Truly

by Carmel Rhodes

  “We need new bikinis,” Becca proclaims, hooking a sudden left past Victoria’s Secret.

  “NO!” I plant my feet, nearly colliding with a mom dragging a toddler behind her. She curses under her breath as she sidesteps me. “Food. I can’t set foot in another store until we eat something.”

  “Fine.” She pouts, changing courses. “But I don’t want to hear any moaning when we’re forced to try on swimsuits with food babies in our bellies.”

  I zip my lips and toss the imaginary key over my shoulder. We grab our food—I got Chick-Fil-A and Becca went with Chinese—and make our way to an empty table near Sbarro’s. I drag a waffle fry through a glob of mayo and ketchup and moan. Three days without having a taste for food, and just smelling the deep-fried goodness has my mouth watering.

  “I think I just got really excited for our trip,” I mumble around a mouth full potato-y goodness.

  “Just?” Becca cocks a brow. Her hair is braided in two messy French braids and pinned back. She looks effortlessly gorgeous. So cool and sophisticated. She’s going to kill it at NYU. “We’ve been planning this since sophomore year.”

  “I know, but I’d been so caught up with Devin lately, and then graduation happened.” I shudder, twisting the gold ring around my thumb. Flashes of Noah’s black eyes and wet mouth between my legs threatened to ruin an otherwise perfect trip to the mall. I suck in three sharp breaths and refocus my attention on my friend.

  “You think?” Becca snorts, unaware of my near meltdown. “I love you deep, Tru.”

  “Here we go. Deep. Deep,” I respond, although I’d rather walk through hot coals than listen to another tough love speech.

  “You totally became that girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “The girl who forgets everything but her boyfriend.”

  “I did not.” I toss a fry at her, then instantly regret wasting perfectly good food.

  “You did too.” Becca points her fork at my head. It feels like a loaded gun.

  My mouth opens to dispute her accusations, but no words come out. What she’s saying isn’t untrue, but it’s a hard pill to swallow, especially now, when I already feel so untethered. It’s like I graduated high school and a bomb detonated in my life. If this is a preview of what adulthood is like, I’d rather just stay in bed.

  “Listen, Tru. I don’t want you to take it badly. I get it, you were in love, and love makes you do crazy things.” She twirls a finger at her temple, in the universal sign for cuckoo. “All I’m saying is I’m excited we get to spend three weeks exploring the world together. I mean, who knows what will happen when we go to college. We each make friends, make less time for each other.” She drops her gaze to her plate, her voice softening, “I don’t know. You’re like the sister I never had. You’ll be in my wedding one day, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll be in yours, ya know? Like, I’m a temporary friend for you.”

  Gaping at the raw honesty of her words, I grab her hand. “Becca, it’s you and me forever. I know I’ve been shitty, but you are the best friend I’ve ever had.” I hope she can feel the conviction in my voice, the truth to my words. “Of course, you’ll be in my wedding. Hell, you’ll probably be in the delivery room when I give birth.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nod, tears welling in my eyes. “I love you, deep deep.”

  “Big deep.” She smiles.

  We stare at each other for a beat. Tell her. The thought flits through my brain, quiet at first, then it roars to the front of my mind. Tell her. Tell her. Tell her. I swallow past the lump in my throat. I need to tell someone, otherwise this weight…this secret...it might consume me. “Becca…I—”

  “Becca,” Ethan’s voice booms from across the food court. Panic skates its way down my spine as he and Noah approach, flanked by a couple of the other guys from the team. Lucy and Paige trail behind them, and before I get the chance to grab my shit and get the fuck out of there, they crowd our table.

  Noah takes the chair next to me. His eyes bore into the side of my head, willing me to look at him, but I don’t. I can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he’s having on me. I refuse to let him see the fear his presence creates.

  Ethan greets Becca with a hug and a chaste kiss. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” She bumps his shoulder. “What are you guys doing here?”

  Ethan’s cheeks flush. “Was at Noah’s playing ball and saw that you were shopping in your stories and I missed you. These assholes just tagged along.”

  “I told you I was hanging out with Tru, today,” Becca says, though I can hear by her tone that she’s moved by the sweet gesture. She lifts a piece of teriyaki chicken in offering, and Ethan snags it between his teeth.

  “I know,” he says munching on it. “But to be fair, she gets you for the next three weeks.”

  “Why?” Noah asks, interrupting the flow of conversation.

  “They’re going on that road trip,” Ethan explains. “I’ve told you this before,”

  “Was I drunk?” Noah asks.

  “Hammered.” Ethan chuckles.

  “Tell me about this road trip.” Noah directs that one to me. “When is it?” Everyone at the table turns, all eyes on me, forcing me to finally acknowledge him.

  I reach for my milkshake in an attempt to calm my frayed nerves, but my hand shakes so badly I nearly knock it over. Noah grabs it, sets it safely on the table, then laces his fingers with mine, kissing each knuckle. The gesture is so sweet and so at odds with every interaction we’ve ever had. I blink, watching as his big puppy dog eyes shine with mirth. The fucking asshole has the audacity to touch me sweetly after forcing his cock down my throat. The urge to shove Becca’s plastic fork in his eye is strong, but there are too many witnesses.

  “So, what, you’re slumming it with Devin’s sloppy seconds now?” Lucy asks bitterly from across the table. Judging by the look on everyone’s faces, they were all thinking it, she was just bitchy enough to say it out loud.

  Noah narrows his eyes at her. “I was slumming it when I let you give me a handjob in the science lab.”

  The table ooohhs.

  “She’s a stoner groupie,” Lucy bites back. I swear her insults get more and more unoriginal as time wears on.

  “Well,” Noah shrugs. “She gives more enthusiastic head than you, so maybe you should ask for pointers.”

  The table ahhs, and I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole. The guys grunt and cheer and I jump from the table, mortified. I don’t even bother to grab my shopping bags, I just book it to the ladies’ room as fast as I can, refusing to let those assholes see me cry. Pushing into the last stall and locking it behind me, I sink down onto the toilet.

  Noah doubled down.

  By announcing to his friends—with a very public display of affection—that we hooked up, he planted potential seeds of doubt. And instead of refuting it, I ran away like a coward, basically confirming his version of events. Now, even if I wanted to tell, no one would believe me.

  “Tru?” Becca calls from the other end of the stall.

  “I just need a minute,” I reply, swiping at the tears.

  “Is that true? Did you and Noah hook up?”

  My heart pounds as the seconds tick by. I contemplate telling her every dark detail about what happened that night. I could still make it right. But then I’d have to deal with it head on. Face the consequences of not only Noah and whatever high-powered lawyer his stepdad throws at me, but also the shame and guilt for letting it happen. On top of pretty much kissing my road trip goodbye. If Dad knew, he’d probably package me up in bubble wrap and never leave my side.

  I inhale, then on exhale make up my mind. “Yeah, it’s true,” I whisper.

  “And that’s why you’ve been so sad lately? You hooked up with him and feel like you betrayed Devin, even though he dumped you?” I nod, though I know she can’t see me. I unlock the door, and Becca stands there with her hands on her hips and a smile on her lips. “I can’t believe
you didn’t tell me.”

  “It’s not exactly something I planned to shout over the lunch table,” I say falling into her open arms.

  “Did you guys have sex?”

  “NO.” I shake my head so violently I nearly give myself whiplash. “I just…and he…” I can’t bring myself to say the words again. I can’t bring myself to absolve Noah any more than I already have.

  “Got it.” Becca saves me from floundering further. “An oral transaction.”

  “That sounds so dirty.” I giggle through the tears. You gotta laugh to keep from cryin’. Momma’s words spring to the forefront of my mind, causing more tears to fall, but I do my best to rein them in and focus on my friend.

  “If the rumors are true, Noah likes it dirty.”

  You have no idea. I think. “Look, can we just pretend like it didn’t happen. In fact, let’s never talk about it again,” I tell her, splashing water on my face, then patting it dry.

  Becca and I link arms and we push our way out of the bathroom. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see Noah and Ethan standing there holding our bags, considering the revisionist history he just created, but I gasp nonetheless.

  He has big balls, I’ll give him that, but I’m done being his punching bag. I snatch my shit from his hands. “Go away.”

  Ethan drops his arm around Becca’s shoulder. “We should give them a minute.”

  “So, is this a thing that’s happening?” Becca asks, her head swivels between the two of us, a wide grin stretched on her perfectly glossed lips. I know she’s already planning our first double date.

  I don’t have the heart to tell her there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I’d ever do anything with Noah consensually, but I keep my mouth shut and give a jerky head shake.

  “Sorry for outing us,” Noah says, tucking a curl that wriggled free from my bun behind my ear. I duck when he goes to bop me on the nose. Of all the things he should actually be apologizing for, he starts there? “She was being a bitch.”

  “Tru, we need swimsuits!” Becca announces. “Let’s check PacSun, then we can run to Target.” She turns to Ethan. “What are you guys doing?”

  Ethan glances at Noah. “I heard swimsuit shopping?”

  “Pigs.” Becca giggles.

  Un-fucking-believable.

  We head to the store and I plan my escape the entire way. Becca heads towards a wall of bikinis, and I turn left. Going along with Noah’s lie is one thing; him going with me to pick out bikinis is a higher level of acting than I think I’m capable of.

  At least I drove this time.

  I slip out my phone to text Becca that I’m out when a deep voice rumbles behind me. “You’re shaking,” Noah says.

  I look down at my hand, and sure enough, my phone is shaking. “What did you expect? The last time I was alone with you—you weren’t very nice,” I grit, smiling at the sales lady. I move towards a rack of discounted denim. “I went along with your redacted version of the story, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you or that I want to be near you for any amount of time.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your road trip?” he asks cocking his head, completely ignoring my rant. He’d been sitting in the circle when we talked about it the other night. It must be nice to be able to forget the details of the party. I’ve relived every goddamn minute of it for the last three days.

  “When should I have mentioned it? When you pinned me against my will and choked me with your cock?” I huff, flexing my hand. I will not let him scare me. I will not.

  His eyes flair and he looks around to make sure no one hears me. “We hooked up in the treehouse. That’s what you just told everyone.”

  “Yes, I went along with it. You’re welcome, by the way. You’re in the clear. You’ve done what I assume you came here to do. It’s over. Now, please leave me alone.”

  He laughs, leaning in. “It’s over when I say it’s over. And right now…” He lifts a tiny bikini that’s the same shade of brown as my skin, “I say it’s time to try on swimsuits.”

  “I’m not…” My mouth gapes open at his brashness. “We are not dating, hooking up, in a situationship, friends with benefits, or even friends, for that matter. Why on earth would you think I’d let you watch me try on bikinis?”

  “I’ve seen you in a lot less.” His lip twitches and if he smirks, I swear to God I’ll scream.

  “Again, completely against my will because I was dumb enough to get drunk at a party with a sociopath. Lesson learned.”

  He grips my arm, turning me in the direction of the fitting rooms. “You didn’t let me.”

  “Thank you, captain obvious,” I spit, yanking from his grasp.

  “No, I mean, there was nothing you could have done different, so don’t drive yourself crazy with what-ifs.”

  I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “Is this you trying to be sweet? Because it isn’t working.”

  “I’m not sweet,” he says. “I’m honest. Don’t read too much into it.”

  The fitting room attendant, a rising senior from Newton, unlocks the door for me and I try to slip inside, needing a reprieve from this conversation. Noah crowds me, forcing his way inside, too. Her eyes widen. “Umm, we’re not supposed to let more than one person at a time.” She shuffles nervously from side-to-side.

  Noah shoots her his I own this town grin. His hair flops forward and he brushes it back. “You can let it slide this one time, can’t you?”

  My eyes bore into her skull, hoping like hell she values her job more than Noah Tedesco’s approval. “Just this once,” she says sheepishly.

  Traitor, I think as Noah pushes me inside. He takes my bags and hangs them on the hook. My heart races and I panic. Being trapped in another room with Noah is giving me PTSD.

  “You’re trembling again,” he says, advancing on me. His hands fall to my hips.

  “Please,” I whisper. “Don’t. You did what you came here to do. Against my better judgment, I went along with it. I don’t get why you can’t just go and leave me with the shred of dignity I have left.”

  His head drops to mine. “Unfortunately for you, Little One, you don’t get to tell me no.”

  This time, I feel the shudder as it racks through me, hearing him call me Little One. “Why?” I sob. “Why me? Why now?”

  His mouth hovers over my ear. “Because I had a taste, and all I can think about is doing it again.”

  “You’re delusional if you think I will ever do anything with you.”

  “I can make this easy for you.” His humorless laugh fills the quiet void. “But as you learned the other night, I’m not against making it hard either. In fact, I’d almost prefer it.”

  Melody

  July 1994

  Typically, Momma has to drag me to church kickin’ and screamin’, but since I’m leaving soon—Lord knows when I’ll be able to afford the flight back home—I put on the godawful dress she bought me for my birthday—the one with the shoulder pads—and listened to the good word.

  It isn’t God I have an issue with, per se—it’s His people. It’s Deacon Calvin’s holy hugs that always seem to last a little too long, and his hands dip a little too low. It’s the way Sister Ruth’s judgy eyes always seem to acknowledge the ring through my nose and the red polish on my fingernails before she acknowledges me. It’s in the “I’m more saved than you” Olympics that is testimony.

  But today, Pastor Granberry preached a sermon about faith that stuck with me. Maybe because I’m about to load up my old hooptie with all my worldly possessions and drive across the country, or maybe it’s because I drank too much Boones Farm with Sheila the other night and got so sick I promised to turn my life around if God helped see me through. Either way, it was a good message and I wanted to record it in the annals of time—or until I lose track of you, Diary, and have to buy a new one.

  Here’s the passage:

  “Truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from he
re to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.”

  Matthew 17:20-21.

  To emphasize his point, he pulled out a jar of mustard seeds right there in the pulpit, because Pastor Granberry has a thing for props and a flair for dramatics. Diary, mustard seeds are tiny as hell. Matthew must have had a thing for hyperbole, which I respect. All great poets do. Anyway, this isn’t about biblical badassery—it’s about faith.

  Pastor said that the mustard seed starts out small—it’s the smallest seed in the garden, but the trees that spring forth are the largest. It’s not about blindly following. It’s about trusting the process. It’s about the journey. It’s about doing the work. Sowing the seed so that you may grow in faith, in life, in love. So that one day, you can move mountains.

  It isn’t that I don’t want to go to college. It could be cool. It’s just that I’m afraid. Sure, I’m smart in the tiny town where I grew up, but having my entire family’s hopes and dreams resting upon my shoulders is terrifying.

  There, I said it.

  And since I’m spilling my heart out, I have another confession. Diary, despite my love for National Geographic and travel books, I’ve never been outside of Newton. I talk a big game, much like all my favorite rappers. Which is why I convinced Momma to let me take Monica on a road trip across the country. She must have really believed my Hemingway speech, thus me inadvertently writing a check my black ass is afraid to cash.

  But faith, right? If faith the size of a mustard seed can move a biblical mountain, surely me, Monica, Biggie and Pac can make our way across the country to take my scary ass to school.

  “I’ll admit,” Aunt Monica says, leaning over to grab another bundle of hair. “I thought you were out of your mind dying all this pretty hair purple, but I don’t hate it.”

  “Mom.” My cousin Kailyn rolls her eyes. Her fingers work quickly as she plaits a braid on the opposite side of my head. “Colorful hair is trendy now. Girls walk around with all sorts of unnatural shades and no one bats an eye.” Kai is eight years older than me. She lives in Atlanta but comes to visit Newton as much as her busy life allows.