She Loves You, She Loves You Not... Read online

  Carly turns and looks at me, at the side of my face, until I feel blood rush to my cheeks. “I wish I still had your skin. Come. Sit.” She pats the sofa.

  “I have stuff to do,” I mumble.

  Carly says at my back, “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

  My heart pummels my chest. I promised myself I’d always be out from now on, but the situation scares me. My friends have all ditched me. My family. I have a little savings left, but not enough to get an apartment or anything.

  She adds, “You know I don’t have a problem with you being lesbian or bisexual.”

  I whirl. “I’m not bisexual.”

  “I have lots of gay friends. Your father is just so narrow-minded and—” The cell in her purse buzzes again, and she holds up an index finger. She checks the ID and answers, “This is Carly.” She listens. “Well, how are you, stranger? It’s been a while. A massage?” She crosses her eyes at me and rolls her shoulder. “I think I can fit you in.” She gets up and walks past me, pressing a palm against my cheek, and then bounds up the stairs, laughing at something the caller said.

  This enormous weight lifts off my shoulders, and I think, Wow. My whole life would’ve been different if I’d grown up with Carly.

  But she didn’t want kids, I guess. Specifically me.

  Sarah wanted kids. She talked about it all the time, how much she wanted kids, how scared she was she’d never live a normal life. I kept telling her just because you’re lesbian doesn’t mean you can’t have children.

  “Yeah, but it isn’t easy,” she said. “It isn’t… natural.”

  Ben was there. “What isn’t natural?” he interjected. “The sperm meets the egg. They exchange vows. Who cares how it happens?”

  Sarah laughed. When was that? Was that when it started?

  Carly tramps down the stairs, her hair freshly combed and banded with a scrunchie into a ponytail. She says, “He’s a big tipper. Otherwise I’d blow him off.”

  Did she have to use that expression? “That’s okay.” I shrug. “You have to work.”

  Her eyes nail me, like she caught the undertone in my voice. “I won’t be long.” She heads for the door and then stops. “Oh. Wait. I won’t be home. I have to dance tonight at Willy’s. I’ve totally lost track of time. Does that ever happen to you?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you’ll get grounded.”

  She laughs as she closes the door behind her.

  December

  Dad ambushed you when you eased open the front door at one AM. “Do you know what time it is, young lady?”

  “I lost track,” you said, out of breath after running home from Gracie Field. “Sorry.”

  “You’re grounded.” He stormed up the stairs.

  “For how long?” You ran after him.

  “Until I say.”

  Bastard.

  You stalked to your room and yanked off your coat, threw it onto the floor. Threw all your clothes on top of it, cursing him. Why was he so hard on you? Everything you did, you did to please him. You studied hard to get good grades. You did your chores without complaint. You tried to like Tanith. That was the hardest thing, his bringing her into your lives. You’d had him to yourself for seven years before he met and married Tanith. Seven perfect years.

  Tanith was never your mother, your real mother. As much as she tried to be.

  Dad knocked on your door. “I want to talk to you, Alyssa.”

  Great. Now you were naked. “Just a minute.” You crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to your chin. “Enter,” you said.

  He stood there with his arms folded. You could feel the menacing vibes emanating from him. “I’m sorry about missing curfew. My watch stopped.” Which was a lie, and Dad knew it.

  He said, “Are you embarrassed for your boyfriend to meet your family? Are we not good enough for him?”

  “What? No,” you said.

  “Then why won’t you bring him home? What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing.”

  He approached you. The smell of Sarah was strong on your hands and face, so you bunched up the sheet over your nose.

  “There must be something.” Dad dropped his arms, sounding more hurt than mad. He sat on the edge of your bed. “You used to bring all your friends home. Is he a drug dealer or something? A gangbanger? What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing.” You’d never brought “all” your friends home.

  Dad stared at you, through you. You started shaking all over. You couldn’t breathe. This squeak escaped from your throat.

  “I can’t understand you,” Dad said. “Take the sheet out of your mouth.”

  You scooted back farther against the wall, pulling the covers with you. Dad’s eyes bored into yours, waiting. This torchlike heat scorched every square inch of your skin, like you were burning in hell.

  You couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t even form on your lips. You could never tell him about Sarah. About yourself.

  He waited. He’d wait until you said what he wanted to hear.

  You swallowed hard. “Okay, I’ll bring him home to meet you.”

  Dad’s eyes warmed. He patted your kneecap and stood. “Invite him for dinner. I promise we’ll be on our best behavior—even if he is a weirdo or a nerd. You’d better not be into drugs.”

  “I’m not.”

  Dad headed for the door. “You’re still grounded,” he said over his shoulder as he turned off the light.

  You whispered in the dark, “Okay.”

  Chapter

  7

  Ben had been my best friend since ninth grade, when we both came out to each other. He was like my brother, only better because I could talk to him about anything. I can’t even count all the times he cried on my shoulder after his heart was broken by one boyfriend or another. When Sarah and I got together, he was so happy for us. For me.

  I texted Ben to meet me in the media center during my study period and his lunch hour. “Hey,” he said, pulling up a chair at my table. “Wassup, girlfriend?”

  “I need a favor from you,” I told him.

  “Anything,” he said.

  I knew he’d do anything for me. Vice versa.

  “Don’t say that until you hear what it is.”

  “Is it lurid? Are we breaking in to Fascinations and stealing vibrators?”

  “You wish.”

  He reached into his backpack and pulled out a Tupperware bowl and fork. “Want some?” He removed the lid. “It’s my mom’s linguine with clam sauce. Delicioso.”

  It smelled buttery and rich. “No thanks.” My stomach was in knots about what I was planning to do. Ben poised his fork over the bowl.

  “Go ahead. Eat,” I told him.

  He dug in.

  “Someone led my dad to believe I have a boyfriend, and now I need one.”

  Ben snorted. “Someone?”

  “It wasn’t me.” It was Tanith. So what?

  Ben twirled linguine on his fork. “Why don’t you just be honest with your dad? You’re going to have to tell him sometime.”

  I let out a sigh. “Not in this life.”

  Ben stuffed the forkful of pasta in his mouth and fake-swooned. “You sure?” He passed the bowl under my nose, and I pushed it away.

  “Remember that time I wrote your whole history report when you were all devastated about Devon moving to Ohio?” I said.

  A flash of pain crossed Ben’s face as he chewed and swallowed.

  God. How cruel to remind him.

  “Blackmail does not become you.” He took a smaller bite, not looking at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it. Sorry for myself. Sorry for taking advantage of our friendship.

  “What does Sarah think about this?” he asked.

  “She doesn’t know, and please don’t tell her.”

  Ben raised his eyes. “Alyssa—”

  “It’ll only be for a couple of weeks. A month at the most. Then I’ll tell my dad we broke
up, and he’ll get off my back. I’m grounded, anyway, so I don’t know how I’m going to see Sarah outside of school.”

  Ben finished his linguine in silence. He recapped his bowl, stuffed it back inside his pack, and said, “I hate lying about who I am. You know that. It took me this long to get over the fear of being totally out.”

  A lump of shame clogged my throat, and I stood to go.

  He grabbed my hand. “But for you, I’ll do it.”

  Maybe it was all my fault for putting him in the middle.

  My eyelids flutter open to blinding sunlight, and I pull the sheet over my face. It feels stuffy in the house, like Carly forgot to turn on the AC.

  My stomach growls, so I drag myself down to the kitchen. No note from Carly. Nothing in the fridge that appeals to me. Carly lives on salad. The microwave clock reads 8:51. How can time move so slowly? At home it seems the summers fly by; I never want them to end.

  I take a long, cool shower and get dressed. I choose a book to read but can’t get into it. Downstairs, I turn on the TV, and the channel is still on Logo. It’s showing repeats of The L Word, and it reminds me of Sarah’s birthday present. I want to hurl. I want to forget. I close my eyes, and Ben’s face comes into focus.

  He was convincing. He came for dinner all dressed up. He hugged me at the door and shook my dad’s hand hard. He complimented Tanith on her pot roast. He was a gamer, so he and Paulie talked shop. I could feel Dad’s eyes drilling into Ben all evening, and I was sure Dad would see through the facade, but he didn’t.

  You only see what you want to see. I learned that the hard way.

  “How long have you two been going out?” Dad asked Ben.

  Ben turned to me. “How long’s it been, Alyssa?”

  My cheeks burned. “I don’t know. A couple of months.”

  Ben said to Dad, “Nine weeks, three days, six hours, and”—he glanced at his watch—“thirteen minutes.”

  Dad chuckled.

  After dinner, Paulie and Ben set up Guitar Hero, and I went back into the kitchen to help Tanith clean up. She said, “I’ve got it under control. Go back to your… company.”

  A flash of understanding flickered in her eyes. She knew, or at least suspected.

  Before I went up to bed that night, Dad clenched my arm and hand. He stared into my eyes. “He’s all right,” Dad said. “Nice guy. I don’t know what you were worried about.”

  I lay in bed for hours, wishing I could be what he wanted me to be.

  Now I only wish he’d accept me for what I am.

  I turn off the TV, slide on my flip-flops, and snag the keys to the Mercedes. The only restaurant in town is the Egg Drop-In.

  It’s packed. The aroma of coffee and pancakes and fried potatoes makes my mouth water. Arlo spots me through the order window and motions me over. “You still interested in the job?”

  “Yeah!”

  Arlo says, “Help Finn with the rush.”

  I see Finn taking an order at a table and, as I make my way over there, some guy whistles at me. Gag. Finn whirls and almost knocks me down. She snags my arm to catch me, and it tingles all the way down to my toes.

  “What can I do to help?” I ask her.

  “With what?” she says.

  “I think I’ve been hired.” I smile.

  Her eyes narrow over my shoulder, shooting daggers at Arlo. I think, Get over it. I need this job to save my sanity—or find it again. I can’t spend one more day alone in that empty house. The bell on the front door jingles, and a group of people dressed in scrubs enter. Finn pulls off the damp towel she has draped over her shoulder and dangles it at me. “Bus the eight top.” I take the rag, and she takes off.

  “Wait!”

  She hurries to the customers at the door and tells them it’ll just be a minute.

  What’s an eight top? There are two empty tables. One is small, meant for two people, and the other is big and round. I’m guessing that’s the eight top. I have no idea where to begin. I stack the dirty dishes, along with the silverware, cups, napkins, and syrup, but I know I’ll never make it to the kitchen without dropping something. I set down the wobbly stack and disassemble, rearrange with only the plates and cups, but one of the cups tips, and coffee dribbles down my front.

  The Scrubs circle the table, and I say, “I’ll have it ready for you in a sec.”

  Finn shows up to help, thank God. She sets a gray plastic tub on one of the chairs and, with lightning speed, clears the table. Pulling the towel off my shoulder, she swabs the plastic tablecloth clean.

  She might’ve told me about the tub for dirty dishes.

  One of the women is staring at me; she has been since she arrived. What? I know I have coffee and syrup all over me. I’m clueless about waitressing, okay?

  “You’re Carly’s girl.”

  My jaw clenches. I don’t want to acknowledge it because I don’t need to be dissed in front of a whole restaurant full of people. “I heard about you, but I didn’t believe it. You must be a huge comfort to Carly.”

  A comfort? More like an inconvenience.

  The nurse, or whatever she is, says to her male friend, “This is Carly’s daughter.”

  The guy’s eyes widen. Before he can say anything, Finn shoves the tub at me. “Bus table one, then the counter.”

  I stumble backward, my flip-flops sticking to the floor where someone spilled syrup. I almost fall on my ass, but Finn catches me. She smirks, like it’s so funny. She pulls wrapped silverware out of thin air and sets the big table while I manage to clear the small one by the window in under a year.

  At the counter, this guy wads his napkin and sets it atop his leftover fried potatoes. They look awesome. I’m starving. As he’s pulling out his wallet, Finn swings by the counter and says under her breath, “We need a new pot of coffee. Can you make coffee?”

  I click my tongue, like If I knew where the coffee was, yeah, maybe.

  There’s nowhere to set the tub, and it’s heavy. I swing around, and Finn relieves me of the tub and then backs through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

  “Thanks a bunch.” The customer lays a five-dollar bill on top of the dirty dishes and winks at me.

  Finn snatches up the tip. Where’d she come from?

  “Oh, hey, why don’t you take it?” I say.

  She stacks his cup and silverware on the plate and sets them in a new tub.

  “You could at least show me what to do,” I snap. Everything’s moving so fast and I don’t know how to make coffee and now I feel tears welling and I try to swallow them.

  Finn blinks at me, and it’s like she ratchets down. “I’m sorry,” she says under her breath. “It’s just… I need the money.”

  I wasn’t even thinking about the money, really. She waited on the guy; she earned the tip.

  Finn gazes so deep into my eyes, I swear she sees the center of the earth. She says, “I’ll make the coffee and show you how later, okay? Just brush all the crumbs on the counter into the bus tub.” She pulls the towel off my shoulder and adds, “Swab the counter and chairs. We can sweep up the crap on the floor later, unless some little kid dumps his whole plate, which happens. The napkins are there.” She points to another tub under the counter, full of silverware bundled in paper napkins. She’s woven a leather thong with a feather on the end through her braid today. So cool.

  A clang sounds in the kitchen, and Arlo curses loudly enough for everyone to hear. He shouts, “Orders up, goddammit!”

  Finn rolls her eyes at me. “How desperate are you? Because working for Arlo…”

  “On a scale of one to ten? Eleven.”

  She stands there a minute, searching my face. I feel it getting warmer and warmer.

  Arlo shouts, “I got two waitresses, and they’re both deaf as doornails!”

  Finn says, “Pretend you don’t hear him.”

  “Hear who?” I say.

  She grins. I amused Finn. I quash the urge to feel happy about that.

  On the way home, I can’
t stop smiling because I did it. I got a job. I lasted through the rush, and not once did I think about…

  Damn. Dammit.

  Get out of my head, both of you. All of you.

  I’d never been grounded. I was the good girl, Daddy’s little girl. Perfect in every way.

  “When I’m grounded, I can have friends over, at least,” Ben said. “Your dad doesn’t expect Romeo and Juliet to actually be kept apart, does he? Make that Juliet and Juliet.”

  We were in Ben’s VW before school, Sarah and me in the backseat grabbing a few minutes of togetherness before school. It was cold, and Ben had the heater running. Sarah was kissing my neck and nibbling my ear, and the windows were steaming up.

  She said, “Ask, okay? I can’t stand not being with you.”

  I did everything Sarah wanted me to do. Not once did I say no. Maybe she saw that as weakness. I asked Tanith about having friends over, and she said, “I’ll have to ask your dad.”

  Because it was always what he wanted, what he said.

  What Sarah wanted, she got.

  Dad said yes. I was shocked. “I’d rather Ben comes here than have you sneaking out behind my back. So, yes, Ben can come over.” That was Dad’s rationale.

  Little did he know how long I’d been deceiving him.

  The climb up to Carly’s house is heart attack hill. It’s not paved, and my feet hurt, and I feel light-headed from dehydration. If I’m going to be walking to work, I need to pack bottled water and get better shoes.

  I can tell by the stillness in the house that Carly’s not home, or she’s sleeping. I creep up the stairs to her room and find it empty, her bed made. A pile of clothes lies on the floor, as if she changed in a hurry.

  All I want is a shower. But the whirlpool looks inviting, and I have all the time in the world.

  As I’m running a cool bubble bath, I return to the main level and pour myself a Milk of Amnesia. On the rocks. I think, This is how the bold and the beautiful live.

  I take the drink upstairs, set it on the rim of the tub, strip, and slither in up to my chin. Heaven. The first gulp of my drink slides down my parched throat like silk.

  The Baileys reminds me of eggnog. And Christmas.

  I remember, they all burst on the scene—Ben and Sarah and M’Chelle. It was Saturday, and Tanith was baking cookies for Paulie’s cookie exchange at school. “Oh my God,” Ben said. “It smells amazing in here.” He walked right past me and into the kitchen. M’Chelle and Sarah lagged behind. Then it was just Sarah. She took my hand and squeezed it.