Burning the Map

by Laura Caldwell

  Eventually, we walk down the hill, skidding a little on the dusty path until we reach the beach. The sand is silvery under the moonlight, naked and cool without all the naked people lounging on it. A wisp of a breeze puffs off the water. It’s so calm here compared to the bar. Billy pulls me down with a gentle tug until we sink into the sand about five feet away from the rolling waves. He sits behind me, his knees around me, in exactly the same way Francesco did that night in the Colosseum, but it’s different now. Francesco had been all lust and fluid movements, and while there’s no doubt that I’m severely attracted to Billy, it’s more comfortable with him.

  “Tell me about Ireland,” I say, wanting to hear about him, about anyone other than myself for a change.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “My family is originally from Cork,” I say. “Tell me about that.”

  “Ah, well that explains it,” Billy says, giving me a squeeze. “All the brightest ladies are from Cork.”

  I smile. I can’t help it. “Do you like Ireland?”

  “It’s like any other place, I suppose. It’s got loads of problems, but it’s home.”

  I keep asking questions, and he keeps talking, describing the land, the pubs, the customs, his family, his other friends. It feels wonderful to be sitting in a man’s arms, watching the waves and talking easily—the type of moment I’d been wanting from John for so long.

  After about a half hour or so, I’m starting to feel tired, and I know it’s time to get back to Lindsey and face the music. I stand and tug Billy’s arm, but he won’t get up. He just cocks his head, giving me those eyes again.

  “You’re relentless,” I say, inwardly thrilled at his persistence. “I have to get back, so get off your ass.”

  “But it’s your ass I want to get on.”

  I start giggling, knowing I should be stern—maybe act a little appalled—but I like Billy’s lighthearted ways. After I finally pull him to his feet, we stroll down the beach toward the Sunset, swinging our arms. When we get to the stone stairs leading up to the hotel, Billy steps toward me and grabs me in a big hug.

  “I had a lovely time with you tonight,” he says. “And I’m sorry about causing problems with Lindsey and Kat.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “I’m not saying that I’m not a bit proud.”

  I smack him on the back, too hard, apparently, because he starts coughing.

  “Honestly,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” My voice is muffled by his neck. Finally, I let go and face him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I say, but I don’t really know what tomorrow will be like for Billy and me. Or for Kat and Sin and me, for that matter.

  As I approach our hut, I see the lights blazing. Shit. I’d held out a tiny shred of hope that maybe the intensity of Sin’s wrath would have exhausted her, causing her to fall into a dreamlike sleep that would last seven to ten days. I keep moving toward the hut, and I can hear voices, Sin’s especially, sounding spitting mad. The rest of the huts are dark and shuttered, with everyone either sleeping or still at the bars. Our windows are open, though, and as I get closer, I can hear them clearly.

  “She’s just not…” Sin is saying. “She’s just not the person she used to be.”

  Her words reach me like a sock in the gut. She may be right or partly right, but it isn’t easy to hear.

  “Oh, it’s not that bad,” I hear Kat answer.

  “I’m not only talking about this Billy thing. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. You know it as much as I do. She’s totally different. She’s a shell of her former self.”

  I stand frozen by the open window, holding my sandals by the straps, suddenly feeling so tired.

  “She’s had a rough time lately,” Kat says, trying to stick up for me again. “Cut her some slack. She just took the bar exam, and it’s obvious that she’s not happy with John.”

  “So why doesn’t she talk about it? Why aren’t I hearing this from her?”

  I can imagine Sin doing her famous tapping routine, one of her little legs jutted out, the foot tapping faster and faster until she practically draws smoke from the floor.

  “I mean, I could understand,” Sin says, “if she just fucking told me what’s going on with her. I still can’t believe that she dissed us for that Franco dude.”

  “Francesco,” Kat corrects, and I love her for it.

  There’s a pause, and I can just imagine the scorching look Sin is sending Kat. She doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s on a roll.

  “Whatever,” Sin continues. “She totally blew us off, then she comes to this big revelation that she’s sorry, and she wants it to be like it used to be, but nothing’s changed. And now this. This thing with Billy. She knew I was putting in union dues all week, but that didn’t stop her for one second.”

  “Sin. Be fair,” Kat says. “You don’t really know what happened, and you haven’t been exactly…” Kat halts, as if hunting for the right word. “Friendly,” she concludes. “Let’s just talk to her.”

  This is my cue to burst in like a masked avenger and plead my case, but I don’t know what my case is. I don’t have a great excuse for why I kissed Billy except that I was feeling alienated from Kat and Sin, and he was there to talk to, and then suddenly we were kissing. I also don’t know how to defend myself against the accusations that I’m a different person than I used to be, because it’s true.

  I remember a conversation I had with my brother earlier this summer. We were at a party for my aunt and uncle’s anniversary, sitting on a dark, grassy slope behind the house, watching the party though the windows. Danny offered me a joint, but I refused. I had to study when I got home. Danny took another hit, narrowing his eyes as he drew in his breath, then putting the joint out on the insole of his tennis shoe.

  “You know why I like to get stoned?” he asked me.

  “Because you’re a deviant member of society who has no balls otherwise?”

  He ignored me. “Because it gives me a sense of place.” He went on to describe this “sense of place” as the time when he was unconcerned about yesterday or tomorrow or even an hour ahead. When he was high, he only cared about the current moment.

  I told him that I knew what he meant, but that I could get that way without the pot. Actually, I was talking out of my ass. Those times, those “sense of place” times, had been episodic at best. Yet during this trip, I’d begun to feel a few of those moments. Visiting Italy, a country I felt at home in, and the time I spent with Francesco had helped bring me out of the shell Lindsey referred to. But then my friendship with her and Kat had stalled and sputtered, and my parents’ divorce announcement had scared whatever moments of clarity I’d begun to muster back into the humid air.

  So, instead of a grand entrance, I turn the doorknob quietly and push it open, until I stand facing the two people who used to know me best.

  17

  Their conversation halts. Sin is in midtap, still dressed in a black miniskirt and tight lavender shirt. Kat sits on her cot in men’s boxers and a tank top, her back leaning against the wall, her knees drawn up. Sin glares. Kat just looks startled to see me.

  Sin opens her mouth, but I hold my hand up, and I start talking before she can get a word in.

  “I know you’re upset about Billy, and I understand why, but what you saw on that deck was just a little kiss. It was the only one we had, and I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “Ha!” Lindsey barks out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

  “Seriously. We’d just been talking and talking, and…it happened.”

  “Oh, this is too much.” She throws her hands up and turns toward the wall.

  I try to stay calm despite her sanctimonious bit of acting, but her attitude is pissing me off.

  “I know it sounds lame,” I say, keeping my voice even, “but it’s true. I even told Billy that you were looking for him.”

  “
And?”

  I look down and scratch absently at my forehead. “And he said he wasn’t interested.”

  Lindsey spins around, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even try to play this off like you were out there fighting for my best interests. You’re damn right it sounds lame. And don’t try to tell me that that kiss I saw was all that happened. What have you been doing for the last hour?”

  “Oh, quit your holier than thou attitude. If you would have let me explain instead of stomping off, we could have handled this at the time.”

  “So it’s my fault that you’ve been rolling around on the beach with him?”

  How does she know we’ve been on the beach? Did they follow us? Kat points silently to the back of my shorts. I brush off the sand with a distracted hand.

  “That’s not what I’m saying. We weren’t rolling around, for one thing.” I hold myself back from telling her that I could have been rolling around. I certainly wanted to roll around. “What I’m trying to tell you, Sin, is that you never listen to me anymore.”

  “I don’t listen?” She sounds surprised. “You don’t talk anymore, Casey.”

  “And so I’m not myself anymore, right? I’m just a shell of my former self.” I mimic her high voice.

  For a second, she looks remorseful, then resigned. “I’m sorry you heard that, but it’s true.”

  “Fuck you,” I mutter, dropping my sandals on the floor. Their wood heels land with a thud.

  “Fuck you?” Lindsey says. “What is going on with you? You’ve got a boyfriend at home, but you pick up that Italian dude and forget about us. Then you keep avoiding us this whole week. Kat and I came out on the deck to find you tonight because we were worried about you, and we find you with another guy, a guy you know I like, and now you come here accusing me of not listening to you?”

  “I’m sorry about Billy. I really am,” I say, my voice measured, as if I can turn down the volume on this whole argument. I slump onto the bed opposite Kat. “It really did just happen. I didn’t intend it. You’re right in the sense that it’s not the type of thing I would normally let happen, because we’re friends, and I know you had a thing for him, but to be honest, this hasn’t felt like much of a friendship for a while.”

  “No kidding,” she says with a sneer.

  Sin and I go on and on like this. Kat stays on the bed with her back against the wall, biting a thumbnail, watching the whole thing like some kid whose parents are arguing.

  Finally, I can’t come up with any other explanations, not that Sin would hear them or discuss them, anyway. There’s a lull that feels truly scary. “Tell me something, Sin,” I say. “Why are you such a bitch lately?”

  It’s out of my mouth before I realize it was just a thought in my head, not something meant for public consumption. I lean back a little, ready for another tongue thrashing.

  But then Lindsey does something I’ve rarely seen her do. She leans on the dresser and starts to cry.

  My eyes dart to Kat. Her hand falls away from her mouth, and she looks at me with pleading eyes, as if to say, “Do something.”

  “Sin,” I say, getting up and approaching her as I would a wounded but still dangerous animal.

  She raises her head before I reach her. I freeze, and I can feel Kat doing the same thing.

  “Did it ever occur to you,” Sin says, her eyes red and raw already, the tears still streaming, “that I might be jealous?”

  “Of what?”

  She snorts in exasperation, which stems the tears for the time being. “You, you idiot.”

  I shoot a look at Kat. Her wide eyes tell me it’s the first time she’s heard this.

  “Why?” I can’t think of any other words to say. This doesn’t even make sense.

  “You’ve got everything,” Sin says.

  I look down at myself as if expecting to find that some other person has inhabited my body. Why would she be jealous of me?

  “Like what?” I say.

  “Like you were on law review, and you just graduated from one of the top schools in the country, and you’ve got this great new job.” She leans over the dresser again.

  “But, honey,” Kat says, finally speaking up. “You’re at one of the best ad agencies in the nation, and you’re about to make vice president.”

  Sin mumbles something we can’t hear.

  “What’s that?” Kat says.

  Sin lifts her head up. “I already got it,” she says in a too-loud voice.

  “You got it? You’re a VP?” I clap my hands, forgetting for a moment that I hate her.

  Sin nods, her face miserable, crumpling into tears again.

  “Congratulations!” I say.

  “That’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell us?” Kat jumps off the bed and crosses the room to hug Sin. I want to do the same, but I’m still afraid she might strike me. Just as well, because she shoos Kat away.

  “What is it?” Kat asks. “Why aren’t you happy about this?”

  “Because nothing’s changed!”

  I’m stumped. “They didn’t give you a new office?” I say, taking a stab.

  Sin exhales loudly, as if she’s been trying to explain logarithms to first-graders. “Nothing’s different. I thought things would change when I made VP. I thought my life would be better, more magical or…or I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

  But I know what she means now. “I thought the same thing when I got the job at Billings Sherman & Lott,” I say. “I thought I was really on my way, that I would have a career, and my whole world would start sparkling, but I’ve been working there part-time, and I’ve got to tell you, nothing’s sparkling yet.”

  “Really?” Sin says with a sniffle.

  I nod.

  “That sucks.” Kat sinks back on her bed.

  I keep nodding.

  “But you have John,” Sin says.

  Now I’m stumped again. “You don’t even like John,” I point out.

  “Oh, he’s fine. It’s not him.”

  I see Kat and Sin exchanging a look.

  “What is it then?”

  “He’s sweet,” says Kat in a noncommittal voice, “and I’m sure he loves you a lot….”

  “But,” I say, giving her a lead.

  “But…” Kat starts biting a thumbnail again. She looks at Lindsey for assistance.

  “You just don’t shine when you’re with him,” Sin says.

  I blink a few times, attempting to process this. It seems like they might be on to something, but I can’t help feeling defensive on John’s behalf. I can bitch and moan about him and fool around with other guys, but that doesn’t mean anyone else can malign him, even if it is disguised as an insult to me.

  “She’s right,” Kat says. “He is very sweet, but he’s not as fun as you are, and I think he’s rubbing off on you.”

  Sin nods.

  Was that what it was? Had I begun to assume John’s personality into mine, diluting it?

  “Wait,” I say to Sin. “If this is all true, then why would you be jealous of me and John?”

  “Because you have someone who loves you, someone who cares if you come home at night.” Her eyes start to well up again. “Then to top it off we go to Rome, and you find someone else who seems to really like you, and then Billy…”

  “Ah,” I say, understanding now how my life has looked through Sin’s eyes. Funny how it’s a load of uncontrollable crap to me, but to someone else it seems like a dream. “It’s not so great for me, you know. This trip was supposed to be an escape from all the other shit I have to deal with when I get home.”

  “What other shit?” Lindsey says, cutting me off, exasperated with me again. “You’re going to be coming back from a long vacation. You’re done with school and the bar. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “That’s just it,” I say, hearing the climbing shrill tone in my voice. “I’m done with school, I don’t know if I passed the bar and I’m terrified of working for a living. To be honest, I don’t know how to be a
lawyer! Law school teaches you nothing practical. And then things aren’t right with you guys, which I can’t handle. To top it all off—my parents are getting divorced.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, they’re having problems, Casey. Don’t be so melodramatic,” Sin says.

  I honestly think about giving her an Erica Kane style slap across the face and asking her how she likes that for melodrama, but I just sit back on the bed and clench my hands. “When I called my mom today, she told me my dad’s gone. He moved out. It’s over. And there’s more….” I start to sniffle. “Bailey died.”

  It’s my turn to cry now, and I can hear Lindsey and Kat murmuring, moving toward me, hugging me awkwardly from both sides. Finally, I think, finally.

  “I’m so sorry,” I can hear Kat say. “I’m so sorry, Case. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

  “I didn’t feel like you cared.”

  “What do you think it’s been like for us?” Lindsey abruptly pulls her arms away from me. “You haven’t seemed like you gave a damn about anything for a long time.”

  “I know,” I say. “I know you’re thinking the same about me, but we have to somehow rise above this.”

  “You have to open your mouth first to give us the opportunity to ‘rise above it.’” Lindsey makes quotation signs with her hands as she pantomimes my words. I hate when people do that.

  “I tried to talk to both of you tonight, but you weren’t exactly receptive.”

  Kat holds me away from her slightly and gives me the raised eyebrow.

  “It’s true,” I say. “I tried being with you tonight, but you were too busy entertaining the crowd. And within two minutes of finding you—” I point at Lindsey “—you were in a heated political debate with that British chump.”

  “He wasn’t a chump, and that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have dropped everything if you’d said that you needed to talk.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” I mumble.