by Dani Irons
My dreams come to mind and I discount them. They aren’t exactly factual. “No. I don’t. Sorry.”
“You want me to come over and remind you?”
I make a face, glad he can’t see my confusion. “What does that mean?”
“I think you know.”
“No, actually, I don’t. That’s why it’s called amnesia.”
“I bet if you thought about it long and hard, you could figure it out.” He laughs and I hate his laugh. It has the same effect on my eardrums that a mildewed washcloth would have on my nostrils.
“Are you like, my sex buddy?” I ask. “Or a friend or...my boyfriend, maybe?” Although I doubt the boyfriend part is true. If he is, he would have been at that hospital, right? Maybe he was in high school, like that girl...Leticia...said.
He laughs again. “There you go. Now that’s something Liv would say. You sound like your old self again. Are we, or aren’t we? Your eternal question.”
I wait for his answer longer than I should. “Well? What’s the verdict?”
He sighs. “It’s the same as it ever was.”
“Which is...”
He laughs.
“It would be nice if we could define whatever is going on between us. You know, because I don’t remember you at all.”
“I guess you could say that we’re...friendly.”
“Friendly.”
“Yeah, friendly.”
I nearly hang up on him. Friendly doesn’t exactly sound like someone I can trust to house me for a few days. “Do you live in L.A.?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Now he’s eating something crunchy and my nerves sizzle. “Except when I’m down here with my parents.”
I close my eyes and push the words that float up back into my throat. But they bubble out anyway, “Mind if I stay at your place for a while?” I grit my teeth, knowing deep inside that I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know the guy at all and I’m asking to crash at his place? But at least he hadn’t lied to me. I don’t know about his incomplete forthrightness about our relationship, but maybe we’d left it in a confusing state.
“Uh...” he stops eating. “Sorry, what?” I open my mouth to repeat myself. Maybe he didn’t hear with all the chewing, but then he adds, “I gotta go,” and hangs up the phone.
My options have officially dwindled into nothing.
I’m getting ready to curl back up into bed when I notice Natalie has left the money on my floor. It could get me out of here, put me up into a hotel for a few days until I figure out everything else.
I walk over and pick up the bundles. The idea of stealing something from my parents—again—sickens me, but I don’t have another choice. Since the business has started doing better, maybe they won’t be so bad off if I take it. Hell, they might not even notice. Well, okay, that’s a lie. How could Cora not notice? It would probably be the first thing she looks for when I’m gone. She’ll be wondering how I was able to move out without any money or food and she might ravage the cupboards, making sure I didn’t take anything.
I shake my head. She was horrible, the way she spoke to me. She deserves a consequence. I’ll take this money to make up for my sore emotions and call it even. She hurt me and I’ll hurt her back.
After stuffing the money into my sack—ignoring the déjà vu feeling washing over me as I do so—I walk down the hall and collect my toothbrush. As quietly as I can, I tiptoe through the house, out the door and slip into my car. Then I slam the car door as loudly as I can. I didn’t want to be caught with the money while I was inside the house, but something about being inside my car with it makes me feel brave. I hope I woke up Cora.
Keeping my eyes on the house as I start my car, I expect to see a light turn on or curtains shift. I expect Cora—being as controlling as she is—to keep watch over me even though she was the one to throw me out. But there is no light, no movement. The house is still and quiet when I pull away.
I have no idea where it is that I want to go, but my lack of sleep all night and the dawn lights that are creeping up over the horizon make my body feel deflated. I can’t safely drive anywhere far tonight.
I search for hotels on my phone and something about one on the beach calls to me. So I point my car that way and try to keep my eyes open.
Chapter Forty
Junior Year at UCLA, May
I analyzed my date over a lit candle. Chloe had set us up a few weeks ago and we’d met at a bar a couple of times to drink and play pool, but this was our first official date.
And he was totally overdoing it. I mean, a candle? On the dinner table?
Brian was cute, definitely. He was shaped like a wrestler because that had been his choice of sport in high school. He was short—shorter than me—and had round little muscles all over him. He had brown skin, a nice slow smile, and thought he was the funniest guy that ever lived. He’d make a joke and then laugh enough for the both of us.
But there were problems:
He wasn’t James.
He was overeager. I could tell he wanted to move faster than I wanted to. I wouldn’t touch him much, didn’t like to cuddle and hadn’t done much but kiss him a couple of times.
He wasn’t James.
He. Was. Shorter. Than. Me.
I couldn’t find anything special about the guy. Even though I know it would take time to get to know him, I didn’t want to find something special about him. It took effort and my heart just wasn’t in it.
I knew I wouldn’t have sex with the guy, fall in love with him or probably even go on a second date with him.
I watched Brian as he bent over the spaghetti strainer and smiled a contented little smile, and I felt bad. I was planning on screwing him over while he made me dinner. He was being sweet and I was being a total ass. Nearly made me want to stand up and walk out. But then he’d know that I was an ass.
James hadn’t texted me or come over in weeks. He and Megan were together constantly and it made me wonder if Megan had given up on her vow to stay a virgin until marriage. I hated her, but I couldn’t blame her if she couldn’t resist James. He was irresistible. He didn’t even open the door in the middle of the night the last time I stopped by and I’d felt shitty being rejected like that. But my insides still longed for him. I couldn’t give him up.
He was my love heroin.
Chapter Forty-One
Now
I wake up with the sun streaming onto my face. This is much different than how I usually wake up—with the heavy curtain in my room blocking out any sunlight—so I know I’m in a different room. For a minute, I can’t remember where.
I don’t feel like I’ve had much sleep. Pushing myself deeper into the bedding and covering my head with a pillow, I try to blank out my mind and give it some more rest, but it’s racing and throbbing at the same time. Like I’m hungover.
Vague memories of driving and checking into a hotel and falling into a bed materialize in my mind. Decisions made in the middle of the night aren’t usually the best, but I had no options. A less stubborn person might have gone down the hall to apologize to her parents, to thank them for everything they’ve done and forgive them for their deception, but I didn’t want to. For better or worse, I’ve stolen all their money and am now hiding away in a hotel.
Crap. It sounds even worse today.
My innards squeeze and twist. I am, officially, the worst person ever. And I wonder if I am any better than Old Liv at all. Maybe I’m worse.
I slept with the phone clutched to my chest, hoping someone would call me and ask if I’m okay or if they can come and get me. I guess I secretly hoped I would be rescued. Who would do that, I don’t know. Nobody but Natalie knows I left the house, and she might not know that yet. She might still be asleep.
Now that I’m here and facing a crime as well as a majo
r moral dilemma, I don’t want to be found. After sitting up in bed, I peel the back cover off the phone and pop out the battery. I place the pieces on the nightstand and go into the bathroom. I would just turn it off, but I heard somewhere that the authorities can still track you down by a turned-off phone. Not that they would go through all that trouble for me, but I don’t want to risk it. A shower could cure the way my body and soul are trying to reject each other. Sometimes only a shower can cure what ails me.
I wrap my still casted arm in one of those guest laundry bags the hotel provides—trying to ignore how much easier it was when Cora had helped with it—and, as the water hammers down on my skin, I think what my next steps should be. I soon realize I don’t have any idea apart from breakfast. Since I refused dinner, my stomach is feeling deprived and is growling at me like a lion in heat. I can’t enjoy the shower with all the screaming it’s doing.
I get out, pile my damp hair on my head, and dress in some clean clothes from the bag I packed. I walk down to the little hotel dining room and take advantage of the free continental breakfast. I have a bowl of Froot Loops which kind of taste like cardboard, a dry blueberry muffin, a yogurt full of fake sugar and black coffee, which is so dark and comforting I feel like curling up in one of their chairs and watching the news they have on all day.
After my third cup, a jitteriness joins my guilt and sadness and I feel like a ball of yarn that’s been attacked by an ambush of baby tigers.
I walk down to the beach with a bottle of sunscreen that I bought from the hotel. Ignoring the boats and the people, the warm yellow sand and the green vegetation, I focus on the expansive, soft blue that stretches out into eternity. I sit on the sand and stare at it. My schedule is clear, so this is what I will do. I will stay in this hotel until my money runs out and stare at this water and feel small. Nothing matters but me by the sea.
The sound of the water and the heat and the cool breeze put me to sleep once. Twice. Three times. I wake up to see the sun in a different position in the sky each time I wake and my skin is red and sore despite the sunscreen I applied. When the sky is dark again, I walk back to the hotel. The darkness has swallowed all of the ocean’s magic.
And I am a zombie.
* * *
A few days later, I’m sitting on the beach again when I swear I see Chloe walking the water line. After a few more seconds of staring after her, I stand and walk calmly toward the hotel. I want to run but I worry that’ll alert her of my presence.
But it’s already too late. “Ohmygod, Liv!”
I walk a little faster.
“Liv! Stop. I know that’s you!”
I begin to run, but my leg muscles resist to the whole running-in-sand idea. Chloe catches up with me easily. “What are you doing?” she asks, out of breath.
“I don’t know. I guess I suddenly don’t want to be on the beach anymore.”
“Everyone is looking for you! They have been for days. What the hell have you been doing?”
“Minding my own business. You know, what you should be doing.” I still don’t trust her, I don’t trust anyone.
We walk in silence for a few beats and then she says, “Natalie told us everything. We know that you know.”
I don’t even care anymore. I don’t really know them. Hell, I don’t even know myself. Maybe someday I can create a new me, but right now I like Zombie Liv. She leaves me alone for the most part.
“Good for you.” I keep walking, passing my hotel. I don’t need her seeing where I’m staying when I’m finally able to get rid of her. And then I won’t come to this part of the beach again when she leaves.
“Wyatt is a really nice guy and he cares about you.”
I start walking again. I don’t want to hear this.
“Why did you come here?” she asks, following after me.
I shoot her an angry look over my shoulder. “What? To the beach?”
She nods. “Yeah. This beach in particular.”
“Who the hell knows? This is where I ended up.”
“We came here all the time in high school. We’d sit there and stare at the water and talk. Play Mancala. This was our spot, Liv.”
I swallow, wondering if somehow my subconscious drove me here. I mean, I could have picked any part of the beach and be lost to everyone forever. Why did I choose this beach? “Weird,” I say dryly, turning toward her. “Listen, what do you want? I have to get back.”
She gives me a look like, get back to what? But I don’t say anything. “I told you. Everyone is looking for you. They’re worried.”
“You mean pissed?”
She shakes her head. “Cora doesn’t care about the money.”
I laugh, but it sounds hollow. “I’m sure. Is this another lie? What is it this time...that I’m actually adopted or something?”
“No, I’m serious. Wyatt has been worried out of his mind.”
This stops me. “Why would he be? Because he has some tie to my family? Because his, me—the charity project—didn’t work out? He doesn’t give a crap about me. Natalie told me we never got along and some guy at the bar said he’s getting me back for what a bitch I was to him growing up.”
“The guy was lying then,” she says, her eyes searching mine. “Natalie was right—you two never got along. But that was because he was so, like, all about you and you hated all the attention. You were mean, but you also stuck up for him from time to time.”
I stare out at the ocean instead of back at her, wishing I could tap into the ocean’s strength. I shrug. “He’s this nice guy who was doing a favor for someone he grew up with. That’s it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Chloe says, gaping at me. “Don’t tell me you believe that. God, you’re smarter than that, aren’t you?”
“He’s a fucking Cub Scout leader, for Christ’s sake! He donates his time to helping others. He’s a charitable guy, you know? He was ‘doing his part’ for my family.” I do air quotes when I say this last line, remembering how Wyatt said something similar in the hospital.
She places her hands on her hips. “So you’re telling me that he spent all that time with you, forced you into liking him because he was only ‘doing his part?’” It was her turn to do the air quotes. “You’re stupider than I thought.”
I roll my eyes. “Stupider?”
She shrugs. “Whatever. You get my point.”
I watch as an elderly couple walks hand in hand down the sand and for some reason it pisses me off. “It doesn’t matter now.” I start walking again.
“And why not?” Her voice takes a sharp turn.
“Because, even if he does like me, even if I like him, we couldn’t have any kind of relationship based on all those lies.”
“I bet there was more truth to those lies that you know. He loves you.”
I snort, watching the elderly couple disappear down the beach. “Loves me? What are you on? He barely kisses me and jumps off of me when...”
Her eyes widen. I stop talking. “Never mind,” I say. “You weren’t there. You didn’t feel what I felt. He wasn’t like, present. In the moment, you know? He wasn’t there. And every time we try to get in sync, something feels off. Trying to have a relationship is impossible.”
“It felt off because he was lying to you and felt bad about it!” She walks backward in front of me so she can see my face.
“Aw, poor him,” I say sarcastically. Then I shake my head. “I’m done talking about this. I’m done talking about him. Like I said, I have stuff to do, I need to get back.”
I take off in the opposite direction of my hotel.
“Wait!” she says, catching up to me again.
I stop. Sigh. “What?”
“The meeting. The Cub Scout and Christakos Creatives meeting.”
“What about it?”
I laugh. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I don’t need to be there. I’ll fuck something else up. Cora and Dion might say that they want me there, but really, they want me to stay away.”
“They might have said that to you. Hell, they might really mean that, but I didn’t mean you have to be there for support.”
“What do you mean, then?”
“Wyatt told me that your name is on the contract as the tech guy for the website.”
I shake my head. “No. That’s Wyatt. He—”
“That’s not what he said. He gave you full credit. If you aren’t there to sign, the Scouts won’t take CC’s business. The website was the selling factor. The big head honcho Cub Scout said he wants something like that for the local Chapter here in town. He wants the creator of that website to make him one.”
“But that’s Wyatt. It says so right on the website.”
Chloe shrugs. “Maybe he changed it.”
“Why would he do that?”
He scrutinizes me, hands on her hips. “Man, you are stupid.”
I’m dumbstruck, my mind reeling. “I can’t go back.” Even if what she said is right and Cora and Dion don’t care about the money I stole, I don’t want to see them. They want nothing to do with me, they lied to me. I don’t ever want to see them again. And Wyatt. Why would I put myself through that torture of seeing him again? It’ll be a miracle if I don’t cry the moment I lay eyes on him.
Chloe takes a step toward me and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “If you want to, you can go back into hiding after this meeting. I’ll promise to leave you alone and I’ll make everyone else promise as well. If that’s what you really want.”
I nod. “It is.”
She takes a step back. “Fine. We’ll all do that for you. I can understand needing a little space. Especially after everything.”
It’s more than space I need. It’s like I need a whole other life. I pinch the skin on the bridge of my nose. So many parts of my brain and body are telling me not to do this. The main reason is that I don’t want to. The other reason is that it will hurt. Even if I go in there, sign the thing, and get out, I will see people I don’t want to see anymore. People I don’t want anything to do with anymore.
