water.

  Gravel crunches under our feet. “Gracie’s my sister. Half sister.”

  “Your sister?” I don’t want to be judgmental, but I’m so relieved that she isn’t his daughter. That’s the kind of thing you have to be up-front about. If she were his daughter and he didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t have been able to believe another word he said.

  “Yeah. It’s complicated. I never see her. We’re practically like strangers to each other.”

  That explains her shyness toward him.

  “Remember how I told you that my mom fell apart after my dad died? How she moved out here by herself? She was really messed up, and she had an affair with one of the doctors at the hospital where she was working.

  “My uncle was so pissed when she got pregnant. He didn’t want her to keep the baby. But Mom was caught up in some fairy tale about living happily ever after with the doctor. I don’t know if the doctor ever really cared for her, but he didn’t want to leave his perfect life to be with Mom when Grace was born.

  “She tried to take care of Gracie, but she couldn’t do it. The doctor petitioned for custody. She’s lived with him and his wife ever since.”

  “Wow.” We’ve reached the dock. I look back and the house has disappeared in the mist. I lean against the swollen wood railing. My shirt is almost soaked through, and my fingers are numb. I suppress a shiver.

  “Mom’s still not completely back to her normal self. I don’t know if she ever will be. She never talks about Gracie. Sometimes I think she’s forgotten all about her.”

  “No,” I say forcefully. “She hasn’t.” Even when my mom was at her rock bottom, I know she didn’t forget about me. She wouldn’t have been able to get clean and turn her life around—sort of—if she had. And I know that little Gracie hasn’t forgotten about her mother, either. Even when I was with Marie and had everything I needed, I always wondered where Mom was and worried about her.

  “It’s incredible that the doctor’s wife would agree to raise another woman’s child like that,” I say. Maybe Grace has a Marie in her life.

  Jordan waves a hand. “She’s his second wife. The first one dropped him once she found out about Gracie.”

  “Oh.” Now I’m worried about this little girl. If I hadn’t had Marie…

  Jordan sees it on my face. “Gracie’s in good hands. So really”—he looks away—“she doesn’t need me or Mom at all.”

  “That’s not true. You’re her big brother. I would have given anything to have had someone like you when I was her age.”

  Jordan’s eyes meet mine. “Really?” He steps forward until our foreheads are almost touching. Then he pulls away a few inches and sweeps his eyes around my face, like he’s taking in all the details. “I’ve never had a girlfriend like you before.”

  Girlfriend. The word echoes through me. I want to call him my boyfriend. Hear how it sounds aloud. Let him know that I feel the same way. But before I can, Jordan brings his lips to mine.

  I close my eyes.

  He kisses me.

  A slow, lingering, delicious kiss. I lace my fingers around the back of his neck and pull him closer. The cold turns warm, and my damp clothes and hair feel dry. Nothing exists but the two of us and the sound of ocean slopping against wood.

  “We should get you inside,” he says while his lips are still brushing mine.

  Hand in hand we walk back through the glass door. He disappears into the walk-in closet. He tosses a blue T-shirt at me. “Here, you can wear this. I’ll put your clothes in the dryer.”

  I hold the shirt in front of me. Am I supposed to go into the bathroom or strip right here in the middle of his bedroom with a glass wall behind me?

  Jordan stays in the closet, so I pull off my wet top and jeans and put the T-shirt on. It comes down to my midthigh. “Um, okay?”

  He steps out wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. “Whoa,” I say when I see his bare chest. He gives me a cocky smile and flexes his muscles. His rippling arms and sculpted chest are worth an exclamation, but that’s not what I’m looking at. I step forward and raise my hand. I glance up at him, and he nods. I touch the smooth skin on his chest and trace my finger along the outline of a carp the color of the carrot juice Carol Alexander always has in her fridge.

  He beams with pride.

  “It’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The pigment is so intense, like it’s been painted on his skin. The carp’s tail swirls over his heart. Its eye, lifelike, peers up at me curiously.

  “It’s for good luck and strength.”

  I can’t stop running my finger over the electric carp’s body. “How…”

  He laughs. “It was done using an ancient Japanese technique. It hurts, but it looks great.”

  Drake clears his throat in the doorway. We both jump. I drop my hand.

  “Jordan,” he says. His eyes stay on the floor to avoid witnessing more of our half-naked moment.

  “I’ll be right back.” Jordan pulls on a shirt and kisses me on the forehead.

  As soon as I’m sure they’re gone, I twirl around and flop down on the bed. I can’t wipe the smile off my face. And I don’t want to. I feel too good.

  My clothes are still crumpled on the floor. I get up and shake them out. My jeans dislodge something shiny from the carpet. I pick it up. It looks like a diamond earring that has been stepped on and bent at one end.

  Jordan comes back into the room. I drop the earring. A new emotion fills me. Of course he’s brought girls back here before. He said he had never had a girlfriend like me. Not that I was the first and only one to see his life here.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  “I know I hit you with a lot today. I didn’t know that Gracie would be here.” There’s sadness in his eyes when he says her name.

  “I have an idea.” I shimmy back into my damp jeans. “Come with me.” I grab his hand and lead him out into the living room. “Stay here.” Jordan smirks in amusement.

  I go down the dark hallway to Grace’s room. She’s still on the floor playing with the toys. Drake sits on the bed watching her with a cold intensity. I was coming to get Grace anyway, but seeing the way Drake looks at her makes me feel a primal panic. I want to get this girl away from him.

  He glances up at me. I ignore him. “Hey, Grace, can you bring your picture out to the living room?” I say cheerfully. I don’t want to scare her.

  She looks at Drake, but then picks up her paint-soaked paper and follows me.

  Jordan smiles when he sees the two of us appear around the corner. His phone is on a side table. I pick it up and find the camera app.

  Jordan rests his hands on Grace’s shoulders. “Hold your picture up.” I snap a photo. Then I dash behind them and hold the camera in front of the three of us. “Say cheese.”

  —

  After the last day of school before Thanksgiving break, I use my key to let myself into Marie�
�s. She’s still at work, and her little bear will be at some sort of afternoon activity. Her old computer takes forever to start up. I focus on the monitor and try not to let the ghosts of living here invade me and make it even harder to go back to Bluebird Estates.

  The log-in screen pops ups. The password is littlemouse. The breath hitches in my throat as I type it in. I pull up my email and look at the photos I sent to myself from Jordan’s phone. Grace looks so happy to be with her big brother.

  I print two copies of the photo of them together. One for me and one for Jordan. Marie has the printer set up to put the date stamp on everything. She likes to chart the growth of her little bears that way. I don’t want to hang around any longer than I have to, so I leave it and print a copy of the selfie with the three of us. My head is overly big, and I have a stupid expression on my face, but it reminds me of the moment—and of Jordan kissing me on the dock.

  I can’t stomach taking these happy memories to Bluebird Estates. I pry open the wall space in the guest room and stick my copies inside where they will be safe and waiting for me to come back for them. And I will. On the day I make it out of Clairmont.

  —

  Carol Alexander opens the door with a dish towel thrown over her shoulder and a ruffled half apron tied around her waist.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” I say, and push a box of cheap chocolate-covered cherries at her. It’s a hollow gesture, and we both know it. But it’s a boundary. She’s invited me to dinner. I’m a guest who contributes to it.

  “Paige is upstairs.” She smiles, but I can tell as she subconsciously backs away from me that Paige has told her about our fight, about my quitting the dance team. Carol’s afraid she will say or do something wrong.

  In her room, Paige is painting her nails with earbuds blasting. She uses her shoulders to shrug them out when she sees me.

  I sit on the edge of her bed. Paige continues with her nails. The microwave beeps downstairs.

  I want to tell her everything about Jordan’s house and his sister and the kiss, but my lips stay closed, like if I say the words aloud, they will somehow become less important. Less mine.