by Jolene Perry
“What?”
“I don’t know.” She chews on her lip as she stares at the ground.
She does know. She just won’t say. I’m not perfect, but she’s making me out to be some kind of prick that I’m not. At least not anymore.
“Well, like I said, be honest with her if you actually want her to know what’s going on with you.” She looks away.
“I’m not good at that.” And so far it has bit me in the ass.
Her head whips toward me, and I immediately know I’ve screwed up again. “Well, you’re going to have to get good at it, if you ever want to be part of a relationship that means something.”
And I know she’s talking about us. I just know it. And it sucks because I have no idea how to talk to Hélèna, and I obviously suck at talking to Amber, too.
She leans in, kisses my cheek, stands up and walks away. “You let me know if you get this sorted out with Hélèna, but I don’t want to hear from you until you do. I can’t feel like this. I just can’t. It sucks.” And her voice almost sounds like she’s crying, but she’s walking away from me with purpose, so I don’t follow.
And I get it. I’m hurting her, even though I’m doing everything right, or trying to. Okay. So I should have called Amber the moment I knew Hélèna was coming. And if I had been thinking straight, I’d have taken Amber with me. That would have been the smart thing. Also, I should have said something about Amber when me and Hélèna were at dinner. I’m messing up all over the place, but I’ve just never had to try this hard before.
Why did Hélèna have to come? Before Amber, Hélèna would have been exactly what I need.
Amber, one girl, has completely turned me inside out.
I sit at the empty playground for a long time. I don’t check my phone, and don’t look at the time. When it starts to get dark, I head back. I’m a prick for leaving Hélèna with my dad all evening.
I walk back down to Dad’s boat, feeling sorry for myself, the big pussy that I am. But as I pass Amber’s, I hear her talking.
“You really like him,” her mom says.
My heart stops. I really, really need to hear this.
“It doesn’t matter, Mom. Have you seen that girl? I mean, they look like they belong together. And the way she says his name all perfect… Antony.”
I can picture Amber right now rolling her eyes, but there would be some discomfort, or pain in there, too. Jealousy? She’s hard for me to read, but I know I’m getting better.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“Don’t. Just, don’t give me sympathy. I knew. I mean, I knew the second I saw him frowning on the front of his dad’s boat on the day he got here that I needed to keep my distance.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
The pause is long. It’s so long, I wonder if they’ve both given up. I’m going crazy out here before I realize I’ve nearly crushed my paper cup of coffee.
“Because there’s so much to him. As shallow as he wants us all to think he is, he’s not. He thinks deeply, and he feels deeply. One day he won’t be embarrassed about that anymore.”
“And he’ll be like his dad.”
I almost choke.
Amber laughs. “No. Antony will never be like his dad.”
And as good as my name sounds coming from Hélèna, it’s nothing compared to the way it sounds in the honest voice of Amber.
Now I know I’ll have to talk to Hélèna. The problem is that I don’t know how to be honest with her, or if she’ll even get me anymore. I don’t think I can take hurting two girls in one day.
Nineteen
When I step into the boat, Dad and Hélèna are laughing over the table, a bottle of Dad’s scotch between them.
“Qu-est-ce-que tu fais?” What are you doing?
“Don’t be rude,” Hélèna says back. “We can speak English. I know how.”
“I speak better French that you speak English,” I point out.
“But I’m prettier and no one cares.” Her accent is thick.
Dad laughs. “I’ll be in my room. Let you two catch up.” He stands and walks out.
I wish I could pace or something. Anything to get rid of some of this nervous energy.
“You have problems, yes?”
“Yes.” I sit.
“Why did you not answer my letters?”
“I’m not checking email.” And I really don’t have a good explanation that I want to discuss with her.
“You have, uh, purpose for this?”
Mom. Mom’s my reason, but I can’t say it. Not to Hélèna. Nothing comes out.
“You and I have fun together. It’s why I’m here, and now I’m here and I see that you don’t want to have fun with me anymore.” Her smiles falters just enough that I know I’m hurting or affecting her somehow. I had no idea I had any of that kind of power over her.
“No, it’s not…” that. But it is that. But how do I tell her that there’s someone else I’d rather be having fun with? There’s no good way. “I’m just still messed up. Make sense?” I have to tell her about Amber. Have to.
“Your mom?” The look of hurt has turned to one of concern. That’s better.
“That’s part of it.” My mouth opens to tell her about Amber, but Hélèna starts talking again.
“Did you hear my mom got a part in a movie?” Her smile is wider, and she’s back to speaking French.
“No.” This starts a long round of conversation that probably neither of us cares much about, but we know enough of the same people that it’s still fun to get caught up. But we don’t touch. We sit across the table from one another, and we don’t even hint at anything real between us.
Her yawn is wide as she stretches her thin arms over her head. “I’m going to bed.”
I stand. And now that I’m standing, she’s looking at me like I might join her.
The door opens, and Dad steps in.
Hélèna scoots off the couch and takes the few steps to my door. I follow, not wanting her to feel bad, but having no idea how to keep my distance without getting into a big conversation about the girl who might or might not be my girlfriend.
“Are you joining me?” she whispers. Her fingers slide from the center of my chest to the top of my pants, sending a shiver through my spine.
“I can’t.” And the insane thing is that I don’t want to. Since the first time I was with Hélèna, I always knew I’d jump at any chance she gave me, and I’m turning her down. In a big way. After she traveled so far so come see me.
“If you change your mind.” She tries to give me her flirtatious smirk, but there’s more depth there than I expected from her. She leans up and kisses me softly on one cheek and then the other, and with a bigger smile, back to the first.
“Bonsoir.”
“Bonsoir,” I whisper back.
The door closes between us, and I stand in the hallway like a moron.
“Come join me on deck.” Dad steps up the stairs he just came down.
And for once, I’m actually looking forward to sitting with him and talking a bit. Anything is better than standing alone in the tiny hallway.
I sit on the opposite side of the table from him, a glass already waiting.
“Those two girls are sort of like the two different parts of your life, aren’t they?” His voice is quiet, just loud enough for me to hear.
“I guess they are.” That’s exactly it. Hélèna represents everything I love about being a rich kid from New York. Amber is…well, she’s definitely not the kind of girl I would have bothered dating before coming here. Too much trouble. Too much work for not enough pay-off. The sick tearing apart feeling I get in my gut when I think about Mom hits me. She’d love Amber. She’d love that Amber was making me work for her. Hard. And I’m loving it.
Mom wanted me here as much to learn stuff like thi
s as she wanted her assignment.
“I get why Mom wanted me here,” I say. “She didn’t just dump me.”
Dad’s head snaps toward me. “Of course she didn’t dump you.”
We both take a drink and sit in silence. It’s obvious to him, because he wasn’t the one left behind.
“Why do you think she wanted you here?”
It feels so weird to be having a real conversation with someone who isn’t Mom…or well, Amber. “To get to know you a little.”
“And have you?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know.” My eyes meet his. “Yeah. I kind of understand why you live on a boat.”
He chuckles softly.
“We both write.” That’s something we share. Just about the only thing, except for being crazy about a girl a few boats down.
“You’re a deep thinker. It comes out in your writing.”
“Thanks.”
“Why else?”
“What?”
“Why else do you think she wanted you here?”
“She was always worried that I got things too easily, and I’d point out how long I had to plead and how hard I had to work in school for her to take me to Paris for Christmas.” I chuckle, but don’t really mean it because it hurts too much to talk about Mom.
Dad nods. “She may have mentioned that on the phone.”
I think they talked more than I imagined. “You two got along.”
He scratches his head. “We got along as soon as we decided we didn’t get along well enough to live together.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice.” I hope he catches the sarcasm in my voice.
“Your mom and I got along great. We actually talked pretty often.”
“You miss her, too.” The words dig and claw at me and I wish them unsaid as soon as they come out.
“I do.” Dad touches a corner of his eye with a finger.
I can’t sit here while he cries about Mom. I can’t. My legs shove me to standing. “I’m gonna...”
“Antony, I can’t tell you what to do, but if you keep running from this, from your mom or from what you’re feeling. It’s all going to come crashing down.”
“I’m not running.” I’m pushing it down. Away.
“Anything else you want to talk about?”
The question pushes up my throat. “Why did you leave, Dad? I was three. I never knew you. I only kind of know you now. Why did you leave?”
“Sit.” He gestures. “Just for a sec.”
I do as he asks.
“Because I messed up. I never liked New York, and so few people make it in what your mother was trying to do. Before you were born even, we were more like friends than anything else. We were determined to stick together, maybe longer than we should have.”
“But why didn’t you stick around, even after you split?” Was I not worth sticking around for?
“That’s the part I messed up, Antony.” Dad pauses for so long, I start to think he won’t continue. “Once I left, I felt disconnected from you. Even at three you were so much like your Mom. I’m a bit of a recluse. I don’t keep many friends. Liv was the opposite. It intimidated me, scared me, and made me feel like I’d never be the kind of dad you deserved.”
“But I did deserve a dad.” My heart’s pounding hard. Too hard.
“I’m sorry. There’s no excuse. I should have tried harder, and made sure I saw you more. Once you started pushing away from me, I let it happen.”
I nod. I don’t understand. Not really. But at least he’s not trying to push any bullshit.
“I love you, Antony. I hope you know that.” His eyes are intent over the table.
“Yeah.” I stand again. “Thanks.” I’m more resigned than anything at this point. It is what it is. At least we get along.
I step down into the boat and flop on the sofa, exhausted from the girls, exhausted from Dad, and unable to keep track of anything else in my head.
Twenty
“Morning sleepyhead.” Hélèna tugs at my toe.
I roll onto my back and smile up at her. She really is pretty. She has the most beautiful olive skin and doe eyes, and she doesn’t know how to dress in any way but hot.
“Walk with me to get coffee.”
I rub my face a few times. “Sure.” This is where I have to just tell her what’s going on, right? I’m still skeptical. Honesty is what made Amber afraid of me, and right now I’m pretty damn sure it’s what’s going to make Hélèna pissed at me.
I slept in my clothes, and don’t even bother to change or get rid of my morning breath. No way I’ll be kissing anyone anytime soon, so it doesn’t much matter. I help Hélèna off the boat in silence.
She takes my arm as we walk up the street. The spring day is already warm and sunny, and it wouldn’t be so bad here if it was like this instead of raining more often.
“It’s so weird to see you in a place like this.” She giggles and squeezes my bicep.
“It’s weird being here,” I admit.
“So, something’s up. And I need to know what it is.”
Just then Amber steps out of the coffee shop. Her face falls. Her eyes go from me to the girl on my arm. I start to pull away, but Hélèna clutches her arm. “Jumping away will make you look more guilty,” she whispers.
Relax. Be normal. Relax. “Hey, Amber. Why don’t you join us?” I’m an ass.
“I’m finished. Enjoy your coffee.” Her face is hard, flat, completely unreadable. And I’d try to read her eyes, but she’s moving away from us as fast as she can. I step toward her as she passes, but Hélèna still holds my arm.
“What will you say?” she whispers.
“I don’t know.”
“Then let her go, or you’ll screw it up.”
I sigh and watch Amber walk away for another moment. Why can’t I run after her, throw my arms around her, and make it all perfect? Why can’t that be enough?
“Let’s talk, and then you can go get the girl you want.” Hélèna steps away from me and into the café.
I stand outside like a schmuck for a moment, undecided. When I step in, she’s sitting.
“I ordered yours.”
“Thanks.”
“So, how long have you been in love with that girl?” Her large brown eyes hold me locked in.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t lie. If you’re about to tell me you’re not in love with her then it’s because you’re lying or just haven’t realized it yet.”
Now I stare at the table. Our coffees are dropped off, and I think I manage a nod to the waiter.
“I miss my mom so much that it feels like I’ll cave in. When I’m around her, I don’t feel it as much. I tell her crap I don’t tell anyone, and it just comes out of me.” I take a drink, forcing my eyes off Hélèna.
She sighs. Her full lips are soft. “Too bad. I was looking forward to a little fun with you.”
“Sorry. I just—”
“Can’t.” She re-crosses her legs and leans back in her chair. “I’m too old for you anyway.”
“Whatever.” I chuckle.
“Arnaud asked me to marry him.”
I spit coffee on the table. “He’s your uncle!”
She laughs. “He’s not really my uncle silly, and he’s only ten years older.”
I knew he was younger than my mom, but still. “I thought he was older than that.” Arnaud and Hélèna… “So, what’s the problem?”
“Marriage, the whole thought of it is so…” She shudders and stares out the window.
“But you two half live together, don’t you? I mean, you’re half-way there.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my friend, Antony?” She chuckles.
I laugh. “Same guy.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Yo
u’re not the same guy. But one word and I’d stay here, with you.” Her voice trails off in a whisper.
“You don’t want me. I’m a mess.” I don’t want Hélèna to want me. That would mean I have choices. Real choices that mean something, and one’s angry at me, and the other isn’t. The really, really selfish part of me wants to take advantage of that. But not at the risk of losing Amber. And really, as I look at Hélèna, I wouldn’t want to risk making her feel bad, either. I have changed.
“I’d take you.”
Her words make my chest sink. I don’t want her to want me like this. “Arnaud is crazy, but he’s a good man, and I think you love him.”
“I love you both.”
Shit. My chest drops. This is not what I want. This is the girl who I’ve wanted in some kind of real way since we first got together. Since that first night at Arnaud’s house.
“But you love that sweet girl with the long legs.” She attempts a smile. I think this is the most emotion I’ve ever seen from her.
I still don’t know about love, but it’s definitely a new kind of thing for me. I’m not sure how to say that to Hélèna.
“Damn.” She breathes out. “I hoped maybe you’d see how great we’d be together. You could come next year, and we’d live it up in the streets of Paris or something.”
It takes me a minute to find words. “I’d never guess you felt like that. You’ve always kept me…”
“Distant.”
“Yeah.” That’s exactly it. And it meant that I kept her distant, too.
“I do with everyone. Life is easier when you’re not messing it up. And here I am, admitting to you that I might be in love with you, only to find you’re in love with somebody else. And it looks like you’ll have some fixing to do when I go.”
“Now I feel like shit over you, too.”
“Don’t.” She takes another drink. “So, she has a nice American-girl fit body, yes?”
“Yes.” The picture most easily brought to the surface is her floating on her back in the water.
“She’s good to you?” She cocks a brow and leans forward. Hélèna’s mind is in the gutter, that much is clear.
