The Truths We Told

by Blair, E. K.

  Irritated but secretly humored, I call again, only to receive another dose of her sass. “Nails, hair, hips, heels.”

  “What?”

  “Play it, girl. I’ll be over later.”

  “Ady—”

  Another hang up.

  “Ugh.” I groan as I toss my phone into the sea of chocolate wrappers. Clearly, this past year has served Ady well, because I’ve never seen this side of her—feisty and a hell of a lot more confident. I wonder if this is who she has always been, but whatever she went through stifled it.

  It brings me joy to see her so light when she used to be so hidden and uptight. It’s that very thought that tells me to cut my shit and give her what she wants. She deserves a fun night out, and maybe I do too.

  Despite my self-inflicted tummy ache, I get off the couch, clean up the candy wrappers, and turn off the crappy romance movie I was watching before dragging my pitiful self to the bathroom. One look in the mirror has me cringing. I literally have a string of caramel hanging off my chin.

  After a long shower, I do my hair and makeup, going the extra mile—because, why not? It’s been forever since I’ve gone out with a girlfriend, and the whole process of pulling myself together has me excited.

  Sure, it’s Valentine’s Day, the worst day ever to be single, and an even worse day to try to mend a broken heart, but I’m ready to put all that aside for the night. I add another layer of mascara to my lashes before turning up the music I have playing throughout the condo. The bass thumps as I walk over to my closet, and I dance along to the song.

  As the music feeds my energy, I pull a short, sparkly dress off a hanger and toss it onto my bed before selecting a pair of strappy heels.

  By the time Ady knocks on my door, I’m still in my robe, but I run to let her in anyway.

  With an over-the-top strut, she enters my living room, doing a slow turn to show off her deep purple dress, which has a nice swing to the skirt, and I laugh. “Damn.”

  “I know, right?” When she notices my bathrobe, her enthusiasm drops. She motions her hand out with a snarky, “This wasn’t what I was talking about when I said fierce.”

  “I was just about to change.”

  She follows me into the bedroom, and when she sees my dress lying out, she gives a spirited, “Yes!”

  I untie the robe and toss it aside while Ady leans against the doorjamb. “So, what have you been doing all day?”

  “You don’t want to know.” After stepping into the dress, I shimmy it up my body as I add, “It was a depressing day.”

  “Well, we’re going to turn that around.”

  “Promise me there will be no talk of boys tonight.” I walk over to her, turn so she can zip my dress for me, and then take a seat on the bed to slip my heels on. “I think I’ve reached my limit.”

  “You have my word.”

  Good. The last thing I want to discuss is boys. I know Ady would never mention Caleb because she always steers clear of him unless I bring him up first, but Trent is another story. She will ask about him, but honestly, there’s nothing to tell. I haven’t spoken to or heard from him since I threw him out two weeks ago. I figured he would’ve reached out, but he hasn’t, and I don’t blame him. I was way harsh, but after I had time to calm down, I realized how out of line I was. Still, I haven’t had the guts to apologize, even though I should.

  “You ready?” she asks.

  “Where are we going that we need an hour to get there?”

  “South Beach.”

  “This isn’t like a super romantic place, is it?”

  “No,” she responds.

  “Thank God.”

  “Wait,” she says, holding her hand up to stop me from walking out of the room.

  I look down the front of my dress to see what’s wrong. “What is it?”

  She points to my neck. “You’re not wearing that.”

  My hand comes to my collarbone and the diamond necklace Caleb surprised me with nearly a year and a half ago. I had forgotten it was there because I never take it off.

  “It’s pretty, but, no.”

  Of course, she’s right. Just because I miss Caleb, I don’t need him dangling around my neck tonight, knowing he’s most likely out with his new girlfriend, spoiling her rotten the way he used to spoil me.

  I walk over to my dresser, unfasten the clasp, and drop the delicate necklace into my jewelry box.

  “Better?”

  “Much.” She smiles. “Let’s go.”

  We hop into her car, and she turns on the stereo before we start driving north to South Beach. After we battle the traffic, we finally cross the bridge that takes us straight into the glitzy nightlife that’s second to none. Glamorous is an understatement because, when the sun sets along this coast, bikinis and flip-flops are replaced with the trendiest designer labels. I’d be hard-pressed to pull off the looks worn here in any other part of the country, but no one even bats an eye. There’s no such thing as being overdressed.

  This is home to the hottest and most infamous nightclubs, and I’m shocked that Micah would bring a girl like Ady here on a Valentine’s Day date, considering how reserved she normally is, but when she turns off A1A, I realize we aren’t partying at all.

  “You told me we weren’t going anywhere romantic.”

  She grins as she pulls up to Casa Tua. “Don’t complain.”

  The valet opens my door, takes my hand, and helps me out of the car. We walk into the restaurant, and while Ady checks in with the hostess, I do my best to ignore all the lovely-dovey couples enjoying their expensive meals. I’m only slightly relieved when the hostess leads us outside to the secluded lush garden that glows beneath the many lantern-lit trees. This is the epitome of romance and only marginally better than the main dining room.

  “You lied,” I whisper from across the small, intimate, candle-lit table.

  “How was I supposed to know?”

  She’s evil as she grins because she knew exactly what she was dragging me into.

  “I’m going to need a drink,” I mutter when I pick up the wine list. “I can’t believe Micah brings you to places like this.”

  “Oh please,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Like Caleb never wined and dined you and took you to red-carpet events.”

  All it takes is the mere mention of his name for me to feel the tightening in my chest, but she’s quick to backpedal. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”

  “It’s okay.” I pick up the water goblet and take a sip. “To be honest, I always felt really out of place.”

  “Understandable,” she notes. “And Micah doesn’t usually take me to places like this. I’m honestly kind of shocked he had booked us dinner here.”

  “I hope he wasn’t upset that you bailed on him.”

  “Actually, it was his idea.”

  She’s lucky to have someone like Micah. I’ve always known him to be a great guy, and I envy their relationship. It’s something I’ve yet to find for myself. “By the way, we suck at the no-boy talk.”

  Our waitress stops by to take our drink orders, and when she returns with my wine and Ady’s iced tea, she tells us about the night’s specials, which we both decline before ordering off the main menu.

  The two of us go on to talk about the classes we are taking this semester and our distaste for our digital marketing professor, and before long, the waitress is back with our food.

  “Here you go,” she says to Ady when she sets down the honey-seared duck that looks so good my mouth waters.

  “That looks amazing.”

  As my food is placed in front of me, she compliments, “Your girlfriend has excellent taste. It’s one of our more popular dishes.”

  Ady blinks wide eyes at me and I have to hold back my laughter.

  “Is there anything else I can get the two of you?”

  “No,” Ady answers, clearly about to lose her composure. “Everything looks great.”

  As our waitress disappears back inside, Ady looks
at me. “Did I hear her right?”

  “Hear what?”

  She stretches her neck toward me to get my attention.

  “What?”

  “She thinks we’re lesbians.” Sitting back, she quickly scans around the garden, only to catch a couple of people looking our way as if we’re the cutest couple in this place. “Oh my god. The people here think you’re my girlfriend.”

  “Is that a problem? What . . . I’m not good enough to be your girlfriend?”

  “News flash, we’re not gay.”

  I drop my fork loud enough to garner a few side-glances before reaching across the small table and taking her hand. “Am I not your type?” But it’s when I kiss her knuckles that I can’t contain my laughter.

  “Oh, stop.” She yanks her hand away. “I guess it’s better to be mistaken as a lesbian who has a date on Valentine’s Day than to be single.”

  “Ouch. Insulting much?” I pick my fork back up with a smug smile on my lips. “You should be proud to have a girl like me on your arm. You should be showing me off.”

  She shakes her head, before taking a bite of her duck. “This is good.” She moans in delight.

  “You’re telling me. I’ve never eaten lamb this delicious before.” I then cut a piece. “Want a taste?”

  She nods as she finishes chewing and waits for me to put it on her plate, but instead, I hold the fork out to her with a smirk.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for my baby to take a bite,” I tease.

  “You need to stop with all that.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t make me beg.”

  Pressing her lips together, she admonishes me with a glare before leaning in and sliding the lamb off the fork with her mouth as I giggle.

  “Payback is coming,” she threatens as she chews. “Just you wait.”

  “Feisty.”

  “Speaking of feisty, I’m curious . . . have you ever kissed a girl?”

  “Just once,” I tell her.

  “Spill it. All the dirty details.”

  “There are no dirty details, perv.” I dig my fork into the risotto and scoop a little up. “When I was thirteen, I was at a slumber party with bunch of friends. We were playing truth or dare and someone dared me to kiss one of the other girls. That’s all.”

  “And?” she asks, elongating the word.

  “And what?”

  “Any tongue action?”

  “No, I was thirteen,” I defend. “I wasn’t kissing anyone with my tongue. It lasted all of a split-second.”

  “That’s a disappointing story.” She takes a sip of her tea.

  “Okay, your turn. Tell me all about your girl-on-girl kiss.”

  “Never had one.”

  “Are you serious? Then why are you making fun of me?”

  “For the same reason you’re acting like I’m your girlfriend. Because it’s funny.”

  Our banter continues through the dessert course, which I insist we share just to play up our supposed romance. As we devour the orange crème brûlée, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude toward Ady. She didn’t have to give up this special night with Micah for me, but she did, and it was completely selfless on her part.

  I didn’t even want to come out tonight, but I’m so glad I did. I needed to feel human again, and if only for a moment, to let go and smile. Somehow, she’s managed to help me see that I’m still the girl I was two years ago and that maybe I’m not beyond repair.

  “I really appreciate you forcing me to come out tonight,” I tell her as I set my spoon down. “I didn’t know how much I needed this.”

  “I needed it too. It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun with a girlfriend.”

  “Tell Micah thank you for letting me have you for the night.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” our waitress says when she stops by our table. “I just wanted to let you know that your dinner has been taken care of.”

  Ady looks shocked. “By who?”

  “A gentleman by the name of Micah.”

  “Thank you,” Ady tells her, and when the lady walks away, Ady pulls out her cell to shoot Micah a text, thanking him for the lovely meal and adding my sentiments as well.

  She takes the last bite before asking, “Do you feel like you’re getting any closer to coming over and seeing the guys?”

  After my fight with Trent, I have no idea how to answer that question. All I can do is give her a shrug. “I don’t know, but it’s something I really want to work toward.”

  She gives a reassuring smile. “You’ll get there.”

  I need to hang on to her optimism because I miss this feeling of normalcy, of just being me and having fun and laughing with a good friend. Ady is the only thing that’s keeping me grounded at this point. With her soft strength, she’s showing me there are possibilities within the impossible, and although there are times I want to run back to West Palm Beach and hide, I’m starting to find morsels of courage to keep moving forward. So, that’s what I plan to do.

  KATE

  “Hey, sweetheart,” my father greets when he answers his phone. “How’s everything going?”

  Meandering around my kitchen, I pull a bowl down from the cabinet and grab a spoon. “Good. I’ve been spending time with Ady, and I’m starting to feel settled in.”

  “Was it as difficult as you were anticipating?”

  “Not really. Ady made it easier,” I tell him as I open a box of cereal and pour myself a bowl before getting the milk.

  “I’m happy you two were able to get your friendship back on track.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “And how is school?”

  Setting my breakfast down at the bar, I take a seat and respond, “It’s been busy, but I’m managing A’s and B’s.”

  “When are midterms?”

  “In two weeks, but I’m not too stressed about them. My course load is pretty manageable this semester.” I then shove a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

  “Are you still coming home for spring break?”

  “Uh-huh,” I mumble as I chew.

  “Have you been getting in some time on the water?”

  He asks this every time we talk, and I respond with the same, “Not yet.”

  He sighs into the phone. “What’s going on, Kate? Whenever I ask you about surfing, you give me the same push off,” he says. “You just told me that school isn’t too time-consuming right now, so what gives?”

  “Nothing, I just haven’t made it out.”

  “Surfing is your life, so I’m not buying that you can’t carve out some time for it.”

  “Dad.”

  “Whatever it is that’s keeping you out of the water, don’t let it,” he tells me. “Nothing is worth sacrificing the things that make you happy, you hear?”

  “I know. How’s mom doing?” I ask, attempting to bring the surf talk to an immediate halt.

  Dad chuckles. “You really need to work on your segues.”

  I laugh as I shovel another spoonful of cereal in my mouth.

  “You enjoying your breakfast?” he teases over the loud crunching. “Why do you always call me when you’re eating?”

  “Because I know how much it annoys you,” I joke.

  “I have to get back to work, and you should get back into the water.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  We say our I love yous, and after I hang up, I debate whether I should suck up my hesitations and hit the beach. My dad is right—this is the longest I’ve ever gone without being in the water. It’s the first of March, and when I bring up the surf report on my phone, it shows to be a pretty decent day.

  Looking over my shoulder, I eye my board, which is leaning against the wall by the sliding doors that open up to the balcony, untouched since the day I moved in here. I consider all the excuses I’ve been using to avoid the very thing my father just pointed out—the one thing that brings me the most happiness.

  I miss feeling happy.

  Being a Tuesday
morning, I doubt I would run the risk of seeing anyone I know, but the fear is still there. Going against what my gut is telling me to do, which is to stay cooped up in this condo, I decide to drive to one of the small local beaches and check it out. Even if it winds up being nothing more than a drive-by, at least it’s progress.

  After I finish my breakfast, I rinse my bowl and load it into the dishwasher before throwing on a bikini. As I pack my surf bag and go through my old routine, I get a slight tingling of excitement. My father is right, I live for the rush of surfing and the peace it brings along with it. I even find myself smiling as I lug all my belongings down to the parking garage and load my hatchback.

  Before I pull out of my spot, I grab my cell, take a selfie with my board hanging out the back window, and text it to my dad. As I’m on my way over to the often-empty beach, my father texts me back.

  Dad: That’s my girl.

  I breathe a huge sigh of relief when I turn my car into the small parking lot and find the place completely deserted. Shutting off the engine, I look down toward the water, and suddenly, I realize how much I’ve missed coming out here. I can’t believe I’ve gone so long without getting in the water because just being here fills me with a sense of empowerment. My fear was never of simply coming, it was of having to face everyone, but I do recognize that, although this isn’t a huge step, it is still a step.

  After shrugging on my long-sleeved rash guard, I toss my backpack over my shoulders and slide my board out from the hatchback. A smile creeps on my lips again when I hit the warm beach and my feet sink into the rough, shelled sand. It’s a short distance to the water, and I find a spot to drop my things and prep my board. When I’m all ready to go, I tie my hair up and jog out into the ocean. Salt kisses my skin, and I’m at home as I paddle toward the rising sun. Alone within the water my soul feeds on, I ride the unobtrusive waves.

  They are subtle and relaxing, exactly what I need after being absent for so long. Reacquainting myself, I enjoy everything I’ve been avoiding. My lungs fill with the sea air, and I catch another wave, popping up and gently falling down the smooth face that glides me effortlessly across the water until it dies and I’m forced to kick out and sink under the surface.