Her spiral a couple of weeks ago made me realize how much I’ve grown used to the idea of the new her. It’s such a relief to have her happy and present that it makes me wonder what my life would have been like if I never had to know that another side of her existed. What if I had Mom 2.0 all my life? If it wasn’t just her occasional moments of lucidity and my father’s assurances that she loved me that I’d had to go on?
Maybe I’d never have gotten so close to the Cohens. Maybe I’d never have made such a mess of things. Maybe Rowan would still be alive.
I push these thoughts back and say, “Well, we just got back together.”
“Maybe, but he’s been in your life so long, I’d like to at least get to know him better. I feel like I hardly know him.”
“Okay,” I relent. “I’ll ask him.”
“That’s all I want,” she says, smiling.
So that’s the first crappy part of my day. The second is getting out of this camping trip with Willow and Brett.
By the time Willow and I are setting up for our last Camp MORE day for the week, I’ve prepared a list of plausible excuses for why Luke and I shouldn’t crash their couple’s hangout.
A horrific case of food poisoning, for one.
Head lice, contracted from one of the many kids we work with daily. As lice are contagious, Luke could even have them, too, if he wants.
Pinkeye. Again, contracted from a student.
There are literally hundreds of ailments that could potentially keep us from going on this trip, but unfortunately, Willow has managed to figure me out over the few months she has known me.
“I hope you’re ready for tomorrow!” she says brightly as we unstack chairs. “I don’t care what deathly syndrome you suddenly contract, you’re not getting out of it.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she continues. “In fact, if you die, I will personally carry your deceased body and put it in the car with us.” When I blink at her, she covers her mouth with her hand, surprised at her own words. “That took a dark turn.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She places her hands on her hips and looks me up and down. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I avert my gaze. “What? No.”
“Okay, so then what’s the big deal about going away for one night with our boyfriends?” Her eyes widen, and she lowers her voice. “Are you guys, like, saving yourselves or something?”
“No! Oh my God,” I say, my face burning. Unbidden, memories of kissing Luke’s jaw, touching his chest, straddling him flash through my mind.
“Well, I don’t know these things! And I wouldn’t judge even if you were. More power to you. But it’s literally the only thing I can think of that explains the way you’re behaving.”
“I’m not behaving any way,” I insist.
“So let’s just do it, okay? It will be so much fun.”
She’s still singing the same tune when Brett’s Jeep pulls up in front of my house on Saturday morning. It’s an insanely hot day, so I’m dressed in a pink tank top and a pair of shorts.
Brett jumps out and helps me stuff my things in the back, and then I climb in and face Luke, who is wearing the most amused expression on his face. Honestly, I kind of want to slap it.
“Morning,” he says. His lips are almost brushing mine before I remember our audience. The audience we’re not going to be able to shake for the next twenty-four hours. Freaking hell.
His lips linger on mine even a moment after the kiss is over, our faces pressed together, eyes evaluating each other. When Willow clears her throat, I jerk my head back.
“Okay, so as y’all know, this trip is for my vlog, so I’m going to be recording most of it,” she says. “I know being on camera is not Jessi’s favorite thing, but this is a special occasion. Are you guys willing to be in the video, or do I have to, like, spend forever editing out everything that has you in it and look like a friendless jerk?”
“Hey, I’ll be in it,” Brett says.
“My viewers already know you,” Willow says, patting his knee. “I’m talking other friends.”
Luke looks at me. “I’m in if you are.”
Sure, make me look like the bad guy.
“Yeah, I’m not really comfortable being in it,” I say.
Willow sighs.
“Why not?” Brett asks.
“All my fans are super nice,” Willow says. “Not like those internet trolls you always see in the comments section.”
“That’s not it,” I say.
“So what’s the problem?” Willow asks.
I glare at her to convey that I do not appreciate them ganging up on me, but she blinks cluelessly at me. There’s this vulnerability that comes with being on the other side of a camera. It feels like, through a lens, people get to see much more than they ordinarily can. More than I want them to see.
“I’m camera shy,” I say.
“Bullshit,” Luke says. Everybody turns to look him, and he shrugs. “I’m sorry, but bullshit.”
“I’m shy shy,” I say, making him the sole focus of my glaring now.
“Bullshit,” he says again, looking me right in the eye.
“I’m in the witness protection program.”
One corner of his lips twitches up in a smile. “Bull. Shit.”
“Please, Jessi?” Willow says now. “Honestly, I’ll edit you out as much as possible, but it’s just much less work if I’m allowed to feature you a little bit.”
Everyone is silent for a minute, watching me, and it’s completely unfair the way all this is going. I know they’re thinking I’m the most uptight person on the planet, and maybe I am, but . . .
“Fine,” I say at last. “Literally as little of me as possible.”
“Yay!” Willow squeals, and claps her hands together. Within seconds she’s dug out her camera and is recording. Thankfully, Luke is the one directly behind her, not me.
“Hi, Lo Downers, it’s me, Willow. So, thanks to you guys, I’m doing something I’ve never done before. I’m going camping!
“But I’m not going alone. I’m taking my friends . . . Luke.” She swings the camera around to face him, and he gives it a dazzling smile. I’m shaking my head frantically at Willow—she never said anything about introductions—when she points the camera at me. I immediately stiffen and shoot the camera a helpless look. Completely charming.
Not.
“Jessi, say hi!” Willow says.
I give the camera a lame wave, and then, mercifully, she’s turning it on Brett. “And you guys all know my hunny, Brett. Babe, say hi.”
“Sup,” Brett says, throwing up a peace sign. “Are we ready?”
“I think we are!” Willow says, and then Brett starts the car and pulls away from the curb.
NOW
I can’t get comfortable, I can’t relax when Willow’s camera is rolling. She holds it up intermittently throughout our drive, vlogging on and off for the nearly four hours it takes us to reach the camping site. Luke and I sit in opposite corners of the back seat, but the space still feels small and claustrophobic. I spent so much time with Rowan growing up that I must have become desensitized to just how much space a Cohen boy takes up. Luke’s legs are long, and even in the spacious back of Brett’s Jeep, he manages to look cramped. I’ve obviously driven in his car several times since we started this whole dating ruse, but it’s different being up front, with the center console between us. Back here, he is too easy to touch, and the air smells minty and clean, his patented smell.
When the car starts moving, Luke pulls out a paperback and begins to read. I’m glad, because I was worried we’d have to talk and act all loved up for the entire ride. I stare out the window at the landscape, the world of trees and asphalt whizzing by. After a while I’m lulled to sleep by the hum of the car’s engine and the hypnotic scenery.
When I wake up, Brett has steered us off the road and onto a beaten path through the woods. We drive for a couple of miles befo
re he stops at some indiscriminate location under a bunch of pine trees. How it differs from the other clusters of pine trees we passed, I’ll never know.
“We’re here!” Willow says excitedly, holding the camera at arm’s length. We all climb out of the car, and she walks around, filming. “Look at these woods. They’re so . . . natural. Very tall.”
Brett snorts as Willow, having run out of descriptors for the outside world, turns back to human subjects.
“What did you guys do in the back the whole way?”
The camera pans between me and Luke before landing squarely on me. I wither under its gaze as it occurs to me that there’s a good chance my nap has made me a disheveled, drooling mess. I’m going to kill Willow when she turns that thing off, but in the meantime, I scramble for something to say.
“Um . . .”
I startle as Luke’s arm slides around my shoulder. “I read a little. Jess slept.”
“Yep.” I shoot him a grateful look, and he winks at me. I know he’s just turning up the charm for the camera, but butterflies flutter hard inside my stomach.
The four of us spend the next few minutes picking a camping spot. By that I mean, Brett points out a particular section of ground and tells us it’s “the one.”
Naturally, Willow is still filming this, giving her viewers a play-by-play of everything as it happens.
“We have two tents that we’re going to put up next to each other,” she says. “Wish us luck—we have no idea what we’re doing.”
Brett sounds offended, saying, “Speak for yourself. My dad and I used to go camping all the time.”
“But have you ever put up a tent?” Willow challenges.
“Sure,” Brett says, sounding not entirely confident.
“By yourself?”
“I think so,” he says.
Willow turns the camera on herself to give it a skeptical look. “Okay, Brett,” she says.
As it turns out, Willow has a right to her skepticism. Brett has no idea what he’s doing. It takes us three hours before we manage to get the tents upright. And surprisingly, it’s Luke who saves us all in the end.
“Luke, tell us,” Willow says, using a water bottle as a microphone as she pretends to interview him. “Where did you learn such mad skills?”
Luke laughs, totally at ease in front of the camera. Just the way his confidence as a teacher caught me off-guard, I’m surprised by how comfortable he is playing for Willow’s audience. Maybe he’s just a good actor.
The thought stabs me in the gut because it explains why it’s been so easy for him to pretend to be with me these past few weeks. It’s not because there’s still some part of him that loves me . . . he’s just good at pretending.
“I guess my dad . . . we went camping a few times when I was a kid. Must have picked up more from him than I thought.” He says it jovially, like he’s still acting, but he catches my eye at the last second. I’m sitting on a log close by, the sun beating down on my neck and shoulders, and I stare back at him. Only someone who knows him knows how Luke feels about his dad, knows how little he wants to have picked up from him.
It’s as if, by finding my gaze, he’s telling me something. As if he’s acknowledging that he can’t hide the whole truth from me. As if he’s acknowledging that he doesn’t really want to.
I glance away. It’s entirely possible that I’m reading way too much into one look.
“So now that the tents are set up,” Willow tells the camera, “we’re going to go and explore for a bit. There’s supposed to be a river not far off.”
Brett sticks his head into the frame, saying, “I want to go for a swim.”
Willow shakes her head, like he’s crazy. “Is it safe to enter random bodies of water? Let us know in the comments.”
“Hopefully we’re still alive to read them,” Brett says, then laughs at his own joke.
“Actually,” Willow says, turning to Luke again, “Luke’s helpful for a lot of things. He’s also our science guy! Luke, is it safe to enter random bodies of water?”
Willow’s camera follows Luke as he walks over to where I’m sitting and surprises me by pulling me up to my feet. “Depends on a lot of factors,” he says, threading his fingers through mine. Again, I know it is just for show, but my traitorous heart gallops in my chest.
“My hands are all sweaty,” I say, breaking contact with him to wipe my hands on my shorts. It’s just an excuse to get myself under control, to remind my fingers that they are not all nerve endings made to react to one boy’s touch. But I’m kind of hoping I’ve grossed him out enough that he will give up completely on holding hands.
He surprises me yet again by immediately taking my hand and entangling it in his.
My emotions are waging war inside me.
I know he’s feeling confident in the entire act he has going on, but he doesn’t have to be over-the-top affectionate. We could be one of those couples who aren’t into PDA. Is he intentionally trying to remind me what I used to have, what I can never have again? Or is it possible that he’s . . . not acting. That he’s actually getting swept up in all this, that he still likes the feel of my hand in his as much as I like the feel of his in mine.
I stare at his profile as the four of us start to walk, but his face gives me no answers.
So I do something incredibly stupid. I decide to go with it, to imagine just for today that Luke really is my boyfriend. That I love him and he loves me. The first part isn’t at all hard to do, but I pretend the second part is true too.
As we walk hand in hand, I let my body relax, let my hips settle close to his as the four of us go exploring through the woods. It feels a little like a dream, being this close to Luke again. I feel happy and peaceful, even though our hands are sticky with sweat and there’s moisture on every inch of my skin.
“We would choose the hottest day of the year to come camping,” I tell Luke. We’re hanging back as Willow and Brett lead the way, taking footage of our walk and surroundings and the web of trees that form our sky.
“As I’m sure you’ll be reminding me from now until eternity,” Luke says in a low voice that makes tingles spread throughout my body, and I can hear the sound of a smile in his words. “Only some of us chose to be here.”
As I’m sure you’ll be reminding me from now until eternity.
The word eternity echoes through my mind, and God, I wish we had that long. If not the me and Luke from last summer, then at least the me and Luke of right this moment. This moment where we’re pretending our mistakes didn’t happen, that nothing is broken between us.
“At least you’re acknowledging that you dragged me here,” I say, playing along.
“I could never make you do anything. That was more my problem.”
I frown up at him, and we stop walking for a second. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. I guess they call it being whipped. I would have done anything for you,” he says, so close his lips brush my ear.
When he says those words, I actually hate myself. For having that—a place to belong, the thing I most wanted in the world—and losing it. For having him and losing him.
“Lovebirds, you’re falling behind!” Willow says, the camera trained toward us again, and we jump apart like we’ve been caught doing something bad. Behind the camera, Willow grins mischievously at me, but I ignore her.
Luke and I hurry to catch up, and we’ve just reached them when a loud wail cuts through the air.
“What the heck?” Willow says, looking at the rest of us frantically. “Is that a coyote?”
“Nah, babe. It’s some kind of bird,” Brett says, but Willow looks to Luke for confirmation.
“He’s right. Sounds like a bird of some kind.”
Willow resumes walking but gives the rest of us a stern look. “I swear to God, if I get mauled by a coyote, I will come back and haunt whichever of y’all survive.”
The three of us burst out laughing.
“Wills, has any
one told you that you have kind of a dark side?” I ask.
“Right?” Brett exclaims. “Thank you, Jessi! I tell her that all the time. She looks so sweet and innocent . . .”
Willow makes him change course with just a glance.
“Which—er—she is,” Brett finishes, making Luke and me laugh.
All in all, it’s a pretty perfect day. We find the river, and Brett is the only one brave enough to wade into it. We keep hiking through the trees and get lost on the way back to our tents, but none of us is really worried. Luke and I act light and happy and in love. I even start to get used to Willow’s camera. I decide the best approach is to act silly on film. That feels safer, more likable than broken and tired and sad.
So every time Willow’s third eye pans to me, I ham it up. I do a little jig with Brett when we realize we’re headed in the right direction back to the tents. When Willow tells me to do something interesting, I play peekaboo with the camera behind some trees, then spin around under the canopy of leaves with my arms outstretched and my face pointing skyward.
And soon I actually start to feel like I’m the girl I’m pretending to be. I start to feel happy and free, like a whole other Jessi. The entire time, Luke watches me with this small amused smile on his face, and it occurs to me that we never really had a chance to hang out with friends when we were together, because he was away at college. Maybe, with other people around, people other than his family, I’m different from what he thought I was. Or maybe, just for a minute, he sees the Jessi I’m trying to be. Someone other than the girl who destroyed his family, who ruined his life, who broke his heart.
15
NOW
So it turns out the alternate spelling of my name is h-y-p-o-c-r-i-t-e. I’m constantly telling Ernie to go outside and breathe in the fresh air, and I rarely do it myself.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to genuinely smile. To not spend each moment at attention, waiting for the universe to inflict every big blow I deserve. Which isn’t to say that I’ve stopped deserving it. But for the first time in nearly a year, my life isn’t a series of Befores and Afters, of Thens and Nows. It’s just now. This moment with Willow and Brett and Luke. Sure, a lot of it is a façade.
Some Other Now Page 20
