"Cassie. My seatbelt is stuck," Addie whined. "Take Walter. I don't want to squish him."
I reached out and held the turtle in my hands as Addie slid out from under her seatbelt, leaving it locked in place.
"Walter likes it when you scratch his neck." Addie giggled. "Don't you, Walter? Can you get him to poke his head out?"
I held Walter up and looked in his shell. The turtle had totally retreated. "Hey, Walter," I called, smiling. He really was kind of cute. "Anyone home in there? Hello?" I knocked on his shell.
"Not too hard." Addie ran around to my side of the car. "You'll scare him. And when he's scared..."
A warm liquid ran down my hands.
"…he pees," Addie said with a strained smile.
"Oh, my God!" Pees was an understatement. Walter let loose like he hadn't relieved himself in days and it smelled like rotting wet grass and was soaking into Priya's hip t-shirt and my jeans. I jumped out of the car, handing over the turtle.
"Hey, Cass," I heard a voice say. "You working?"
I knew that voice; I'd been hanging on his every word since first grade.
"Hey," I said, forcing a smile. Nick stood behind me in a sun break; it was literally like nature had cued his spotlight and bathed him in light. Tall with bronzed skin and longish brown hair that fell into his eyes, I tried not to stare at the way Nick's black t-shirt stretched across his chest and hugged his biceps. My face burned and I felt that breathlessness that came whenever I realized I had to talk to the boy that had broken my heart.
"If it isn’t my favorite turtle," Nick said, smiling as if nothing had ever happened between us. It was as if his brain lacked the ability to dwell on the past. He wasn't replaying every word of our goodbye; he was here in the present, expecting the world to always love him and, big surprise, the world did. Being smoking hot did not hurt his cause.
"Take Walter," I said before Addie took the bait and opened her mouth. I held my dripping hands behind my back trying to shake them out. "So, hey, I guess we're both working tonight? I didn't check the schedule." Another lie. I knew every shift, every hour we were both scheduled.
"Yeah. Me, either," Nick said.
Was it possible Nick didn't even notice when we shared a shift?
"But I'm so glad I ran into you. I wanted to ask, you mind covering for me if it's slow? I have this thing."
He wanted me to cover for him. I felt deflated, but kept my smile strong. "Yeah. I mean, no. That's totally okay." What thing? I wanted to ask. Something that wears tight jeans and knows how to do things I don't.
"Only if you're cool with it."
"I'm totally cool." I was so far from cool.
"Seriously?" He smiled, looking like a model on an outdoor catalog shoot.
"Yeah, seriously. It's no problem." My voice sounded too loud, my smile felt too big, but I couldn't stop myself. What was wrong with me? Did I need to announce to my ex-boyfriend that it was Friday night and I had no plans? I was furious with myself, but I couldn't bring myself to let Nick down, to say the word, "no." It was as if I suffered from a speech impediment that limited my vocabulary.
"That is so nice of you, Cass. You’re awesome," Nick said, smiling. "I wasn't sure how it would be, you know, after..."
"Really?" I feigned surprise, cutting him off. "It's no big deal. Just helping out a friend, right?" Rise above, Cass, I whispered to myself. This beautiful guy in front of you doesn't want to be with you, so wish him well and move on. He has plans and they don't include you.
"Awesome. You heading up?" He nodded up the hill, but the walkway from the parking lot to the restaurant is narrow and steep. It is an awfully long way to walk with your ex-boyfriend.
"I'll be up in a few."
"Cool." Nick smiled and walked away. He never looked back even once.
"Cover for me, Cass," I muttered, watching his tight backside as he walked. "You're so nice, Cassie." Addie stood beside me wide-eyed and petting Walter. "It's kind of rude of him to assume that I don't have anything better to do tonight than cover for him.”
"But you don't have plans," Addie said.
"Not the point."
I reached up and, without thinking, ran my sticky fingers through my hair. I cringed. Now I was depressed and disgusting. "Addie, will you please go inside and tell Mom I'm here. I need a sec to pull myself together."
For once, my sister didn't argue. Clutching Walter to her chest, she ran up the hill, almost catching up with Nick at the top.
I needed to wash my hands, rub baking soda in my hair and do some deep breathing before I spent the next two-plus hours pretending I actually was a mature, evolved girl who didn't mind covering for her ex-boyfriend on a Friday night.
I walked toward the dock. "Rise above. Rise above," I said, but I didn't feel like I was rising. In my defense, I think it's awfully difficult to feel empowered when there's turtle pee in your hair.
Chapter 3
My parents bought the Hideaway before my dad died. Mom said it was their big dream to raise a family on San Sebastian and run a funky restaurant on route to the San Juan's. But Dad went sailing one stormy morning and he never came back. I think that's why my Mom says Addie and I can't sail. She's okay with the water, and even with boats, but I've wanted to take sailing lessons since I was a kid and every year Mom comes up with another reason why I can't.
They never figured out exactly what happened to Dad out there on the water, but the theory was the boom knocked him unconscious, so when his boat capsized, he couldn't do any of the things a person needs to do if they don't want to die. You'd think I'd be more afraid of the water since my dad drowned. But I'm not. Sometimes I imagine that he's still in the water. Not in a creepy way like his body is still out there. They did find him. He's buried in a small cemetery in the middle of the island near St. Claire Church, but sometimes when I'm swimming and I can hear the motion of life underwater, in that muted place, I wonder if Dad can hear me. If somehow a part of him remained in the waves when he died.
I knew the pass code to the marina gate by heart. Ignoring how the mist had taken a turn toward becoming real rain I walked past the sailboats. I looked up at the gathering clouds hanging in the wet and salty air. Why couldn't I have told Nick, no? It's a one-syllable word. Two-year-olds can say it, but the second I looked into his dark brown eyes and felt his crooked smile wash all over me, I'd wanted to smile back at him. I'd wanted to make sure he didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable. He'd broken my heart and I was more worried about his feelings than standing up for myself. Priya would have been so disappointed in me. She'd spent all day trying to build me up only to have me collapse like a deboned fish. "Lame, Cassie," I said, talking to myself above the chorus of halyards and creaking fenders.
Harbormaster Bill had a small office at the end of the dock. It's really a glorified shed, but it's big enough to keep a whiteboard where he tracks the slips and boats when he isn't sitting on a folding chair drinking light beer. I went into the office bathroom scrubbed my hands with some of that pink powdery soap and sniffed the ends of my hair. I couldn't tell whether I still smelled like turtle pee or not. I'd cut my hair into a pixie sophomore year in high school. Pixie, I soon realized, looked good on tiny girls; on a girl my size, pixie just made my face look big. I'd been growing my hair long for over a year and it finally reached just past my collarbone. I wished my hair were as long as Priya's. Nick's new girlfriend probably had beautiful, long hair that reached all the way to her back tattoo.
"Enough," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "You're going to walk out of this marina toilet, stand tall and quit being so pathetic."
I washed my hands and cleaned up the smudges of mascara under my eyes. Sunlight caught on the silver ring I wore on my right hand. The ring. When we first started dating, Nick had gotten a ring out of a gumball machine and given it to me. He'd pretended the ring was really expensive and I'd pretended it needed to be insured or stored in a safe at night. It was our little joke. The whole ring thing had kind of fre
aked my mother out a bit. I think she'd thought a ring, any ring at all, meant we were having sex, which we weren't. But we might have. I might have loved him enough to do that someday, but I hadn't decided yet, and he hadn't stuck around long enough for me to make up my mind.
I twisted the ring around my finger. Every time I looked at it, I felt a mix of hope and despair. I had to admit that a part of me wore it because, deep down, I wanted another chance, but Nick had just asked me to cover his shift so he could go out on a date. It was time for me to be okay with things being over.
Outside, standing on the edge of the dock, I faced the open water and, with a sudden burst of energy, twisted Nick's ring off my finger. My pulse racing, I held it in my palm and watched as the rain filled my hand. Drops ran down my forehead and into my eyes.
"I don't need you," I shouted and cocked my arm back. "And I don't need your cheesy, stupid ring." As hard as I could, I threw the ring high into the air over the deep water and watched it plop beneath the waves. I imagined it spiraling down to the bottom and sinking into the mud.
I lifted my hands and did a little dance on the end of the dock, kicking at the air. "Whooo hoooo!" His ring was gone and I felt great. I felt strong. I felt decisive. Powerful. Maybe I was evolving. Maybe next time I would look into his warm, brown eyes and say, “no.” Maybe even “hell no.” It was time to move on.
I turned around and immediately wanted to melt between the slats of the dock. I had an audience. Sitting under a makeshift, blue canvas roof, on a sailboat about two slips away, was a guy wearing a Husky Football sweatshirt and baseball hat. He was definitely within earshot of my performance with a clear line of sight to my one-girl show. For a split second, I thought he hadn't seen me, but then he tipped his baseball cap toward me as if giving me a compliment.
"I thought I was alone," I blurted, clutching my arms across my chest. Then the clouds overhead cracked wide open and within seconds the misting rain transformed into drops so big they felt like fingertips tapping my head.
"Want to get dry?" Baseball guy stood up, pointing to his roof. "Hop aboard."
I glanced up the dock where a curtain of rain totally obscured the shore. I needed to choose. Run for the restaurant, retreat to the bathroom or do something bold and accept an invitation from a stranger. I didn’t even have my sweater. I’d left it in the car.
Nice Cassie, Good Cassie knew the right thing to do. Run for the restaurant and get to work, but I'd just tossed Nick's ring away and the idea of being late gave me this delicious thrill.
"Why not," I said. I darted to the boat and stepped aboard.
Baseball guy handed me a thick, forest green towel. It smelled like talcum powder when I held it to my face. I took a seat on a bench under the sagging tarp. He sat across from me holding a steaming mug in his hands. I dried the ends of my hair with the towel, but stopped when I remembered Walter, the turtle. What if my hair stunk of pee and I rubbed this guy's towel all over my foul-smelling head?
I tried to look at him without staring. He wasn't good-looking in a pretty way like Nick; this guy was handsome, rugged, like his edges were rough, but golden. Tall and thin, his short blonde hair peeked out from under his black cap. He had soft blue eyes. His arms were lanky, but I could tell they were solid and strong. He was definitely older than me, but I couldn't tell by how much. Probably a college guy, I guessed from his Husky gear and the pile of textbooks on the bench behind him.
"This is summer in the northwest, right?" He pointed to the wall of rain and smiled.
Sitting this close to him, I felt less brave and more tongue-tied. I should have just hid out in the bathroom. That was more my style. I didn't talk to handsome strangers.
"So, did you get the guy out of your system?" He nodded toward the dock.
I must have looked mortified; I remember going from just tongue tied to totally mute.
"I wasn't trying to spy, seriously," he said, sounding apologetic. "Don’t feel awkward. It was your thing out there and I just happened to be here." When he looked at me, he radiated this warmth. It was hard not to believe him and I couldn't help but smile back. "Confession," he said, sounding conspiratorial. "When a relationship ends, I've been known to chuck a thing or two into the ocean, or the fire, or off a bridge."
I found my voice. "You have?"
"Sure," he said. "I've burned photos, clothes, books, stuffed animals… now I'm sounding a little nuts. Seriously, it was all very normal and I made sure to be a good Boy Scout and pour water on all the embers when I was done."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better," I said, and then surprised myself by giggling. Suddenly, my outburst on the dock seemed more funny than embarrassing and my hand felt lighter without the weight of Nick's ring.
"It's working, right?" He lifted his cup toward me and I smelled the aroma of black coffee. "I think you're smiling now."
"Yeah," I said, looking at my tennis shoes.
"Bad break up?" He said, leaning back in his seat. "I'm a very good listener and trust me, I've got time." He nodded toward the bow of the boat. I could see, through the rain, varnish peeling off the teak deck in strips, the brass portholes oxidized and dull. More blue tarps were strung over the railings. This boat needed a lot of work.
"You don't want to hear about him."
"Are you kidding?" he said. "If you don’t talk to me, I’m going to have to work on my boat in the rain or read books about financial derivatives. Come on, everybody loves break-up stories, especially when they've got their own relationship drama."
"You have drama?"
He shrugged.
"Well," I took a breath and then I started talking. I told him how I'd known Nick forever, how quickly I'd fallen, the humiliating end the night of the bonfire. The words poured out of me. "Why wouldn't he just tell the truth?" I asked. "He ended it for someone else but he lied. So, why do they do it? Why do guys lie?"
"Um... sometimes guys lie because it's the coward’s way out. He thinks that by not telling you the truth, he's being kinder."
"Well, he isn't."
"Maybe, maybe not. But I think you know it doesn't matter. You'll stop caring about him when you're ready."
"I will?"
"Of course," he said. "You're going to be all right. I can tell. I'm a heartbreak specialist."
"You don't even know me."
"True." He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "But, I know you're a nice girl."
"Oh, my God, not nice. Anything but that."
"Well, you're probably still nice to this guy even though he doesn't deserve it."
"How do you know all that?"
"I'm good with people," he smiled and stood up outside the tarp, looking at an unexpected patch of blue sky. "Looks like you've got your sun break."
"Yeah, I'm late." I stood up and nodded toward the restaurant. "Work."
"You wait tables at the Hideaway?"
"Yeah, family business."
"Your parents?"
"Mom. Dad died, so just Mom."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay, I'm okay. I mean, it's not okay."
"I get it," he said, "By the way, I'm RD."
"Hi." I smiled. His eyes were so blue it made me think of shallow, clear water. Suddenly, he laughed and I realized I'd been staring. "I'm Cassandra," I said, my cheeks burning. I'd just stood there, mouth gaping, forgetting my own name.
"Cassandra, the prophet," he said, his voice playful.
"I think that was another girl."
"You're not a psychic?"
"Afraid not.” Through the hatch, I caught a glimpse of a yellow spinnaker and the edge of a blue star. He had stretched the sail out down below attempting to dry it off. I remembered the flash of color and the boat I'd watched crossing the Sound at the beach with Priya. "But I did see you sail in today," I said, pointing below deck. "Yellow spinnaker with blue stars."
He laughed. "Oh, I get it. You’re just stalking me." Most people, when they talk to you, their eyes dar
t away and stuff, but not RD. He really looked at me. His eyes felt like a close-up camera focusing in on the smallest detail of my face.
"It's kind of a hard sail to miss," I said. "And I'm definitely not psychic. I don't think psychics get dumped."
"True. But you look like you're worthy of a myth or two."
I shook off a wave of goose bumps. Was he flirting with me? I wasn't sure, but I liked how he talked, the way he looked at me, the way he joked with me as if nothing was over my head.
"I better go," I said, pointing to the sun. "I can't claim lost at sea any longer."
"Well, thanks for making my solitary morning a little less boring, Cassandra." RD held out his hand to help me off the boat.
"Thanks for helping me work through a potentially embarrassing meltdown." I took his hand, amazed how small I felt being touched by him. His fingers were warm, I think from his coffee mug.
After helping me over the rail and back onto the dock, RD sat back down, stretching his legs out. "I can tell you one thing for sure."
"Yeah?" Even after he let go of my fingers, my skin tingled.
"That guy will figure out he screwed up. Losing a beautiful girl like you is definitely a mistake."
I could not move. Beautiful. It's such a powerful word, especially when no one's ever said it to you before. Nick called me cute. He called me sweet, but never beautiful. No. Beautiful was a word reserved for girls like Priya. I rolled the word over in my mind, wanting him to say it again. Beautiful. Beautiful girl. With one word, I felt like RD had reached inside me and gently squeezed my heart.
"Later," RD said.
I ran down the dock, but before I opened the gate to escape up the hill, I turned and looked back. RD was on the dock adjusting the fenders. I swear I saw him pause and smile at me. It was as if I could feel his pale eyes reaching me through that gray rain. It may seem impossible that I'd remember everything like this, but I do. Every word, every touch, and the way I felt inside when it first began, because it started right then. RD said the word "beautiful" and somewhere between us a door opened. I was destined to fall, no matter how big of a mistake I was making.
Lie to Me (an OddRocket title) Page 2
