Or was she wrong? Had Jessica been fussing over her “date” with Todd?
It was the first time they had ever gone out together without Elizabeth. And afterward, Jessica hadn’t stopped complaining about how she’d hated being with Todd without Elizabeth. And it had never happened again.
To her knowledge.
But after that, she remembered that the relationship between her sister and Todd was even worse. Jessica never seemed to have a good word to say about him.
Or, methinks “The lady doth protest too much.”
Elizabeth tried to think of other times like that, but there were none she knew of. And she and Todd were together for that year and more than four after that. And nothing was really different.
Well, maybe a little. Senior year was strange. The end of one life, the protected school years, and into another, the big world without the safety of parameters; that was more than a little scary. They were both sort of preoccupied with their own plans, but they didn’t argue or anything like that. Additionally, that year was hard for Todd; he and Bruce seemed to grow apart, and he had a falling out with Winston that had nothing to do with her. At least that’s what he had said and there was no reason to doubt him.
Maybe that was her problem: She should have doubted him more. And that took her right back to her pain.
How would it ever go away?
By turning the other cheek?
By offering forgiveness?
In these last eight months Elizabeth hadn’t come close to either of those possibilities. Maybe she was looking on the wrong side.
What about revenge?
That would take away the metal taste and replace it with the sweetness of triumph.
The thought alone made her feel stronger.
But how?
By not going back for the wedding?
So Elizabeth. So lame. Even putting a curse on them would be better.
Except she probably had been doing that all along and obviously, it didn’t work.
How about getting married first?
Unrealistic. She hadn’t found anyone in eight months; four weeks certainly wouldn’t be enough time.
But if she hurried she might be able to go back with a fiancé.
Even in her misery that made her smile. Unfortunately, she’d seen that movie. Besides it was too cute for what had happened to her. What had happened to her was the most horrible, gouging pain in her whole life. And it wasn’t only emotional. Her heart hurt, physically. She could feel it in her chest. It was really so bad for the first month she was in New York she’d considered going to a doctor, but then, after a couple of weeks, and after starting the new job, the physical pain started to go away.
The heartbreak stayed. And it was still there.
Elizabeth felt as if she would never get over it, and she was never going to let anyone else get over it, either. There was just enough hatefulness in that thought to be the start of a true revenge.
Many nights when she couldn’t sleep, whether she wanted to or not, she played scenarios over and over in her head. They were hardly ever complete; there would be a beginning and a middle, but rarely an ending.
And no matter what the story was, it always stopped at the same point, just when she was about to confront Jessica and Todd. Sometimes it happened on the street, or in her childhood home, or even in an anonymous apartment in New York. And sometimes in her dreams. The setting was always different, but the anger and bitterness were the same, burning hot and fierce, strong enough to take them down, but she never stayed long enough to do the deed. Instead, it would jolt her awake and leave her staring at the darkness, consumed with unexpressed rage.
If anyone could peek into her mind they would be shocked. She wasn’t the Elizabeth anyone knew. Her anger was taking her places it would have been inconceivable to imagine for herself.
She’d always thought of herself as moral, ethical and compassionate, and—possibly somewhat immodestly—as one of the better people. No way. When it came right down to it, revenge was all she could think about, and there was nothing very moral or ethical about that. And compassion? Thank goodness no one could look into her head and see the tortures she thought up for Todd.
But even those gave only momentary respite. She needed true revenge, big-time. She needed something so that instead of stupid, whiny tears, she could feel the straight back of strength, hard enough to wipe out the loser feeling she had whenever she thought of the two of them.
Sometimes her personal revenge scenes would go wild. One would take place at her parents’ country club. They would be playing the “Wedding March” and Jessica, ethereal in her white silk taffeta gown and on the arm of their father, would be standing at the top of the aisle waiting to take that first step. Todd would be waiting at the altar.
And to make it real, in true Jessica form, she would stand there until she had everyone’s complete attention. And when she felt she had it, she would take her first step.
That’s when she, Elizabeth, the uninvited guest, would appear out of nowhere and shout at her betrayers, “You vile, miserable, lying cheats!”
That’s all. Then she would turn and walk out.
Yes, it would be horrible, and both of them would be hurt and embarrassed, but it would not be nearly as cruel as what they had done to her.
Yes, the wedding would go on, but it would be blackened and shamed forever, never forgotten. It would always be the talk of Sweet Valley. It would stain their lives as they had stained hers.
Dumb and childish, and far too brutal a scene for Elizabeth to enjoy.
But there were other scenarios.
In one of Elizabeth’s favorites, she would write a letter to Jessica describing her intimate times with Todd while he was cheating with Jessica, which would be like he was cheating on Jessica with Elizabeth.
Maybe that was too much of a reach, but it would certainly hurt. Lots of tears. Even more childish.
Or …
Another letter reporting all the horrible things Todd had said about Jessica through those many years. And there were plenty. They’d have a big fight, and Jessica would be in tears.
Jessica’s tears. Was that the best she could hope for? Not nearly enough to avenge what they had done to her life.
By the time Elizabeth got through all these scenarios, she would have drifted off, somewhat satisfied until the morning, when she would wake up miserable again. She still hadn’t found the perfect revenge.
But she would.
4
Sweet Valley
That night, as on so many agonizing nights in these past months, there was no way Jessica could find sleep. Elizabeth was waiting in every corner of her mind.
Was it worth it?
A question answered with one look at Todd’s sleeping face and an involuntary rush of love. His face was relaxed and untroubled, softened by the safety of sleep—a rare sight these last several months.
There was a sweetness on his face, just like the look she remembered from that night, five years earlier, when she first saw him.
She was taking a little liberty there. Yes, she had known him since kindergarten, but she’d never really seen him until that night. The night of Jim Regis’s party; that terrible night in their senior year at SVU when Elizabeth was sick and Jessica did her another of her fabulous favors.
Since then, Jessica had rearranged the real events of that evening a thousand ways, but it always came out the same. Truth was too powerful to lie to. And that something so precious as their love, hers and Todd’s, should have had such an ugly nascence was an unalterable truth, and no matter how far and how gloriously it had transformed, there was no escaping its beginning.
She remembered every minute of that beginning, starting from her standing in front of Mrs. Schriker’s house, their college rental, that night, waiting for Todd to pick her up. She was dressed almost entirely in borrowed clothes. Everything belonged to Elizabeth, including Todd.
Right from the first, when he pu
lls up in his black Audi convertible, it feels slightly strange. And when I open the door and slide in, it’s more than strange; it’s weird. I’ve been in his car hundreds of times but always in the backseat. The front seat is Elizabeth’s place, but now here I am.
“Hey,” I say, pulling the door shut.
“Hey.”
Straining to make normal chitchat proves so too much for both of us, and after two blocks the little wisps of attempted conversation drift down like snowflakes into a blanketing silence. The discomfort is like excruciating, forcing me to make another effort. This time I aim for the smallest talk: weather. Except that in Southern California, unless you have storms or earthquakes or mudslides, none of which are expected, there is no weather. It’s all like sun. And more sun.
More silence. We are two very uncomfortable people. The evening that could have been like a fun idea isn’t turning out to be as easy as it sounded. Or, maybe, it’s just me. Todd probably doesn’t even notice.
When we arrive at the frat house the party is already going full blast. I excuse myself and take my jacket to the bedroom. Lianne Kane, the host, Jim Regis’s girlfriend, is there.
“Hey,” she says. “Jim was worried that you two wouldn’t make it. Todd is with you, right?”
“Absolutely. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
And Lianne and I go out to the living room and over to where Jim, who wasn’t all that dumpy, though maybe a little short, is digging into the cooler to get a beer for Todd.
“Todd,” I say, “this is Lianne.”
“Great to meet you,” says Lianne. “I’ve watched you play every game this season. You’re fabulous.”
Of course, Todd is flattered, and Lianne, at almost six feet, is not just a fan; she’s a player, too, and has to hear all about the fabulous last game.
Meanwhile, I talk to Jim. Naturally, I expect that Todd will have explained about Elizabeth being sick. It doesn’t occur to me that he hasn’t and that Jim probably can’t tell the difference. Even though I know it happens more often than not, I still can never understand how people aren’t able to see the enormous difference between Elizabeth and me.
Mostly Jim is talking about how hooked his girlfriend is on basketball; she was captain of the girls’ team at Sweet Valley High. She was there after us, he explains.
Jim excuses himself to greet some people who have just come in, and since Todd is still deep in conversation with Lianne, I wander around looking for cute guys.
After a few minutes I decide that even though the short and dumpy accusation wasn’t exactly fair, Todd is probably the cutest one there, so I stop looking and drift over to the cooler to get myself a beer. The bartender, a frat pledge, is too young but totally hot, so I stay and talk to him.
At some point Todd breaks away from Lianne and finds me. We’re standing together when Jim comes over and introduces us to some of his frat brothers.
That’s like when it first happens.
“Hey, guys,” Jim says. “You saw that game Saturday, right? This is the big scorer, Todd Wilkins.”
Lots of hand shaking and happy talk about the win and then Jim says, almost as an aside, “And this is Elizabeth Wakefield.”
Before I can object, they all give me a quick, rather perfunctory hello, and the conversation moves back to Todd’s last game. I’m not even sure Todd hears the mistake. The moment passes, and I feel like it would be awkward and unimportant to correct them. I can see they don’t really care who I am, so I just let it go.
A girl standing next to me asks where I live, and after I answer, introduces me to her boyfriend. “Hank, this is Elizabeth.”
By now Todd has turned back to me and hears the error. He smiles.
“I don’t think so.”
But it doesn’t seem to register with anyone else.
Except me, and I smile, too.
“Elizabeth?” Hank says. “You go to Sweet Valley U, too, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m not—”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.”
“Lots of times, I’ll bet.” Todd winks at me, and I smile back.
“Yeah,” Hank says. “I see you around all the time. I think we even met before. At the newspaper.”
“Right.” Now like I’m playing along, too.
From there on it just grows. I become Elizabeth and begin to love the fun of it. Todd does, too. Now we’re beginning to get outrageous about it. Holding hands, being affectionate with each other; we become the perfect couple.
As the night wears on we dance, joke around, and make lots of new friends. We’re having a great time. Both of us. And in the process we have a few too many beers. At least I do, but it’s okay because I’m not driving.
For the first time I’m beginning to see why Elizabeth is so crazy about Todd. He is totally sexier than I’d realized and, now that he’s relaxed, is fun and warm. Maybe I hadn’t ever really taken a good look at him. Additionally, it feels good being a couple, even if it is only pretend.
When it comes to committed relationships, I’m a moving target. No boyfriend has ever managed to hold me in his sights for like longer than half a term; and it isn’t because they don’t want to. Sometimes it bothers me that I lose interest so quickly. What seems sexy and exciting in the beginning becomes ordinary and then trying and finally annoying, and I can’t get away fast enough. Will I always feel that way? What about marriage? And I don’t mean that craziness like with Mike McAllery. I still haven’t explained that to myself yet. Annulment closed the book as far as I’m concerned.
I haven’t had a real relationship since I dumped my last boyfriend at the beginning of senior year. And now, with this faux one-night relationship, I’m getting a taste of it again.
Though it can be a little confining, being part of a couple has its own advantages. How good is that, owning some great-looking guy who is obviously crazy about you? Elizabeth is so luckier than she knows. Too bad it has to be Todd.
We are having like such a good time we practically have to drag ourselves away from the party, but it’s getting late and Elizabeth will be waiting.
As soon as we get in the car, reality, like a jolt, shoots through the beer haze and wipes out all our easy pleasure. The very air in the car chills, and the front seat extends, like, two blocks; we are that disconnected.
And silent.
Then Todd breaks it. “That was fun. Incredible how nobody even questioned it at all.”
“It’s like I’m just one double person, not really an individual. Sometimes I hate that. But it was fun tonight.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“I loved when that guy said how much I reminded him of someone. And you said … who’d you say?”
“Jessica Simpson.”
“Yeah. He said, ‘Jessica sounds right.’”
As we warm to the subject, it becomes easier. At one point in a story, being funny, just as we stop at a light, I poke Todd in the chest and say, “Mr. Basketball!”
Todd takes my hand and holds it for a second against his chest, a second too long. Everything stops. His hand is still covering mine against his chest. And it pulls me in closer, my face inches from his, my eyes on his. Both of us are barely breathing.
That’s where everything gets cloudy, not just from the beer but from the excitement. The thrill. For me, the next few moments like don’t register in my mind, only in my body.
I can feel Todd’s response, and then we’re out of control; our mouths furiously pressing, kissing, sucking, inhaling each other. All the while I feel the weight of his body crushing me and I want more, I want him still closer. I so want him to be part of me. To keep holding me.
For the first time in my life, I don’t care about anything or anyone. I don’t even care about Elizabeth. All I care about is that he never lets go.
“Come back to my room,” he says between breaths.
“Winston,” I whisper.
“San Diego.”
“Right.”
We pull
apart. Neither of us looks at the other for the ten minutes it takes to get to Todd’s apartment in downtown Sweet Valley. When we get out of the car, we look straight ahead at the door to the house where Todd and Winston have a rented room.
On the way up the stairs to the second floor, we stop. Todd pulls me to him and we kiss. The depths and longing of that kiss are like no other kiss has ever been for me. Neither of us can pull away. Other than our lips we stay joined together for the rest of the flight, Todd like half carrying me up to his room. Racing.
He unlocks the door, pushes it open with his shoulder, and shoves it closed with his foot, all the while never letting go of me. We tumble onto the bed, ripping at our clothes, flinging them over our heads, kicking off our shoes, and not stopping until we’re both naked and locked in each other’s bodies.
We make love with an otherworldly passion that is so powerful neither of us would hear a knock on the door if there were one. Or any sound when it cracks open a few inches, but I do catch a sliver of light shooting into the room; then it’s gone.
The affair goes on for a month. Todd wants it as much as I do. It’s like a wild, out-of-control time, those thirty days that never touch the ground.
We meet in the middle of the day at the same diner, a banged-up metal imitation bus in a sparsely populated industrial outskirt of Sweet Valley. A safe time in a safe place where it is almost impossible to be lovers; where an unforgiving sun beats down, blaring through the grimy windows, lighting up every mark and tear of the red plastic seats. Unable to compete with a McDonald’s half a mile away, Shirley’s Diner limps along with never more than a handful of customers, none of them likely to be anyone Todd or I would know.
Every day I swear to myself that I won’t go. All through the morning I feel in control; the decision has been made. It will never happen again.
But the longing grows, and by noon no sacrifice is too great. Everything and everyone fall by the wayside, and I’m gasping and my heart is pounding and I think I will stop breathing unless I see him, touch him, feel him next to me.
Sweet Valley Confidential: Ten Years Later Page 5
