Just Jada

by Anna Cove

  "Who's Theo?"

  "My cousin."

  "How old is he?"

  "Twenty-two."

  "He shouldn't do that. You're only a child."

  "I'm very mature." Amalia straightened as she said the words.

  "Yes, you are, but I'm still not going to tell you about my love life."

  "So it is about your love life!" Amalia turned sideways and began skipping down the sidewalk, and just like that my memory turned to Erika skipping in the woods. She would not be easy to forget.

  "Did you mess something up? If you did, you should apologize. Theo never wants to apologize but I always tell him to and when he does it always works."

  "An apology won't work in this case."

  "An apology always works."

  If only life was so simple. "Not when the person who deserves the apology can't trust you."

  Amalia walked quietly beside me, clutching my hand. I tried to calm my mind, but there were too many hard surfaces in the city, and whenever I expelled an idea, it bounced back at me. I longed for the soft earth of nature. I longed for the tangled web of tree branches. Then I laughed at myself because I really just longed for Erika.

  "You should do something that'll make them trust you again. Something big," Amalia said.

  "Like what..." I said absently.

  "I don't know. That's for you to figure out."

  I didn't think there was anything big enough to make up for what I'd done. I betrayed her trust on every level, from the impersonal to the so-personal-you-don't-even-tell-your-lover level. She'd trusted me. She'd trusted the world. Had I ruined her? Forever?

  The museum echoed with the voices of excited children and chatting parents. We waited in line. Amalia had already moved on, babbling of schoolmates and movies she was interested in seeing and Christmas gifts she hoped to receive in a few months. My mind kept drifting back to Erika and how her face had hardened to steel when I'd finally revealed the truth.

  I might have been able to talk her into hearing me out if she had screamed or cried or even slapped me. But the lack of emotion on her always-expressive face hurt. It hurt in its subtlety. It hurt because it meant what I had done was too much for her to handle just then. I couldn't imagine how she felt—insult stacked on the injury. And what was she doing now? Was she dealing with the fallout? It had been over a week, and I wasn't there to comfort her.

  "I want to see the capybara," Amalia said, pointing through a display and into the back. All I could manage was a nod. I followed her through the animal display to the back.

  We settled on a bench, and after I set Amalia up with paper and scissors to make snowflakes, I pulled out my phone to see the damage I'd been avoiding.

  It was worse than I thought.

  According to Twitter, Jimmy had been arrested and charged with theft. The police were investigating Erika as an accomplice, though they hadn't arrested her, from what I could tell. I had to stop this. I had to fix all this. It didn't matter if Erika would come back to me after I had. All that mattered was fixing the wrongs, making up for my mistakes.

  I made my first call to my lawyer. The second to the police station in Erika's tiny town. As I was about to make my third, Laura Gonzalez, Amalia's other mentor, walked into the room, looking panicked. "Oh, thank God, sweetie, you're safe."

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  Amalia glanced up from her pile of snowflakes. "Why are you here?"

  "Come here," Laura said.

  "I'm right in the middle of this. Give me a few more minutes."

  "Come now, Amalia."

  Amalia's head snapped up at Laura's sharp tone. A wrinkle appeared in her forehead.

  So far, Laura had only watched me out of the corner of her eye as if I was a creature who would attack if she made eye contact with it.

  "Does her mother need her at home?" I asked softly, so as not to scare the girl.

  The woman looked shaken. "Hurry, Amalia."

  "What is it?"

  "You haven't checked your email, have you?" she said, finally risking a glance at me.

  "No, why?"

  "We sent you a message."

  "About what?"

  The woman blew out a breath, turning her eyes up to the sky. "Why don't you just read it?"

  "Because you're here now and I'm here now and it would be nice to have a conversation like humans, right? Amalia needs a minute to clean up, anyway."

  Laura worked her jaw as if she was loosening up for a marathon of talking.

  "I'll help," I said, filling in the blanks. "My father was arrested today." It was the reason I had come here. It was the reason I had called for Amalia. As a distraction.

  The woman nodded.

  "By the FBI. And...? What does that have to do with me?"

  "It's just that..." The woman tugged at the crew-neck collar of her sweater.

  "You can't say anything to me I haven't said to myself yet, Laura, trust me."

  "We'd rather you not speak with any of the girls until all this dies down. And, by the way, you can keep his book."

  I nodded as she spoke. I'd known it was a possibility that my father's legacy would pass to me no matter what it was. Positive or negative. I'd gained so much from it, and now I was losing because of it. That was just how my life had to be. "And the gala?"

  "Yeah, we'd like for you to stay home from that, too."

  Tears filled my eyes, blurring the animals and Amalia and Laura into a mess of colors. Fuck. Why did I have to cry?

  I didn't turn away, but I cast my eyes up at the ceiling.

  Then I felt a pair of arms around my waist. "It's okay, Ms. Jada. Let it out."

  Amalia's little hand patted my back, and then she was gone, pulled out of my arms by Laura, and what did I have left but the empty eye of a dead moose staring back at me? I choked back my tears. I couldn't fall under. Amalia had been right, anger could only go so far.

  Time for me to work on the things I could control.

  ...

  ERIKA

  "Here we are." I pushed the door open and held out my arm to steady Dad as he walked into the house. Days had gone by. My father had healed in the hospital and now we were back to real life. The life where I couldn't pay any of the bills.

  Would the movie theater give me my job back? Or was I too stained even for them to take on? My name was so tarnished it seemed like I would never find a job again. Where to begin?

  A stack of unopened mail sat on the coffee table. It seemed like the easiest place to start.

  I settled Dad into his chair.

  He sighed. "You wouldn't believe how nice it is to be home. My home. I still haven't forgotten about our little deal."

  "I'm staying. I don't have anywhere else to go."

  "You're only staying as long as it takes for you to find a job."

  Dad closed his eyes and took in a long breath. He still looked pale, and I worried about how he would cope when I inevitably returned to work. And who would care for him when I moved out? I would have to hire someone, perhaps, but that would cost money, too. And money was exactly what we didn't have.

  I plucked an advertisement off the top of the mail pile and tossed it into the recycle pile.

  That was easy.

  The next was the bill for cable which hadn't been used during the entire cycle and which I had paid for throughout. Those kinds of mistakes wouldn't work in the future.

  "Have you spoken to your mother?" Dad asked.

  "Hm?" I scanned another piece and tossed it into the recycle pile.

  "Does your mother know I was sick?"

  The next envelope in the pile was cream with curved handwriting addressed to me. It had no return address, but the label said it was from Manhattan. Could it have been my formal rejection by the committee? The script looked like it had been written by a woman.

  It couldn't be...

  "Erika."

  "What, Dad?"

  "What's gotten into you?"

  "Nothing. Why?"

  He
narrowed his eyes, putting up a brow. "Queen of calm just snapped at me."

  "I'm sorry. I'm under a lot of pressure." I shook my head, turning over the letter.

  "Have you spoken to Jada lately?"

  I slid my finger under the flap and paused. "No."

  "I haven't seen her around."

  I stopped, placing the letter in my lap, tears stinging my eyes. "Look. I know you liked Jada. And I'm sorry but it just didn't work out between us."

  Dad ran his hand over her freshly shaved face. "That's from her, isn't it?"

  "I don't know." But I did know, didn't I?

  "Open it."

  Part of me wanted to throw it in a trash can and burn the trash so I never had to read the words inside. Part of me wanted to secrete the letter into my room and savor every word and cry over the loss of someone special. Someone who didn't even really exist. I hadn't cried over it yet. Like my tear ducts were stuffed with tiny corks, I just couldn't. In fact, I'd barely felt anything since she'd told me. "It might not be from her, anyway."

  I ripped the envelope open and out tumbled pages and pages.

  Before you tear this up, hear me out, the letter read. I don't expect you to answer this, but I needed to tell you how I'm working to fix all the damage I did. First, the bill for your father's surgery is taken care of.

  "Ugh, I'm going to kill her."

  "What did she say?"

  My face heated, and I felt embarrassed to tell him as if admitting it was a failure of some kind. But it wasn't, really. This wasn't a failure.

  "She paid your hospital bill."

  "Why are you upset about that?"

  "Because I told her I didn't want her money."

  The letter pulled me in. It was written simply, directly, without flourish. She told me how she had hired the best big city lawyer for Jimmy she could find. How she'd tried to get my job back at the Mountain House, but how they were resistant because of my reputation.

  I'll keep trying, she wrote. I'll keep trying until they say yes because this was all my fault. And I'm going to do everything in my power to fix it. Think of it as a kind of penance. I expect nothing in return, not even forgiveness.

  My heart swelled as I read. I tried to be angry. I tried—but the thing was, I had already forgiven her. People made mistakes. She was miles ahead of others as she had at least apologized. The thing was, the forgiveness only made me sadder because even after it came I couldn't be with her. I couldn't be with someone who had so thoroughly destroyed my trust.

  I set the letter aside and dropped my face into my hands.

  Dad rubbed my back and soothed me as I cried. And cried. And cried.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JADA

  A thudding noise dragged me from a deep sleep. My head throbbed and my muscles ached and my mouth was dry as paper, and at first, I thought the sound was coming from inside my brain. It took me far too long to understand where I was—the new apartment was still a strange, dingy land to me. Then I realized the thudding wasn't coming from my head.

  My curtains were drawn, so I couldn't tell whether it was day or night. I had no sense of it anymore, not since I had holed myself up in this crappy apartment after doing all I could for Erika.

  "I'm coming. I'm coming." I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, encountered far too many tangles to make that effective, then gave up. I didn't even look through the peephole before I opened the door to find Rosa and a woman I didn't recognize.

  I turned from the door and walked back inside, flopping on my couch.

  "I don't even get a 'what are you doing here?'" Rosa asked.

  "I'm too tired," I said into the couch cushion.

  "It's two in the afternoon and you—wow—this is worse than I thought." Rosa pulled back the curtains, letting in the glaring sun.

  I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over my face.

  It was gone in seconds. "You haven't answered your phone for three days. You're a single woman living in New York City and your father was just arrested. That's like sending up a bat signal."

  "How did you find me?"

  "Your old neighbor. Get up." The next thing I felt was a pillow to the ass. "Mom's worried about you."

  "How sweet of her." I curled my legs to my butt and made a ball. "Let me go back to sleep."

  Rosa pushed at my legs until I propped myself up in the corner of the couch. "You stink."

  "Thanks."

  "When was the last time you ate?"

  I shrugged, the most I could manage. My eyes began to adjust to the brightness in the room, to Rosa's blue eyes—Mom's blue eyes—staring at me with concern. I was the big sister. I was the one who was supposed to be taking care of her. Just another thing to add to the bottom of my failure list.

  "Did you apologize?" Rosa asked.

  I shrugged, then nodded. We often had conversations this way when we were younger. We didn't need full sentences or references to the topic. We could just read one another's minds. I thought it was my superpower until I realized I couldn't do it with anyone else.

  Rosa's eyes flicked over my shoulder, and I remembered I had let two women into the house. Rosa, and someone else.

  "This is Kenzie," Rosa said. "Kenzie, this is my sister, Luisa Jada Garcia."

  "Just Jada," I choked out.

  Kenzie's hair was shaved on one side, elegantly long on the other. She was artsy, with ripped jeans and a nose ring. She wiggled her ring-filled fingers in a wave. "It's nice to meet you, Jada."

  I managed a smile.

  Rosa nudged my foot, drawing my attention back to her. "I deserve one of those apologies too, you know. You've been a jerk to me lately."

  I sighed and gathered my knees up to my chest and stared at the couch pattern.

  Rosa glanced up over my shoulder. "Kenz, would you mind going for some coffee? I think we need some sister time."

  "Sure, take all the time you need. Text me when you're done." The door opened and closed behind her.

  "Tell me everything," Rosa said.

  I shook my head. "It's too horrible."

  "I know. I mean... the stuff about your Dad, too. I only have pieces of the puzzle." Rosa snuggled into the puffy couch cushions and let her head roll back. "I see you're not taking care of yourself."

  "What's the point?"

  "Oh, sweetheart." It was the first time I'd heard her use the word with me, but it sounded like something she said all the time. Something I'd never given her the chance to say to me.

  I shook my head and shrugged. "I lost her, Rosa. I tried to get her back. I apologized and everything. I told her the truth and she told me to leave. You should have seen her face. Then I did what I could to make it up to her."

  "Is that what this apartment is all about?"

  I nodded. "Dad's money is all tied up—including my trust fund. I had to sublet my loft. I wrote her a letter. I haven't heard anything."

  "She needs time to process it all," Rosa said, her voice sweet and patient.

  "I'm afraid of what will happen when she does process it. It's a lot to take in. Too much. I basically destroyed her entire life. I'm a monster."

  Rosa edged closer, reaching out and touching my foot. "You didn't do anything."

  "Except lie to her."

  "Right. But it was your father who pulled the trigger. He was the one who spread all those rumors, even when you told him not to. How did he find those photos and the other information?"

  "If you found them... couldn't he?"

  "I suppose so. But he's not exactly technologically savvy. He probably would have had to hire someone."

  "I think he would have done just about anything."

  "He really wanted you to win that award."

  I'd been alone for so long my mind had started running in circles. Speaking to Rosa was like opening one of the loops. My words rolled out. "He wanted to create a dynasty. He wanted the glory. I should have known about the ethical violations. I should've known he would take this to the extreme. I just couldn't see i
t."

  "Don't do that. You can blame yourself for what you have done, but you can't blame yourself for what he's done."

  My eyes clouded with tears again. "When did you get so good at talking me down? At talking anyone down?"

  "I've learned a lot in the past few months." Rosa squeezed my foot and let go, bringing her own knees up to hug her chest. She adjusted her glasses and glanced toward the door. "In fact, that's what I've been wanting to talk to you about."

  "Oh yeah?" I absently picked at a thread on the couch. I would have to find some scissors.

  "I'm gay."

  I laughed. I don't know why I laughed, I just did. It seemed like the correct response at the time, but Rosa's reaction was not one of mirth. I clapped a hand to my mouth. "I'm sorry. I can't help but step in every pile of shit I find. It's just... does that mean both of us are gay?"

  "I don't know. Are you?"

  I sucked in a breath and let it out, letting my gaze roam to the grimy apartment window. "Yeah. I mean, yes. I should have known. All these years... I even went to Smith. You'd think I would have figured it out then with all those girls around."

  "Sometimes it takes time." Rosa pushed her glasses up her nose.

  "You are too?"

  "Oh yeah," Rosa said.

  I curled up on the couch, facing Rosa. "Want to tell Mom together?"

  Rosa chuckled. "Well, I would but... there's another thing. Kenzie proposed and I said yes."

  My heart skipped a beat in that moment. Rosa was getting married? In my current state, I was having trouble finding the right response. Or even the right word. I finally found it. "Congratulations!"

  "I didn't mean to tell you now. I know you're going through a breakup."

  "Me? I'm fine."

  "Sure."

  "I'm just surprised. Why didn't you tell me you were in a serious relationship?"

  Rosa blew out a breath. "Oh, I don't know. Because you wouldn't give me a second to speak during our calls? You're constantly in crisis and create drama around you and I didn't want my thing to be part of your drama."

  I closed my eyes. Rosa had been nothing but supportive of me even as I'd revealed my worst qualities. Even as I had steamed over her like a cruise ship over a dingy. And what had I done? Laughed. I laughed at her when she'd told me some of the most important news of her life. I was such a dick.