When we get to my house, I tell Liana to park at the curb rather than in the driveway, just in case Mom’s home and has to take off for an emergency.
She’s already at the hospital. Dad’s in the kitchen and comes out to greet us. “How’d your team do?” he asks Liana.
“So-so. The girls won more events than the boys.”
Dad cuts a look at me and I remain impassive.
“We’re just going to change before we go out,” I tell him. I veer toward the stairs with Liana trailing behind.
Dad clears his throat.
Oh, for God’s sake. “I’ll wait here.” I roll my eyes as I pass her on the way down.
She takes her pink Victoria’s Secret carryall into my bedroom and closes the door.
“When and where did you two meet?” Dad asks. The timer dings on the bottle warmer and Dad moves back to the kitchen to lift Ethan out of his high chair.
“It’s kind of a long story.” It’s also awkward standing here, waiting for Liana to return.
Dad cradles Ethan and begins to feed him. “I have time.”
“No, you don’t. It truly is an epic saga.” One that will forever remain untold.
Thankfully, Liana’s a quick-change artist and emerges from my room. She looks awesome in everything, but tonight she’s wearing black jeans with an eyelet blouse.
My shredded jeans and sloppy tee will never do. I hate to leave Liana alone with Dad, but I tell her, “I’ll be fast.”
When I come down, Liana’s got Ethan in her arms and she and Dad are laughing. She’s so great—comfortable with everyone, and self-confident. Two things I’m not.
Dad gives me the requisite blah-blah: Don’t pick up strangers. Don’t drink and drive. For no reason at all, he asks, “Do you need any money?”
I had money until I gave it to Joss.
Liana says, “Tonight’s on me.”
What? It’s the first time anyone’s taken me out on a date—and paid for it. I feel… special.
Once we’re in the car, Liana says, “Put on this blindfold. I want to surprise you.”
Uh-oh, I think. I’m not big on surprises. When I hesitate, she says, “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt or embarrass you.”
I know that. The blindfold is a bandana that smells like her. I tie it tight in back. “If we have to go too far, I’ll get carsick,” I warn her.
“It’s not that far away,” she says. “Unless I get lost.”
We drive about ten minutes, and then Liana makes a sharp turn and parks. “Okay, you can take off the blindfold.”
I pull it down and look at our surroundings. I meet her eyes. “Are you insane?”
“I’ll probably have to go to confession, but what the hell?”
We both start to giggle. I’ve always wanted to come here, but I’ve never had the guts.
Naturally, it’s filled with guys. Big-screen TVs are blasting different sporting events. The hostess says, “Hi. Welcome to Hooters. Two for dinner?”
I can’t help staring at her boobs. They have to be fake, or enhanced. No doubt she’s wearing a push-up Victoria’s Secret bra. Liana glances sideways at me as we’re led to a table, both of us suppressing laughter.
The menu is extensive. Hooterstizers, burgers, hot wings, salads. My attention wanders and Liana pokes me. “Eyes on the menu.”
Every waitress in this place is totally stacked and gorgeous. I know I should be a hard-ass about objectifying women, but hey, when you’ve got it, flaunt it. Right?
We both build our own burgers and share an order of curly fries. It’s hard to talk with all the noise from the TVs and guys, well, hooting. But it doesn’t matter. We share a chocolate shake and gaze into each other’s eyes. Who needs to talk?
When the bill arrives, Liana snatches it up.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay half?” I ask her.
She reaches across the booth with her empty hand and weaves her fingers through mine. “I’m taking my girl to dinner.”
This ember of joy sparks a blazing fire inside me. Does she consider me her girlfriend? Nothing in the world would make me happier.
Outside, as she’s unlocking her car door, I step in front of her. Taking her in my arms, I kiss her, and then whisper in her ear, “I love you.”
She smiles tenderly into my eyes, “I love you, too.” She kisses me until I can barely breathe.
On the drive to Rainbow Alley, I ask Liana, “Do you think we’re both rebounding? You know, from she-who-shall-not-be-named?”
Liana takes a long moment to answer. “I know it happens to people because they have this empty space in their hearts. But I never felt the kind of love for her that I do for you. It’s like I finally know what real love is.”
Her words infiltrate my soul and I know exactly how she feels. What I had with Swanee seemed like love, but now I wonder if it was just infatuation. My need to fill my empty place.
A sense of liberation comes over me, like I’m finally free of her. Whatever hold Swanee had on me is gone. Knowing what I know about her now, I can definitely say I’m glad it ended. Not the how, but the when.
“Where are you?” Liana asks.
“Here.” I smile at her. “With you.”
Rainbow Alley is downstairs at the LGBTQI Center in Denver. Dance music hits us as we descend the stairs. “What are these?” Liana asks, pointing to the tiles on the wall. Each is made of fired clay and expresses some aspect of the emotional journey toward coming out, or living your truth: fear, courage, compassion, support, acceptance, love, etc. That’s what I tell her. She stands at the wall to read a few of them, encircling my waist with her arms. We’ve shared this journey, even if it wasn’t together.
Liana’s never seen a drag show, so I know this’ll be cool for her. The furniture is pushed against the walls, making room for the entertainment. From the snack table, we fill a plate with pretzels, chips, candy, veggies, and dip before finding a cozy corner on a sofa to snuggle up together.
She gazes into my eyes and I communicate back with mine. Then she sticks a jelly worm halfway into her mouth and baits me to bite off the other end.
The drag show starts and people whoop and cheer. Tonight is retro: Madonna and Cher. We finish our food and I set the plate on a table beside me. As if on cue, our faces close the distance and we kiss. It’s a gentle kiss, sweet, with a little salt mixed in from the chips. We kiss again and my yearning unleashes itself. She shifts so that we can hold each other closer. This time I feel passion and desire in her kiss.
It’s as if we’re floating up and away from reality and everything that’s kept us apart. We’re one. We were always meant to find each other, and now it’s finally come to be.
“I never thought I’d trust anyone again,” she says, stroking my hair. “But I trust you, Alix, with all my heart and soul.”
Hearing these words, I feel like I hit a concrete wall. I have to tell her about the texts, my deception. We can’t begin this relationship with on a lie.
She holds my face between her velvety hands and kisses me deeply, putting her whole self into it.
I’m physically sick. Pulling back, I say, “I need to use the restroom.” As I’m untangling from her, my foot catches on the strap of my pack and the contents scatter.
Liana laughs. “Go. I’ll get it.”
I leave her there, scooping up all my makeup and stuff.
I lock myself in a stall and let my head drop into my hands. I have to tell her. I have to. Maybe she’ll understand and not hate me. And maybe ignorance is bliss.
After a few minutes, I flush the toilet and push through the door. As I weave through a bunch of people who are gyrating to the music, a girl grabs my hand and spins me under her arm. I almost say, I’m not available. I’m in love.
But at that moment Liana’s eyes meet mine across the room. She’s not smiling; in fact, her expression is scaring me.
That’s when I see it. Swan’s cell. In Liana’s hand.
Oh my God. I hu
stle back and say, “I can explain.”
Her eyes are black as coal.
I sit on the edge of the sofa.
“How long have you had this?” she says.
I want to lie so badly, but the time for truth has arrived. “I found it in her room the day of the funeral.…”
She blinks in horror. Shooting to her feet, she tosses the cell on the sofa, where it bounces to the floor. She snags her bag and heads for the exit.
I run out after her. “Liana, please! Let me explain.”
She sprints up the stairs.
“I admit I sent the texts because I didn’t know who you were and I didn’t want to call you because I didn’t think you should find out over the phone.”
At the front door, she whirls. “You lied to me. All this time you could’ve told me you were the one who sent the texts, but you didn’t.”
I open my mouth to explain further, but there is no explanation. A lie of omission is still a lie.
She pushes out the door and trots to her car.
“Liana, wait!” I chase her down. “I wasn’t thinking how it would affect you. Please. You have to believe me.”
She climbs into her car, backs up, and speeds out of the lot, running the stop sign on Colfax and almost T-boning a truck. The driver lays on his horn.
Tears roll down my cheeks and I stand there, trying to catch my breath. No. No no no.
“Hey,” a voice says at my side. “You forgot your things.” It’s the girl who swung me under her arm. She’s gathered all my junk from the floor and sofa, including Swanee’s phone.
I can’t even move my arm to take it from her. She tilts her head at me. “Are you okay?”
Okay? Okay? I don’t even know the meaning of the word.
Chapter 23
All day Sunday I wait for my cell to ring. I know it won’t. And I can’t bring myself to call her. No apology would be enough to restore her trust in me.
On the drive home last night the cabdriver kept asking if there was anything he could do, since I was having a total meltdown, and I almost told him to hit a lamppost and put me out of my misery. But that would only create a ripple effect of misery for my parents and his family, if he had any.
Why didn’t I throw away that cell phone? After falling for Liana, I didn’t need a tether to Swanee anymore.
The house is so quiet, and my heart aches so much, that I need to go somewhere, do something to find solace. I don’t know why my feet lead me to Ethan’s room.
He’s asleep, his origami-crane mobile dangling above his crib. I made it for him the day before he came home from the hospital. I read that cranes represent honor, loyalty, and peace, and are used to celebrate special occasions, like births and weddings. As far as honor and loyalty go, I’ll never find lasting love, or get married. I’ll never have a baby.
Ethan twitches his arms and legs, and his eyeballs move behind his eyelids. He must be dreaming. I wonder what babies dream about, if they have fantasies or nightmares. Their life experience is so limited—how could they have that much to dream about? Unless people are reincarnated, which means we might have memories from hundreds of lives lived before ours.
God, I hope my previous lives were happier than this one.
I beg off Sunday with the family by telling Mom I’m not feeling well. At least it’s not a lie.
When I trudge down for breakfast on Monday, Dad asks, “How was your date?”
The absolute wrong question. I burst into tears.
No way am I going to make it through a school day. I run upstairs and shut myself in my room. After a while, someone knocks. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to growl, Go away.
The door opens and I cocoon myself in my sheet and blanket, feigning whatever fatal and contagious disease is currently at the top of the charts.
A weight drops on the bed.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mom asks quietly.
I don’t. I really, really don’t. She touches my head and I roll over, digging my face into Mom’s lap, and bawl like a baby. She brushes my hair over my ear, resting her head on mine. “I’m a good listener,” she says.
In sobs and hiccups I relate the whole humiliating episode of finding Swanee’s cell and texting Liana, meeting her, betraying her trust. “When she found out what a terrible person I am, she broke up with me.”
Mom clicks her tongue. “If that’s the worst thing you ever do in your life, I’m nominating you for sainthood.” Which makes me cry harder, because aren’t all the saints Catholic?
To her credit, Mom doesn’t offer platitudes, like Give it time. Or This, too, will pass.
Because it won’t.
Mom’s beeper goes off and she checks it.
I roll off her.
She says, for the first time I can remember, “It can wait.”
I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. “Can I skip school today?” And every day after?
She nods. “I’ll call in.”
While she’s in sympathetic mode, I ask, “Can I buzz-cut my hair?”
She makes a face. “No.”
Damn.
It’s useless lying in bed. It only makes me relive the past and hate myself for what I did. Tuesday, on my way to school, I wait behind the juniper bush at the end of the cul-de-sac for Joss. Finally, ten minutes after the bell would’ve rung, I see her plodding down the sidewalk, head down. Her hair is stringy and greasy, and she has the same expression on her face she always wears: dead girl walking.
“Joss.” I step out from behind the bush. “I have something for you,” I tell her. I remove Swanee’s cell from my pocket. “Jewell’s probably cut off the service, and the cover doesn’t glow anymore, but I know how much you want it.”
Joss looks from the phone to me.
“I found it in the hospital bag in her room.”
“When?”
“The day of the service.”
“You stole it.”
Yes! Okay? I stole it!
“You’re a thief and a liar,” she says.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve given it to you right away.” How many lives have been affected by the things I should’ve done differently?
Joss is no dummy. “You’re the one who was texting Liana. Is that how you hooked up?”
“We didn’t mean to.”
She shakes her head.
“I swear. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because we broke up.”
She raises her eyebrows a little. “Why? You were the perfect couple: a liar and a skank.”
“Don’t blame Liana. She didn’t know. I’m the one who betrayed her.”
Joss says, “There’s a lot of that going around.”
I think she’s coming to realize how Swanee took advantage of her. “Joss, you have to talk to someone about Swan’s death. If not me, then a counselor. Or your parents.”
“Talk to you? The person who used Swan to find a new girlfriend? I’m so sure.” She brushes by me, almost knocking me off the sidewalk.
I call out, “At least take the brochures. There are lots of resources in the back.”
Joss says over her shoulder, “You read the fucking brochures. You need more help than I do.”
She may be right. I can’t be trusted with anybody’s heart.
I need to get rid of this cell phone. Every person it’s touched has been burned. I return home and ask Dad if I can borrow the car for about an hour. He says, “Aren’t you late for school?”
“Yeah. But I need to do something first.” Please don’t ask what.
“Okay,” he says.
I grab the keys and toss my bag into the front seat of the car. At Stanley Lake, I park in the lot and retrieve Swanee’s phone from my bag. The ice has melted, and geese are grazing along the shoreline. They hiss at me as I walk through a gaggle of them, and if I weren’t on a mission I might find them intimidating. Stretching back as far as possible, I fling the cell into the lake, where it lands a few hundred yards away. I
wish I had a better pitching arm, so it’d sink in the middle and never be found again. My best hope is that they don’t dredge this lake, or that a drought doesn’t suck up the shallows.
“Why, Swanee?” I ask aloud. “Why did you feel it was necessary to cheat on us? I loved you, Liana loved you. I bet Rachel did, too. Why wasn’t that enough? I got what I deserved by lying to Liana.” My voice breaks. “Not that you deserved to die. But if you’re looking down on your life, you can’t be very proud of how you lived it.” I pause to take a deep breath. “Wherever you are, I hope you’re asking for forgiveness and redemption. Because I am.”
Losing Liana is even worse than Swanee’s death, and I don’t think it’s because the pain is compounded. I feel so depressed that I don’t even have the energy to begin my homework. My head feels as heavy as lead and drops to my pack.
My eyes catch the edges of the brochures sticking out of the front pocket. I retrieve the first one and read the title again: “The Five Stages of Grief.” I open it.
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, not necessarily in that order. I can see where I went through each stage with Swanee, even bargaining with a God I’m not sure I believe in to bring her back.
Where am I with Liana? Depressed. Angry at myself for being so stupid. Accepting of the fact that she has every reason in the world to never want to see me again.
A week goes by, and then two, with no calls or texts from Liana, not that I expect her to contact me. One night after everyone’s gone to bed I log on to Facebook and see that she’s unfriended me. Again.
I sit for an hour building up courage. Then I text her:
I’m sorry. Forgive me. I love you
I go to press Send, and then stop. I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I don’t deserve to be loved.
I end the call.
Spring is usually my favorite season of the year, with all the tulips and daffodils and crab apple trees in bloom. This year, though, there’s a haze that clings to the air, dulling all the colors. The only bright moment is when I get my critical analysis paper back and see that Mrs. Burke gave me an A. But then I’m sad again, because watching Little Miss Sunshine reminds me of kissing Liana.