by Andrea Ring
“Finally.”
“And he really is trying to make amends.”
“You’re old enough to decide who you want to be friends with,” Dad says. “But let me give you a piece of fatherly advice: once a snake, always a snake.”
***
At school the next morning, Jay is waiting for me in the parking lot. He gives me a quick kiss.
“So how’d it go with your dad?”
“He still won’t admit my mom has a problem.” I take my backpack and purse out of the car and lock up.
“Your mom? I meant the conversation about us.”
“Oh,” I say, chagrined. I haven’t even filled Jay in about my mom, so I can’t really blame him for glossing over my admission. Yet at the same time, I feel a burst of anger that Jay would make me feel this way. My issues at home are more important than my relationship with him, and while he might not feel the same way, he could at least pretend.
But I squash the anger down.
“We had a decent talk,” I say, hearing Clark’s voice in my head telling me to speak the truth. “He said I can be friends with whoever I want.”
Jay smiles. “Don’t you feel better now? Being upfront with them?”
I nod. “The truth is freeing, definitely.”
As we walk to class, I wonder about my version of the truth. It served my purposes. The pragmatist in me molded the truth to be what Jay needed to hear, and what my dad needed to hear.
Does that still count?
Chapter Twelve
I texted Clark last night and let him know I might be a few minutes late for our meeting—I have a tennis match against Foothill High.
The Foothill courts are brand new, a result of a bond measure, and it kind of depresses me. Our courts at Orange High are so chewed up it looks like someone took a weed whacker to them. I’ve gotten so used to the cracks that I automatically dodge them, even during a tough point. Sometimes an opponent will hit a ball and it’ll go through one of the tears in the net, and you have to spend fifteen minutes convincing them that the ball really didn’t go over the top.
The courts may be new, but the Foothill coach, Dennis Claus, has been around forever. When I was a freshman, I remember him introducing himself to me and commenting that even though my game looked great, it would look much better if I wore the Foothill logo.
He was joking. I think.
Coach Claus approaches me as I unload my bag, and we shake hands.
“We missed playing you last season,” he says. “We heard you were sick. I hope everything’s okay.”
I nod. “Much better. Does that mean you’re gonna go easy on me?”
He smiles. “Not a bit. Let me see what you’ve got.”
Normally, it’s sort of bad etiquette for the opposing coach to eye you and critique your game. But I find it flattering that after a serious bout with cancer, someone still sees me as a threat. I warm up with my teammate Brandi, and we pound the ball at each other. I’m feeling good, my backhand rockets across the net, but my forehand is still off.
“Leni!” Coach Claus waves me over to the fence, and I jog over to talk to him.
“Try hitting off your back foot on the forehand,” he says. “You have the stroke, but your balance is off.”
“I thought I should be stepping into it,” I say.
“That’s what I’d tell a novice to do. You’re not a beginner. Try it.”
I nod and run back into position.
My first few forehands are awkward, as I try to create speed while leaning back. But suddenly things click. I’m starting off on my back foot, yes, but I find that this perfectly places me to propel forward. I have more forward motion.
I never thought I could move forward by going back.
***
Playing at number two singles, I win my first match easily. But my second match is against Foothill’s number one, a girl ranked in Orange County. I don’t usually stress about my matches—I play as hard as I can, and whatever happens, happens, even if I want to win. But I’m eyeing this girl from the bench, waiting for her first match to finish against Brandi, and I’m actually thinking I can take her.
She doesn’t like to get to the net. Her second serve is a little weak. I can capitalize on those things.
She beats Brandi and takes a few minutes to catch her breath before we start. Brandi approaches me, to discuss our opponent, I think, but she’s kind of giggling.
“What’s up?” I ask her. Usually, losing puts her in a lousy mood.
“Totally hot guy watching the matches,” she says, slugging back her water.
“Anyone we know?” I ask, thinking that maybe Jay or Woz came to see my match. But if it were them, Brandi would have just said that.
“Never seen him,” she says. “I think we’d know him if he went to our school. Must be from Foothill or somebody’s brother. He’s got a mohawk.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline.
Brandi squints at me. “You know him?”
I nod. “I know a guy with a mohawk, but there’s no reason for him to be here.”
“True,” she says. And then she laughs. “I mean, no offense, but if Jay’s your type…”
“I didn’t know I had a type,” I say. “Jay’s really the only guy I ever dated.”
“And you’re still together, right?”
I kind of nod.
Brandi grins. “So what’s Mr. Mohawk’s deal?”
“I came to see Leni play.”
We both spin around and find ourselves face-to-face with Clark. I am beyond mortified. I cannot even speak.
Brandi doesn’t share my reaction.
“Hi,” she says. “I’m Brandi.” She sticks out her hand.
Clark shakes it without looking at her. “Clark.”
“What are you doing here?” I finally say.
“You said you had a match. Fans are allowed to come watch, right?”
But you’re twenty-two. You go to college—shit, you’re past college! You’re busy. You have a life. I’m nothing to you. Why would you bother? I can’t believe you bothered. I’m stunned. You’re amazing. I’m gonna faint. A zillion things zoom through my head as I try to figure out what to say.
“Right?” he says again.
“Uh, yeah, okay, sure,” I say. Smooth, Leni, smooth.
Clark just grins. “We can leave for our date from here,” he says.
Brandi gapes. “Your date? What about—”
“Not a date-date,” I say quickly. “A coffee date. I mean, a work date. A school date.” I blow out a breath. “Not a date. Clark is helping me with a school project.”
“Uh huh,” Brandi says, grinning.
“Leni, you’re up,” my coach calls.
“I have to, you know,” I say to Clark.
He gives me a wink. “Beat the crap out of her.”
Brandi laughs.
I just blink and walk to my court.
***
“I didn’t know you were that good,” Clark says as we take our seats and sip our coffee.
“Is that a compliment?” I ask him.
“Yeah, actually. You never mentioned it.”
“Mentioned what? I lost that match against their number one.”
“But you frustrated the hell out of her,” he says with a smile. “She was a great player, and you totally gave her a run for her money.”
“Big whoop. I still lost.”
“Is that how you measure your worth? Whether you win or lose?”
“I…no.”
“Then what’s the deal? Take the compliment. It’s the truth.”
I smile at him. “Thanks. I guess I’m just embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?”
“That you saw me lose. I wanted to win, for you. Not for you,” I correct quickly when he grins, “I mean, with you watching.” I tell myself to just shut the hell up before I say anything else ridiculous.
But my verbal slip is already out there, and it seems to have put Clark in a fine mood.
“Okay,” he says, leaning forward. “New topic. You asked me what I want to do with my life. I’m asking you the same question.”
Somehow, I knew this question would come up eventually.
“Truth?”
He nods.
“I want to raise a family. Be comfortable, be happy.”
“What about school? You must have applied by now.”
“Sure. Maybe school.”
“Maybe school?” He practically snorts. “You’re Linda’s prize student, and you maybe want to go to school?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Enlighten me.”
I sigh. “My mom…I have a baby sister. She’s not even two yet. And my mom isn’t…she doesn’t…she isn’t handling it well.”
“What? Having another child?”
I nod. “After Jeremy…she just hovers. She can’t sleep for fear that something will happen to the baby at night. She’s not taking care of herself. I think…I might end up being the one raising her.”
Clark whistles through his teeth. “What about your dad?”
“He works. He’s oblivious. They haven’t really been close since, you know, and I was so young, I don’t even know if they ever had a strong marriage.”
“Have you tried talking to him?”
I think about our trip to Ojai.
“A little bit. He just thinks she needs time. And I think that if twelve years haven’t been enough, she’s probably not going to recover.”
“Then why have another baby?”
I shrug.
“Wow. You’re handling a lot of shit.”
“I guess.”
I feel Clark studying me, but I can’t look at him.
“My parents are drinkers,” he says casually, as though discussing the state of the roads. “I pretty much took up their hobby when I was ten in self-defense. It was easier dealing with them when I was wasted, too.”
“Ten? Wow. I’m so sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be. It’s the hand I was dealt and the choices I made. They helped make me who I am.”
“Is that the truth,” I ask, “or were you forced to become this person on your own?”
“Same difference,” he says. “Deliberate or not, here I am.”
“I like the person that you are,” I tell him.
“Thank God you didn’t know me a few years ago. I was wasted most of the time, angry most of the time, hell-bent on self-destruction. And I wanted to take the world with me.”
“So what changed?”
Clark sips his coffee and smiles. “A girl.”
“Love can change things,” I say. “I hope.”
Clark laughs. “I wish it were like that, but it wasn’t. She was my best friend’s girlfriend, and they found out she was pregnant. My friend took off.”
“Asshole,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “It wasn’t pretty. And one night we’re drinking and I offer her a hit off my bong, ‘cause we both knew there’s no way she was keeping the baby, and she just grabs it from my hand and throws it at the wall, outta the blue. And I don’t react at all. I’m covered in noxious bong water and bits of glass, and I don’t even move. I mean, if anything, it was kinda funny, ‘cause I’m, like, completely gone, and she says, ‘You know, Clark, I have no idea how to be a mother. My mom never did one thing right my entire life. But you know what? I had the perfect role model. The perfect role model of what not to do. I’m done with this shit.’ And she left.”
“Whoa,” I say.
“Yeah. I drank another six-pack thinking about what she said. Woke up with my head pounding, my stomach empty, and nothing in the fridge but a bottle of ketchup. I flushed all the drugs I had down the toilet, and a few months later, I moved back in with my parents.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
Clark picks up his coffee and speaks staring at the plastic lid. “Honor thy mother and thy father. And, you know, I’m saving money.”
Those don’t seem like good enough reasons to me, but I don’t tell Clark that.
I think he just needs to fill the silence when he says, “It’s all about choices. We all have them. Just have to make the ones we can live with.”
“Clark,” I say, “do you believe these truth philosophers?”
He finally looks up at me. “When I’m talking to myself, I do. I have to be totally honest with myself or I’ll start using again.”
Jay suddenly pops into my head. I wanted to believe all along that I love him, that some part of him deserves that love. Maybe, though, he’s just been my addiction, and not being honest with myself keeps me using.
“Leni?” Clark says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“What are you thinking about so hard?”
“I was…do you think it’s possible to be addicted to things other than drugs?”
“Of course.”
“Like what?”
“Like attention. Like drama. Like another person. Coffee. Facebook. I think human beings have made an art form of addiction.”
“So how does a person get free?” I ask.
Clark shifts in his chair so that he’s sitting up straight. “They have to decide they want something better. That they want a different life. That’s the only way. I mean, all those programs, the twelve-step bullshit and the colon cleanses and the ‘love yourself’ mantras—they only work when you decide they’re going to work. You choose to break free.”
“It’s that easy?” I say. “Just a choice.”
He shakes his head. “Not easy. Not fucking easy at all. It’s the hardest choice a person ever has to make.”
Chapter Thirteen
“So how are your meetings with Clark going?”
I smile at Dr. Jones. “Clark is amazing. Thank you so much for getting us together. He really knows his stuff.”
She frowns slightly, and I wonder what I said that was wrong.
“And what have you two been discussing lately?”
“The latest thing we’ve talked about is the truth movement, where truth is the ultimate goal and no one should tell even one lie, no matter how small.”
Her frown deepens.
“And what side of the argument did Clark fall on?”
“Truth, mostly,” I say, scared to say anything else.
“Mostly?”
“Well, I think we both agreed that self-deception in any form is destructive, but the total-truth argument can get ridiculous.”
“Did Clark give an example of this?”
I tell her his “truth” about my shirt.
She laughs.
“Well, he’s not trying to charm you, then,” she says, visibly relaxing.
I want to tell her that Clark charms without even trying, but I wisely say, “Not at all.”
“Good. I was regretting putting the two of you in touch, but Clark…he’s a good person, and I’m worrying needlessly.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I blurt out, hoping to put her at ease on the Clark front.
“And you are currently on the outs, if my powers of observation are correct. And those outs seemed a little too timely to me.”
Whoa. I need to watch out for Dr. Jones. She’s scary.
“Not totally on the outs,” I say. “We’re working on it. It has nothing to do with Clark. Jay and I are back together now, and anyway, Clark can have his pick at UCLA. Why would he be interested in a high school girl?”
“Oh, Leni,” she says, shaking her head.
I grit my teeth, but force my face to stay blank.
Of course Clark wants me. Well, not of course, but I do know enough to know he wants me. What he wants exactly, I have no idea. But I’m not as clueless as Dr. Jones seems to think.
Truth, in this case, though, is better left unsaid.
Chapter Fourteen
Jay takes me to a park after work. We sit side by side on the swings and, well, swing.
�
�Do you think we should take two cars up to Stanford?” he asks. “I hear we won’t need even one.”
“I think you’ll only need one car,” I say, confused.
“But will it be enough? You might want to drive down to visit your parents, and then I’d be stuck without a car. But maybe I won’t need one.”
“Jay.”
“What?”
He looks so serious, his legs dragging in the sand, his long fingers clenched around the chains. How does a six-and-a-half-foot tall guy look serious on a swing?
“We don’t even know if I got in to Stanford yet,” I say.
“You will.”
I sigh. “Even if I did,” I say slowly, hoping it will penetrate the first time, “I can’t go.”
“What? Why?”
“My parents. Bea. I have to be here for them.”
“Leni, you’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You get to make some decisions for yourself.”
“I know,” I say, picking up speed to distance myself. “This is the decision I’m making.”
Jay swears loudly, kicking at the sand. “So you’ll just give up Stanford. Your dreams.”
“I’m not giving up anything,” I say, flying high. “I’m choosing something else.”
“You’re giving up me.”
“Jay.”
“Raz and Baby T are going to Arizona State together, whether they both get in or not. Did she tell you that?”
“That’s a totally different situation,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says. “Unlike us, they love each other and want to be together.”
And I explode, jerking to a stop and sending sand flying from my feet. “You think this is easy for me? You think I want to stay here, maybe raise a child when I’m still one myself? Pander to my crazy mother? You honestly think I wouldn’t rather leave all this behind and lose myself with you?”
I jump from the swing, grab his chains, and jerk him to a stop.
“Of course I want to go! I’ve earned it! I want it so bad my heart is straining against my chest! But I couldn’t live with myself if I left. I couldn’t…I love you so much that it hurts. It hurts to be with you because I know I can’t have you, not forever. You have to leave, and I have to stay, and it hurts.”
