Then my sister cruised right by me.
I threw my arms up in the air, instead of screaming obscenities at her. I mean, out loud. I said plenty in my mind.
Twenty feet ahead of me, she hit the brakes, as if she’d heard me telepathically.
Crap.
She seemed to be adjusting her pedals. She didn’t acknowledge me. Just finished what she was doing and continued on.
Good. Because at that moment, I had zero interest in my sister.
Chapter 27
Coffee Cups and Starry-eyed Reflections at the Shore, Ink Pen on Receipt
Once I was alone in the parking lot, I called Chloe, then walked a few blocks down the road, stopping in a coffee shop. While I waited, I drank coffee and free refills, jacking myself up even further. Chloe picked me up forty-five minutes later.
We drove to the beach where we’d slept the other night. This time, we parked on the asphalt and not in the sand. Then we sat and watched the sun set.
“I can’t believe she got married,” Chloe said. “I’ve always imagined her as this free-spirited, independent woman, who didn’t actually need someone. Joy always seemed to possess some kind of superpower when it came to human emotion, at least in my mind.”
I poked at a shell with my toe. “I thought a little like that, too. She appears impervious to other people’s opinions, and free of the disease to please.”
“That’s practically a superpower.”
“I know.” I leaned back in the sand, my hands behind my head. A couple of stars blinked in the twilight sky. “This is going to sound bad, but I can’t even visualize her being all starry-eyed in love with a guy.”
“Me neither, but I’d have loved to see how her personality interacted with a narcissist.”
“All right, Dr. Chloe.”
“Speaking of,” Chloe said, smoothing the sand between us. “I think your mom is right about you keeping yourself in the good girl role.”
I rolled over and looked at Chloe. I could tell she was raring to go. She had some psychological insight to share, but she wouldn’t unless I agreed. “Fine. Spill it.”
“Okay, so I read all about this in a book on siblings and birth order. There’s this thing called sibling de-identification. To minimize competition with siblings who may be cuter, smarter, or whatever, we each carve out our own niche. But, and this is a big but, you still end up shaping yourself in some way by how you compare to your sister.”
“But mostly we’re nothing alike.”
“Yeah, but at some point in your life, there was a differentiation. Your attempt for parental attention comes in the form of being the good one, unlike Joy. You struggle because it’s uncomfortable to shift out of that good role, but you also kind of envy Joy’s freedom to be herself.”
“So, wait, you’re saying we’re naturally pitted against each other?”
“Sort of, and drifting away from each other is part of the process of figuring out how you work together. You never know. You might be the kind of siblings who become close once you’re fully formed adults. In the meantime, the only thing you have control over is your part. You can only do you.”
“Fully formed adults? You’re making me feel like a cyborg. When am I due for my upgrade?”
“Ha ha. Psychology is science and emotion. It’s some heady stuff.”
“So it appears.” I rolled back to face the sky. I stretched out my legs and dug my heels into the sand, which was cool. “So, you think Joy and I could be close one day?”
“Maybe. Your sister has already changed so much in the last few years, but mostly, she still flits from one flower to the next. That’s her current pattern. So, for now, you’ll probably be your family’s success story.”
“Great. She already thinks I’m perfect, Chlo.”
“Yeah, but you can’t control that. Besides, I don’t think she means that in the way you think she does. I think she’s complimenting you.”
“How do you get that?”
“Think about it. You’re the one who listened to your parents. The one who is going to college. Who is thinking so hard about her direction, she can’t see it for the trees--”
“What?”
“I’m referring to your art, but let me finish. You don’t think your sister knows she’s flaky? That she knows she screws up, or that she’s the one always moving on to the next thing, no long-term friendships or relationships?
I winced at Chloe’s breakdown of Joy.
“She knows, Grace. Just like you know that you have a talent for art. That you’re worried it might not be enough, that you can’t do it.”
I grunted.
Chloe held out a hand. “Maybe you don’t know what you’re going to do with your talent, but you’ll find a way to do something. You won’t give up.”
I thought about how I’d turned my back on everything having to do with art the moment I’d gotten the rejection. I didn’t really want to give up though. Chloe was right. Maybe she was right about my sister, too. “You think Joy is aware of all that? It seems weird that she’d know.”
“Sure. It’s a lot easier to think she’s clueless like a branch waving and bending in a breeze. But she’s not clueless, or helpless. There’s a choice involved there, like with you not wanting to be needy. You don’t have to stay in the role your family has set for you.”
“Then what’s with all the self-help wisdom she dispenses?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe there’s something she fears she could become. Whatever it is, it must be something she believes you have figured out, or, I know…” Chloe jabbed a finger in the air for effect. “She believes her individuality must always look different in order to be unique. Uniqueness seems to be a very important thing to Joy.”
“I feel bad about the whole drive-by marriage thing, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want my sympathy. Who knew she was so good at keeping secrets? I’m surprised she didn’t keel over, blue in the face.”
“Yeah. Sometimes denial is easier.”
“This from the daughter of shrinks?”
Chloe picked up a handful of dry sand and let it fall through her fingers. “I’m not saying it’s healthy, but it is a coping method. When Taylor dumped me, it hurt a little less when I told myself I was okay, that he, or what was us, didn’t matter.”
“But then it did. PTSD and all.”
Chloe half smiled. “I know it wasn’t PTSD. It was my delayed reaction. I saved the suckage for later. Ugh. I so don’t recommend.”
“I’m sorry if you thought you couldn’t unload on me.”
“That’s not what it was. I am completely capable of dumping my crap in your lap.”
“Ew.”
“Sorry.” Chloe snorted.
We laughed and then were quiet for a bit.
I sat up and nodded toward the ocean. “Do you want the fish in the sea speech?”
“Definitely. That’s kind of the normal conversation after a breakup, right? Besides, it’s your turn to give me advice.”
I scrambled to stand and wiped my hands on my shorts. Sand sprinkled onto my feet. “Okay, so you see that vast ocean out there?”
“Yeah.” Chloe laughed, looking up at me.
“Well…”
“That’s a deep subject.”
“It is, actually,” I said with mock seriousness. “Did you know that at its deepest point, the Atlantic Ocean plunges to depths of, uh, well, I don’t have the facts right off the top of my head, but you know the ocean is really deep, like Jules Verne and his twenty thousand leagues kind of deep.”
“Grace, the fish?”
“Right, right, the fish. There are tons of them out there. I’m talking gazillions. Taylor is like a tiny, insignificant, um, krill…and your special fish is waiting for you out there.”
“You know, a krill is a crustacean, right?”
“Yeah, so? Still seafood, Chlo.”
“I know you were trying to make Taylor seem small and irrelevant, but your comparison actually made
it seem as if he was unique and uber important to the food chain.”
“He’s at the bottom of the food chain, a bug of the sea, future whale crap. Is that better?”
“Much,” Chloe rose. She wrapped an arm around my neck, giving me a squeeze. “I’m starving. You up for some crab or shrimp? My treat.”
Chapter 28
Tropical Island in the Distance, Permanent Marker on Surfboard
After dinner, Chloe and I pulled into the circular drive just as Zac got out of his truck and slammed the door. He didn’t walk to the porch. Instead, he headed toward the side of the house.
I glanced at Chloe.
“Go, go,” she said, waving me out of her car.
I fumbled with the door, got out, and followed him.
“Zac, hang on,” I said, my feet sliding on the gravel drive. I picked up my pace once I hit solid ground. I rounded the house to find Zac standing in front of the gate to the pool.
I stopped, folding my arms over my chest. I was breathing a little too hard for a brief sprint to the backyard.
“Why didn’t you tell me that Reed was the guy you kissed?”
“I didn’t think it mattered who.”
“It does when the guy is sleeping in the same room as me. It does when everyone else knows but me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, as Zac turned and pushed through the gate. “Not everyone knew.”
He didn’t respond. I stepped inside the fence. The pool chairs looked like hulking shadows in the darkness.
“I know it sounds stupid now, but at the time, I thought I was being kind. I didn’t think there was any reason to say anything. I thought it would be like twisting the knife deeper or something. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I never thought he’d show up here, or end up crashing in your room.”
Zac stuffed his hands in his pockets. He didn’t look at me. “But why didn’t you tell me when we were on the porch, when I told you about the Jenny thing?”
The Jenny Thing. The words seemed to hang in the air above Zac’s head, lit up like a marquee for some tacky strip club.
“Because I wasn’t thinking about Reed.” I placed my hands on my hips.
“And you weren’t thinking of me.” He angled his head enough so I could see his profile, his jaw flexing. “Kind of selfish.”
“Okay, so you think I’m spoiled and selfish. Well, I wasn’t thinking about me, either. In fact, the only thing I could think about that night was you and Jenny. You and Jenny together, you and Jenny kissing, you and Jenny naked.”
Zac’s chin dropped to his chest, and I pushed past him. I dropped into a lounge chair and stared up at the sky. No moon, no more stars. Only charcoal clouds.
Zac pulled a chair next to mine and sat. “I’m serious when I say I wish I could change it, Pinks.”
“I know.” I sighed as I sat up. I threw my legs over the edge until we were facing each other, my knees brushed against the crinkly hair on his calves. “I wish you would’ve told me sooner. Not that I enjoy knowing, or the images that come along with knowing, but I think I know what you mean when you say you feel stupid for being around Reed and not knowing.”
Zac didn’t respond, and I looked at my feet for a second. “I get stuck in my head sometimes. Maybe I am selfish.”
“I don’t know. I get stuck in my head, too. I’m just really mad right now.” Zac pushed his fingers into his forehead.
I swallowed.
Zac dropped his hands. “So, uh, you and Reed?”
“There is no me and Reed. The kiss was only…” I blew out a breath. “A comfort thing.”
Zac’s hand slid from the top of his thigh to rest on my knee. For the briefest second, there was warmth. But then Zac removed his hand and stood. “I called Chloe today when I couldn’t reach you.”
“When?”
“You were at the expo.” He dropped his head back, looking frustrated. “She also said you were with Reed at the beach.”
I recognized his jealousy and got up. “Zac…”
“Were you?”
“Yes, but…”
Zac laced his hands behind his neck and focused on the sky. “Just tell me the truth. Please.”
I stepped closer to him, but he moved closer to the edge of the pool.
“No, Pinks. I want to pound this guy. I hate it that he held you, that he kissed you, that he comforted you. If I’d have known, I would’ve punched his sorry, snoring ass.”
I’d seen Zac mad before but never jealous, and I felt smaller and creepier than a bug because a teeny, tiny, terrible part of me liked it. Shove me in the pool skimmer because I suck.
“Well, in some way, I guess now you know how I feel about Jenny.”
He exhaled, then nodded. He looked sorry and defeated. There was nothing left for us to do about the subjects of Jenny and Reed. All we could do was move on. I thought of what our hang gliding instructor said, Look out, not down, because we had to redirect our path forward in order to steer (and avoid a tumble and a mouthful of sand).
I reached for Zac’s hand, and maybe he misunderstood my gesture, because he stepped back. Only this time, he landed right into the pool.
I crouched next to the edge as Zac surfaced. He wiped his face with his hands.
“You okay?”
He nodded, spitting out water.
“I guess you were looking out and not down?”
“Funny, pinks.”
I tried not to laugh as water dripped from his ear. I reached out to wipe it away. “Can we start over?”
Zac grabbed my hand, his expression softening. “Again, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re okay with me just the way I am? Past and all?”
An image of big-boobed Jenny flashed, and I mentally popped it. “Yes. All of you.”
“As is?” He raised an eyebrow.
I beamed, my own face cracking like dawn. “As is.”
Zac took a hold of my other hand and pulled me into the pool with him.
After our impromptu late night swim, we grabbed a couple of towels and walked back to the driveway, to his truck.
“I got something for you.” He tugged at the cover on the truck bed.
Then he produced a surfboard.
“A surfboard?” I asked, unable to hide my confusion.
“Okay, it’s not exactly for you. I bought it in Hatteras after our lesson. I hoped you’d paint it for me.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You know I love everything you draw and paint, right?”
I ran my hand against the board, noting the lines, the curves. “Do you have an idea of what you want? A theme maybe?”
A smile played on his lips for a moment, but disappeared as he cleared his throat. “Well, something beachy makes sense.”
“Okay. Maybe I could do something that goes in line with my art movement. Pandemonium and the beach. I’ll need to think about that. Although, I don’t have much time. I need to paint ASAP.” I stopped. Zac tapped a fist on his mouth, his eyes practically gleaming. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Whatever you want is fine with me.”
I narrowed my eyes. Was he still laughing? I couldn’t tell. “It’s your board. You should have a say. So, you want beachy. Anything specific?”
Zac set the board in the back of the truck and turned to me, throwing his beach towel around me and drawing me in for a tight hug. He kissed my neck, moving upward to my ear.
I shivered.
Then he grinned and said, “Fiji.”
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Nope. Same with you going all Karate Kid on my dad.”
“How did you see that?”
“You can thank Kong and his photo documentary skills.”
Then Zac kissed me before I could protest.
Chapter 29
Portrait of an Artist, Patchwork Collage
The next morning, I got an early wake up call. From Lily.
“I n
eed you to teach me to draw.”
“Can’t I shower first?”
“But it’s your last day here.”
I shook my head. “Only Joy and Reed are leaving today. Besides, you live right behind me.”
Lily pushed her bottom lip out.
“Okay. Fine. Go get some paper and something to write with.”
Lily hopped out of the room. I rolled out of bed, stretching as I walked to the bathroom. On my way back, I glanced in my mom’s room. Joy was curled up against my mom. I stopped.
I tiptoed closer, noting the rise and fall of their breath. They were sleeping.
So many times I considered my sister too different to be a part of my life. First the partying and self-destruction, then the flaky behavior, the other-worldly advice, and even the sex empowerment speech. Maybe Joy tried too hard to establish her uniqueness, but I knew now that I denied knowing my sister because I wanted the mask of normal, the “supposed to” dream. And maybe I was envious of her uber confidence. Joy never seemed bothered by “supposed to”.
I went to my room and picked up the breathing book my sister was always trying to get me to read. The one she’d not so subtly hid in my duffle bag before I left the farm (even though I still had the first copy she gave me at home).
Lily jumped into my room, paper and pen in hand. “I’m ready.”
I flinched, pressing the book to my chest. “Oh yeah, sneak attack. Now I probably don’t need any coffee to wake up.”
My sarcasm sailed over Lily’s head. She smiled, bouncing on her tiptoes.
“You’re awesome, Lil.” I set the book on my bed and then clapped my hands together. “Okay, let’s get started. I’m going to teach you something called the continuous line doodle.”
“The what?”
I pulled back the desk chair and motioned for her to sit her bouncy self down. “Don’t worry. It’s easy. You just need to start with a line.”
Lily drew a line.
“Okay, now what?” she asked, swinging her feet under the desk.
“Keep your pen on the paper and keep going.”
The Art of Second Chances Page 17
