Serves Me Wright

by K. A. Linde

  I was going to make this right.

  One way or another, I was going to fix this.

  I had to.

  39

  Jennifer

  “Okay. Just lie on the couch, and I’ll see if Piper and Blaire have emergency ice cream,” Annie said, depositing me in the living room.

  I flopped back onto the couch. Tears still leaked down my cheeks. I hadn’t been able to stop crying since Annie had picked me up. Yes, I’d stood up for myself. Yes, I’d done the right thing. But now, I felt terrible.

  My heart had been flattened. Shattered. Thrown on the ground and stomped on. Everything was too much, too fast, and I couldn’t make it stop. The ice cream Annie was looking for wouldn’t do a damn thing to make this better. I popped a full Xanax instead. Maybe I could drift away into oblivion and not have to think about it.

  “Pipes, some help!” Annie called as Piper stepped into the room with wide eyes.

  “What is happening?” Piper asked in shock.

  “Found it!” Annie said, holding up the ice cream triumphantly.

  She and Piper headed into the living room, and Annie opened up a container of Americone Dream for me. She passed me the spoon, but I still couldn’t stop crying.

  Piper looked horrified. “What did that boy do to you?”

  Annie sat next to me and brushed my hair back. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

  “What’s all the commotion?” Blaire asked, stepping out of her room in matching pink shorts and sports bra combo. She got one look at Jennifer and dashed to the couch. “Whoa! What’s going on?”

  “She just broke up with Julian,” Annie informed her.

  Piper and Blaire both gasped at the same time. Their eyes were huge as they took me in, disbelief warring with concern.

  “I don’t…I don’t know if we broke up,” I whispered.

  “You told him no after that shit he pulled, and then you walked away. The message was clear.”

  I pulled my arms into my stomach. “I don’t want to break up with him.”

  “I know,” Annie said softly. “I know you don’t.”

  “Maybe he’ll just…” I hiccupped. “Maybe he’ll send me flowers and tacos, and everything will be better.”

  Annie’s look was so positively pitying that I had to close my eyes. It had worked for Annie. Of course it wouldn’t work for me. I wasn’t Annie. I stood up to Julian in the way that Annie would. I’d found my voice for the first time, but I was already regretting it. I didn’t want it to be over with Julian. I was mad at him for what had happened, what he’d done, but this couldn’t be the end. Could it?

  “I’m so sorry, Jennifer. I really have to get to the hospital. Fuck.” She looked to my roommates. “Can y’all handle it from here?”

  “We’ve got her,” Piper said authoritatively.

  Blaire nodded. “Of course.”

  Annie squeezed my arm. “I’m texting Sutton to see if she can come over, too.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I murmured. “I’ll text her later.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. She sighed and then left.

  Piper and Blaire filled in for her, doing all the right things and peppering me with all the right questions. I just lay on the couch like a lump as tears fell. I hadn’t known I had this many tears. I hadn’t cried like this in years. Not since my last breakup when the guy had called me crazy for my anxiety. But those tears had been different. They had been self-loathing. This was defeat.

  I’d had everything I wanted, and it had all crumbled to dust.

  “Hey, your phone is ringing,” Piper said. “Can I dig into your bag and get it?”

  “Sure,” I muttered, swiping at my face.

  “If it’s Julian, can I answer and cuss him out?” Blaire asked.

  Piper shook her head. “Oh no, I can handle him.”

  “He doesn’t have a phone,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Blaire asked.

  “He broke it and hasn’t had time to get a new one.”

  “Who doesn’t have time to get a new phone?” Piper asked skeptically. Then she finally grabbed my phone out of my bag. “Uh, it says Mom.”

  “Crap,” I said. “I…I have to answer it.” Piper handed me the phone. I sniffed and tried to clear my throat before answering, “Hello?”

  “Hi, honey. Dad is almost finished cooking, and Chester is already here. You’re late.”

  I clenched my jaw. Crap, I’d forgotten about Sunday brunch. Mom was trying to make it a thing so that we saw each other every weekend after church. Chester and I didn’t go, but Mom still did. She hadn’t asked if I was coming. She’d just accused me of being late. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t coming. But I’d used up my no today against Julian. I didn’t have it in me to say it to my mom. Her disdain would be so much worse.

  “Sorry. I got caught up. I’m on my way.”

  She huffed softly. “We’ll save you a seat.”

  “Thanks.”

  Piper and Blaire looked at me with wide eyes when I hung up. “You’re going to meet your folks?” Piper asked.

  “Yeah, I forgot.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Blaire asked.

  “Probably not, but I still have to go.”

  They both protested as I heaved myself to my feet and went into my room to change. I just ignored them. They didn’t know my family situation. That staying home would be worse than getting it over with.

  I put on a modest yellow dress and did something to my hair. I didn’t look in the mirror. I didn’t want to know what I looked like. I couldn’t seem to care.

  “Jen,” Piper said, “are you sure?”

  I sighed. “No. I’m really not.”

  “Can I drive you at least?” she asked.

  “Nah, I’m okay to drive.” I glanced down at the cat food bag and sighed even heavier. I’d forgotten to feed them when I got home. Things had been…bad. I needed to do it.

  I took the cat food outside with me and dumped it into their bowls. Before I could even call their names, Bacon walked right up to me, purring and running her body along my legs.

  “Hey, Bakey,” I said, dropping back on my heels so I could pet her.

  Tears came again as my cat comforted me. She probably just wanted her food, but right now, it felt like she loved me. And I could use one more person loving me.

  Then to my surprise, Avocado slunk out of the bushes. I nearly startled at her presence, but I stayed perfectly still. This was the closest she’d come to me since I’d moved her. She hadn’t even looked at me when I called her name.

  Now, here she was, staring right at me. I didn’t want her to run off, so I actually held my breath. Avocado sniffed the air as she went to her food bowl. She smelled it, and I thought she’d go back to ignoring me. But she turned away from it and came to press her body against mine. Not running it along me, like Bacon had been, just pushing into me. As if to say that she was here. She knew something was wrong, and she would be here for me.

  I tentatively put my hand out and ran it down her ginger fur. She didn’t purr. Only met me with her bright stare. I got two full pets in before she trotted off back into the bushes. But that was enough. I was forgiven.

  A weight fell off of my shoulders. I hadn’t known how much I was holding it all in, waiting for my cat to not hate me anymore. But if Avocado could forgive me after traumatizing her…maybe I could find a way to go on.

  I hauled myself back to my feet and got into Bertha. I slammed my hand on the air-conditioning unit, trying to force it to turn on. Something went clunk on the inside, and I screamed at it with every horrible word I had in my vocabulary. But it was no use. Something was finally broken in Bertha, just like inside of me. We were the same now.

  I rolled all of the windows down and already started to sweat in the Texas heat. I’d have to do something about the AC. There was no way I would survive the rest of July and August like this. I might have to have Blaire sell Campbell’s image to a few ma
gazines so that I could cover the costs. Just another fucking thing.

  I pulled up in front of my parents’ house. It was the same place they’d had since I was in elementary school. Cluttered with memories, a wall covered in crosses—as was so popular in Lubbock—and all the half-finished projects my father had said that he was going to get to and never did. It was a house, but it had never felt like home.

  “I’m here,” I called as I entered.

  Mom was seated on the couch. Chester on a chair nearby. Mom raised an eyebrow at my appearance. Chester even startled. Great.

  “Hi, kiddo!” my dad called from the kitchen. He was a pancake connoisseur. Something about his short time in the Army. My parents otherwise had a pretty traditional marriage. Mom cooked and cleaned and balanced the budget, and Dad worked. Even though she’d always had a job to help make ends meet.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “What happened?” my mom asked, coming to her feet.

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  Chester blew out a breath. “Your eyes are all puffy, sis.”

  “Thanks, Chess,” I practically growled.

  He looked at me in surprise, as if it was the first time he’d seen me with teeth. Which, to be fair, it probably was.

  “Have you been crying?” Mom asked. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Tell me everything.”

  I sank into the couch and sighed. I didn’t want to do this. And yet there, in the house that wasn’t a home, with family that felt too familiar and yet so distant, and Chester’s reassuring nod, I let loose. I shouldn’t, but it was so fresh, and I couldn’t stop.

  “I broke up with Julian,” I said as I started crying again.

  My mom gasped. “You broke up with him?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I guess.”

  “He didn’t break up with you?” she asked.

  “That’s what she said, Mom,” Chester broke in. “What happened, Jen?”

  “I don’t know. It just…it didn’t work out. God, I hate to tell you this, but it was fake.”

  “What do you mean, dear?” Mom asked.

  “When I brought Julian to graduation, we weren’t dating. I hate lying to you, and I can’t hold it in any longer. We were fake dating so that I wouldn’t have to go alone.”

  They both stared at me in shock.

  “Well…that’s…” my mom said.

  “But it was real after,” I said quickly. “It was real, and we were together. But then he hid something from me and lied about it. I might have forgiven that, but then he saw my anxiety medication and assumed I was on drugs. Well, his ex assumed. I don’t know if I’m even explaining all of this. But I either had to tell him about my anxiety before I was ready or give it up. And I didn’t want him to be okay with me because I’d told him about my mental health.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t tell him about the anxiety,” my mom said quickly.

  “Why not?” Chester said. “If he had known, then you might not have even had this argument.”

  “It still would have happened,” I whispered. “The lying and hiding at least.”

  “You don’t discuss your mental health, Chester. You know that. There are things that you never discuss in public.”

  “This wasn’t public. This was her boyfriend.”

  “All these issues people keep dragging into the spotlight—race, money, mental problems, sexual orientation, religion. I don’t need to know about this, and neither does anyone else. Keep it to yourself. Let me live my life.”

  Chester bristled. “What does that have to do with Jennifer and her boyfriend? Her anxiety is part of who she is. If he wanted to be with her, then he needed to love that part of her, too.”

  “I just think everything needs to go back to the way it was.”

  He arched an eyebrow. Mom couldn’t see that he was mad, but I could from here. “Back to the way it was for whom?” he snarled. “White, cis, hetero people? I’m sorry, but I can’t see how going back to the past, when things were worse for people who weren’t straight white dudes, is better than helping everyone.”

  “Since when did you become so political?” my mom asked, her hackles raised.

  “If civil rights and basic common decency are political, then fine, Mom, I’m political.”

  “Y’all,” I whispered, “don’t fight.”

  I could see the train running off the tracks, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. This was who our mother was. Who she had always been and raised us to be. She didn’t know that by saying things, she’d be slapping her favorite child in the face.

  “For someone who is a straight white man, I don’t see how it matters to you.”

  He rose to his feet. His hands were shaking, like mine did when I was going to explode. “I don’t know how to tell you that you should care about other people,” he said, lethally calm.

  “I care about other people,” she gasped.

  “And for the record, I’m not straight. I’m pan. And I have a boyfriend named Peter. My life isn’t political. It’s just living. And so is Jennifer’s.”

  My mom’s jaw dropped. “You’re…pan? What does that mean?”

  “I like everyone, Mom. I don’t care about their gender identity or their sex. I fall in love with the person.”

  She nodded in shock. “And you have a…boyfriend.”

  “Peter,” he said, his voice softening on the word. “Peter Medina.”

  “I…well, this is a lot to take in, Chester. When did you decide?”

  “I’ve always known. Jennifer knows. So, I’d appreciate it if you put your feelings about the matter on hold and listen to us. Listen to Jen when she says that she’s hurting because of her anxiety. I wasn’t ready to tell you about my sexual orientation, and she has every right to hide her mental illness, but she doesn’t have to just because you think it’s more socially acceptable.”

  Dad walked out then with a plate of pancakes. “Brunch is ready. Is it too late to invite Peter over?” He’d clearly heard everything.

  Mom gaped at him.

  Chester just smiled at Dad. “You want him to come for brunch?”

  “My son has a boyfriend that I haven’t met. It’s time to remedy that. Connie, will you help me set the table?”

  She nodded, glad to have something to do.

  Chester clapped me on the back. “Sorry to steal your thunder.”

  “By all means,” I said, still blinking away my own surprise. “I didn’t think you wanted them to know.”

  “Well, Mom crossed the line, and I never should have let you take the brunt of her for all these years.”

  “Thanks, Chess.”

  He pulled me into another hug. “What are you going to do about Julian? Anxiety is a part of you. If you had a broken foot, would you take pain meds and hide it from him, for fear that he’d judge you for it? The stigma is bullshit, Jen. You know it is. So, are you going to tell him the truth about who you are?”

  When he put it like that, it was amazing that I’d hidden it at all. Anxiety was part of me. Why was I ashamed of that? Because my mom didn’t like to discuss it? Because some douche ex had called me crazy? Would Julian judge me for it? That was my fear.

  And there was only one way to find out.

  40

  Julian

  Hollin and Alejandra sat in front of me for a meeting I’d called, wearing equal looks of amusement I’d waited a couple days to do it—to inform them about the distribution problem. I’d wanted to deal with all of my personal issues first.

  Breakfast with Weston had gone really great. I’d been shocked that as soon as we’d gotten him out of the winery and into a normal setting, he’d shucked off that fear and unease. He’d been a completely different, totally awesome person. He played keyboard in a few different bands, subbing in when it was necessary, and worked at a small indie record label in Seattle in his downtime. He also did IT work when he needed the money. It was what his degree was in, but his passion was in music. He reminded me so much of Campbell wh
en he talked about it. Despite our differences with our dad, I could see that he was someone I wanted to get to know.

  Whitt and Harley were another story. Whitt hadn’t wanted him to try to talk to us. Harley had actually been the one to discover we existed. She was an upcoming senior in high school and a bit of a genius. She’d pieced together our existence, but she was dealing with the rage of being right. It’d take time.

  Then we’d had to tell Mom. She’d taken it better than I had. She hadn’t been surprised even, just disappointed, and had gone to bed early. I hated it for her, but it was what it was.

  “Wright, come the fuck on. We have work to do,” Hollin said impatiently.

  I took a deep breath. “We didn’t get the distribution contract.”

  “Ugh, okay,” Hollin said.

  Alejandra lazily dropped her head sideways to look at Hollin. She held her hand out. “Pony up, Abbey.”

  “Fuck,” he grumbled. He dug out his wallet and dropped a twenty into her hand.

  I looked between them. “What is going on?”

  “Oh, we never thought you’d get it,” Alejandra said.

  “I did!” Hollin said.

  “Pobrecito,” she crooned, patting his cheek. Poor baby.

  “Wait, what? If you didn’t think that I was going to get it, why were we going for it? Why did I just stress myself out for weeks?”

  “Like, normal people can’t get that their first year open,” Hollin said. But he gestured to me. “But you’re a Wright. If anyone could do it, you could.”

  “Yeah. You have contacts and currency,” Alejandra explained.

  “But, hey,” Hollin said, coming to his feet, “this means, you’re just like everyone else.”

  “And I’m twenty bucks richer,” Alejandra said. “So, thanks for that.”

  They headed out of my office, ribbing each other over the bet. Meanwhile, I was stuck in my seat. I’d worked so hard for this, only to find out it was basically impossible. But they had been right on some level, too, weren’t they? I could have gotten the contract. If I’d played Ashleigh’s game, then Alejandra would have paid up to Hollin. I did have the contacts and currency. But it was still frustrating.