Brief Encounters_The Encounters Series

by Scarlett Hopper

  “Okay, Ms. Ivy,” Will says with a laugh. “I believe you’re on your final question. Claudia, would you like the honor of the last question?”

  I face Claudia with a smile and await her question. I have a feeling I’m not going to get a sex-related question, considering all her questions have been pretty PG.

  “Hmm.” Claudia strokes her chin and looks at me with a small giggle. She’s pretty tiny, so I think those three shots have hit her pretty hard.

  “Oh, I’ve got it!” she says with a squeak. “Tell me about your first love!”

  Everyone seems to be intrigued by this question, everyone except me and Vivian. Viv knows almost everything about my life before I knew her, even the answer to this question, so she knows how less than thrilled I am about answering it. It isn’t that my answer is some epic love story turned sour; I just don’t like sharing details about the person I used to be.

  “Um, his name was Jackson. I was fourteen and he was seventeen. It didn’t work out, and that was it. Honestly, I don’t even think it was actual love, but I guess that’s the closest I’ve ever come.” Correction, that’s the closest I will ever come.

  I was never actually in love with Jackson—he was just a guy at school—but I definitely liked him, and I figure, Just lie and Claudia will move on. It’s better than having to tell everyone I’ve never actually been in love.

  “Eleanor! I want the romantic details! You can’t leave a girl hanging,” an unusually rambunctious Claudia says.

  I just shrug and give the girl an apologetic smile. In reality it wasn’t as simple as I made it out to be. I learned long ago that the truth isn’t always better, but I also learned neither is a lie. So I find a way to meet in between. I don’t lie about who I was; I just give varied, shortened forms of the truth. Even my name isn’t a total lie.

  “Ugh, you’re no fun.” Claudia huffs before curling back up into Wren’s side.

  “Okay, well, as congratulations for getting through all twenty questions, we all take another shot,” Will says as he holds up the tequila bottle.

  Realizing I don’t need to worry about any more prying questions, I lift my glass and say cheers with everyone.

  “Okay, so as fun as it was learning all about our gal Eleanor,” Tiffany cuts in, “I propose a new game, a sort of version of twenty questions, but instead we all have to answer the questions asked.” She plasters on a fake smile as if pretending she hasn’t just insulted me and waits for the group to respond.

  “I’m down for that, amp up the intensity,” Wolf says as he gives Tiff a seductive glance. “Who wants to start?”

  “Why don’t we start with Jess?” she says, directing her false smile at me. I smile back, seriously not giving a shit what this girl is on about.

  “How many people have you slept with?” Tiff’s face looks as if she’s just asked God a question and can’t wait for his holy answer.

  I turn my head out of curiosity to look at Jess. A devious smile forms across my lips as I watch Jess try to count the number of women he’s been with. As if sensing my smile, Jess looks at me from the corner of his eye and smirks.

  “Well, that’s easy,” he says with a cocky smile. “Way too many to count.” I don’t know what it is, but I can’t help but wonder about all those girls. Did they expect something more when they were with Jess? Did he ever want something more?

  I return my attention to the group, who is now focused on Vivian. She giggles the number six while Will kisses her cheek. He sheepishly says ten, and Viv’s eyebrows shoot up. “I would have guessed more,” she says with a happy grin.

  “Well, since I met you, there was no need for more,” Will replies as he pulls her closer to him.

  “Oh god, William!” Wolf shouts. “Since when have you been such a romantic?” Everyone giggles, but I catch Viv’s eye and give her a little wink.

  Now it’s Tiffany’s turn.

  She brushes her hand through her platinum-blonde hair and drags her teeth across her bottom lip.

  “Well, if I’m being honest,” she says with a flirty smile, “around twenty, with some even being in this room.” She winks at Jess.

  He flashes her a cocky smile, then looks down at me.

  I honestly don’t judge Tiffany for how many guys she’s been with; I’d never slut-shame another person. She and I might be similar in that category, but we go about it in different ways. If it’s okay for a guy, then why shouldn’t it be for a girl too? It’s just her personality I dislike. The girl is a bitch, and not in a good and fun way.

  “Just business, babe,” he says with a wink, clearly joking.

  “Jesus, Jess, just because we’re friends now doesn’t mean I want to know about everyone that you screw,” I say as I jokingly nudge him with my shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, Els. You will always be my number one.”

  I smile at the comment but know it will never be true. No matter how close Jess Parker and I get, I could never be his.

  He tightens his arm around me, and I take the opportunity to ask a question for the first time tonight.

  “Okay, my turn,” I say with a sly grin. “Since you all know about my first love, I want to know about yours.” Everyone starts thinking back, but Jess’s sudden tension next to me doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “Well, this may come as a surprise for you all,” Wren says with a laugh, “but you’re looking at her.” He pulls Claudia close and kisses her head.

  “Ditto!” she responds as she leans into Wren.

  “Okay, Will?” I say with curiosity. Viv’s interest is also piqued, but I can tell she’s trying to play it cool.

  “Sandra Peters, second grade,” he replies with a mock-sad face. “She stole my baseball cap and broke my heart,” he says. Viv almost automatically perks up, and she has the floor.

  She puts her fingers to her mouth and begins to think back. “Bobby Carmichael,” she says with a huff. “We dated for two months when I was in eighth grade and he was a freshman. Asshole dumped me by letting me know he was also dating my best friend.” She throws up her hands as if to say, What are you gonna do about it?

  “Dumbass.” Will winks at Viv. “Well, he obviously had no idea the gem he had.” At that, Viv lets out a little giggle and intertwines her hands with Will’s.

  Now everyone is looking at Wolf, who has a pretty goofy look on his face.

  “Seriously, guys? You think I’ve ever been in love? No way. No one can tame this beast,” he says as he pulls Tiff into him and ravages her neck.

  “Same as him,” is all she manages to get out before he has her in his lap.

  Now it’s just Jess, and let me tell you, this one I’m curious about. Well, if there even is one. I turn to Jess, my eyebrows raised. “So, Mr. Parker, has there ever been anyone to capture that heart of yours?”

  Jess’s expression is statuesque, almost frozen. From the look on his face, he’s already answered my question, but I can’t help my curiosity.

  “Well?” I push. “If I had to spill, so do you.”

  “Oh, come on, Jess. Just tell ’em about Annalise,” Wolf cuts in before receiving a very horrible look from Jess.

  “Annalise?” I ask with a curios expression.

  As if realizing I’m not going to give up, Jess finally gives me my answer, but not a very good one.

  “Annalise was my girlfriend for a bit in high school. We broke up when we went off to college. Not really much to say. Kinda like your story.”

  This time he isn’t his playful self, and I can tell I should back down before I cross a line. Anyway, who am I to pry? He obviously knew my story about Jackson was only a half-truth and he didn’t push it, so why should I? I decide to move on, but Wolf doesn’t seem to want to let it go.

  “A bit!” Wolf laughs. “Try more like four years. From what Jess has told me, those two were on the fast track to the altar.” My eyebrows shoot up and I struggle to contain the surprise on my face. Jess Parker doesn’t seem like the marrying type, but I guess people
have a way of changing themselves.

  Before Wolf can continue to dig his grave, Jess quickly cuts him off.

  “Wolf,” Jess says in a growly tone, silencing him. “I don’t think Eleanor is that curious about who I dated in high school.” He attempts to force a smile, but I can tell he’s annoyed with Wolf for oversharing. Not wanting Jess to feel awkward from the question I asked, I attempt to keep the conversation moving.

  “Well, I can say for sure that isn’t a path I’ll ever be on. No way. Marriage is not in my future,” I say with an awkward laugh in order to divert attention from Jess. He gives me a smile of appreciation, and then a full-blown conversation starts about the pros and cons of marriage these days.

  Over the next few hours, we all laugh and joke with one another, and for once, I appreciate opening up with a new group of people, even if they might have been more open than I was.

  After more than our fair share of tequila shots, everyone decides to call it a night. Viv and Will have long disappeared, while Wren, who didn’t drink, is driving Claudia back to her apartment. She’s a dancer and has a big rehearsal tomorrow morning. Jess and I aren’t sure where Wolf and Tiffany have wandered off to, but from the sounds coming from upstairs, it isn’t hard to guess.

  Now it’s just the two of us, both quite drunk. After Twenty Questions ended, Jess and I got to talking about our lives. Well, more like Jess is talking and I’m listening, adding additional commentary when needed.

  There’s a lot I didn’t know about Jess Parker, a lot I never would have assumed about him. The front he gives at school is only half of who he really is, and even I feel a bit guilty for throwing him into the womanizing-asshole category. It isn’t that Jess doesn’t sleep with a lot of girls, but he never makes any promises to them that he doesn’t keep. The more I talk to Jess, the worse I feel about the preexisting notions I had set for him.

  “You know, you’re not as much of an athletic bad boy as I first assumed. I mean, I used to hear things, a lot of things. But since I met you, you’ve managed to prove most of that wrong. Well, except for the girl’s part. But hey, who am I to judge?” I say with a tequila-induced laugh.

  Jess laughs, jabbing me in the side. “Well, I broke through that tough-girl exterior pretty quickly. A few weeks ago you wouldn’t even have a conversation with me, and now look at us! Bonding over tequila.”

  Our laughter dies down and the two of us just lie silent for a few moments, waiting for the other to speak next.

  “It doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to the other guys, like Will or Wolf.”

  His statement has intercepted my thoughts, and I refocus my attention on him.

  “What doesn’t?” I ask with curiosity.

  “Hockey. I mean, I only started playing it in high school because I thought it would make my dad take more notice. But the plan kind of backfired, and hockey became the only thing we could talk about. Otherwise, the asshole only cared about who he shared his bed with that month.”

  “I know the feeling,” I respond before realizing what I’ve said.

  Jess looks at me for a moment with understanding eyes but doesn’t say anything.

  “You know, you don’t share a lot, Eleanor.”

  I look away from him and feel a flush creeping up my cheeks. “I know, Jess,” I whisper.

  “It’s not a criticism or anything, Els, just an observation. You don’t talk about your family, ever.” His tone is laced with concern, and I know he wouldn’t be upset if I didn’t answer, but for some reason, I feel the need to reply.

  “She’s dead,” I whisper. “My mom died, Jess, and I don’t talk about my dad.” I turn to look at him so he knows how serious I am. “I don’t talk about them. Ever.”

  Surprising me, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches for my hand and wraps his fingers around mine while we sit in silence.

  I never talk about my parents with anyone, let alone tell them about Mom, but something in this moment makes me drop my walls for a second. I feel safe telling Jess, safe knowing he won’t ask any more questions that I can’t answer.

  “Vincent and Adeline Morello welcome the birth of their first daughter, Amanda Ivy Morello. Born November 22nd, 1993, at Saint Peter’s University Hospital. Weighing in at 7 lbs., 3 oz.”

  As I look down at my pale-pink birth announcement, I can’t help but imagine how my parents must have been when they had me. It had taken them years to get pregnant and finally, after they had stopped trying, I came along. That’s what people always say, right? When you stop trying, it finally happens.

  My dad always wanted a big family, especially a son, but he told me that when I came along, all that went out the window. He said he knew that the three of us would be enough. And he was right. Well, for the most part at least.

  After my mother died, something inside of him died too, and we never recovered. Well, we didn’t even have a chance to try and recover. Dad was so hell bent on retaliation that I think he forgot he even had a child.

  Looking at this card is just a reminder of what I had and what I lost. Everything about it seems fake, like a lie, even my real name, Amanda. Even though most people called me Eleanor growing up, I still felt a connection with the name Amanda. But now, when I look at it written across the paper, I just feel hollow. I don’t even know why I look at this old stuff, why I keep any of it. But if I’m being honest with myself, I keep it for my mother. No matter what I do, I could never forget her. I don’t want to forget her.

  When I left Jersey, I only took a duffel with some clothes in it, the ceramic elephant that’s in my living room, and a small brown wooden box no bigger than a tissue box. The box has my initials carved into it, A.I.M. in cursive. It was a gift from my parents when I turned eight. My mom told me to live up to my name and aim higher than the sky in life. What would she think if she saw me now?

  I place the pale-pink card back into the box and gaze over the small trinkets I’ve kept with me all these years. In there is my first driver’s license, a photograph of me as a baby with my mother, the diamond necklace she gave me for my fifteenth birthday, and finally a photograph of Winona and me. Winona had just turned fifteen, and I had thrown her a surprise party.

  I can’t help but feel sad over how happy we seemed, Winona with her big green eyes and her dark brown hair. She looks nothing like Vivian, so most people wouldn’t guess them to be related. I, on the other hand, had pin-straight blonde hair in the photo. I thought it made me look more mature. Hindsight tells me that I was indeed naïve, because I looked more like a tween Barbie doll than an adult.

  Mom always told me to keep my hair natural, that my auburn waves were more beautiful than any dye could be, but I was persistent. It wasn’t till after she died did I dye it back, and I haven’t changed it since.

  Looking at the photo of Winona and me brings back all the bad memories of when I left her behind.

  “I just got off the phone with Winona,” Vivian says, sighing.

  A sharp pain cuts through me at the mention of the name. A year ago when I left, I decided to leave everyone behind, including Winona. It just wasn’t a good idea to keep contact, just in case someone came looking for me. At the time Winona was crushed, like I was, but she grew to understand.

  “How is she?” I force myself to ask.

  “She misses you. She thinks you’re in California,” Viv says in a whisper.

  Guilt washes over me. “I know this is hard, Viv, and I miss her too, but ugh, it’s just too complicated. She can’t know I’m still here.” I huff before walking out of the kitchen.

  About one month after moving in with Viv, I decided it was best if Winona thought I had left Vivian’s and gone my own way. Although it nearly killed Vivian and me to lie to her, we knew it was the only way. It’s been nearly five years since I’ve spoken to her, but she checks in with Vivian every once in a while and asks if Viv has heard anything. Vivian always lies and says that I’m in California somewhere, but that’s the extent of it.

&nb
sp; The last I heard, Winona became a photographer and left Jersey to live in the UK. Since I know the position I put Vivian in, I don’t ever ask about her. I only take the information given, which over the past three years has been minimal. As I pack my little box away, Viv knocks at my door.

  “Can I come in?” she asks softly.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  When Viv spots what I’m looking at, her face softens. “So this is what’s been stealing your attention for the past hour.” She climbs onto my bed and crosses her legs while pulling a thin pale-pink blanket over herself.

  “The kickback last night just got me feeling sentimental.” I shrug, trying to act unaffected.

  “Oh, Ellie.” Viv grabs my hand. “It’s okay to be sad sometimes. Life isn’t perfect, and sometimes we have off days.” I know she’s right. I really do, but I can’t help but kick myself every time I think about my family and the effect it has on me.

  I give her a small smile and proceed to place the picture of Winona and me into the box. Viv must see the picture because she lets out a small breath and squeezes my hand.

  “She’s okay, Ellie.”

  The lump that’s formed in my throat prohibits me from responding, so I just nod.

  “She called me a few months back, you know, just to check in. She’s living in London and has a boyfriend who’s an artist.” She pauses, as if unsure she should continue, but she has my attention now, so she keeps going.

  “She asked if I had heard from you recently. I told her that we hadn’t spoken in a while, but I thought you were still in California.” Viv wipes away a tear and attempts to smile at me. Guilt washes over me once again.

  “I’m sorry, Viv. I’m sorry for making you go through this. I know it isn’t fair to make you lie to Winona like this.” I don’t know what else to say to her that I haven’t said a million times.

  “Eleanor. Stop it. You know I don’t mind doing this for you. Especially if it keeps you safe. We should just be thankful Winona hasn’t joined Facebook, or I would have a lot of explaining to do as to why we’re basically all over each other’s profiles,” she says with a giggle.