But I don’t say anything. I just run my big toe back and forth across the carpet underneath the piano, because all of a sudden all I can think about is Rob’s mother outside. It feels like a betrayal somehow, being here with Len, agreeing to this.
“No go?” he says. “Did I botch the landing?”
“It’s not you,” I say.
“So what is it?” he says. He sits down again but this time straddles the bench, facing me.
I take a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
“Which part?”
“What?”
“Which part don’t you know?”
I shake my head slowly. “I just don’t.”
I’m nervous about explaining this to him, but I also want to. I need to. There’s something about Len that makes me feel understood. Like he really sees me. Not just as Rosie the girl next door but as something else, too. Something more. It feels like whatever I would say he’d be able to handle. Sitting next to him right now, I feel like I could say anything and he wouldn’t judge me. He wouldn’t even blink.
“It’s just been a complicated semester, is all. And I’m not sure I’d be the best date right now.”
“I understand,” Len says. “You guys were friends for a long time.” He nods to the photo of Rob and me.
“It’s not only that,” I say. I want to explain to him that I’ve never really thought about being with someone else, that it never occurred to me there could be anyone else. I want to tell him that when I’m close to him, I feel things that I never did with Rob and that it scares me. That it feels like I’m somehow betraying the course of my life just by being here with him. I want to, but I’m just not ready to say those things out loud.
“I think I just need a little bit more time,” I say.
He looks amused and raises his eyebrows. “That’s it?”
“What were you expecting?”
“It’s just that, you know, patience is one of my best qualities. This one is a breeze for me.” He interlaces his fingers and pushes them out in front of him. He yawns too, although I suspect it’s just for effect.
“You seem to have a lot of good qualities,” I say, gesturing to the piano.
“Funny,” he says, smiling at me, “I was just thinking the same thing about you.” I can feel my cheeks start to turn pink again. It’s so frustrating to be someone who blushes easily. It’s like everything I’m thinking and feeling gets projected right onto my face. No privacy.
“Study time.” I clap my hands together.
“Already?” he says. “Fine, but I need my Twizzlers.” He smiles that lopsided smile of his.
“I thought they were for me.”
“These?” he says. He pulls one out of his pocket, dangling it out like he’s baiting me. “No way.” Then he leans close to me, so close I can feel his breath on my ear. “I forgot to tell you,” he whispers, his words dancing on my neck. “They’re my favorite too.”
Scene Three
After I walk Len out, I find my mom in the kitchen, sipping tea out of a red mug with CURIOSITY KILLED THE CUP written on it. The logo has never made much sense to me, but she loves it. She bought it in Portland on a trip we took the summer before I started high school. Whenever she’s not feeling well, my dad will make her a cup of hot chocolate in what he calls her “curiosity cup.” It always makes her smile.
“How did it go?” she says when she sees me. She sets down her mug, and I flop my elbows onto the counter.
“Good,” I say. As soon as the word is out, my mouth turns up into a smile. This ridiculous grin that I’m sure makes me look like I’m psychotic or something.
My mom, however, is smiling right along with me.
“What?” I say, trying hard to turn the corners of my mouth back down.
“Nothing,” she says, taking a sip but keeping her eyes on me. “You just sounded pretty good playing that thing, that’s all.”
“Oh, yeah.” I straighten up and run a hand through my hair. “I’m glad we kept it.”
“Me too.”
I have to ask her about the article, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to do it, but I just don’t think there’s ever a good time to ask your mom if your dad’s a traitor, so here goes. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” Her eyebrows knit together.
“I read something at school today.” I wiggle my lips side to side, trying to figure out the best way to move forward. “And I need to know the real story.”
“Okay,” she says. “Want to ask me?”
I take a deep breath and place my hands on the countertop. “What happened with Uncle Richard? With their family, I mean. Why did Dad choose the Montegs?”
My mom sighs and folds her hands around her mug. “I knew this would all get stirred up once they got back. I told your father—”
“Mom?”
She nods her head like, I know. “How did you find out?”
“The Internet,” I say. I don’t mean for it to come out in such a sarcastic tone, but it does.
“Things were complicated,” she says. “Your father and Rob’s dad have always been close.”
“That’s not it,” I say. “It doesn’t add up. It doesn’t explain why Juliet’s family would hate us or why they had to leave town.”
My mom looks at me, and for the first time in my entire life, I realize that she looks older. That she hasn’t always looked like this. That sometime not too long ago her skin didn’t have a single wrinkle. That a million things have happened to her that I don’t remember, that I wasn’t even around for. And maybe it’s because of this that when she says what she does next, I believe her.
“They had an affair,” she says. “Rob’s mom and your uncle Richard. It was a huge mess, and your father and I somehow got caught in the middle. Your father chose his best friend. He thought he had to.” She stands up from the counter and comes over to me. She tucks an arm around my waist and holds me so I’m facing her. “Sweetheart, people make mistakes. We all did with this one. Sometimes you can recover, and sometimes you can’t. Rob’s mom and dad mended things. They have four beautiful children together. Unfortunately, your father couldn’t fix the falling-out he had with his brother.”
I nod, taking it in. “Do you think he ever will?”
My mom sighs. “I don’t know, but I hope so. I wish for it every day.”
“Did Rob’s mom—” I swallow, not sure how to ask this. “Did she love him?”
My mom looks thoughtful for a minute. She takes a piece of my hair and tucks it behind my ear, the way she used to do when I was little. “Yes,” she says. “But she loved her husband more.”
Six months ago I would have said it was impossible to love two people at once. Romantically, I mean. And I think part of me will always love Rob. But it doesn’t really stop me from having feelings about other people. It didn’t stop me from grinning like an idiot on that piano bench with Len. For the first time I’m glad Rob and I aren’t speaking. I don’t want to have to keep this from him. Or be the one to tell him.
“Honey,” my mom says, “can I ask you something now?”
“Shoot.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about Rob?”
I run my fingers over the cool granite of the countertop, playing with the grooves. “What’s to tell?” I shrug. “He got a girlfriend. He’s just not around as much.”
My mom nods, but it’s the nod she gives when she knows I’m not telling her the whole truth. The nod that says, I won’t push it, but I’m onto you.
“I gotta go finish up bio,” I say. “Thanks for being honest with me.”
She smiles and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “Do me a favor, will you?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Don’t follow in your father’s footsteps. Don’t hold on to something for so long it hardens.” And with that she releases me, picks up her mug, and marches out of the room.
Scene Four
One of my mom’s secret talents i
s that she can anticipate things. When I was little, she always knew when to pack an extra sandwich at school, what day I’d want to wear my green shirt, and one time, on a camping trip, she even managed to swing an impromptu visit from the tooth fairy. In other words, it doesn’t really come as a huge shock to me that she’s invited Juliet’s family over for dinner on Sunday.
I know my mom is just trying to smooth things over, but dinner feels like a pretty intense way to start. Might as well invite Rob’s family over too! Except when I suggest that, she just looks at me sternly and asks me to continue setting the table.
I’m all for letting the past be the past, but this feels like a bit of a stretch. I can’t believe they even agreed to come. There’s no use explaining to my mom how painful this will be, spending a whole night with the girl who stole Rob right out of my arms. I try to fake a project with Charlie, but somehow all six of us wind up seated around our dining room table, serving ourselves pasta primavera.
Juliet’s mom brought roses, and my mom keeps commenting on how lovely they are. I think she’s said it four times in the last five minutes, but no one is saying much of anything else, and, well, it’s getting awkward.
“So, Juliet,” my father says, “how is school going?”
“Great,” Juliet chirps. “I mean, classes are good. I got the lead in the school play. And I have a boyfriend, you know. That takes up a lot of my time.” She looks at my father and smiles. We know. We ALL know.
Juliet’s mom’s eyes dart to her husband at the word “boyfriend,” and my mom glances at my father, then takes a big gulp of water.
It’s worth noting that my dad agreed to this gathering. Which is crazy, obviously, and probably speaks more to his love for my mother than his interest in any kind of reconciliation.
Juliet has said barely two words to me, which suits me just fine. I don’t have much to say to her, either—besides, you know, “Thanks for stealing my best friend.”
“Richard has been so busy with work,” Juliet’s mom says. “You’re never home, are you, darling?”
“Shocking,” my father says, and I can practically feel my mother kicking him underneath the table, even though I’m sitting two seats away.
“He’s been back and forth to DC almost constantly.”
I look at Juliet, really look at her. I think about the rumors at school, how she’s supposed to be crazy and suicidal. But she doesn’t look like either of those things. She just looks gorgeous, and smug.
“Eat, darling,” Juliet’s mom says to her. “You haven’t touched your pasta.” She looks at my mother and smiles like, You know, kids.
My mom is twirling her spaghetti, but she stops and winks at me. The wink seems to say, It’s okay, we’re family, and this night won’t last forever. It’s like Charlie’s hand squeeze. I’m here.
Juliet is sitting across from me, next to my mom, and I see her catch the wink. She narrows her eyes at me.
“So what’s keeping you so busy, Uncle Richard?” I ask.
“Humph,” he says. He’s gruffly shoveling the bread bowl into his mouth, until he chokes, sputters, sips water, and then does it all over again. “We’re in the midst of some—” He looks at his wife. “Bullshit.”
Juliet’s mother taps him on the shoulder. “Now is not the time,” she says.
“Why not? There are no secrets here.”
My aunt pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers.
Juliet pushes her chair out and storms off toward the kitchen. Her mom tries to reach out and stop her, but Juliet shakes her off.
“She took it hard,” my aunt says. “I think especially with Rob and all.” She looks at my mom, explaining. “But we had to tell her. We didn’t want her to find out from the news. And people have been sniffing around. We think Richard is going to have to go public about the affair.”
My mom nods. My dad says nothing. I know he’s thinking, like I am, about the Montegs. About what this is going to mean for Rob’s family. For his little brothers.
“When?” my mom asks.
“A week, tops,” Uncle Richard says. “Probably not even that.”
My mom passes Juliet’s father more pasta. He takes it noisily. My dad has gotten up to pour himself a drink in the living room. He takes a bottle out from under our television cabinet—a stash I never knew we had.
Slowly I stand up and round the corner into the kitchen. I expect to see Juliet fuming by the refrigerator, or stampeding past me, but instead I find her melted in a corner, her head on her knees, crying quietly. The sight of her like this, so small and so human, makes me stop in my tracks. Not before she sees me, though.
“What do you want?” she says, her tone bitter and tinged with anger.
“Are you okay?” I bend down to where she is and am surprised that she doesn’t flinch away.
“Why do you care?” she says through her hands.
“Honestly?” I say, sliding down next to her. “I don’t know.”
“For once, honesty in this family.”
It’s so ridiculous, it almost makes me laugh. “I mean, wouldn’t you?”
“Be sitting here on the floor with you?” Juliet says. “Definitely not.”
I have to ask her. I can feel the words bubbling up and out, and I know if I don’t say it now, I never will. “Why did you do it?”
She lifts her head up, and her eyes are red, her cheeks streaked with tears. “Come on, Rose. Isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” I say, “or I wouldn’t be asking.”
She puts her hands on her temples and presses. “You always had what I wanted,” she says. “This great, loving family. Parents who cared about you. And Rob was always your best friend.” She shakes her head, fresh tears somersaulting down her face. “I wanted to take something from you. I wanted to get back at you.”
“For what?” I say. “I never did anything to you.”
“Yes, you did,” she says. “You never called me after I left, not once. You didn’t come and visit until two months had gone by.”
“I was seven,” I say. “I didn’t exactly drive.” Not that I do now, but whatever.
“Your mom would have taken you,” she says. “In a second if you had asked. You didn’t. You didn’t when you got older, either. You went along with everything. Being impartial doesn’t make you innocent, Rose.”
I sit back against the cabinet. It’s not even worth telling her how wrong she is. The past is so beside the point. “It didn’t have to be like this,” I say.
“It’s been like this for a really long time. We’re only here because my dad was getting into trouble in LA. Same thing.” She gestures to the dining room. “You don’t know what it’s like to have parents who barely even talk to each other.”
“You could have asked for my help,” I say. “When you guys got here. Instead of doing what you did.”
She scoffs. “And you would have given it?”
I take a deep breath and look at her, and for a moment I see the girl I used to know. The one who used to crawl in bed with me during sleepovers and fall asleep with her head on my shoulder, and I’m sorry that I lost her, that I was stupid enough all these years to think she was gone. “I still would.”
She holds my gaze. “Don’t tell Rob.”
“He doesn’t know?”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” she says. And then, matter-offactly: “And neither will you.”
“We don’t talk anymore,” I say. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”
“He cares about you,” she says.
I almost feel like laughing. “That doesn’t mean a lot, coming from you.”
“Just promise me you won’t tell him.” There’s something else in her voice now. Something a little desperate. “Promise me you won’t say anything.”
“I won’t,” I say, “but from what your parents were saying out there, he might find out soon enough anyway.”
She looks down at her hands, and I see that they’re shaking. “He still thinks
he has the perfect family,” she says. “I don’t want to take that away from him.”
She looks up at me, and there are new tears in her eyes, but they aren’t bitter or angry. They’re filled with something else entirely. Something like love. And I think, for the first time in ten years, that we might be alike after all.
Scene Five
We all gather in the PL on Monday morning, cranky and bleary-eyed. After Juliet and her parents left last night, I stayed up listening to my parents’ hushed tones. Even after they went to bed, sometime in the single digits, I couldn’t sleep. I just kept thinking about Juliet’s words—being impartial doesn’t make you innocent—and the look on her face when she asked me not to tell Rob.
Charlie and Olivia are arguing lightly over who discovered the particular brand of jeans they have on, and the rest of the seniors wandering around are fairly quiet, whispering in small groups or tooling around on the Internet.
“Rose, you were there,” Olivia says, not looking at me. “We went to Bloomingdales,’ didn’t we? Tell her.”
Lauren and Dorothy are in a corner, scrolling through something on Lauren’s iPhone, and they look up and glance at me. I smile and toss some mumbled version of “I dunno” in Olivia’s direction. Then John Susquich comes strolling in, the San Bellaro News in his hand, and he looks at me before sitting down. “Damn, Caplet,” he says, and then flips open his paper.
And then my stomach drops like it’s an elevator unhinged. Because I know what they’re reading, and I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Everyone’s eyes are on me, darting like laser beams. I don’t have to see the headline ROCKED BY SCANDAL or the old photographs of Juliet’s dad and Rob’s mom kissing by a car and outside a hotel, or the photos of Uncle Richard groping some woman outside the Capitol. I already know what’s in there. I guess Uncle Richard didn’t have to announce it, after all.
When You Were Mine Page 17
