“The night is not young, and neither are we,” Vi grumbles, grabbing my arm.
“You need help?” Kendall slurs, slumped over Francine’s shoulder. I may be slightly drunk, but Kendall is even more slightly drunk. Even I, a slightly drunk person, can tell that.
I see George raise his bushy eyebrows—presumably at the idea that Kendall would be of any assistance. “I can help you get her back to the room,” he says, reaching his arm out for me.
“I’ve got her,” Vi reassures him. “I’m used to this. It’s not my first rodeo.”
“Hey!” I protest, certain that her statement has somehow insulted me, but I can’t quite piece together exactly how.
Next thing I know, we have waved goodbye to everyone and are in the corridor, my best friend leading me back to the cabin—I’m dragging unwillingly behind her.
The carpet has such interesting squares. Blue and green…and there’s a tinge of brown. I wonder where they get the carpet. I wonder how much carpet they need for this ship? It must cost a fortune to carpet this whole ship.
Vi stops short when she gets to our hallway, causing me to bump into her.
“What hap—”
I look up and I know exactly what happened. Nick is standing in front of the door of our cabin, staring at the ceiling, holding a semi-wilted rose in one hand, and a folded white shirt over his arm. Instead of the uniform that I last saw him wearing, he’s got on the faded gray shirt that he was wearing the day that we met, his biceps and chest muscles straining against the thin fabric. He looks very hot. I am suddenly stone cold sober.
“Sweet baby Jesus,” I hear Vi mutter under her breath.
“Hey.” I poke her defensively. Just because he dumped me doesn’t mean she can ogle my guy.
Nick’s expression is unreadable. He is neither smiling, nor scowling. He’s too far away for me to read what’s behind his eyes. I don’t know if he still hates me or what. But he’s here, so that has to count for something, right? Unless he’s here to tell me how much he hates me. That’s always possible. But usually you don’t bring a rose to tell someone you hate them.
I stand still, his eyes taking me in.
“Hi,” he finally says, after what feels like an eternity.
He offers me a half-hearted smile. Vi still hasn’t moved, so I kind of shove her aside and walk toward Nick.
“Hi.”
“I’m sorry to just show up here like this, but I wanted to tell you…well, I’m sorry I overacted before. And…” He stares down at the shirt that’s draped over his arm. “I quit.”
“You quit? What did you quit?”
“Um, my job?” Nick is staring at me incredulously.
Okay, my mind is working a little slower than usual due to my excessive alcohol consumption. It sounds to me like he quit his job.
“You quit your job? Here on the boat? Why would you quit?”
“Because I realized I made a huge mistake.”
I don’t understand. “This job was a mistake? I thought you liked it?”
“Oh I do...I did. But I only took it because I was scared.”
I shake my head. Nothing he’s saying is making any sense to me. Maybe I’m drunker than I thought.
“Um, I’m gonna just go…” Violet is now pushing me aside and fiddling with the lock to the door. She slides her keycard in and it beeps loudly, red light blinking angrily. “Um, er,” she stammers, yanking the keycard out and shoving it back in. It beeps again...this time even more angrily, if that’s possible. I shake my head. I really need a cup of coffee or something—I’m starting to personify our door lock.
Vi growls at the keycard and tries one more time, with the same result.
“Here, let me—” Nick takes the keycard from her hand and it works for him, no problem.
“Um, thanks,” Vi mutters as she shoves past Nick and into the room.
Nick and I allow the echo of the slamming door to reverberate between us.
“So, you were saying you quit?” I finally speak, thinking I imagined this.
He did say he quit. And he quit because he was scared?
“And you quit because you were scared?”
Nick shakes his head. “I didn’t quit because I was scared. I took the job because I was scared.”
“That makes no sense.” Now I remember what he said. Yes, it didn’t make sense two minutes ago when he first said it, either.
Nick shifts his feet uncomfortably. “When my wife and I broke up, I took this job because I was afraid what would happen to me if I stayed where I was.”
Still not making sense. I briefly wonder again if I should get coffee so my brain can function properly.
“Um, okay?”
“I mean, I was afraid I would find someone else and settle down and get married.”
Yup. Nick, one, my brain, zip.
“Isn’t that the point of this whole experiment of life? Find someone to settle down with?”
“Well yeah. If you haven’t had your heart smashed to a thousand pieces already.” Nick hangs his head, and despite my obvious inebriation, it all becomes clear. His heart was broken when he and his wife broke up, and it devastated him so much that he was scared of getting into another relationship.
“Oh, Nick.” I reach out and lightly touch his arm. I had never had my heart really broken...at least not since Billy Howard didn’t return my affections in seventh grade, right after my dad died. It was like a double whammy of pain after losing my dad, and then being rejected. It hurt like hell. After that, I had vowed never to let anyone in again for this very reason. A broken heart hurt way too much. And a broken ego was even worse.
A light bulb goes off in my head, a moment of clarity dawning. Is this why I always find some way to drive guys away, either consciously or subconsciously? I don’t want to give them a chance to break my heart?
Nick leans against the door of our cabin and slides to the floor, head drooping toward his chest. Even though I have a dress on, I join him on the floor. At least I know it’s clean. They vacuum like ten times a day on this ship.
“I get it,” I tell him. “I’ve been so afraid of getting hurt that I haven’t let anyone in. And I run away any time I think anyone is getting close. Just like you think that you’re running away by working on the cruise ships. I mean, I even pretend it’s always the guy’s fault, but I know, deep down...it’s me.”
With a deep breath, I continue this cathartic release. “I break their hearts before they can break mine...well, I mean, I dump them or sabotage the relationship before they have a chance to get into my head. Or my heart.”
I can’t believe I’m confessing this out loud…to a guy. A guy I have a tremendous crush on to boot.
He doesn’t say anything, but I find his hand creeping toward mine on the floor. Our fingertips touch, sending a ripple of electric current through my body. He strokes my fingers lightly, the electricity intensifying until it’s a full-fledged surge. I try to block the urge to rip his clothes off and climb on top of him right here in the hallway. Instead, I sigh and tell him my secret, the one I just shared with Vi earlier. This honesty thing is becoming addicting.
“My dad died when I was really young. Twelve. A heart attack. Hanging Christmas lights outside.” I choke back the sob that always rises in my throat when I think about the day I came home from the mall and police cars and ambulances were outside my house.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Nick says—the first time he has spoken since he slid down the wall. I shrug.
“Not your fault. Not anyone’s fault. Well, it was the bacon and butter he put on everything’s fault, actually.” I try to laugh, but it results in a snort that I immediately try to cover up by continuing my story.
“I was the biggest daddy’s girl there was—my mother really resented me for it, too. Daddy and I got into a fight a few months before he died. I nearly drowned in the ocean and he tried to get me to go back in. In fact, he picked me up and threw me back in. I spent the next four months sulki
ng at him. And then, he dropped dead. I had never made up with him. I really thought that he died because I had caused him so much stress by being mad at him. At least, that’s what my mother told me.”
“That’s really shitty.”
“That’s my mother for you. Needless to say, we’re not very close. In fact, I’m not close to anyone except Violet. She’s been my best friend since seventh grade. We became friends right after my dad died. Everyone who was friends with me before he died kind of drifted away...like they were afraid that it would happen to them if we were friends. Vi was my fresh start.”
“It seems like she’s a really great friend,” Nick says.
“She’s the best,” I reply with a nod. “The best.”
We sit there in silence for a few minutes, his thumb rubbing circles on the top of my hand, the tingling feeling intensifying. I start to close my eyes, enjoying the feeling, when Nick speaks.
“I don’t have much reason for the way I am, no childhood trauma. I had a pretty normal life till my divorce. Till I failed, and had my heart ripped into shreds by the one person I was counting on.”
I open my eyes and look at him—really look at him. He’s crying. Not sobbing or anything, but his eyes are watery and red. I have never, in my entire life, had a guy cry in front of me.
Well, not like this. Lester Franklin cried like a baby at the ending of Forrest Gump—that was my cue to exit stage left in that relationship. And Andy Hammer used to cry after sex. That was definitely a cue to run.
But for some reason, Nick crying doesn’t make me want to run—it makes me want to wrap my arms around him.
Which is exactly what I do.
Four hours later when Vi opens the door, that’s how she finds us—fast asleep in the hallway, with our arms wrapped around each other.
VIOLET
I step out of the taxi and the taxi driver pops the trunk open. He doesn’t make a move to get out of the taxi, so I reach into the trunk to retrieve my own suitcase. So much for chivalry.
I attempt to set the suitcase on the sidewalk, but I have completely forgotten about the broken wheel and the suitcase flops dramatically on its side.
“You want me to come in with you?”
Leah is standing next to me on the sidewalk, the door to the cab wide open.
I shake my head. “No. I’ve got to do this myself. Thank you though.” I lean down and reach for the suitcase handle. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best friend that a girl could have.”
Leah has tears in her eyes as she envelopes me in a violently loving hug—I awkwardly try to hold onto the handle of the suitcase to no avail. It flops over again, dejectedly this time.
“Lady! I got another fare!” The cab driver honks the horn, trying to encourage Leah to get back in the cab. She does not give in easily.
“Good luck,” she says when she finally loosens her grip on me and offers me an encouraging smile. “Call me later and let me know how it goes.”
“I’ll probably need to call you sooner rather than later. You know, when I need a place to live.” My attempt at humor falls flat as Leah cringes.
“It’s gonna be okay, Vi. This was a long time coming.” She squeezes my arm before climbing back into the cab.
I watch the cab drive away, knowing that what she said is true. I am aware that my marriage fell apart long before I went on this cruise. I know Richard and I have been incompatible for a very long time—maybe even always. I understand that he has no respect for me, and that I deserve to be treated with respect. I know that the fact he refuses to go to counseling means he’s not willing to work on our marriage, he’s not interested in making it work, and I should stop blaming myself up for the sole failure of our relationship. I know all this. I am logical about it. This cruise taught me that I need to accept what I can’t change. But it still breaks my heart.
The door to the cab closes and I hear it drive away from the curb. My eyes sting as I grab the handle to the suitcase and roll it up the sidewalk, the bum wheel bumping along the way. I reach the front door, my hand trembling as it reaches for the knob, when it swings open. Samantha is walking out the door, backpack on her shoulders. She squeals with glee when she sees me.
“Mummy!” She leaps at me, wrapping her arms around my body. “I missed you so much!” she cries out as she buries her head into my shoulder. Her head is even with mine and I realize she is now as tall as I am.
When did that happen? I feel like I’ve been away forever.
“Are you crying?” Samantha asks with astonishment, pulling away from me. “Why are you crying? Did something happen?”
“I’m just so happy to see you,” I blubber, dissolving into tears, not holding back anything.
Samantha, the girl who was just telling me how much she missed me, undergoes one of those rapid personality changes so popular with teenagers, and rolls her eyes at me. “Um, okay. You were only gone a few days, Mom.”
“Still, I missed you,” I say as I step into the house, dragging the stupid suitcase over the threshold.
“I’m on my way to Kayla’s house,” Samantha tells me. “We’re writing our English papers together.”
“Oh, okay.” I frown, disappointed that I won’t even get to visit with my daughter.
“Oh, and Dad is in a meeting with Vic in his office. Jeremy is at practice and Matthew has detention until five o’clock.”
I groan, even more disappointed now. “Okay,” I tell her. “See you later.” I slam the door closed, slightly annoyed that the kids who usually won’t leave me alone, have completely left me alone. I toss my suitcase to the side and plop down on the couch, the house completely silent.
I was really hoping to see all the kids before seeing Richard. It was going to boost me up for what I need to do next. I reach for the remote to turn on the TV and my brain screams at me, Stop procrastinating!
Sighing, I stand and head downstairs to Richard’s home office. Despite the fact that he is currently in a meeting with Vic, his assistant, and he hates being interrupted, I need to talk to him now before I lose my nerve. I stand in front of his office door, hand on the knob for what feels like an eternity. Taking a deep breath, I finally throw the door to the office open. What I see before me nearly gives me a heart attack and I end up screaming.
“Oh my God! Vi!” My husband screams and yanks up his pants, nearly knocking Vic over in the process.
I cover my eyes as I continue to scream.
“Oh my God!” Vic adds to the screaming.
“Why didn’t you knock?” Richard yells, zipping his pants and pulling the door shut at the same time. I am trapped in the room with my husband and apparently, his...lover.
I glower at them, Vic sheepishly creeping toward the corner, Richard absolutely eggplant with embarrassment as he attempts to get himself together.
“Why didn’t I knock? What the hell is going on here?” I am trembling and I want to run from the room. The only thing that is keeping me here is the fact that I know the two of them must be a thousand times more embarrassed than I am. If that’s even humanly possible.
“It’s not—” Richard starts to say and I immediately hold up my hand to protest.
“Don’t you dare tell me that it’s not what it looks like, Richard. I’m pretty sure you weren’t taking inventory for the gym with your pants around your ankles.”
At that, sweat starts trickling off of my husband’s chiseled face. “Um, I guess, he, we…” Richard stammers as he collapses into his desk chair, gripping the sides so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
“Well?” I snap at him, fully taking advantage of the fact the tables are actually turned for once. Richard still doesn’t answer me. In fact, he blinks rapidly, like he can blink me and my accusations and questions away.
“Did you miss me that much while I was gone?” I say with an ironic laugh, anger building by the second. I am shocked by my own words. It sounds like Leah just crawled out of my mouth. Sarcasm is definitely not my normal d
efense mechanism. “I can’t believe you! The door was unlocked! Your children could have walked in on this!”
“I thought everyone was gone! I heard the front door slam! Samantha said Matthew and Jeremy were at school, and she was leaving! I didn’t know you were coming home so early!”
Richard shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, appearing more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him—I mean, the man hasn’t even had as much as a cold in the twenty years we’ve been married. Heck, I didn’t even remember him getting as much as a zit. He’s always been perfect. But not right now. Definitely not right now.
“We’ve been lovers since collage,” Vic announces, speaking more to the ceiling than he is to me.
“What?” My heart literally skips a beat and bile rises in my throat. I take a step closer to the wastepaper basket. “Since college? How is that even possible? Why would you...how would you…”
My brain is racing to keep up with my mouth. The fact that I walked in on Richard and Vic doing…well, whatever they were doing…was disturbing enough, but coupled with the fact that it has been going on for twenty plus years? That makes Richard gay, and my entire marriage, heck, my entire life, a sham.
I stare at Richard for what feels like an eternity, my heart randomly skipping beats, my legs trembling like a newborn foal’s. I grab onto Richard’s desk for support.
“I’m your beard?” My voice comes out in a whisper—I’m almost pleased that I am able to use a new word I learned from Leah the other day, but at the same time, devastated to use it about myself.
Richard drops his head on his desk, his hair flopping over his face so I can’t even see it, but Vic volunteers an answer.
“Yup.” He seems almost as annoyed and irate as I am. “For over twenty years, Richard has denied who he is. And I had the misfortune of being the person to fall in love with him. I’ve also been unable to break myself of the habit...Richard being the habit. I’m the one who had to stand idly by while Richard married you,” he sweeps his hand toward me in a disgusted manner, “a woman.” He spits out the word like it’s a curse. His face is bright red now, but not from embarrassment. He is indignant, and that incenses me further.
Best Friends & Other Liars Page 25
