by Staci Hart
“What’s up?”
I took a breath, still wrapped in his arms. “Nadia she said she saw you last night.”
He shook his head, and I tried to read his expression, but it was blank. “I crashed at the studio after you left. Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”
I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t not believe him either. “What’s new, right?”
He chuckled, and the sound traveled through his chest and against mine. “Don’t let her get to you. It only encourages her.” He kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Sounds good,” I said as he pulled away.
I opened the door and watched him walk down the hall to the stairs, waving once over his shoulder before he was out of sight. I sighed and closed the door, looking down at the lilies.
Rose bounded out of her room, eyes big. “Flowers? Are those calla lilies?” She took the bouquet. “You hate these.”
I sighed again and found my way back to my drink.
Maggie poked her head out. “Is he gone?”
“The coast is clear,” I said as Rose sat next to me and set the flowers on the table.
Maggie took a seat and nudged the bouquet. “Lilies, huh? Original.”
I snorted, drink hanging in my hand. “Regular lilies are fine. I mean, it’s a little obvious, but I like them all right. But calla lilies? It’s what you send when someone dies.” I gestured to them with my drink. “What the hell kind of gift is that to bring the girl you’re trying to get back? Plus, they look like vaginas.”
Rose almost choked on her drink, and when she’d swallowed the displaced mouthful, she rubbed her nose. “Oww, that burns,” she said, giggling.
“What did he say?” Maggie asked.
“He apologized and asked me to give him another chance.”
“And you said no?” Rose encouraged.
“If by ‘no’ you mean ‘yes,’ then totally.”
“Ugh, Lily,” Rose groaned.
“Don’t make me feel guilty, Rose! You didn’t see his face. I really think he wants to try to make this work, and I’d regret it if I didn’t see it through, so don’t get all judgy on me. This is deep seated — like ever since my hormones activated. I’m willing to overlook a lot. So he sucks in bed. Maybe he’s awesome otherwise.”
“Probably not.”
“Mean! I won’t know for sure until I try, right? Gotta ride the Noah bike, Rose. I have to.”
Rose put up her hands. “All right, all right. Fine. I get it. Regret’s no easy thing to carry around.” Her eyes were on her drink. “Sometimes I think about Tricky that way, you know? What if things had been different? Because it felt right at the time, but what if I’d made different choices? What if he had? What if I’d told him what I really wanted and how I felt about him? But I didn’t. He didn’t. And we’re where we are. Things are too complicated to go back now.”
Maggie leaned on the table. “Whatever happened between you two?”
Rose sighed before taking a long drink. She set the glass down. “For a while, it was perfect, you know? We had this agreement, since we’d been friends first. The only way we’d risk our friendship was to try to take the expectation out of it. If either of us wanted out, all we had to do was say so, and we promised not to ask questions. One day, he said it was over, and I had to agree. I thought it would be temporary, though. I thought what we had was more than we could walk away from. But the next night, he brought another girl to Habits to hang out with the group — while I was working. I couldn’t even leave. Just had to sit there and watch.”
Maggie shook her head. “What a dick move.”
I gave Rose a look. “You know it’s not that simple, Rosie.”
She shrugged. “He told me the next day that he’d just been scared, that he wanted to try again. But by that point, it was too late — I was too hurt to go back.” She shifted in her seat and picked up her drink again. “Anyway, I wish I’d said something from the start. Told him how I felt, put up a fight when it could have changed things. But now I’ll never have the chance. There’s no repairing that part of our relationship, not when we’re still trying to patch up our friendship.”
“Plus,” I added, “you have to endure his smolder daily.”
Rose laughed. “Ugh. That.”
“He’s so intense.” Maggie took a drink.
Rose let out a breath. “You have no idea.”
Maggie settled back into her chair. “I think I’ll always wonder if it was somehow my fault, what happened with Jimmy. I mean, I know he’s just an asshole, and there probably isn’t anything that could ever change that. But no one wants to learn a truth like that on their wedding day by walking in on their fiancé boning the maid of honor an hour before the ceremony.”
I shook my head. “That had nothing to do with you.”
Maggie just stared at her drink. “What’s sad is that so many people knew he was runnin’ around on me, but nobody told me. At least I found out before we’d gotten married.”
Rose brought her knee up to her chest. “Here’s the thing about guys like that — you could have been his dream girl, but he was still going to fuck around. And you’re right about finding out sooner than later. Better on your wedding day than after you’d been married for ten years and had kids. Can you imagine?”
Maggie laughed, the sound laced with sadness. “Nailing my best friend behind the bounce house at a birthday party.”
Rose snorted and twisted her dark hair over her shoulder. “Or the PTO president backstage at the school play.”
I giggled. “Or the Girl Scout troop leader on a pile of Thin Mints. See? That would have ruined America’s favorite cookie.”
Maggie sighed. “You know what I’ll never forget is the look on his face. He was in a goddamn tuxedo, and Laura had her bridesmaid dress hitched up to her hips. One thing I never thought I’d see on my wedding day was her vagina.”
I took a drink. “I seriously can’t even imagine. And then to have the reception anyway?”
“Well, Daddy had already paid for it, and we all needed to get drunk at that point.”
“I just can’t believe you kept that dress on and found a way to enjoy yourself like a badass.”
Maggie chuckled. “Oh, well, believe me, I cried my fair share. I’m lucky I had y’all there with me. If it hadn’t been for you keeping me laughing, it would have been an even darker day than it already was.”
“It was a good party,” I added.
Maggie raised her glass. “Even when the boys left to go hunt Jimmy down.”
Rose shook her head. “Luckily they were too drunk to make it very far. West was gonna disfigure the guy.”
“Nah,” Maggie said and took a sip. “That’s what Tricky and Cooper were with him for.”
“As if they could have stopped him once he really got going.”
Maggie smiled. “It feels real good to be out of Jackson. I couldn’t run into Laura at the grocery store again and not want to bust open a pack of razors to assault her with.”
Rose sneered. “Ugh, you really went to the same grocery store?”
“Only once, and then I vowed to never shop at another FoodTown ever again. Anywhere. If I ever go to Canada, and they have one, I won’t step foot in the door. I swear to God.” We all laughed. “And Jimmy … well I couldn’t handle him trying so damn hard to get me back. You know, you make up your mind to do something, and you’re dead set on it. And then that asshole sends you flowers. He cries. He begs. Gets on his hands and knees and tells you he wants you to mother his children and he’d made a mistake. He’ll never do it again, he swears. Most of you just wants to kick him in the teeth. But part of you believes him. I just couldn’t sit in the middle of that fight anymore. I had to get away.”
Rose leaned her chair back to snag the vodka bottle and pour herself another drink, leaving the bottle on the table. “And now that you’re away, how do you feel?”
Maggie’s
smile was full and genuine. “Like I’m brand spankin’ new. Like everything that happened before was a bad dream, and now I get to start over. One thing I do know is that I don’t want to fall in love again, not for a long time. Not until all my wounds heal up. For now, I want to have fun and be young and not worry so much about settling down.”
“Cheers to that.” Rose raised her glass.
We raised our glasses and took a drink.
“So,” Maggie continued, “I have five months before work starts for real. I need to get certified to teach in New York so I can start subbing here and there and find a permanent job. I’ve got the refund on most of my honeymoon to get me by — Daddy also paid for that, by the way — and I have the savings I’d put together. My plan is to use this time to decompress before I get back to being an adult.”
I nodded my approval. “That plan sounds like exactly what you need. You’re so well adjusted for everything that’s happened. I just don’t know how you do it.”
Maggie shrugged. “I might be in a little bit of denial.”
We all laughed.
“Whatever, though, because that gets me through my days. It’s only been a month, so I have a bad feeling I’m headed for a massive breakdown. I still haven’t had a real one. It’s weird because I can feel it just under the surface, like it’s waiting to get out. But mostly I feel all right, so I’m just going with it.”
“Well,” I added, “Rosie and I are experts at getting drunk and losing our shit, so if you ever want to partake, just let us know.”
She chuckled. “Deal. And I apologize in advance because when the top blows off my emotions, it’s probably going to be ugly.”
I raised my glass and clinked it to hers. “Don’t worry, sister. We’ve got you.”
THIS BITCH
West
THE FOUNTAINHEAD LAY HEAVY IN my lap that evening, the massive hardback as weighty as the words inside. The apartment was silent. Patrick was at work, and I’d been trying to keep my mind occupied since the excitement of Maggie’s arrival, but I still couldn’t concentrate on grading papers. So I’d picked up my favorite book, which I had a standing date with, reading it over and over again whenever the mood struck me, carrying on like I’d never stopped.
“Howard — anything you ask. Anything. I’d sell my soul…”
“That’s the sort of thing I want you to understand. To sell your soul is the easiest thing in the world. That’s what everybody does every hour of this life. If I asked you to keep your soul — would you understand why that’s much harder?”
I looked away to my window where the city shifted into night, the line from the book rolling through my mind as I sat in solemn silence.
A knock sounded at the door, and I glanced over to see Maggie walking in. She was a sight for sore eyes — even just having her close by for a few hours had brought me a lot of comfort, to have a bit of home in New York for good. And knowing we’d all be able to help her move on was the bonus.
“How’s it going?” I smiled at her and laid my worn bookmark in the crease of the hardback before setting it on the coffee table with a thump.
“Good, finally unpacked.” She flopped into an armchair. “Ugh, not Ayn Rand again.” She nudged the heavy book with her toe, but it didn’t move.
“Hater.”
She dropped her chin, lips flat. “It’s pretentious bullshit written by an uncaring, stone-cold egomaniac.”
I shrugged. “Maybe at first glance, but that’s not how I see it. It’s about the power of self. It’s about surviving against all odds, strictly on willpower and belief in your own vision. It’s about succeeding — not because someone gave you their approval, but because you did what you set out to do. You created your success using only the power that exists between your ears, even though the odds were stacked against you.”
Maggie made a face, ignoring everything I’d said. “Roark rapes Dominique.”
“That was your big takeaway?” I shook my head. “It’s consensual, Mags. It’s not rape, it’s surrender.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Pass.”
“That’s the beauty of books, little sister. What means nothing to one has a profound effect on another.” I recrossed my ankles. “So I want to know where the hell you put all those shoes.”
“Under my bed, along with most of my clothes in those rolling bins. Lily and Rose got me a cute thrift dresser, too.”
“Yeah, I know. Guess who hauled it upstairs?”
She chuckled and perked up, face animated as she leaned forward. “Oh, man, so Lily’s boyfriend, or whatever, came by.” She made a duck face, shaking her head. “Man, he’s hot.”
I felt myself frown. “Ah, so you met the infamous Blaney?”
She snorted. “That’s what y’all call him? That’s terrible. Anyway, I wouldn’t call it an official meeting — I just caught a glimpse of him before I ran to our room to give them some privacy. He brought her flowers and apologized for bein’ a weirdo.”
My frown deepened. “Flowers, huh?”
“Yeah, calla lilies.”
“She hates those.” The thought made me feel better. Smug, even.
“I know. So obvious, right? I don’t know if he’s the brightest Crayon in the box. And apparently, he’s not the most, ah … considerate lover.”
My brow dropped. “Yeah, I heard.”
Maggie watched me for a second, eyes narrowed. “Does that upset you?”
“Why would it?”
“I don’t know, West. Why would it?”
I scowled. “I just have a bad feeling about this guy.”
“And what kind of man would you feel good about?”
“The kind who would respect her. Who would treat her like they know what they’ve got. The kind who’d do anything to keep her.”
Maggie looked amused. “If she found someone who would love and respect her to your very high standards, would you feel better or worse?”
I made a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Maggie smiled at me like she knew something I didn’t and leaned back in the armchair, putting her hands up in surrender. “Nothin’.”
Irritation wriggled its way through me. “Listen. The guy’s never even taken her on a date. So what if he brought her flowers — flowers that she hates, let’s remember that. I don’t trust a man who keeps a girl like Lily a secret.”
“All right, all right. I get it.”
But I just kept on going, unable to shut up and let it go. “And she never dates, Mags. Never. If she’s going to put her heart on the line, that asshole better take care of it. I trust her to make her own decisions, but I’m just worried she’s too blinded by the crush to see him for what he really is.”
She put her hands up. “Okay! I didn’t know it was such a sore topic, jeez.”
Me neither. My mood had turned foul, stinking with agitation that I wasn’t quite able to sort out. My phone buzzed on the couch next to me, and I picked it up to a text from Christine.
Just checking in, still interested in going to Amanda’s party?
Maybe in part out of spite, I answered, I’m in. What time?
Let’s have a drink beforehand. Where do you want to meet?
I know just the place. I sent her the address to Habits and smiled.
Lily
The sweat on the glass of my third vodka tonic rolled onto my hand as I sat alone in my quiet apartment. Maggie had gone over to West’s just after Rose left for work, leaving me alone to contemplate my relationship status, or lack of one.
The stupid death-lilies mocked me from the table, perched in the ugliest vase we owned as a joke. I should have been more grateful. It really was sweet of him — I couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had thought to buy me flowers. But the whole thing had confused me just when I thought I was figuring out what I wanted. Namely, not him. Then he showed up being all sweet, and now I wasn’t so sure anymore.
I was left wishing for him again, or wishing for a
version of him that I wasn’t sure existed. But that old image I had of him was so strong in my mind, so powerful, that I found myself a sort of slave to it. I wanted him to be that man so badly, I felt like I could nearly will it into existence.
I sighed, considering another drink, but I had to stop. Three drinks was well past my limit.
The door opened behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to find Maggie striding in. “Have you moved from that spot?”
I looked back to my feet. “Nope.”
“Well, come on, lazy bones. Let’s go to Habits.”
I made a stinky face at my socks. “I don’t know. I have to get up early. Plus, I’ve already hit my drink maximum.”
“Then you can go just to sober up. We won’t stay long. West is meeting some girl there, so when they leave, I’ll be alone.”
This time, my stinky face was directed at Maggie. “A girl? What girl?”
She shrugged and grabbed her sweater off the back of the chair. “Christine, I think? Another TA.” She disappeared into it, and her head popped out of the neck hair-first, curls bouncing.
“Never heard of her.”
Maggie shrugged, but she was watching me like she knew something. “Weird. Let’s go sniff her out.”
I was already getting up. “Deal.”
I made my way into my room and pulled on light gray jeans, my favorite dusty rose V-neck, and dark gray ankle boots, inspecting myself on my way out. My hair was a bit of a mess after air drying — not hot enough. I marched into the bathroom and grabbed the hairspray and a comb, teasing the length of it and braiding it into a messy fishtail that I left hanging over my shoulder.
Better. I smiled at my reflection.
Our jewelry hung on a series of hooks and wires on the bathroom wall, and I chose a few thin gold necklaces and one long gold locket that was my grandmother’s. Then lipgloss happened. Then mascara and a couple of bracelets. And with that, I was all of a sudden fully dressed for going out.
I blamed vodka.
My boots clicked on the hardwood as I made my way out of the bathroom, still working the clasp of a last minute bracelet swap.
