by Amie Knight
I looked over at her too. Her face looked serious and solemn. She knew as well as I did what Momma was trying to say. Lori’s mother hadn’t nurtured her, fed her, or loved her. She didn’t deserve Lori’s devotion. She didn’t deserve Lori’s sadness on this special day.
Lori nodded thoughtfully.
Momma opened her car door. “Well, let’s get this show on the road, baby dolls.”
We spent the afternoon walking around the shelter and petting every dog and cat in the place. It took Lori a long time to decide on a pet. There were so many there that needed good homes, but she finally chose a black-and-white kitten she dubbed Patches. The kitten cried the whole way home, but Lori cradled her in her lap, cooing and soothing her. Each time I looked over, Lori would grin back at me. Her happiness made me so happy in return. Every smile felt like an important gift given to me. And it was. I promised myself I’d never take her love for granted.
When we pulled up in the driveway, I saw Adrian sitting on the front porch steps in black slacks, a red, short-sleeve shirt with a collar, and, of course, those God-forsaken suspenders I adored. Handsome devil. In his hands, he held a small box wrapped in lavender paper with a white bow tied around it. He hit us with his grin as we parked.
Lori jumped from the car first and raced toward him. “Blue, will your daddy let you camp out tonight with us in the backyard? Aunt Jessi said we could have pizza and s’mores!”
I was smiling, making my way up the sidewalk to the front porch, when I noticed it. The small cut on Adrian’s lip.
He must have seen my face fall, because he hugged Lori to him and, over her shoulder, mouthed, “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. A pain like I’d been kicked in the stomach hit me. I hadn’t seen a mark on him lately, so I thought things were getting better, but clearly, I was wrong. I felt so small and helpless. There was nothing I could do to help him other than tell my mother, who in return would feel obligated to call social services. I couldn’t do that to him. I didn’t want to ruin Lori’s birthday, but this was awful. I was pretty sure she had no idea what was going on with Adrian and his father. But I couldn’t let this go. Adrian and I would be having a talk about this later.
Momma made our way past us and into the house, promising to call Adrian’s daddy to make sure he was allowed to camp with us.
Adrian picked Lori up and spun her around, the lavender gift pressed firmly against her back and Patches tucked snugly between them. “Happy birthday to the prettiest girl in the world.”
I actually stumbled back a step before I realized it. Why did that hurt? I loved Lori. And God knew she needed those compliments more than anyone else. But, for some reason, those words rolling off his tongue and directed at her stung. Guilt and jealousy battled within me. I shook my head and attempted to snap myself out of it.
When Adrian stopped spinning, Lori pulled back and introduced him to Patches. He took the kitten from her, gave Patches a cuddle, and then passed Lori the lavender box.
Lori’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Eek! You got me a present!” she exclaimed.
I loved how, every year, she got so excited and seemed genuinely surprised that Adrian had thought of her enough to give her a gift.
“Loralie Nicole James, I always get you a present and I always will, so go on and open it.” Adrian sat on the porch steps with the kitten in his lap, so I sat on one side of him and Lori sat on the other.
She slowly untied the white bow and unwrapped the lavender paper so carefully that it seemed like maybe she was thinking of saving it, and maybe she was. A white jewelry box came into view, and she pulled the paper back.
“I’m so excited,” she said while nervously bouncing her legs.
I had to admit I was pretty intrigued myself. Adrian usually got us toys, books, or some other thoughtful but generic gift. Jewelry seemed so intimate and personal. I felt the beginnings of dread pool in my stomach.
Lori pulled the white lid back and revealed a heart. A small, white-gold heart locket hung on a delicate chain. It was dainty and beautiful, and I was instantly jealous. I hated myself for it. Lori deserved beautiful gifts from someone she loved. Still, that rationale didn’t stop the golf-ball-sized envy obstructing my throat or the sheen of jealousy in my eyes. Lori lifted the tiny locket, and I looked away. I couldn’t watch. It was too much. Why had he given her such a cherished gift? I felt betrayed somehow and I didn’t even understand why. Adrian wasn’t my boyfriend or anything even close to that. We were only friends, just like he and Lori. Only this gift to Lori felt like something big was happening. Something only between them. Something that didn’t include me.
“Oh, God, Adrian, I love it so much. It’s the prettiest gift I have ever gotten.”
I looked over as she was opening the locket. My stomach twisted, and it felt like a house was sitting on my chest. I couldn’t watch, so I got up and made my way into the house. I didn’t want to see what was inside. A picture of Adrian on one side and her on the other, me nowhere in sight.
“The prettiest gift for one of my favorite pretty girls,” I heard him say as I closed the door and ran for the bathroom so I could hide my tears behind a closed door.
I was an awful person. I had no right to cry. I didn’t have any reason to be so completely hurt or mad. But I was. Adrian had given another girl his heart and broken mine. Completely. To make matters worse, this girl was my cousin, my sister, my best friend in the world.
I slid down the bathroom door and sat on the floor, burying my face in my knees so no one would hear my sobs. I hated myself for crying like this. God, I’d thought he was mine. Nights of comforting Adrian when he’d fought with his daddy ran through my head. How he’d only told me his secrets. Our shared moments on the porch and by the creek. How could I have been so wrong? I needed to get myself together, get back out there, and pretend I was deliriously happy, but I couldn’t muster it. I didn’t know how long I’d sat there, crying and feeling sorry for myself, but eventually, I heard a tap on the door.
“Yes,” I answered quietly. Crap. I could hear the tears in my voice. I wasn’t ready yet. I was too raw.
“Ainsley, wasn’t my present beautiful?” It was Lori.
I knew she wanted to gush about her gift, and I didn’t want to let her down. It was what best friends did. We told each other everything, and when we received an epic gift, we talked about it and mooned over it like best friends would. I didn’t want to talk about her locket. But I would. For her.
“Yep, Lori. The very best,” I said from my spot on the bathroom floor. I was furiously wiping my eyes and my face. I needed to get cleaned up and get back out there. She would eventually start to question why I had been in there so long.
“Adrian’s beautiful too, isn’t he, Ainsley?”
Even through the bathroom door, I could hear the longing in her voice. I felt fresh tears hit my cheeks, and I choked a sob back. But I didn’t want to lie to her.
I thought Adrian was the most beautiful boy in the world, so I said, “Yep, the most beautiful boy in the world.” I hoped my trembling words didn’t betray me.
I could hear what sounded like Lori sitting on the other side of the door, settling in. I pictured her leaning up against the other side in almost the exact position I was in. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. Had Adrian unknowingly thrown up a huge wall between Lori and me? The wall being, well, himself?
“He kind of looks like a prince, ya know? In those suspenders and always looking so handsome.” She giggled softly, and then she continued. “You think the girl he marries will be a princess? Beautiful and always in frilly dresses? Maybe she’ll wear a tiara instead of suspenders?” She got quiet again, and I wondered if she was picturing herself as Adrian’s princess.
My heart clenched. Lori deserved a prince. She did. And I wanted her to have one, but why did it have to be him? And why wasn’t I the one for him? What was wrong with me? But I knew I couldn’t let Adrian put walls up between Lori and me. She n
eeded me as much as, if not more than, I needed her. She needed Adrian too. I loved her too much to be so terribly jealous and envious. This had to stop. I needed to suck it up, get out there, and celebrate her birthday.
I stood up and looked in the mirror over the sink. My face was blotchy, so I threw some water on it and wiped it with the hand towel hanging next to me. I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. Lori must have been leaning against the door, because she fell in at my feet. We were both giggling as I helped her up off the off floor. I could never stay upset or mad long with her. Her face always made everything better.
“Come on, Princess Loralie. A feast of pizza and cake and s’mores is happening in your honor,” I said.
She gave a soft smile, and then we set off to find Adrian and food.
Our bellies were full of pizza and s’mores, and we were lying in the backyard in our sleeping bags, under the stars. It was perfect weather for a pretend camping trip.
We were all hunkered down and starting to drift off when Lori spoke.
“Let’s pretend, Ains.”
The corners of my lips tipped up a little. Lori and I had been playing this game since she had learned how to talk, and it was still one of our favorites. I scooted closer to her on the sleeping bag and stared up at the stars. I could feel Adrian looking at me from the other side of Lori, but I was determined to ignore his gaze. It gave me butterflies in my belly, and I didn’t want his butterflies. I was done with them, so I kept my eyes on the sky. Friends. We’d always just be friends.
“What are we pretending now, Lori?” I whispered into the warm night.
“We’re pretending that Momma didn’t leave me and she still loves me,” she said, her voice wavering with tears. “That I am just here visiting with you and Aunt Jessi for the summer. That she’s coming back for me tomorrow so I can go home.”
My throat felt swollen and tight with grief for her. But I swallowed it down and took a deep breath. “I’ll never pretend that, Lori. Ever.” I’d said it quietly. I had been firm but gentle.
I knew, to her ears, it might have sounded selfish or uncaring, but her place was there, with the people who loved her. People who wouldn’t throw her away.
Lori turned her frowning face my way. “Why not?”
I turned my body, put my elbow to the ground, propped my head in my hand, and stared down at her. I wanted her to know what she meant to me. I wanted her to know how much Momma and I and even Adrian loved her. How do you explain to someone everything they mean to you? It was almost impossible, but I would try. I couldn’t fathom how she didn’t know this already. Loving her was like breathing. Why couldn’t she see that?
“Because, Loralie Nicole James, I do not ever want to be in a world where you are not with me. Not even a pretend one.” I lay down again with a huff and looked over at Adrian over Lori’s head.
The tears shining in his eyes made my own eyes burn, so I looked away, but before I did, I saw him slide his hand into Lori’s and grip tight. Lori held firm to the locket around her neck with her other hand. She held on to it like it was a lifeline. Like it would save her one day. And, even though I resented that locket and what it meant, the thought that it might one day save her made everything better.
She shifted, rested her sweet-smelling head in the crook of my neck, and sighed. “Love you, Ains.”
I loved her too. So much. And I’d make sure she would never doubt it.
We silently lay there in the dark that summer night, grieving something Loralie had never even really had, and it made me mad as hell. I closed my eyes and fell asleep to thoughts about how the pretend game was definitely not one of my favorites anymore. I was pretty sure I hated it.
I opened my eyes, but the sun beating down on them made me snap them closed again. I could hear the birds chirping, and the smell of sweet mint from Momma’s garden permeated the air. The air was cool and thick with morning dew, so I snuggled down in my bag and peeked my eyes open again, this time more carefully. The spot next to me was empty, so I looked toward Adrian’s sleeping bag. Both he and Lori were tucked inside his bag, still sleeping. He was on his back, and she on her side, her head on his shoulder. His long, thick lashes rested on the tops his tanned cheeks, and Lori’s hair lay all over the top of his shoulder. They looked perfect and sweet snuggled up so closely. I studied them harder. They looked peaceful. I wanted them to have peace more than anything in the world. I wanted Adrian’s dad to stop hitting him and Lori to find the happiness her mother had taken away. Maybe they could help each other in a way I couldn’t help them.
My strange feelings for Adrian would fade, I thought. I wasn’t really convinced that a man would stay around for the woman he loved anyways, being that my own father had left before I had even been born. He’d left us all alone to fend for ourselves. We didn’t even know who Lori’s dad was—that’s how well he’d stuck around. That’s what men did. They left. I needed to protect my heart, and Lori needed Adrian. I had to look at it this way because it helped lessen the burn. But the friendship I felt for Adrian would stay. Adrian and I would always be friends. Just like Lori and me. Us three, together.
I was fiercely loyal and selfless. I used to really love this about myself. I used to think these qualities were a blessing. Only, now, they felt like the worst curse.
I needed some peace myself. I needed my violin. I needed my music. As I quietly as I could manage, I unzipped myself from my sleeping bag and made my way for the back door of the house. I turned back one last time and watched my angels sleeping in the sun. It made my heart ache, but it made me smile too. I opened the back door, expecting to find Momma in the kitchen, but it was quiet, so I made my way to my room and closed the door. I pulled my violin out and gently laid it on my collarbone. I was getting rather good at playing. Momma didn’t banish me to the back porch anymore, and I was actually starting to think she almost enjoyed hearing me. The bow was starting to feel more like an extension of my arm instead of the cumbersome tool it had been in the beginning. I started off just playing my scales and warm ups, but before I knew it, my eyes were closed and my body was swaying with the rhythm of the latest classical piece we working on in orchestra.
I felt good when I played. Alive. So amazingly alive that I couldn’t not move. I wasn’t one of those players who could sit and be stoic while she played brilliantly. I wasn’t even one of those players who lightly tapped her foot to the beat. My whole body moved and danced with the song, and it felt amazing. It felt healing. The music made it okay to not have everything I wanted in life, because I would always have this. It was mine. This explosive shoot-me-to-the-moon-and-back feeling that lived inside me whenever I played was all mine. And no one could take it.
Age 16
Lori hadn’t gotten on the bus after school today. Again. She had been doing this more and more lately. Something was troubling her, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I hadn’t a clue what was happening, but I did have a feeling none of it was good. Momma had been working the night shift since Lori and I had become old enough to be home by ourselves. It paid more, and with just her income, we needed the money, so Lori and I were having to fend for ourselves. Which had been working out great until recently. All of a sudden, Lori wasn’t catching the bus home sometimes. And, when she did come home, it wasn’t until after midnight and she would smell like cigarettes with a side of cheap, stale beer. I knew she was hanging out with a different kind of crowd. The girls who would go across the street at lunch to smoke in the woods or who hid in the bathroom to make out with their boyfriends when they should have been in class. I wasn’t judging.
Okay. Maybe I was a little, but I didn’t want Lori hanging out with those girls. I’d tried to talk to her about it the past couple of weeks. But my pleas that she be on that bus and home with me had fallen on deaf ears. When I got on the bus today and she wasn’t here, I knew I was going to have to tell Momma, and that pretty much ruined a mostly good day. I didn’t want to be that girl—the goody two-shoes mom
ma’s girl tattletale. It didn’t matter what I wanted, though, because I was going to have to.
I sat on the bus in a seat by myself and sulked. God, this sucked. Momma was probably going to have to go back to day shift so she could keep a better eye on Lori and that extra money we needed so badly would be gone. Bye-bye private violin lessons. I could kiss that beautiful, new, expensive bow goodbye too. Sometimes, Lori’s childishness just pissed me off.
I was quietly brooding when the one and only Anthony Jackson plopped his book bag right next to me and sat down in my bus seat. He really had a knack for picking the absolute worst days to bother me. Not that he was bothering me all that much these days. He had mostly chilled with the endless teasing. I looked over at him as he eased his book bag to the floor between us.
“Hey, Ains.” He winked. Anthony’s boyish looks were fading, and in their place were some very good things. He was only the boy in our high school who had managed to grow a full beard. He kept his blond hair long, and it almost covered his gorgeous, hazel eyes. It was totally surfer-meets-lumberjack, and it was yum.
“Hey, Anthony.” I made a show of looking around at all the empty seats on the bus and then looked back him. “Are you lost, by chance?”
Anthony gave a gravelly laugh. It was hot. Damn him. “Nah, Ains. I know exactly where I am. I’m sitting next to hottest girl on this bus.”
I felt my cheeks blush despite myself. Why did he have to be so damn good-looking and complimentary? It was ruining my life. I knew that Anthony wasn’t for me. Rumor was, if it had a vagina, he’d sleep with it. I knew I wasn’t the kind of girl who could sleep with someone and it be only that. I was too emotion driven. Besides, I wasn’t exactly heart-stoppingly pretty. I had learned to tame my unruly hair with products galore, but I was a bit thick in the waist for his taste. Other than taming my golden locks, I didn’t really try too hard. I didn’t usually wear a stitch of makeup, and T-shirts and jeans were my preferred attire. What I mean is: I was plain. But I was happy being plain old me, and I was smart enough to know that Anthony Jackson, lumberjack-slash-surfer, would break this girl’s heart. So I knew to guard it from him with my life.
