Only the Pretty Lies

by Rebekah Crane

  Does that mean she’s on our side? What authority does she really have? Compared to the police? She walks off, too quickly, and Jamison and I are left alone.

  “It’s over,” Jamison says, more to himself than to me. “I’ll never get into Western now. You heard what he said. I bet he already contacted the university. My chances are ruined. He’s had it out for me ever since that day with the mural.”

  “Ellis did this,” I say. “We can’t let this happen. We can’t let her win.”

  “It’s over,” he says again.

  “It’s not over. This is bullshit! We can fight it, Jay.”

  Jamison doesn’t speak. He’s still. Barely flickering.

  “We can’t stay silent. This isn’t fair,” I plead. “You didn’t do anything.”

  Jamison refuses to speak, and a new possibility begins to dawn on me. Maybe I’ve been naïve, seeing only what I wanted to see. I’ve been known to do that. I think of the text message I sent him. His nonresponse. The feeling like he was avoiding me. The smell of lavender on his clothes. I thought it was my imagination.

  His hand falls from mine. I don’t know who lets go first.

  “Did something happen?” I ask.

  “I didn’t hurt her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  But it’s not. I know Jamison didn’t hurt her. I saw her fall like a ragdoll at the party. I saw her bash her elbow on the ground. I saw her hit her head.

  “You never texted me back, Jay.”

  “I was busy . . . thinking. It slipped my mind.”

  “Busy. With who?”

  “No one,” he says.

  But I don’t feel like he’s telling me the truth. I can see it in his face. There’s only one reason Ellis would lower herself to this level of vengeance. “Did you . . .” I can’t get the words out of my mouth.

  Jamison doesn’t deny it. I think I might be sick. I stumble back, the ground unsteady beneath me. Jamison catches me, his words coming quickly.

  “It happened so fast. One minute we were in her room, drinking, talking about the mural coming down, and the next minute Ellis is kissing me.”

  “Did you kiss her back?”

  When Jamison fumbles, I get my answer. Images from our night together come back to me, this time in a new light.

  “But we . . .” I can barely say it. “You were with her, before you were with me?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Jamison says. “It was only for a second. One delusional second. I was confused and frustrated. You broke it off with us, Amoris. For all I knew, we were never going to be together. I had no idea you’d changed your mind.”

  “But you kissed Ellis.”

  “It could have been anyone! I was just sick of being alone. But then I came to my senses and pushed her away. There is nothing about Ellis that I want.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t give me a chance.”

  “So, this is all my fault?” I ask.

  “No,” Jamison says quickly. “I just didn’t want to ruin . . . us. Over a kiss that means absolutely nothing.”

  My whole body feels like sinking to the floor, just collapsing right here. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  Jamison looks at me. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you doubting me?”

  I don’t know what I mean. All I know is that I’m confused and hurt. Nothing makes sense, not Mr. O’Brien, not Jamison, not even Lori. It feels like lies swirl all around me. I’m not thinking clearly. I can’t decipher what I know is true and what is a figment of my imagination.

  “I can’t believe this . . .” Jamison starts to walk away.

  “Wait. Don’t leave.” I attempt to grab his arm.

  “Why? It’s over. There’s nothing left for me here.”

  I slump against the wall, worried that my legs might give out. That the world might crumble around me. I try to breathe evenly, try to calm my heart. But I’m all alone, standing in the hallway, frozen in place, the pervasive smell of fresh paint around me.

  37

  LOVE HAS LIMBS

  I cut class immediately. I couldn’t care less about any potential punishment. When I get home, Chris is packing groceries into the Airstream for his trip to Denver. I ask if I can go with him. Lori’s advice was to stay calm and lie low. What better way than to get out of Alder Creek for a few days? I can get my head together. Chris must be able to see the desperation in my eyes, because he says yes without any questions. I suggest we take River, too. He needs a break as much as I do.

  As I pack a quick bag, throwing clothes and toiletries together without care, I can’t stop thinking about Jamison kissing Ellis. This is eighth grade all over again. I thought we were past this, but all the sadness, all the hurt, all the loneliness from that defining moment are back with a vengeance. It feels like I’m trapped. I just want to get out of town.

  We pick River up from basketball practice.

  “The Denver Nuggets are at home this week,” Chris says. “I thought we might catch a game.”

  “You know who the Denver Nuggets are?” River seems skeptical.

  “Sure,” Chris says. “They won the Super Bowl last year.”

  We cross the Alder Creek town line, River in the front seat, Chris listening intently as River explains the rules of basketball, and me lying in the bed in the back. I watch as Alder Creek fades from sight, but the smell of Jamison is locked in the sheets I lie on. He is everywhere I go. I can run. I can hide. I can ignore. But he will always come back to me.

  I roll over and close my eyes. I wish this all would go away, but I know that’s impossible. That’s not how problems work. You have to dig to the center, pull the problem out by its root, and plant a new beginning.

  But what happens if there’s nothing left to plant after you’ve destroyed it all?

  We go to Red Rocks, shop at REI, ride bikes along the Cherry Creek Trail. River hasn’t looked this happy in years. Chris hasn’t gone this long without weed in years. And me . . . I haven’t been this miserable in years. None of what we do distracts me like I need. The ghost of my unfinished conversation with Jamison follows me.

  River sleeps next to me at night, squeezing me up against the side of the Airstream uncomfortably. Chris takes the floor, on a camping mattress. Three days into the road trip and I miss my bed. Why was I so hasty to leave? Why is my instinct always to run? I should have stayed. Banged on Jamison’s door until he had to talk to me.

  But what would I say? Did he like kissing Ellis? Was it different from that last time? Was he thinking about her while we were hooking up? If it could have been anyone, why not Michelle or Paisley or some no-name junior with a nice smile? Why Ellis?

  My stomach turns sour at the thought of her. How could she do this? And not just the kiss, but to be so vengeful as to report Jamison for a crime he didn’t commit. That is truly fucked up. She has harmed him in a life-altering way. Jamison must be in so much pain right now, and I’m in a van with two smelly guys when I should be with him. Why did I think this was a good idea? We can’t fix anything from miles apart.

  But I’m stuck here for one more day. Chris has a meeting in the city, and then he’s taking River to a basketball game, leaving me to my own devices.

  I can’t take the claustrophobia any longer. I crawl out of the Airstream for some fresh air. The night is cold and clear. I lean back against the van, pulling in deep breaths. I’ve been in and out of sleep all night.

  I’ve written numerous texts to Jamison but erased them all. What is the right thing to say? I left when he needed me, but he walked away, too. He lied, but I lied, too, when I said I wanted just to be friends.

  The Airstream door opens, and River crawls out quietly.

  “Hey,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around his torso.

  “It’s cold. Go back inside.”

  “I can handle it.” River’s body has morphed so much over the past few years. A short, skinny kid has grown into the strong, tall teenager before
me now. His muscles pull his T-shirt tight. I watched enough of his football games to know the strength locked in his body. River could knock a person over with a simple push. “What’s going on, Amoris?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie. We might not spend time together like we used to, but I still know when something’s wrong.”

  The past few days have been exhausting, holding myself together. As I tell River all that’s happened with Jamison and Mr. O’Brien and Ellis, tears roll down my cheeks in uncontrolled streams.

  “That’s complete bullshit,” River says. “Jamison wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s a . . . nerd.”

  Leave it to River to draw that conclusion. “Nerds can hurt people, too.” I hiccup and attempt to stifle the crying.

  “I just mean . . . Jay is smart,” River clarifies. “He’s calculated. Goal oriented. He always has been. Everything he does serves a purpose. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his future.”

  I slump back on the car. I’ve never seen anyone want anything as badly as Jamison wants to go to Western University. He upended his whole life for the chance to go to that school. It was his first concern when we left Mr. O’Brien’s office. To work so hard, and to suddenly feel threatened that it might be taken away? It’s heartbreaking. And I should be with him right now to help mend it.

  “Do you want to go home?” River asks.

  It was stupid to run away. Just when I think I’m strong, I lose my grip and I’m self-destructive, falling again.

  But this trip isn’t just about me. We can’t leave. Chris has his meeting, and he and River have their basketball game. I can’t steal that from them when I see how much this trip has repaired their relationship. They’re both trying so hard.

  It’s just one more night. And then I’ll be home.

  “Let’s go back to bed,” I say.

  “You know what Mom would say.”

  “Nothing gets fixed in the dark,” I answer knowingly. “Wait for the sun to rise. You’ll see better then.”

  River and I climb back into the Airstream, and I try again to sleep. I’m done letting Jamison down, but one more night won’t be the end of us. Jamison will be there when I get back. And then we’ll make it right.

  I roam the aisles of a local bookstore, coffee in hand, wasting time while River and Chris are at the Nuggets game. My hand runs over book after book. This would be Jamison’s heaven. I can see him spending hours in here, pulling books from the shelf, reading quietly, telling me about the authors, his enthusiasm at a peak.

  I wish he was here with me. Why didn’t we do this together? Why did we stay locked in Alder Creek, like there wasn’t a gigantic world out there for us to roam?

  Just being around books, smelling them, touching them, makes me feel closer to Jamison. Love has limbs after all.

  After the Tattered Cover, I pass an antique shop. Sitting in the window is an old-fashioned typewriter. I buy it, intending to give it to Jamison the moment I get back. Not as an apology—I owe him more than that—but as the simple extension of a love limb.

  The drive back to Alder Creek is grueling. It seems to take longer getting home than it did getting to Denver. The minute you want something back, you realize just how far you’ve run from it.

  Rayne waits in the driveway to welcome us. I leap out of the Airstream, racing toward Jamison’s duplex, but she stops me.

  “Someone’s been waiting for you in your room,” Rayne says knowingly.

  It’s Jamison. I know it. I rush up the stairs, hearing music playing from my bedroom, and fling open the door.

  The smell of lavender greets me instead.

  I become angrier than I’ve ever been before. “Get out, Ellis.”

  “Please, Amoris. I came to explain.”

  “I don’t want your excuses, Ellis. I want you to leave.”

  “I told Mr. O’Brien the truth,” she says. OK, now I’m listening. “The very same day. I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “So it was about you and how you were feeling.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” she pleads. “I never intended to get Jamison in trouble.”

  “You want me to believe it happened by accident?”

  “Just listen to me,” she says. “I had gone to see Ms. Collins first.”

  “Lori? You don’t even like her.”

  “I thought she could help me, like she’s helped you. I was upset. I needed someone to talk to.”

  “Upset because Jamison rejected you.”

  “Upset because I was losing everything and everyone!”

  “You’re so selfish, Ellis. So because you were losing everything, you had to do the same to Jamison.”

  “Lori noticed the bruises. I didn’t say anything!”

  “Now you’re blaming Lori?”

  “No,” Ellis amends. “She started asking me how I got them. I couldn’t really remember. I told her I had thrown a party. Gotten pretty drunk. And the last thing I remember is Jamison pushing me.”

  “When you were kissing him,” I state. “He pushed you away to make you stop.”

  Ellis squeezes her eyes closed. “Lori started asking me more questions. I told her I had a pretty bad bump on my head.”

  “That you got from falling over drunk.”

  “I don’t remember that! All I remember is being alone in my room with Jamison, and the next thing I know I woke up with a nasty bruise on my arm and a bump on my head.”

  “So you decided to blame Jay?”

  “You know how huge he is! Is it that big a stretch that he could hurt someone, even if it was unintentional?”

  “He would never hurt you!” I yell. “Just because he’s strong doesn’t mean he’s a monster! Do you think the same thing about River? He’s stronger than Jamison and just as tall!” Ellis holds her head in her hands, but I have no sympathy for her. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  Ellis keeps explaining herself frantically. “I ran into Sam later that day, and he told me what happened. He told me how I fell in the kitchen. I swear, I went straight to Mr. O’Brien and told him the truth.” She steps closer to me, tears about to fall down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It was a mistake. A misunderstanding. But I’ve made it right. I told the truth, and they dropped the allegations against Jay.”

  “Stop calling him that.” I move away from her, but my room feels claustrophobic. How did I live in this small space for so long? And with Ellis here, too?

  “Please, Amoris. I want to fix this.” Ellis’s tone is desperate. Pleading. Pathetic.

  “Get out.”

  “What?”

  “Get out of my room. You’re not welcome here.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Ellis says. “We can work this out. We’ve been best friends forever. Isn’t our friendship more important than a simple mistake?”

  “No. Because it’s not a simple mistake.” It’s her. Ellis. She is the cancer. She needs to be pulled out of my life by the roots, or else she’ll continue to wheedle her way into everything, infecting all of us with her poison.

  “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose this.” Ellis frantically looks around the room as if it’s her own. “You’re my only family.”

  “No, we’re not. You have your own family. Stop using mine.”

  “I can’t believe you’re saying this,” she says.

  How many times have I said exactly that this year? Maybe it’s time we all start to believe it. We’re lying to ourselves, about ourselves. And it’s high time we take action.

  “I said get out.”

  Ellis leaves slowly, as if I might change my mind. But I don’t.

  “Please,” she whimpers. “I’m so sorry.”

  But apologies only go so far. It’s our actions that truly speak for us. I let her leave. I let her go. And when all that’s left of her in my room is the smell of lavender, I don’t feel bad. She did this to herself.

  It’s the pretty lies, only the pretty lies, that destroy us the most.
r />   38

  HOPE ISN’T THE ANSWER

  Jamison is gone.

  I stand at the open door, looking into the empty apartment. Not a pillow or a picture or a book remains. Rayne told me, but I had to see it for myself. Kaydene and Jamison went back to Kansas City two days ago. In one afternoon, they packed everything and started the long drive home. I couldn’t understand what Rayne was telling me. Jamison just up and left? What about school? It’s only February. But she said Kaydene was going to enroll him in the online school she works for.

  “Why didn’t you warn me they were leaving? I would have come home.”

  Rayne was apologetic. “Kaydene asked me not to. It only would have made their decision harder. I had to honor that. For my friend.”

  Having been betrayed by a friend, I couldn’t get mad at Rayne. She loves Kaydene.

  “He’s not coming back.”

  “No,” Rayne answered in a whisper.

  I walk into the apartment now, hoping Jamison has left me a clue. A crumb to follow. A piece of hope that tells me this isn’t the end.

  But I find nothing. Not a bag of popcorn, a T-shirt, a picture. I had hoped he’d left his copy of Harry Potter, as a sign that it’s not over. But it’s not here.

  I sit on the couch and pull my knees to my chest, no blanket to keep me warm. The apartment is cold, but I refuse to turn on the heat. I rely on my memories for warmth. I can see Jamison across from me, laptop propped on his knees, typing while I watch.

  You know I love you.

  It almost doesn’t feel real, the memory of my body pressed to Jamison’s. My face hovering above his, the anticipation of lips on lips, skin on skin. It’s as if I made it all up.

  Weeks pass. I work, and when I’m not at the café, I’m locked in the listening booth at Black and Read. But unlike all the previous therapy sessions, no music plays. Instead, I sit in the silence and read all the books Jamison wrote about in his letters. Books I should have read years ago when he asked me to. New stories. New perspectives. I imagine Jamison sitting next to me, pointing at the words on the page.

  See, Amoris? This is what I’ve been telling you.