Pretending

by Shanna Clayton

  Restless, I go to my desk and jerk the drawer open. The letter is still resting in its unopened envelope. I take it out, placing it between my fingers. I’m prepared to rip it to shreds, but then I realize something.

  Defiance is the only thing fueling my urge to tear it up, and I want to prove that Dahlia’s words don’t matter. I want to prove that my dad’s excuses won’t matter. My fingers fall slack, and I loosen my grip on the envelope.

  If I read it, I can take satisfaction in knowing I was right. Whatever that man had to say can never make up for what he did.

  Slipping my finger under the seal, I pry it open and remove the folded paper. The letter is handwritten, without a doubt my dad’s scrawl. I’ve read too many of his research notebooks to mistake his handwriting for someone else’s. Slowly lowering myself down onto the foot of my bed, I begin to read.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  WESLEY

  Dear Wesley,

  As I sit down to write this, I wonder if your eyes will ever see it. You get that stubborn streak of yours from me. A little stubbornness can be a good thing while hunting down treasure, but in most other aspects of life it won’t serve you. Open your mind, son. If you don’t take anything else I say to heart, at least take that piece of advice with you. I know you hate me for leaving, and I don’t blame you. I really don’t. But at least give me one last chance to explain. I’ll do my best to help you understand. All I ask is that you keep reading.

  Where do I begin? Ha, what a question. To be honest, I’ve written and re-written this letter so many damn times it seems there is no good place to begin. So I’ll just come out with it.

  I was sick.

  God, that’s an awful word. Sick. Maybe that’s why I kept running from it for so long. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t admit it to you. Being associated with a word that represents an all-consuming incapability was the last thing I ever wanted. You and your brother used to look up to me like a hero in one of your comic books. Heroes don’t get sick. If they have to die, they go down fighting. Not tied to a bed while a nurse spoon-feeds you your lunch and helps you wipe your own ass. How humiliating. How disappointing. Guess I didn’t want it to end that way. I didn’t want you boys remembering me like that.

  Sooner or later I had to face it though. And son, it wasn’t as recent as I’ve led you to believe. You had just turned fifteen when I started to get headaches so severe they’d keep me in bed for days. I figured they were a result of staying up late reading, and for that reason, I ignored them. Shortly after that came the nausea. Then the blurred vision. That’s when I knew something was wrong.

  The docs diagnosed me with stage four glioblastoma (fancy word for brain tumor). I’ll never forget coming home from that appointment. It was the day your baseball team won its championship. I was so proud of you, but it made me realize I might not be there for any more of those big moments. It took everything I had not to break down right then and there. I smiled and clapped your back, but inside I wept like baby.

  A few weeks later I told your mom I was going on a business trip. During that time, I underwent a craniotomy. The doctors removed eighty percent of the tumor, but it wasn’t enough. They gave me a year to live. One goddamned year. Believe me, you’ll never appreciate life like you do when there’s a limit on it. Anyway, that’s the year we did all those things you and Sam thought I was crazy for wanting to do, like the Thailand expedition. Looking back on it, riding around on elephants and chasing after legendary treasure leads does seem half mad. But we had fun doing it, and that means the world to me.

  My year came and went quicker than any year before that. I figured I was lucky, since I lasted longer than the docs said I would. But about two months after the year was up, things got worse. I had a seizure in front of your mother. Definitely the scariest moment of my life, and I couldn’t imagine the fear she felt. The look on her face was unbearable. I knew I had to leave. I loved her too much to let her watch me deteriorate. Whatever months I had left, they wouldn’t be pleasant, and I didn’t want her seeing it. So I lied. I told her I seized from abnormal levels of glucose in my blood. She believed me, and so I began making plans.

  One night a few weeks later, I slipped out while the rest of you slept. I know you think leaving was easy for me, Wesley, but trust me when I tell you it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. In fact, it was so difficult I would’ve given anything I could to take back my life. When I found out about an experimental program being offered at St. Joseph’s hospital in Savannah I jumped on the opportunity. Each week they hooked me up to an IV and pumped high dosages of a mixture of drugs through my veins. The drugs made me weak and depressed, bringing me down to my lowest point. I figured that was it for me. Death was the next stop.

  That’s when I met Lily. Ah, thank God for Lily. She was a blessing in disguise. She was there battling breast cancer, but every time I saw her, she radiated this unwavering joy, smiling and laughing like nothing bothered her. It was inspiring.

  Since our appointments were at the same time, Lily and I kept each other company everyday. She’d tell me jokes and find ways to make me laugh. I’d bitch about how much I missed you and your mother. Sometimes she’d bring Dahlia with her, and I’d tell them stories about you and Sam. Mostly treasure stories. Those were her favorite.

  The divorce papers came shortly after Sam died. While I was away, Paul came into your mother’s life, and she was looking for a way to move on. And how could I blame her for wanting to? Although I felt myself getting better, I knew I had to let her go. It wasn’t fair of me to put her life on hold while I waited for my health to improve. So she moved up to Nashville with Paul while I stayed in Savannah. To this day, she doesn’t know why I left. Please don’t tell her, son. She needs to live her life without looking back. I’d rather she hate me than to be stuck mourning me.

  My recovery did eventually come. The docs at St. Joseph’s placed me into remission around the same time Lily gave up on the program. Her results weren’t as promising, and she didn’t want to waste any of the time she had left in the hospital. This was after Sam died, and you and your mother refused to speak to me. Lily and Dahlia were the only people I knew in Savannah. They were all I had left. So I started visiting the two of them at their home in Tybee Island, and it wasn’t long after when I realized I had found a life again. Even though I knew Lily’s days were numbered, I asked her to marry me. She refused, of course, and thought I was a fool for asking, but she did agree to let me move in with them. Those last few months with Lily and Dahlia were my chance for redemption. I tried to make her passing as easy as possible, and once she was gone, I asked Dahlia to come back to Florida with me. We were two of a kind, Dahlia and I. We both had lost so much, and we were all each other had. I love Dahlia like a daughter, Wes. She has a kind heart, and an insatiable urge to learn about archeology and history. In many ways, she’s like you. Getting close to her made me remember all the things I missed about you and your brother.

  Unfortunately, my remission only lasted a year. During that time, I tried to reconnect with you. That wasn’t as easy as I hoped, but I don’t blame you for turning your back on me either. I turned my back on you, son, and for that I’ll always feel remorseful. I’d have been pissed as hell if my old man left the way I left you.

  Wesley, I—

  I crumple up the paper into a small wad, unable to read anymore. Falling back against my bed, I pound the mattress with my fist. How did I not know? How could I not know? I feel like a fucking idiot.

  Looking back, it’s all so obvious. My dad was never a selfish man. He put everyone before himself. Christ, that may have been his downfall.

  Closing my eyes, I fight to keep the pain from ripping out of me. That’s what it feels like—like it is literally is ripping me apart from the inside out. In a way, I feel cheated. My dad thought he was saving me years from seeing him at his worst, but I would give anything to have that time back. I would’ve rather spent that time helping him through it than hating hi
m for leaving.

  God, I wish I’d seen it sooner. I wish I would’ve paid attention. Sam never hated Dad for what he did. He was angry, but he never held the same hate for him that I built up. I wonder if he knew about the cancer. I wonder if Dad told him…

  Dahlia was right. Fucking hell, how am I ever going to face her again? The things I said about her mom are almost unforgivable. There’s no apology big enough that can make what I said okay. She called me a judgmental asshole, and the shoe sure as hell fits. My dad spent most of my life being a good father and husband. When he left I should’ve questioned it.

  Thank God he had Lily and Dahlia. At least they were there for him when no one else could be. I still think he was dead-ass wrong for pushing his family away, but I understand where it came from. That’s just who he was. He wanted the best for us. In his delusional mind, he believed it would be easier for us if we didn’t have to experience his illness with him. He was wrong though. So completely wrong.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  DOLL

  The air isn’t as hot and muggy as it usually is, giving me the chance to study outside between classes. Fall doesn’t really exist in Florida. It’s mid-September and everything is still green and lush and dewy. But there’s a slight breeze in the air today, making the heat bearable. I’ve always liked the campus grounds anyway. The brick buildings are old and quaint, creating the sense that I’m somehow contributing to decades worth of collegiate history.

  Those are my excuses for not going home anyway.

  I look down at my cellphone. My next class isn’t for another three hours. I could go back to the house…except lately that’s not a place I’ve felt comfortable in. I tell myself I’d rather be here. Outside. Where the weather is semi-nice. Where everything is green and lush and dewy.

  Where I’m away from everything that reminds me of him.

  Two weeks have passed since we’ve spoken. It shouldn’t bother me. Things have gone back to the way they were before. We each keep to our sides of the house, staying out of one another’s ways. We don’t even see each other in passing. I should feel a sense of normalcy. After all, it’s what I’m used to.

  And it used to work.

  It’s what has always worked.

  But something’s…different.

  I can feel it. The energy inside Kent House has shifted, throwing everything off balance. I no longer feel at peace inside my own home. Instead I feel Wesley in every inch of that house. I see him in every wall that separates us. I see him in the staircases and the banisters. Even the library isn’t a safe haven anymore. That’s where it’s the worst.

  So I avoid going home as much as possible. I spend all day on campus until it’s dark outside, heading home only when I’m so exhausted I know I’ll pass out as soon as my head touches my pillow. Harland’s will requires me to live there, but he didn’t say anything about staying home all day.

  Being on campus is easier. I don’t think about things. I barely think about him. Or at least that’s what I’d like to believe.

  A few feet away, I hear a familiar laugh. Looking up from my textbook, I catch sight of Miles in the distance. He’s talking and laughing with a few of his football buddies, acting like nothing is out of the ordinary. As if he isn’t the scumbag I know him to be.

  It pisses me off.

  I’ve been going over this in my mind for days, wondering how to tell Charlotte about what he and Gwen have been doing behind her back. I think I was hoping their little rendezvous was a one-time thing, that maybe it wouldn’t happen again, but Gwen is making it obvious that’s not the case. She’s been so caught up in her dreamy, Miles-infused la la land that she hasn’t even noticed I’m not speaking to her. She’s always on her phone, twirling her hair with a silly smile on her lips.

  It’s disgusting.

  I finally made plans to tell Charlotte, but getting her to sit down in person isn’t as easy as it should be. With the new semester underway, she’s busier than ever. She’s canceled on me twice already. Relief filled me both times she called to apologize. I guess it’s not so strange. Telling her about Miles means watching her heart break before my eyes. How am I going to sit through that? How am I going to get the words out?

  I close my textbook, watching Miles break off from his friends. He’s heading this way, presenting me with a perfect opportunity. I stand up from the table and quickly stuff my things into my bag. There’s got to be a better way. Maybe Miles is my better way.

  “Hey Miles, wait a sec.”

  When he hears me calling him, he stops and turns around. Surprise enters his face when he catches sight of me. “Damn, Doll. Look at you. I barely even recognized you.”

  It takes me a second to realize Miles isn’t used to seeing me like this. I’m wearing shorts and a cardigan, without any makeup on. Lately I haven’t been keeping up with my disguise. Avoiding Wesley takes up too much time.

  “You look like you did in high school,” Miles says. His mouth curves into a friendly smile.

  I don’t waste any time destroying that smile.

  “I need to tell you something.” I swing my bag over my shoulder, straightening to my full height. “I know about you and Gwen.”

  In the short time that took to register, Miles tenses up, going on the defensive. He scans the area surrounding us, clearly worried about being overheard. I roll my eyes. This campus isn’t that small.

  Once he sees it’s clear, he grabs my arm and pulls me to the side of the walkway beneath a group of trees. “What did she tell you?” His voice is edged with a sort of fear.

  “Nothing. I saw the two of you together at Wesley’s party. I’m not even going to get into how wrong I think it is or how repulsed I am by the two of you. What I will say is this, either you tell Charlotte or I will.”

  He should be the one to break her heart. Not me.

  Charlotte deserves to hear it from him. Not me.

  Miles rubs his temples, sighing. I watch him closely, seeing a torrent of emotions cross his features. Worry. Fear. Sadness. The emotions look genuine. It’s somewhat comforting to know that he isn’t taking this lightly. In the back of my mind, I think I knew he wouldn’t be the kind to take it lightly. Miles isn’t a player. Up until now, I’ve always admired him. As Charlotte would say, he’s one of the good guys. Or at least he was supposed to be.

  “I can’t tell her, Doll,” he says, looking lost. “I’ll lose her if I do.”

  “Did you expect to keep her after this?” I ask in amazement. “You’re sleeping with Gwen. You can’t have them both.”

  He sighs, looking away from me. “This thing with Gwen—I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “Then why did it happen?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “I’m gonna need a little more than I don’t know.” I place a hand on my hip, pressing him with a look. “Start talking.”

  “Doll, I don’t know where to begin. You know how Charlotte is…she’s stretched in too many directions.”

  “You’re not about to feed me the she’s-too-busy-for-me crap, are you?”

  “It’s the truth!” Miles shouts. When he catches himself, his voice lowers into a heated whisper. “Charlotte isn’t the same as she used to be. I’m not sayin’ that’s a bad thing—college has opened so many doors for her. But she doesn’t have time for herself, much less a relationship. I figured once we graduated, we’d have more time together, but I guess I got lonely waitin’ for that day to come.”

  “And where does Gwen come into the picture?”

  Miles leans against one of the tree trunks, stuffing his hands into his pockets. I can tell he doesn’t want to admit any of this to me, but I’m not giving him the option. “Miles,” I repeat more sternly. “How does Gwen fit into all this?”

  He lets out a long sigh and meets my steady gaze. “Gwen and I have been chatting online since high school. She never knew it was me, and it started off as just a friendly thing, but somewhere along the road, things turned serious.” />
  I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God. You’re the internet guy.”

  I can’t believe it. Miles is Mr. Sexy Voice. How is that possible? “Gwen told me his name was Luke,” I say, trying to wrap my head around it. “She told me he went to Florida State.”

  “My middle name is Lucas. In Gwen’s defense, she never knew it was me until we actually met. I enjoyed talking to her as someone else. Even though I was lying, I could be myself with her. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s how I felt.”

  “Then why lie, Miles? If she was such a great friend to have, why not tell her who you were?”

  If he’s being honest, and this whole mess started off innocently, there should’ve been no reason to lie.

  “Because she and Charlotte were always at each other’s throats. I couldn’t be friends with her and date Charlotte at the same time. They may have allowed you to be neutral territory, but they would’ve never allowed me the same privilege. I would’ve been forced to pick a side.”

  “So you chose Charlotte, but kept Gwen as your dirty little secret. Doesn’t sound so friendly anymore, Miles. It sounds like you were getting your cake and eating it too. I’m surprised Gwen wasn’t furious with you for lying.”

  “At first she was.”

  I think back to the day Gwen came home after she was supposed to meet Luke. I remember how devastated she looked, how empty her voice sounded. “It was the night of the hurricane, wasn’t it? That’s when the two of you met?”

  Miles nods. “I didn’t tell her until after the storm started, and by then it wasn’t safe for her to leave. She was pissed as hell at first, called me a few names I won’t repeat, but there was still an attraction between us. She couldn’t deny it anymore than I could—”