Halfway Perfect

by Julie Cross

  “It’s not your fault,” Alex whispers again. “You have to believe me.”

  Finally, I give him a small nod, and then I let myself break down. I can’t really stop it. Alex’s arms go around me, and my face is buried in his shirt, and my life is rewinding itself inside my head and showing me colors I’ve never seen before and none of it is pleasant. It’s so ugly I feel sick to my stomach and completely unable to draw in enough air to my lungs.

  Alex just stands there, squeezing me and rubbing his hands over my back, like he’s not planning on letting go anytime soon. And I’m so tired I can hardly keep myself from slumping over.

  Chapter 49: Alex

  I don’t know how long I stand there letting Eve cry and listening to her breathing, making sure she’s not hyperventilating. I’m completely weak with relief. I saw it on her face, that lightbulb of realization hitting, and I knew that I’d somehow managed to get through to her despite all the idiotic things I’d accidentally said.

  I want to just let her keep crying and then take her back to her place and make sure she’s okay, but I have one more important subject to broach. I keep my arms tight around her, squeezing her to my chest so she can’t run away.

  “I need you to tell Elana,” I say as soon as her breathing returns normal. “Tell her what happened between you and Wes and put a stop to whatever she’s trying to have with him before anything can even start.”

  She lifts her head and wipes her face on the sleeve of her shirt before looking up at me. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

  “You will?” I try to hide the shock from my voice, but it’s hard, considering the resistance I got from her earlier.

  She stands up and straightens my shirt, trying to rub off the tears and snot with her sleeve. I gently push her hand away. I could care less about my shirt. Her arms go around my neck, and she hugs me tight. “I’m sorry you couldn’t meet a nice normal girl with a lot less baggage. Like someone who goes to Starbucks on Sunday and hates boys who are stupid and only talk about sports.”

  I laugh. “I’ve met plenty of normal girls, believe me.”

  She lets go of me and tries harder to remove evidence of her crying by smearing mascara all over her shirtsleeve. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  I stare at her in disbelief. “Why would I think that?”

  “For being with Wes at fifteen? For letting him do what he did? For believing that maybe now, after two years, he’s actually different?”

  I shake my head. “I know what you’re thinking, the issues I have with Elana and me being falsely together, my opinions. But I’m not you and you’re so different. I could see how a fifteen-year-old version of you would have connected more with someone older. It’s not the age thing. You said so yourself in that Seventeen interview; being a model means living in the grown-up world and being treated that way. The real problem is Wes, not the age gap between the two of you. And no, I don’t think you’re stupid for letting him hurt you. He's an amazing manipulator, Eve. I fell for all kinds of his shit.”

  She lets out a breath, relieved. “So what now?”

  “You mean with you and me?” She nods and then I remember that I told her I loved her even though I wasn’t planning on doing that today. “Well, you already know how I feel.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Okay, but what about—?”

  I grab her hand and squeeze it. “What about what? The way I see it, we’ve got nothing to lose now. There’s no fake relationship on the line or scholarship for you.”

  Dread fills Eve’s face. “Yeah, I know, but Wes.”

  “Right, Wes.” I take a deep breath. “Let’s not let him find out about us until we have a plan. You talk to Elana and I’ll figure out the rest, okay?”

  “Okay.” She looks nervous. Really nervous. I don’t know what else to say to ease her mind. To let her know that no matter what happens, we are doing exactly what we should be doing.

  “You leave first, and I’ll hang back a while so we’re not seen together.”

  She looks a little lost but nods. “Sure, that’s a good plan.”

  “Eve?” I catch her hand before she opens the door. I place my hands on her face and lean in and kiss her. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, and I won’t do anything without talking to you first. I know it’s hard for you, but you can trust me.”

  She gives me another quick kiss on the mouth. “Thank you.”

  I take Eve’s spot sitting on the desk in the empty office and wait ten agonizing minutes before heading out, to come up with this great plan that I just promised her even though I currently have nothing to work with.

  Chapter 50: Eve

  January 12, 8:00 a.m.

  “How are you this morning?”

  I toss my towel, pajamas, and bathroom supplies onto my desk and glance at Steph, who’s tangled up in her covers and barely awake. She stayed up until three this morning listening to me talk and cry and basically tell her everything that surfaced after Alex talked to me yesterday. I honestly don’t think I could have picked a better roommate and I don’t think I’ve ever, in my entire life, been surrounded by such supportive people. But the fact that I can’t change the past, that I can’t help seeing myself as the stupid girl who spent two years blaming herself for what happened with Wes, means it’s going to take more than one night to fix me.

  “I’m doing okay,” I tell Steph finally. “I’m going for a walk. I haven’t taken a picture of anything since before finals, and I need to get back on the horse, you know?”

  She rolls out of bed and digs through the bottom drawer of her dresser, handing me a bag from Macy’s. “It’s your Christmas present. I didn’t get a chance to get it before I went home.”

  I open the shopping bag and find a gray knit scarf, gloves, and hat that match my gray and black coat perfectly. I’ve been relying on stuffing my hands in my pockets and wearing my hair down to keep my ears warm.

  “Thanks, Steph. I needed these.”

  She looks extremely pleased with herself as I remove the tags and bundle up for my walk outside.

  It’s cold, but the sun is out and it helps me tolerate the temperature. I wander through a few sections of Central Park before settling on Belvedere Castle. My camera is around my neck, but I don’t pick it up yet; instead I watch for inspiration. There’s a group of middle-school-aged kids in uniforms and another group of elementary-school-aged kids in regular clothes. I spot a few older people, some middle-aged adults taking dozens of pictures and wearing their tourist staples.

  My gaze ends up following a little girl with a curly, blond ponytail, ribbons in her hair, and a brown-and-pink jacket. She looks about four or five years old, and she’s tugging the hand of a man who’s probably in his mid-thirties. Like the little girl, he’s extremely well dressed—polished shoes and dress pants. They aren’t poor and they don’t look like tourists, possibly Upper East Siders.

  I lean against the castle wall and start watching the girl and the man through my camera lens.

  “Daddy, look! The top is where the princess gets locked up by the evil queen,” the girl says, pointing up at the highest part of the castle.

  I zoom in on the man’s face and see him grin broadly when the little girl turns to see his reaction to her statement about the princess and the queen. The second she turns back around, his smile fades. It’s like he’s aged ten years.

  I snap a few shots of the girl. Her nose is red from the cold, and after she wipes it several times on her sleeve, Dad pulls a Kleenex from his pocket and wipes her runny nose despite the fact that she tries to wiggle away. He keeps smiling at her, and when she takes off running to see over the other side, his face falls again.

  My lens is now zoomed in on him, and, at the same time, I’m trying to remember being four or five years old. Even with my trailer park home and negligent parents, there was always a game to be pl
ayed or a show to watch or something to make life fun. I didn’t have knowledge of grown-up problems. Not until maybe third or fourth grade when I started to figure things out.

  I shift my camera to the teachers leading the field trips, and even though they are both a similar age to the little girl’s dad, they don’t look nearly as troubled. I turn back to him and snap some pictures from several different angles. And then I’m wondering what kind of life event could happen to this man that he couldn’t explain to a four- or five-year-old. And he had to wear a mask every time she turned to look at him. Did he get caught cheating on his wife and now the girl’s mom is going to leave him and take custody of the child? Did Grandma die and he hasn’t figured out how to tell her yet? Did he lose his job? Is the girl’s mom sick?

  Whatever his story is, he doesn’t want to tell her because she’ll age ten years too. Events in my life made me feel twenty-five at fifteen, and no girl should have to miss those years. But I did. And I think how I’d love to go back and fix everything, not let myself fall in love with Wes Danes. He’s left so many scars on me, a few I didn’t even realize I had until yesterday. But the girl I was when I came to Columbia, when I first met Alex, that girl was good enough to cause someone like Alex Evans to make all kinds of sacrifices to help. I gave him an easy out and he wouldn’t take it.

  The things in my past are awful things, but would I still be me if I hadn’t experienced that life? Without that life, would I be someone who could take photographs good enough to catch the attention of Janessa Fields and the Mason Scholarship committee? Would I be someone with enough drive and motivation to get into Columbia?

  I’m honestly not sure that I would have any of that. Maybe the only way forward is to simply move forward, one half-step at a time. Maybe the struggles I’m going to face trying to keep myself in school and trust Alex enough to let him into my life will take me further up that ladder and I’ll look back on those hardships and figure out how to appreciate them as well.

  I head back outside toward my dorm. I feel lighter and so relieved to have that over and to focus on what to do next. To keep myself here at this beautiful campus.

  I cross through the middle of two buildings and stop right in my tracks. For the first time in years, I let myself truly breathe, stop thinking and worrying, because it’s going to be okay. Even if I have to transfer somewhere cheaper or take classes part time and work part time, the hole isn’t so big I can’t dig my way out. It’s manageable. My life is manageable.

  It’s not until I get back to my room and pull the photos up on my laptop that I realize nearly every picture I took this morning is a whole image.

  Chapter 51: Alex

  January 12, 12:30 p.m.

  Janessa Fields just stares at me, completely shocked, and I wonder if this is the first time she’s ever been speechless. From what I’ve seen of Janessa, she seems to have an opinion on just about everything.

  I’m in her office, and I’ve just finished telling her the entire, and I do mean entire, Eve Castle/Wes Danes story. Eve will probably never speak to me again after finding this out, but I promised her I’d figure out how to get Wes fired. I have no idea what Janessa will do with this information, but who else can I trust in the industry?

  Janessa rubs her eyes and sighs. “I had no idea, honestly. I thought she was doing well and then…and I can’t believe I didn’t see the signs after the way he cornered her at the CK shoot. But I thought she changed her mind about school and her career and wanted to use Wes to get back into modeling.”

  “Well, she did want to use Wes, but that was only because—” I stop before saying the truth out loud. It was only because she wasn’t allowed on set at Janessa’s jobs and that started the chain reaction of her losing her chance at the scholarship and all the other shit that went down.

  Janessa seems to pull herself together, not wanting to dwell on what has already happened. “And you think something is going on with Wes and Elana?”

  “I don’t know what, but something has happened. And he has no reason to be spending time one-on-one with her. He’s not even Elana’s agent.” I let out a breath. “I know this is probably not something you want to get involved with, and I know you’ve got contracts and bridges into the fashion industry that you don’t want to burn, but I didn’t know who else to talk to and I feel like Eve’s counting on me. And if I can’t help her, then she isn’t going to trust me, and what if she goes back to thinking that the Wes thing was partially her fault—”

  Janessa holds up her hand to stop me. “Alex, I’m not like everyone else in this industry. Yes, I’m here to make money. But I have many, many lines I’m not willing to cross, and if they want me bad enough, which they usually do, then I get to do things my way. First off, don’t worry about Eve’s school next year. I can give her a paying assistantship. Had I known it was such a dire situation, I would have done that sooner, but I wanted to treat her like a student. She’s proven herself worthy of getting an assistant’s salary. Her idea for a picture is going on the giant Calvin Klein billboard. She’s good. She’s incredibly talented.”

  I let out a breath, so relieved already. “Okay, so no worries about school, then?”

  “It’s only January, Alex,” Janessa says. “She’s got plenty of time to figure out a plan for next fall. Eve has some good people in her life. All she has to do is let them help her.”

  “And Wes?” I ask wearily.

  “Get me one piece of evidence or a statement from Elana saying that Wes acted inappropriately and I’ll have him fired,” Janessa says, causing my heart to sink all the way down to my stomach. There might not even be any evidence to get, and if there is, why would Elana give it to me?

  Then she starts to explain her plan, and for the first time since cornering Eve after that Cosmo shoot yesterday, I’m thinking that maybe, just maybe, this might actually work.

  After I leave Janessa’s office, I pull out my phone and call Eve. “Hey, have you talked to Elana yet?”

  Eve lets out a sigh that I can hear so clearly through the phone, I know the answer already.

  “No, I’ve thought about it—”

  “It’s okay,” I interrupt. “I’ve been thinking about it too, and I think we should do it together. You know, because we’ve both heard different things from her and gotten different hints.”

  “That would be great,” Eve says, sounding relieved, which makes me equally relieved. “I don’t want to team up on her or anything, but I could really use the support, to be honest.”

  “Are you busy now? I’ll text her and see where she’s at and then let you know where to meet, okay?”

  “I’m not busy now, but I have a shoot at two,” she says.

  “Where?” I ask. She tells me the shoot location. “Perfect. That’s not too far from Elana’s building.”

  After hanging up with Eve, I text Elana and ask her if she’s working. She replies right away, saying she’s at home, so I tell Eve to meet me there in thirty minutes.

  • • •

  January 12, 2:00 p.m.

  “Eve!” Elana says when she opens the door. “I didn’t know both of you were coming over.”

  Eve gives her a tight smile and then glances at me, waiting for my brilliant explanation. Eve already looks pale, like she’s ready to barf any second. I don’t blame her. We basically had this same chat with each other yesterday and who wants to rehash their horrible past two days in a row?

  I wait until Elana lets us in and shuts the door before answering her silent question about why we’re both here. “We have something we want to talk to you about. It’s kind of important.” I glance around. “Is anyone else here?”

  Elana’s eyes are wide with alarm, but she shakes her head.

  My fingers fumble for my phone in my pocket. I know Eve would never approve of what I’m about to do, but I’m willing to take that risk.

  I c
arefully place my cell phone on the table along with my keys before sitting down on the couch, trying to make it look like my pockets were just overfilled. Elana warily takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch and Eve is on the love seat, angling herself toward Elana.

  Eve opens her mouth to start speaking, and I’m already predicting her slow, graceful maneuvering into the topic at hand and I just know that it’s not going to work.

  “We know about you and Wes,” I blurt out, cutting Eve off.

  Eve narrows her eyes at me like she’s afraid I might have ruined everything.

  Elana’s gaze darts from Eve to me, then back to Eve. “How—I mean, what do you mean?”

  Eve swallows hard and lifts a shaking hand to tuck her hair behind her ears. “We know that you have feelings for Wes, and it’s just that Alex and I really don’t think you should pursue this. We’re worried about you.”

  “You’re worried about me?” Elana folds her arms across her chest, defensive mode clearly turned on. “I don’t think either of you would ever understand how much Wes has helped me. I almost quit modeling until he stepped in and gave me the confidence to keep going.” She turns to me, practically glaring. “I know how you think, Alex. I’m a child to you. You don’t get it.”

  Nausea rolls over me. It’s true. I had a feeling, but hearing her practically just admit it comes with a surprising punch.

  “Neither of us thinks you’re a child,” Eve says gently. I glance at Eve and lift an eyebrow. Now’s the time to speak up. Eve takes a deep breath and continues. “And honestly, Elana, I do understand, a lot more than you realize.”