#Poser

by Cambria Hebert

  Thank God for Anthony. He’s the one who engineered the deal that if my mother pressed charges against my father and locked him away, I could come home.

  I arrived at his room. The door was open and the low sounds of the television floated out into the hall. Nurses bustled around, going in and out of patients’ rooms, silently wheeling carts with medical supplies.

  I hovered in the doorway, staring at the single bed in the room. He lay in the center, a bump in the blankets, looking a lot smaller than I ever remembered him being.

  He turned his head and looked at me. We stared at each other for a long time.

  “Are you gonna come in?” he asked. His voice was rough like sandpaper, not loud and harsh like before.

  I entered the room and walked toward the bed, keeping back a couple feet. I had no desire to get too close to him. He appeared frail and thin. Weak. His eyes were sunken and dark rings lined their perimeter. His once dark hair was almost completely gone, only a few downy wisps clinging to his scalp in their valiant effort to hold on. His skin looked paper-thin and dry. I could see the blue veins beneath, giving the surface a gray-ish unhealthy cast.

  His shoulders were still pretty wide against the mattress, but they looked out of proportion to the rest of his bony frame. The blankets were pulled up past his chest, and what I could see was covered in a generic blue-and-white hospital gown.

  I knew cancer was a hateful disease. I knew it silently, slowly killed its victims. And my father was definitely dying. He almost looked like it was hard to live.

  I didn’t like my father, but even I wouldn’t wish what he was suffering through on him.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said when I only just stood there and stared.

  “I didn’t do it for you,” I replied. “I did it for me.”

  “And that’s okay.” He nodded once. “It gives me a chance to say what I want to say. And then you can say what you came here to say.”

  “I don’t think you’ll like what I came to say.” I couldn’t even pitch the words the ominous way I meant them. For so many years, I hated my father. I carried a torch of anger wherever I went. But now, standing here and looking down upon a dying man, all I could feel was sadness.

  “What’s it like to know you’re dying and you pushed away every person who might care?” I asked almost without thinking about it.

  It wasn’t a very nice thing to say, but I wasn’t here to make my words all pretty.

  “The biggest regret of my entire life is that I alienated you. That I wasn’t the father I should have been.”

  “What about Mom?” I asked, my fists clenching at my sides. “What about the husband you were supposed to be to her?”

  “Your mother didn’t deserve anything I did to her.”

  I made a scoffing sound. “You know, it’s so easy to lay there on your deathbed and be sorry for all the shit you’ve done. You call me, beg me to come. You want my forgiveness. You want to die in peace. Well, why the fuck should you get that? What about us? What about the people who are left behind? We have to live with what you did. Every single day.”

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me, son.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I bit out.

  “I just wanted to see you. I wanted you to know you deserved better than what I gave you. I can’t make up for all those years, but I can give you this moment to let out all the hatred you have for me. Maybe that will make the rest of your life a little more peaceful.”

  I rubbed a hand over my face and sat in a nearby chair. “I thought I hated you. For years and years, just the thought of you made me crazy. But I don’t hate you anymore. I don’t have room for it like I used to. I feel sorry for you. Sorry that you wasted your life in the bottom of a bottle, taking out whatever demons you had on an innocent woman and child.”

  “You’re a lot stronger than me. Better.”

  I laughed. It was a harsh sound. “Do you know how long I’ve lived terrified that I was gonna turn out just like you? When I look in the mirror, some days it was you I saw.”

  “For that I am sorry.”

  I snorted. “I can’t forgive you. I won’t. You took my childhood. You turned it into a nightmare. I don’t have one, not even a smidgen of a good memory with you in it. I used to lie in bed at night and wish you’d change. I used to watch Romeo with his dad and wonder why mine didn’t love me like that. I thought it was my fault you hated me.”

  “I don’t hate you, Braeden.”

  I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but I ignored them. I wasn’t saying these things to hurt him. If he was hurt, it was because he knew what I said was true.

  “Maybe not. But you sure as hell don’t love me. You probably never did.”

  “I used to lie in bed at night and wish I was better too. I’m a weak person. A sorry excuse for a man. I lived by the bottle, and in the end, I will die by it.”

  I went to the window across the room and stared out across the cold parking lot filled with cars. It felt good to say these things, the thoughts that bounced around inside me for so many years. But it was also hard because it just hammered home that he would never be the man I wanted him to be.

  Never.

  “I’m proud of you, Braeden.”

  I stiffened at his words and didn’t turn around.

  “You’re more of a man in your little finger than I ever was. You succeed in life in spite of the way I treated you. You’re in college. I’ve seen you play ball. You’re good, son. You’re so good.”

  I didn’t need his pride. I didn’t want it.

  But still, hearing him say those words… It meant something.

  Behind me, a nurse came into the room. “Time for your medicine,” she said. Her voice faltered when she saw he wasn’t alone.

  I turned from the window.

  “Oh, you have a visitor.” The surprise in her voice wasn’t lost on me.

  “This is my son,” he said, and the nurse’s eyes widened.

  “I didn’t realize you had any family.”

  “He doesn’t,” I said.

  The nurse grew uncomfortable and bustled about giving him his pills. I stared at the machines hooked up to him, at the IV taped to the back of his hand, as she checked a few things and then, without a look back at me, left the room.

  “It won’t be long now,” he said. A cough rattled his lungs.

  I walked to the side of the bed and stared down at him. “I hope you get some peace in death, because you sure as hell never had any in life.”

  “I think maybe I finally will,” he said. His eyes drifted shut for long minutes.

  My chest squeezed. This was hard. A hell of a lot harder than I even expected it to be. I didn’t want to feel sorrow he was dying. I didn’t want to feel anything at all. I wanted that hollow sensation back.

  I didn’t want to feel compassion.

  “I have to go,” I said. The feels in this place were just way too real.

  He nodded like he knew it was coming. “Thank you for coming. For giving me the chance to at least tell you how sorry I am.”

  The muscle in the side of my jaw bounced.

  “I know you’re going to do great things, son.” He coughed again. “No thanks to me.”

  I would, if only because I would fight like hell to not end up like him.

  “Good-bye, Father,” I said.

  He smiled wistfully. “Good-bye, son.”

  I stared at him a moment longer, and then I left.

  Out in the hall, I sucked in a deep breath. My chest hurt; my stomach felt tight.

  It was good I got to say the things I wanted to. It was good I got a chance to say good-bye.

  I just wished it didn’t hurt so fucking bad.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Ivy

  The #BuzzBoss was at it again.

  I should have known my run-in with Missy earlier would end up on the Buzzfeed.

  Twice.

  The first one was really to be expected. After all, as I stoo
d there talking to her in the hallway, I asked myself how many people wondered why our friendship basically went extinct. I was guessing a lot. If was a betting woman, I would bet every girl that witnessed our exchange had sent in some kind of info to the #BuzzBoss.

  It forced Missy’s hand. Which, frankly, I thought was poetic.

  She was obligated to make a Buzz about herself. Speculating about our relationship, or lack thereof.

  But it wasn’t that notification that got to me. It was to be expected.

  It was the one that came after it.

  A recount of the conversation we had in the stairwell. She put up a snarky Buzz about men and their hygiene. Just like I’d sarcastically suggested.

  What did it mean?

  Was it her way of showing me she could do what she wanted, sort of a slap in the face?

  Or…

  Was it her way of trying to recapture that second we forgot we weren’t friends?

  Times like this, I wished I was still five years old and my biggest worry was what my brothers were going to hide in my bed.

  Thankfully, I hadn’t had much time to dwell on it because we’d been busy. It was finally closing time, and I offered to be the one to close up so everyone else could go. Going home and replaying the moment I thought I saw Zach wasn’t exactly high on my to-do list.

  After I texted B to tell him I was closing, I walked around to straighten all the jewelry displays. I found a piece that would look perfect for one of the outfits I picked out for Rimmel, so I carried it behind the counter and dug around for a mesh jewelry bag to place it in.

  The bell on the door rang, and my shoulders slumped. I was ready to go.

  When I saw who it was, I didn’t bother hiding my annoyance. “Why are you here?”

  “You know me. I love to shop,” Missy said. She was still wearing the yoga pants and T-shirt from earlier.

  “Actually, I don’t know you,” I refuted. “I close in ten minutes, so shop fast.”

  Surprisingly, she didn’t say anything else. She wandered around and started filling her arms with clothes.

  “Maybe you should come back tomorrow when you have more time. And I won’t be here.”

  She didn’t even look up. “But I’m here now.”

  Some people just needed hit in the head with a chair.

  A few minutes later (and exactly three minutes until closing time) she stepped into the dressing room and pulled the heavy curtain closed.

  I sighed. Loudly.

  She was totally doing this on purpose.

  “I wanted you to know,” she said, talking through the curtain, “I had to put up that notification. The one about us.”

  “Yeah, you just had to,” I said, sarcastic.

  “I don’t expect you to get it. But being the #BuzzBoss is important to me.” The curtain slid open and she stepped out in one of the outfits. She walked over to the large mirror to look at herself.

  “You look fat,” I said, bland.

  She gave me a withering look. “That was childish.”

  “Oh? Maybe I should slut-shame you in front of the entire campus instead.”

  She marched back into the dressing room and yanked the curtain shut. I grinned, thinking she’d leave.

  A few minutes later, she came out wearing another outfit. It was a black dress with a low neckline, high hemline, and flirty cap sleeves.

  Missy definitely had the body for it. Her legs went for miles and she didn’t have too much boob to look offensive. If I were nice, I’d say it looked great and recommend a necklace to go with it.

  I wasn’t feeling very nice.

  “I didn’t come here to try on clothes,” Missy said.

  I just stared at her. I was tired and wanted to go home.

  “It was the only way I knew you’d talk to me. You’ve completely shut me out on every attempt.”

  I made a face. “You honestly thought I would just forget everything you did?”

  “No, but I thought you’d let me apologize.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” In a mocking voice, I went on. “Hey, let me totally humiliate Ivy, call her a slut, turn her into a laughingstock, and then apologize. She’s so dumb she’ll laugh and say it’s okay.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” she demanded.

  “No? Then what was it like?”

  Her voice dropped and hurt clouded her words. “I saw you.”

  “You saw me what?” I wasn’t going to fall for her sad act.

  “Remember that night when you stayed at Romeo’s with Rimmel? He was out of town and I had play practice? I was supposed to come late so we could all hang out, have a girl’s night.”

  “You never showed.” I pointed out.

  “Yes, I did.”

  I listened intently.

  “I was really late, but I came anyway. When I got there, I looked through the window and I saw you—with Braeden.”

  That must have hurt her. It must have been hard to see. “So you decided to post half-naked pictures of me on the school Buzzfeed? You called me a slut?”

  “I was so mad, Ivy. I was so jealous I couldn’t see straight.”

  “Well, you saw well enough to type.”

  “I regret what I did to you. I never intended for that to happen. I never planned to let it get out.”

  I frowned. “Let what get out?”

  She stiffened and turned back to the mirror. “How angry and jealous I was. I couldn’t believe you would sleep with him. You knew I was in love with him.”

  She was in love with him.

  The thought made me sick to my stomach. Not because I’d “gotten” in the way of their relationship, but because I loved him. He was mine.

  “I never meant to hurt you. I agonized over that night at the beach for weeks. I beat myself up on a daily basis. I vowed I wouldn’t ever do it again,” I said, finally getting to say all the things I never did. “I tried to tell you so many times, Missy. I tried to stay away from him. I couldn’t. It was like that one night unleashed an entire ocean of feelings inside me. That night you saw us? That was the second time. It wasn’t planned, and when I woke up the next morning, I told him I was going to tell you.”

  “But you never did. You just laughed behind my back.”

  “I never laughed. And I never said anything because you started putting up all those notifications. I had to hide in my room thanks to you. The ridicule, snide looks, and suggestive comments I got were unbelievable.”

  She just stared at me like she was trying to decide if I was lying.

  I shook my head sadly. “I honestly liked you. You were my best friend. I slept with Braeden, but I never, not in a million years, would have done what you did.”

  Missy went back into the dressing room and hid behind the curtain. Maybe that meant she was done talking. But I wasn’t.

  “And what about Rimmel? All those things you said about her. You called her a #nerd. That name stuck, you know.”

  “Please,” she spat. “Being a #nerd is not an insult. It made her cool.”

  “And what about the notifications when you said people should stick to their circle, when you implied Rimmel wasn’t good enough? Gah! Then you came to our room and smiled at her and acted like her friend. When you accused her of plagiarism in front of the entire school? She could have lost her scholarship.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “And what about Romeo? You practically made him the star of the Buzzfeed. You gave Zach even more ammunition to come after him. God, it’s like you were obsessed with all of us!”

  “That’s not true!” she burst out. The curtain didn’t muffle the sound of her shriek.

  I must have hit a nerve.

  She came out of the room, her ponytail partly falling out. She was dressed in her own clothes and holding the black dress.

  I stared at her red cheeks for minute and then gasped.

  She looked at me sharply.

  “It was Romeo you really wanted, wasn’t it?
” I prodded. “Right from the start of freshman year. You created the whole #BuzzBoss persona so you would have a legitimate reason to watch his every move. Then we met. I thought we hit it off, but you just hung out with me because I always got invited to the same parties as him.”

  Her face turned redder as I spoke.

  “Then Rimmel came along and you didn’t like her. I always suspected, when I first started inviting her to sit with us, you didn’t like her. But then Romeo started coming around more. He liked her, and it drove you crazy. That’s why you posted all that stuff about her. But it backfired. He fell in love with her anyway.”

  “You’re crazy,” she protested.

  But I wasn’t. For the first time in a long while, I knew what I thought was exactly right.

  “Once he was taken, you had no choice but to accept Rimmel because now you were in the ‘in crowd,’ part of the inner circle. My God, you had access to all the information and we never suspected you.” I shook my head. She’d played us all perfectly.

  “So what about Braeden?” I pressed. “Was he your consolation prize?”

  “I fell in love with him,” she whispered. “He’s so good-looking and charming. He always made me laugh, and the way he kissed me…”

  I made a sound. I did not want to hear about how she felt kissing my boyfriend.

  I didn’t care he was hers first.

  I didn’t have to feel bad anymore. I didn’t have to feel anything about her at all.

  A hundred-pound weight lifted off my shoulders. Its name was Missy.

  “We hurt each other. You took things way too far. I’m honestly sorry for how I handled things with Braeden, but I’m done apologizing to you. We aren’t friends. We never will be again.”

  Her eyes were rimmed with red when they met mine. “He isn’t as perfect as you think.”

  I laughed. “Are you kidding? Of course he isn’t. But neither am I. We’re a total mess, but together, we make sense.”

  “I wonder if you’ll still feel that way later,” she intoned.

  I thought back to all the stuff she implied that night at our house. I thought about all the things I knew needed to be said between B and me. It scared me. If what he had to say had anything to do with her, it was going to be bad.