Friends and Liars

by Kaela Coble

  “Wow, your mom is giving Murphy a graduation present? And I saw one on the counter for you, too. You guys really are like family.” It seems she is reassuring herself more than looking for confirmation.

  “Speaking of which,” she says, “I’m really sorry about, you know, your family situation.”

  I stare at her blankly. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, Murphy told me about your mom and how she’s a little,” Taylor circles her temple with her finger, “and how your dad moved out for a while until she stopped,” and she simulates glugging a bottle. “That must have been really hard for you. That’s why, when he told me he worried about breaking your pact to go to prom together, I was like ‘Oh my God, I totally understand. The poor girl has been through enough, without getting ditched right before prom!’”

  I want to burrow into the ground and never come out. Not only did Murphy share the personal details of my life with this little tween, but he actually made it seem like he felt sorry for me? And now this little toddler is in on the pity party?

  “Yeah. So, look, I really have to get going. Can you give this to Murphy for me?” I shove the envelope in her hands and turn to leave, but not before Cecile catches my eye. It looks as though she’s been watching me and Taylor. She points to the side entrance of the house and waves me over. I consider ignoring her, but she starts to wave me over emphatically, so I obey, following her into the kitchen.

  Handing me the envelope with RUBY printed in block letters on the front, she pulls me into a hug and says, “For the daughter I never had.” For Cecile, this is an emotional scene of epic proportion. Maintaining her firm grip, she says, “I’m so glad you came into Murphy’s life, and mine.” Just as the tears start to line my eyelids, she whispers into my hair, “And I’m so, so sorry.”

  I pull away, looking at her eyes. Pity. A less patronizing pity than was in Taylor’s eyes moments before, but pity all the same. Cecile knows. Of course she knows. Of course Murphy would share our story with his mother. Of course her opinion would carry the most weight with him. Suddenly his words, you would come home and I’d be so happy, and then you would just leave again float through my head in the low, gravelly tone of Cecile’s voice. It was her who advised against the heartache of a long-distance relationship. She can say she thinks of me as a daughter, but the long and the short of it is: I’m not. Murphy is her son, her baby, and she has to think about what’s best for him. No matter if she’s actually right. No matter who gets hurt.

  I can’t think of anything to say back to her. When I try, nothing comes out but a pathetic little squeak. I hold the envelope up to her to make sure she sees it, before dropping it on her kitchen counter with a thwack. Wordlessly, I exit the kitchen and climb into my car. As if sensing my presence, Murphy’s eyes connect with mine before I press down hard on the clutch to shift into reverse.

  The ringing phone pierces through the scene playing on the backs of my eyelids. It is an unwelcome sound, at once vanishing the streets of Paris and the harmonica and Murphy and I dancing in our prom-wear. I wince my eyes open and quickly reach out to pick up the portable from my bedside table.

  “Hello?” I croak.

  “Ruby St. James, where the hell have you been?” Ally’s voice comes barreling through the receiver.

  “Um,” I start, unsure how to explain. I haven’t spoken to Ally, or anyone from the crew, since Graduation Day, two weeks ago. And if it hadn’t been for the knee-jerk reaction of being woken from a sound sleep, I wouldn’t even have answered the phone now.

  “And why do you sound like you’re sleeping? It’s two o’clock in the afternoon!”

  Is it? I glance over my shoulder at my clock radio to confirm. It’s across the room, strategically placed to force me out of bed to turn off the alarm each morning. The clock is another thing I’ve neglected since graduation. I’ve actually rearranged my shifts at The Exchange to afternoons, so I can wring every possible second of unconsciousness from the day. I panic for a second, thinking I am late for the second time this week (after assuring Donna I would never let it happen again), before I remember it’s Sunday. The Exchange is closed, because everyone in town is at church instead of shopping for sweaters priced at $7.95.

  “I must have dozed off reading,” I lie, trying to force some cheeriness, or at the very least normalcy, into my voice.

  “Oh yeah? Must be one hell of a book to forget about your friends for two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry, Al, I haven’t meant to ignore you. I just have all this summer reading to do.” I clench my teeth after I say it. Not only am I lying, but I’m bringing up a sore subject to deflect attention. Ally found out I was going to NYU from Murphy; I didn’t tell her myself. She was hurt and confused that I kept it from her, or at least that’s what she says. She’s really just offended I’m going away at all. To her, it’s a comment on her own choice to stay in Vermont.

  She is quiet.

  “I’ve missed you,” I say, placating her. “What’s new?”

  “Oh, not much. Aaron is spending more time playing basketball at Barnard Park than with me. I know we’re not going to be that far away from each other next year, but it would be nice if he wanted to spend some time with his girlfriend.”

  “That sucks . . . And how’s Murphy?” I try to ask casually. I don’t want to know, but I desperately want to know.

  A pause, then, “You don’t know?”

  “Don’t know what? What happened?” I ask. Did a tree fall on him? Did Taylor dump him? Is he in New York City, trying to figure out if he could live there with me? I don’t have time to contemplate which one would be preferable.

  “Nothing,” she rushes to say, “I don’t mean something happened. I mean, he’s been kind of a prick lately. I think he’s bummed that Taylor is away at horse camp, or whatever. I just mean, you don’t know how Murphy is? I figured you were at least keeping in touch with him.” Resentment drips from her voice.

  “Horse camp?” I say, ignoring her jab.

  “Yeah, you know, she’s riding horses and shit. Aquarium camp, or whatever.”

  “Equestrian?” I offer, a smile beginning to twitch at my lips.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.” We both laugh. I bask in the thought of Taylor being away and Murphy being miserable. Then I have a sudden, wonderful thought—maybe Taylor dumped him before she went away; or better, maybe he dumped her, realizing he made a mistake when he chose her over me. Maybe that’s what he’s been calling to tell me, and I should have picked up the phone when I saw his number appear on the caller ID, just once out of the sixteen times. Suddenly, I have to know. But I can’t ask Ally or she’ll know something’s up, especially considering my hibernation. And I can’t simply call him. If I’m wrong, what kind of conversation will that be? I can’t imagine anything more painful or humiliating.

  “So there’s a party at Luke’s tonight. In his field,” Ally says.

  “Luke?”

  “Danny’s friend, from the garage?”

  I murmur acknowledgment, even though I can’t find Luke’s face in my memory. I’m too occupied with thinking of all the things I want to say to Murphy.

  “We’re all going. It would be nice if you could take a study break long enough to see your oldest and dearest friends.”

  Suddenly it feels like that’s exactly what’s in order. A nice, big party with lots of people around. I can put in some face-time with the crew to alleviate my guilt. Plus, a bonfire is an easy enough setting to pull someone into a cornfield for a chat. Lots of shadows.

  I ride to the party with Ally and Aaron, deep into the countryside. I’m quiet in the back of Aaron’s pickup, the nerves from being out in public again, being around the people I no longer belong with, pulsing under my skin. The sun went down hours ago, leaving only a vague outline of the trees flying past my window. I wish I could jump out and hide up the highest one, so high that no one could see me.

  Most of our graduated (or not graduated) class is there. Danny hugs me and
Ally and slaps Aaron five, asking him to be his beer-pong partner. Aaron is known as King Pong in some circles. Murphy and Emmett haven’t arrived yet, but Tara sees Ally and me and extricates herself from a crowd of rising senior girls. She drags us off for a half hour to strategize about how to act around Emmett, now that they have officially broken up. I try to be sympathetic, but I know they’ll be wrapped around each other by the time their fifth beer is popped. Not that I’m in a position to judge anyone on their self-control.

  When Emmett and Murphy pull in, Emmett unloads the bright-orange cooler, fishes out a cold one, and makes a beeline for the group of basketball players that just so happens to be at the opposite side of the field from me and the girls. I think he’s avoiding Ally more than Tara, since Ally is the one who will call him a dickhead for the way he broke it off. Even though they had previously discussed ending things at the end of the summer, unceremoniously showing up at Tara’s house with a box full of CDs, books, and clothes she left in his car was not the proper way to end a four-year relationship. Meanwhile Murphy struggles to balance the tent bag, tarp, and sleeping bags. He spots me, looking surprised. As if in two weeks he’s forgotten I existed. I remind myself of the sixteen phone calls, but it doesn’t help. “Tuesday, lend me a hand?” he calls out.

  “No,” I reply, in what I hope is a cool tone. Suddenly the idea of being even semi-alone with him makes me panicky. But when I turn back to Ally and Tara, they are both looking at me in surprise, so I sigh inwardly and go.

  I grab the sleeping bags and follow him out way past the fire, almost to the corn. We are silent as we try to get the poles to come together through the little loops in the burgeoning darkness.

  “You and Em looking for a little alone time tonight?” I ask, noticing how far away we are from the other tents. These are the first words I’ve spoken to him since that day at our lockers. The day my heart shattered.

  He laughs. “I doubt Emmett will be bunking with me tonight,” he says, tilting his head to a spot a little way away from the fire, where Tara and Emmett now stand arguing. “First step: fight; second step: get drunk; third step: fuck each other’s brains out.”

  I want so badly to laugh, for everything to be back the way it was just a few months ago. But it isn’t, and I can’t. “So why do you need so much privacy?” I can practically taste the acid dripping from my words.

  He tosses the rain guard over the peak, even though there isn’t a cloud in the sky. “I just wanted to talk to you. You haven’t answered any of my calls.”

  “Well, I don’t understand why you’re calling.”

  He looks genuinely taken aback.

  “Because—”

  I interrupt him, knowing this is my chance to ask the question I came here to ask. “Is it because you grew a set and changed your mind? Is it because you and Taylor aren’t together anymore?”

  He sighs deeply. “No.”

  Of course not. How is it possible I had hoped for anything else? Has the part of me who’s grown up with my parents’ fucked-up version of love learned nothing? “Well then, what’s the point? You made your decision. I’m not going to beg you to be with me, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

  “That’s not what I’m waiting for.”

  But why? I want to ask. How could you not want that? After what you said to me? After what I said to you?

  “I’m waiting,” he continues, “for my best friend to come back.”

  “Hold your breath until she does,” I say, dropping the edge of the rain guard and spinning to leave. With every step back toward the crowd, I force myself to calm my breathing, to stand up straight, to not let them see the effect Murphy’s had on my heart. Despite my best efforts to appear casual about it, I believe later they will say I stormed up to where Emmett and Tara are fighting. I walk directly between them and pull Tara away. “Come on,” I say to her, “you don’t need this bullshit. Let’s fill up, before the keg is tapped.”

  After filling a red Solo cup to the brim and losing Tara again to her drama with Emmett, I spot Danny sitting alone, his legs dangling from the deck of Luke’s ranch-style house. The flames from the bonfire barely reach his face, but I can tell he is sulking. “Aaron’s off his game tonight,” he says, shaking his head as I hoist myself up next to him. He’s drunk. And what’s worse is, tonight he is Sad Drunk Danny instead of Fun Drunk Danny. And I’m fixing to be Stupid Drunk Ruby. This is not a good combination.

  “It’s just a game, dude,” I say, forcing a casual air to my voice to lighten the mood. nudging him with my elbow.

  “I know!” he says. “I’m not stupid.”

  “I never said you were s—”

  “Where you been?” he cuts me off. He slugs down the rest of his beer, crushes the empty cup in his hand, and lobs it angrily at a small group of lacrosse players gathered about fifteen feet away from us. They give us the finger and move along when Danny stretches out his arms, challenging them to do something about it.

  I take a sip from my cup to buy some time. As usual, the taste makes my stomach turn a little, but I’m determined to push through it. “I’ve been around,” I say.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Seriously! I’ve been getting ready for school. Driving to Drummond to get stuff I need for my dorm, doing my summer reading.” I haven’t done any of these things. I should be more ready than ever to get the hell out of here, but thinking about New York makes me feel sick now. “Plus, you know, hanging out with the girls before I go,” I throw in for good measure, even though he knows as well as anyone that the girls of the crew haven’t ever been my first priority.

  He snorts lightly. “The girls,” he says. He looks at me, and I see my lie in his eyes. “And what the hell is going on with you and Murphy?”

  My pulse quickens. “What do you mean?”

  “The only time I’ve seen you in the same area since graduation was right over there,” he points to the cornfield where Murphy’s tent is set up, “and you were fighting.”

  “Oh,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “That. He said something insensitive about Hardy being here tonight. You know Murph.”

  He nods, still looking at me like he knows I’m full of it. I don’t know if he knows the truth about what happened between me and Murphy, and I can’t ask. I can’t hear the disappointment in his voice that I snuck around behind his back. That I kept such a secret from him, when he’s always told me even the worst of the things he’s done. That I’m now choosing to nurse my heartbreak alone, rather than share my misery with him, as always. As long as these things remain unspoken, maybe I can keep up the illusion that we are all just good friends, that I am an excited upcoming college freshman, ready to bust out of this wasteland of a town.

  So we sit in silence until Ally and Aaron approach us, followed by Emmett, then Murphy. One by one, each of them hoists themselves onto the side of the deck, their legs dangling off the side like mine and Danny’s. Just as always, we are sequestered from the outsiders, creating a wall of friendship we’re all too afraid to admit is crumbling.

  After my second keg stand, Murphy pulls me aside.

  “Ruby, what the hell are you doing?” he demands, as if he has any right.

  “What?” I ask, lifting my hands. “I’m having fun.” My speech, I notice, is slightly slurred. I didn’t sink any of the cups in my three beer-pong games, which means I had to drink all the ones my partner didn’t sink himself.

  “Yeah, well, the last time you had ‘fun’ like that with Hardy Crane,” he lowers his voice now, realizing he’s treading on dangerous territory, “it didn’t end well for you. Remember that night?”

  I poke him in the forehead, which, after I do it, seems like quite a silly thing to do. He grabs my finger, gently, and doesn’t let go. I rear back from him. “Actually, I don’t really remember. Do you remember . . . when you told me you loved me?” I hiccup at the end of this, my eyes filling with tears.

  “Tuesday—”

  “I told you not to c
all me that anymore. Only my friends can call me that.”

  “Oh, like your good friend Hardy?”

  “He’s just my beer-pong partner. What happened with us was a long time ago.”

  “Yeah and you worked really hard to put him behind you.”

  “What do you care, Murphy?” I hiss at him. “It’s none of your business who I do and do not fuck.”

  “Why are you being like this? What the hell happened to you?”

  I’m so angry my vision actually blacks out for a moment. Although, to be fair, the beer might have contributed to this effect. What happened to me? You happened to me, you fucking prick. You happened. To my horror, my entire body starts to shake. I’m afraid if I try to speak, a rage unlike anything I’ve ever known will be unleashed, and I won’t be able to stop myself from strangling him.

  “What’s going on over here?” a voice says. Hardy appears by my side.

  “Stay the hell out this, Hardy,” Murphy warns.

  “Ruby, are you okay?” he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him possessively.

  “No,” I say, looking straight into Murphy’s eyes. “I wanna get outta here. Where’s your truck?” The look in Murphy’s eyes is at least in the same ballpark as what I’ve been feeling for the last month, but as I walk away with Hardy, I’m nowhere near vindicated. Not yet.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  RUBY

  Now

  I didn’t think it was possible to be more nervous about going back to Chatwick than I was for Danny’s funeral, but as I maneuver my rental car onto I-89 in Drummond, only thirty minutes away, I hold the steering wheel in a death grip to steady my shaking hands. I rented a car this time, so Nancy won’t have to drive all the way to and from the airport twice; and because the universe has a fantastic sense of irony when it comes to me, the only car available at Hertz was a Nissan Sentra. This one, about fifteen years newer than the one currently rusting in my parents’ garage, has nothing on Blue. Sure, it has power steering, but that only serves to jerk me wildly off-course with every surge of nerves. I do have to hand it to the winter tires, though. Blue’s tires are more suited for a bike ride on a flat, even surface than a drive on Vermont roads, with their frost heaves and black ice.