by Deena Lipomi
Annie face turns red.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was so mad at you and at him.”
“You knew,” she cries. “You knew how much I wanted to hear from him.”
“I know, I feel terrible,” I confess. “It’s just I couldn’t stand that he tricked you into thinking he was the only one who could understand you.”
Annie shakes her head, steaming. “That’s not what happened.”
I keep confessing. “Devon saw Harris leaving here and asked me who he was and I couldn’t tell him. Now Devon hates me and thinks I’m keeping all these secrets from him, which I am, but I can’t tell him about Harris. I really never would’ve called the cops on him – ”
“Melanie! Oh my god, be quiet,” Annie orders.
“I’m so sorry. I probably screwed everything up even worse. Especially since Justine and them know about Harris somehow, and it’s probably my fault. I can’t stand them but Devon doesn’t know why really, and I love him –”
“Melanie!”
I slam my mouth shut but keep wringing my hands.
Annie pulls the lever on the recliner so she’s sitting up, facing me. “I didn’t mean to get in the way of you and Devon. It must totally suck not being able to tell him everything going on in your head because of me.”
“But it’s not about me,” I say. “I know that, I do –”
She holds up her hand to silence me. “It was dumb to think I could keep all these secrets. I shouldn’t have made you do it either.”
“I could’ve told the secrets,” I say quietly, “but I wanted you to trust me again.”
“Then why did you keep Harris from me when he came here?” she asks, her voice pained.
“To protect you. That’s why I kept the secrets, Annie. To protect us both.” It sounds weak. It feels weak. But it’s the truth.
Annie pinches her eyes shut. “I lied to you, too, about something I said the other day. I had a lot of time to think about it overnight in the hospital.”
Oh god, if the baby isn’t Harris’s after all this –
“I didn’t want you to like Justine. I didn’t want you to become friends with Chloe and Samara when I did. I was kind of glad you guys were enemies,” she says, her eyes still closed. “I wanted them for myself. I wanted what you had.”
“What I had?”
Her eyes flash open. “Friends! God, Mel, friends that were all mine. You’ve always had Kasey and Dawn and I had no one. Not until Justine and those girls accepted me freshman year.”
“Annie –” I start again, but she doesn’t let me speak.
“I didn’t want you protecting me anymore. I wanted to have my own life.”
“You did. You do,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t. Not the way you did.”
I clamp my jaw shut.
Annie tucks her hair back again. “I need you to tell me if Harris calls or comes by or anything.”
“I can do that. I promise,” I say carefully, “but I think it’s time you told someone else about him. Like Mom.”
Annie sighs. “I…I can’t.”
“She’s our mom. You can trust her,” I say. “I’m afraid the secrets will eat you up inside the way they have been torturing me.”
Annie is quiet for a minute. “I’ll forgive you for protecting me,” she says finally, “if you’ll forgive me for protecting Harris.”
“I forgive you for it.” I understand she can’t turn her feelings for him on and off, that only time may change them. “Just consider telling Mom, OK?”
After a beat she wordlessly sticks out her hand.
I take it in mine and shake.
Then Annie picks up the postcard and tears it to shreds.
***
I drive over to Kasey’s after dinner to help her clean Monty’s birdcage. I’m not a fan of large birds, maybe because Dad exposed me to The Birds Hitchcock movie at too young an age, but I’d never deny Kasey assistance, killer talons or not.
Plus it’s a good distraction from the fact that Devon still hasn’t called in two days (not that I’m counting).
I let myself into Kasey’s house through the back door. “Hello?” I call as the poodles come to greet me.
Kasey appears in her blue PETA sweatshirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, ready to get down and dirty. “Dude, I don’t know what my mother fed those birds last night, but it was a mistake.”
She’s right. The whole first floor stinks. I hold my breath and follow her past the reptile room and the food room full of crickets and mice, past the guest bedroom where Devon and I got closer than ever before. Then we reach the bird room. A pair of parakeets twitters and hops from perch to perch in their cage. The lovebirds across the room sing sweetly. Monty, the Blue Crown Conure, talks the loudest while sitting on his perch next to his girlfriend, Barbara, who mumbles, “Hello. Hello. Hello.”
“So, why exactly is this a two-person job?” I ask, finally forced to inhale.
“Because I need to wipe down the whole cage and it’s easier with an extra pair of hands and eyes. Just in case someone decides to flap for it. Besides, it’s more fun with someone else.”
“Gee, great. Thanks,” I say.
“But also to talk to you,” she says as she opens Monty’s cage. “Carlos called me this afternoon.”
“He did?” I back away from the cage. Monty uses his mouth and toes to cross the bars, and then hops onto Kasey’s right hand. Barbara copies his moves and hops onto her left.
Kasey urges her pets onto the open perch beside me. “Keep an eye on them so they don’t fly into the window or anything.”
“So, what did Carlos say?” I ask, watching the birds bob their heads and unsure what to do if they make a break for it.
“That he was accepted to college in L.A. and wants us to be together.” Kasey removes each perch, toy, and dish from the cage and washes them in a bucket of soapy water at her feet.
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” I say.
Kasey stops washing, her soapy hands dripping onto the scuffed hardwood floor. “I don’t know anymore. I thought I did. I’m so confused. I haven’t spoken to him in two months and now this?”
I try not to flinch when Monty flaps his wings. “Has it really been two months already?”
“Yeah. Crazy, right?” she says, plunging her hands back into the water. “Is he saying this stuff now because it’s convenient? Because our colleges will only be a couple hours away from each other and I fit back into his life plan?”
“Did you ask him that?” I ask.
“Of course! He denied it. He says he still loves me.” Kasey scrubs the inside of the cage. “But now that I’ve talked to him again, I don’t know if I still love him. Except it felt so good to love him…I might be able to love him again. What should I do?”
“You’re asking me? The girl who pissed her boyfriend off two days ago and still hasn’t spoken to him? The girl who was essentially dumped?” My voice cracks.
“Dude, you guys’ll work it out. He didn’t dump you. Seriously, you have the most stable, healthy relationship of anyone I know under the age of twenty.” Kasey grabs a pile of clean newspapers.
“Me? Stable? Did you not hear what I just said?”
“I heard you,” Kasey says, fitting newspaper into the cage. “And I stand by my statement.”
“Kase, Devon and I have been dating for like seven months and we’ve only seen each other half-naked once,” I say, blushing.
“That doesn’t matter,” Kasey says with a wave of her hand. “Do you fight?”
“Not really,” I say. “Until this week.”
“Does he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Does he try to control you, or do you try to control him?”
“No.”
“Point proven,” she says. “It’s not about speed, Mel. Or sex.”
Kasey, who had her first boyfriend in sixth grade, thinks my opinion on dating is valid and useful? Me, who got my
first real boyfriend at the age of sixteen? I guess she’s right about the sex thing though. Annie’s a good example of that. Neither sex nor a baby solidified her relationship with Harris.
Kasey dries out the cage with a raggedy towel. “Dude, don’t look so shocked. Just give me some advice here.”
The birds chirp to each other. If only human relationships were as easy as animals: give someone a sniff and hook up without worry.
“Well,” I say, “if you’ve been OK for the past couple months without him, I’d tell him that you don’t want to commit to anything now, but you’d still like to talk to him. If things end up working out, then they do. If not, you tried.”
“What if he thinks it’s not worth keeping this up until next summer? What if he thinks I’ll just ditch him then if I don’t commit now?”
“Then he isn’t worth holding onto anyway. You’re going to meet so many guys when you get to college, Kase.”
Kasey sighs.
“Someone really smart gave me this same advice once.”
“Dude, why is it so much easier to give than to take?”
I laugh. “It always is.”
Kasey nods. “Thanks for listening. And for braving the birds for me.”
I slowly reach out a finger towards Monty’s silky back, keeping my gaze on his pointed beak. He lets me pet him until Barbara side-steps over and head-butts my hand for attention.
“Sorry, Barbara,” I say, “It sucks to be the one left out.”
She caws. Maybe I like the birds more than I thought.
After the Conures are returned to their cage, Kasey and I chow down on some Ben & Jerry’s, and then I drive home more anxious than ever to talk to Devon. I want him to call me so badly, but maybe I’ll suck it up and make the first move. If he doesn’t respond well to it, I guess I’ll also have to take my own advice. If we’re meant to work out, we will. I just have to put myself out there.
Chapter 27
On Saturday morning, over an hour before the sun will rise, I grab my cell and check the time. It’s 5:28 AM, only two minutes before my alarm will go off.
It’s also twelve hours since I called Devon and tossed my cell aside when I got his voicemail. He didn’t call back.
Half an hour later, I’m not only barely awake and possibly single, but also wielding a knife. Dexter normally has a super early prepper for this shift, but that guy’s on vacation with his kids for February break. Being the good sport I am, and desperate for cash to keep my hard-earned car on the road, I agreed to come in early and work all the way through dinner prep.
It’s going to be a long day.
“I promise, I’ll even give ya a ten minute lunch break,” Dexter says with a guffaw when I stagger through the kitchen, my eyes drooping.
“Very funny,” I say.
“You’re a feisty one in the morning,” he says.
“Feisty is my middle name.” It only makes Dexter laugh louder.
By 6:15 AM, a line of doctors and nurses forms at the serving stations. I adjust my hair net and prepare to serve. For the next few hours, I robotically greet staff, patients, and visitors who require eggs for breakfast, while my mind keeps replaying and practicing what I want to say to Devon. Somehow that passes the time faster than I would’ve thought. Business doesn’t slow down until a little before eleven, when my scooping arm is shot and I can barely keep my head up.
“Why don’t ya take a break, Mel? I got enough help here to take us to noon. Come back then?” Dexter says from the oatmeal station.
I gratefully abandon my serving spoon, beeline for the fountain machine, and dose myself with cola. When the caffeine properly soaks into my bloodstream, it’s time to get real.
I march into the squeaky clean hall with my cell phone and dial Devon’s number.
It rings. And rings. I swear, expecting the voicemail to kick on.
“Hello?”
“Devon?” My heart pounds so loud he must hear it.
“Hey.” There’s some sort of whirring in the background.
“Hi.” I lean against the wall and think I might pass out. “How are you?”
The whirring stops. “Been better.”
“Oh. Me too.” I pause as a woman pushing a man in a wheelchair passes by. “Devon, I’m sorry. For being a jerk at school and walking away from you. For not being open with you about Annie stuff. I love you and miss you and never wanted to do anything to mess us up,” I rush, my words coming out nothing like I’d planned or practiced.
The whirring starts up again on Devon’s end. A patient strolls by with a walker. A doctor passes on quiet loafers.
“Devon?” I say, my voice shaking. He’s got to say something, even if it’s that he can never forgive me for being so stupid and secretive and bitchy. I need closure. I need an answer. I need something, anything.
The whirring stops. I clutch my wooden bracelet until my eyes water.
“Mel, I really miss you.”
My heart swells. I might have a heart attack. Good thing I’m in a hospital.
“I’m sorry, too, for snapping at you and giving you a hard time. I know you were having a rough day.” He clears his throat. “We both messed up, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“I should’ve answered your calls. I just needed some space. Now, though, I’m lonely.” I hear the smile creeping into his voice.
“Me, too,” I say. “Must mean we belong together. Right?”
“Does that mean you forgive me?”
“Of course. As long as you forgive me?”
“I tried to stay mad. Then even my dad was telling me to stop being an idiot,” he says.
The pressure on my chest finally seeps away. “I’m at work on my break and, well, can I see you tonight?” I want to wrap my arms around him, to make everything all right between us.
“What time is your break over?” Devon asks.
“Noon-ish.”
“I’m finishing up something I want to give you. It has to dry for another minute,” he says. I now realize that the whirring in the background is from his tools and he must be in the garage. “Can I stop by the hospital and bring it to you?”
“If you really want to.” My pulse races at the prospect of seeing him sooner rather than later.
“I’ll meet you in twenty minutes in the cafeteria with a sub from Marshall’s. See you soon.”
I dance back to the cafeteria, almost knocking an orderly over on the way.
“Sam, isn’t that your friend from school?” a small voice asks when I wind through the cafeteria tables.
Samara’s spoonful of oatmeal stops just outside her open mouth. She’s only one table away from me. My hairnet and apron are obviously not a big enough disguise.
Belle waves with one hand and sloshes orange juice out of a cup in the other. “Come sit with us!”
I can’t deny Belle’s sweet smile and even if her sister hates me.
“Hi,” I say when I reach them. “How are you?”
“Sam’s bringing me to chemo today,” Belle says. “I like it when she brings me ‘cause she reads me Teen2Teen magazine. It’s really good.”
“That’s good,” I say.
Samara bows down to her cereal bowl.
“You’re lucky to have such a great sister,” I say. Samara might not be a nice person, but I mean it when I say she’s a good sister based on what I’ve seen.
Samara finally raises her head. “Belle,” she says, “can you go look at the hearts on the wall for a minute? I want to talk to Melanie.”
“If you’re gonna tell her that I have cancer, you can tell her with me standing right here,” Belle says.
“No, I’m not. It’s about something else, OK?”
“Fine.” Belle takes her juice and drags her feet to the wall.
I stand to leave, too.
“Wait,” Samara says.
I tap my foot against the scuffed floor.
“What Justine did to Annie was wrong. What she said in the bathroom,
too.” Samara pushes her oatmeal away. “I never did anything to hurt Annie, I swear. I just told Justine and Chloe what I heard about her. That she was pregnant and that she’d seen Harris last spring. I didn’t know they’d call her names. We were all friends, you know?”
“Right.”
“Annie was my friend,” Samara insists. “I was worried!”
“How did you find out?” I ask.
“Over the summer I was at the gynecologist’s office with my mom,” she says. “When we were leaving the, I overheard a nurse say Annie’s name, so I listened. They said her pregnancy test came back positive. I waited for Annie to tell us herself, but she never did. I had to tell somebody.”
I can relate to that.
“I didn’t think Justine would get so totally out of control,” Samara says. “But she has some problems of her own.”
“What is wrong with Justine?” I ask. “What gives her the right to be so nasty?”
“Nothing gives her that right,” Samara says. “That’s not what I’m saying. But her mother was abusive and she doesn’t trust her stepmother. Basically she doesn’t trust anybody. It’s hard for her to lose someone she thought was close to her.”
“She only lost Annie because Annie knew enough not to trust her either,” I say.
Samara nods. “I know.”
Belle’s scarf bobs amongst the pink and red paper hearts and cupids on the walls, Valentine’s Day decorations. I wish I’d known that both of our sisters were going through life-altering diagnoses at the same time. Maybe it could’ve changed things, to have not had all the secrets to bear alone.
I sit beside Samara. “Annie could really use an apology. And a friend.”
Samara stirs her oatmeal. “I, um, called a few times…to apologize to her….but never actually talked to her.”
My spine tingles. “Did you just hang up when someone answered?”
She nods. “She wouldn’t answer her cell so I tried your land line. I think you answered once and yelled something about Harris, so I kind of guessed that Annie had been seeing him.”
I remember saying Harris’s name into the phone, assuming it was him and giving away another secret.
“I didn’t mean to cause drama,” Samara says. “Or for things to spiral so out of control.”
