Life Plus One

by Rachel Robinson

  “Life doesn’t work that way,” she whispers.

  My cell phone goes off again. This time Harper looks at it. “The truth always hurts more than lies. It’s easier to swallow down a bunch of lies than face the one truth that changes everything.”

  I hold my arms out to the side. “What changes? We’ll be perfectly happy for the first time since the last time?”

  Clearing her throat, she turns around and leans against the counter with the sandwich in her hand. She takes a careful bite, chews, and swallows it. “Do you remember when I had to take Bobo to the vet to put him to sleep?” Harper turns to look at my face, her eyes turned down in the corner. “You kill people.”

  “Bad guys,” I insert. “What does that have to do with Bobo?” My voice cracks on the last word.

  “You kill bad guys for a living and yet the thought of putting your cat to sleep brought you to your knees. It was easier for me to do it. You could pretend it didn’t happen if you didn’t see it. You could lie to yourself.”

  I swallow down the panic the memory causes. My childhood cat lived almost twenty years. Cancer stole his body, but his mind was still there. A nightmare I’ve had on repeat since I can remember dreaming is that of me in a cold vet’s office. I’m standing in a small room, surrounded by white, and I’m holding an animal. It’s never the same animal, but my feelings are always the same the moment the doctor walks in holding a syringe needle. Panic. Soul crushing pain. Fear.

  Immobilized by the dream world, I watch through glassy eyes as the breathing creature I love fades away. First the chest stops moving, then the eyes close, and lastly, the freezing temperature in the room transfers to my fingertips and the body goes ice cold. Typically, at this point I’d always wake up with a sheen of sweat and terror in my heart.

  Harper is the only person who knows of the nightmare and subsequent phobia, which is why she was the person I called when it was Bobo’s time. She’d just moved back to the West Coast and there wasn’t a second of hesitation when she came into my house without knocking, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, picked up the soft sided cat bag from the living room floor, and left to do the thing I couldn’t do. When she returned with his urn of ashes a week later, it was no nonsense for her. A part of life. She never spoke of what happened in that room. I never asked—would never dream of asking. I saw the urn on the fireplace as a weakness. A thing that labeled me damaged. Bobo’s ashes remind me I’m human.

  Harper clears her throat after she takes the last bite of sandwich. She’s watching me through narrowed, tired eyes. Rinsing her plate, she puts it in the dishwasher.

  “The lie is always easier,” she repeats.

  “What’s the lie?” I ask. My phone vibrates once more and I can’t ignore it any longer. It’s obviously something important. Holding up one finger to halt her, I answer the call. As I suspected, I have to leave. They’ve found a terrorist quad in the underground tunnels in Washington State.

  Speaking softly, I confirm I’m on my way into work to catch the bird out. Even as I say this I wish I were lying to Tahoe. Wish I didn’t have to tell the truth to everyone else. I hang up and find her in the living room, a photo in her hand. She pulled it out of her open suitcase that’s haphazardly spilling across the coffee table.

  She hands me the wooden frame. It’s scuffed around the edges. It has seen a few moves in its lifetime. “I don’t know what the lie is anymore, Ben. Maybe it’s time to face the truth.” We’re graduating high school. Melancholy, forced smiles on our faces, the blue gowns swallowing our bodies. Her head lying on my shoulder.

  I study the photo and remember the mix of emotions that day. “I have to go. You’ll be okay here? I should be back soon.”

  She takes the frame from me and tosses it back on top of her jumbled suitcase. “The truth is, happily ever after was shot the second you became a SEAL.”

  There aren’t enough hours in a lifetime to tackle the monumental oceans between me and the person I’m closer to than anyone else in this world. I offer her a weak smile, promise her she’ll be safe, and thank her once more for Bobo.

  Grabbing my keys off the hook by the door, I turn to face her. She approaches quickly and hugs me. I kiss the spot on her neck one more time, trying in vain the erase the hurt. “I have a work party next week. Will you be back? I don’t want to be alone,” she rushes out. The vulnerability shows despite what she’s just admitted. Perhaps it’s in spite of it. We both know the game of cat and mouse has to end eventually. Doesn’t it? “Work friends will be there and I don’t want to talk about Marcus. They won’t ask if you go with me. That’s if Norah doesn’t mind.”

  I reply without hesitation—the way I always will. “I’ll be your plus one.”

  I squeeze her a little tighter and then leave. My mind slowly clicks into another mode, the one in which I hunt down and kill bad men with heaving chests and warm blood.

  We kill the quad of men after twelve hours of traipsing through dirty water and stale air. As usual, I feel nothing but pride at our victory. When I’m back to safety I pull out my cell phone and type out a message. It helps me feel again even if no one else ever sees it.

  You are my truth.

  Chapter Eleven

  Harper

  Against my better judgement, I’m blown, polished, waxed, and made up to the nines. Norah and I had a girls’ day. Ben got home last night, but he showered and went straight back to work. He said he had a lot of briefs and video conferences to attend. Because people from all over the world sit in on these video calls sometimes they land in the middle of the night and quite frankly, international leaders don’t care how tired he is.

  Norah was more than gracious when I mentioned bringing Ben with me to the party tonight. It was her idea to go shopping and have a day filled with pampering in preparation. She’s trying to make me feel better and it would be a lie if I didn’t feel equal parts guilt as I do gratitude.

  True friendships have been few and far between for me. Those people I met at Harvard are all busy with their own families and lives. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in my own studies and career. Studying a multitude of languages takes its toll on one’s ability to function in social settings. It’s almost as if the part of my brain that’s supposed to form real friendships with new people is used for understanding Swahili, Mandarin, and Arabic.

  We’re sipping cold-brew coffee browsing dresses in a boutique in the Gaslamp district when her cell rings. I can’t help the jealous rage when she smiles and says his name into the receiver of the phone. “Yes, she’s going to be ready and beautiful for you by six. You’re not going to be late, are you?” Norah’s smile fades. “Oh, okay.”

  I do my best to search the racks, running my hands over the fabrics. The store clerk tells me she has a dress she just got in and hasn’t had a chance to put out on the racks yet. It’s the perfect excuse to wander from Norah’s side and disappear on the other side of the store. By any person’s standards, this would be weird. She’s shopping for my date with her boyfriend. Somehow, it’s not. It is two friends who share a best friend.

  I see what Ben likes about Norah and know why he’s drawn to her.

  The emerald green dress she presents is gorgeous. “I need to try that on right now,” I say, running my fingers along the hem.

  “Of course. The color will look beautiful with your hair color.” She leads the way to the back where large billowing curtains are hiding small dressing rooms. I enter with one other dress and the green one I know I’ll probably buy.

  The mark on my cheek is almost gone, and is hidden completely by makeup the heavy handed artist brushed on my face an hour before. Marcus hasn’t tried to contact me since his brother arrived in San Diego from the East Coast. He left the apartment so I could clear out the rest of my things. Most of which reside in a storage unit on 5th street. My parents can never know the true extent of the demise of my relationship. I did have to do a little creative concocting to produce a story believable enough. It was a lot
of time spent curating a relationship to toss away all willy-nilly. Or, so my father said. Leaving Marcus was easy. Living without the security blanket he provided is more difficult than I’d ever imagined. If I was with him, then I didn’t have to worry about men or dating, or my true feelings. Marcus simplified an area of my life that needed an easy fix. I’d feel guilty for the realization if my cheek didn’t still throb in the shower. When I told my mother, she smiled to herself, like she was in on some secret and told me it would get easier in time.

  The green dress is stunning. I don’t come out of the dressing room to show Norah even though I know she’s there, chatting on the phone. I think it’s one of the other veterinarians now because she’s asking about an animal and giving directions on care. My cell chimes with a text.

  Ben: I’m home. Are you coming home soon?

  Home. My stomach rolls in anticipation. The word never sounded so good. I tap back. I’m naked right now, but I’ll be on my way back soon.

  Ben: Uniform or suit? He ignores my cheeky joke.

  Pressing my lips together, I decide on the option that will draw the least amount of attention. Suit.

  Ben: Are you still naked? There it is.

  Peeking out from the curtain, I spy Norah wrapped up in her conversation, talking with one hand moving furiously. It’s harmless banter. Ben and I have always joked like this. Why does it feel different? Because my security blanket is gone. No. But I will be later on tonight.

  Ben: I’ll be there. When?

  I’ll have to shower. Duh. You’re such a perv, Benny. I laugh and toss my phone in my purse. I purchase the dress and a pair of earrings that reminds me of pearls except they’re silver and shiny, like alien spaceships about to infiltrate my brain by way of my ear canal.

  I wait for Norah to buy a top after she ends her call and we meet outside. “Thanks for coming with me today,” she says, sighing as she adjusts her huge purse from one shoulder to the other. “I wanted to get to know you better. You seem so familiar to me, but it must be because you and Ben are so close.”

  “Or we were meant to be friends.” I laugh. “Those aren’t easy to come by for me. I had a nice time today.” A car horn honks somewhere and our gazes dart in that direction. We’ll always be on guard at the slightest disturbance in the world we live in nowadays.

  She looks down at the pavement as her smile fades. Like it would be a criminal act if she showed me any side of her personality that wasn’t flawless. I wish she would. Give me the ammunition I need to put my silent jealousy to use. “We’re taking a break, Harper. Ben and I.”

  My stomach flips, and I break out into a cold sweat. “Since when?” I blurt out. “It’s not my fault,” I say, holding out my hands. “Don’t tell me it’s my fault.”

  She laughs. “No. Well, yes, it is, but it was my decision. Ben needs to sort his feelings and I think you might, too.” Staring at her, I catch the breath I didn’t know I’d lost. At my silence she says, “You need him now and this is as good a time as any to give him space.”

  “Excuse me?” What a fine time for jealous rage to rise to the surface. “My feelings have always been sorted when it comes to our friendship. Ben lives inside a tiny corner of his mind where he can’t separate fact from fiction—a place that light doesn’t touch, a shriveled-up cavern of what might have been. He doesn’t live in the present, Norah. His feelings aren’t something he can sort, because, it’s…complicated.”

  I can tell I’ve overstepped my boundaries and have hurt her feelings.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that now that you’re single you might want to explore other options. He fully admitted he’s in love with you. To me. To my face. I love him. More than I ever thought possible. We work well together,” she explains. Looking off to the side, she tells me a story about how he brought her to meet his parents. How it felt so seamless and easy up until the second my name was brought up. “The air changed, and you might as well have been standing right there in their living room, Harper.”

  I wonder which living room they were in and who brought me up. The way Norah’s eyes turn down in the corner tells me I’ve tainted a memory when I wasn’t even there. My spirit ruined the damn thing all by itself. “Okay,” I state simply. “I wasn’t there, and I can’t speak for Ben.”

  We walk toward the parking lot that wraps around the back of the tall brick building. “I still can’t believe you want to be my friend,” I say.

  She shrugs. “You’re not the only one bad with friendships. I’ve been tied up in school and then building my practice most of my adult life. When Ben talked about you like you were some winning lottery ticket I figured I might get a piece of that, too.”

  I tell her a lame self-deprecating joke to try to counter the lottery ticket comment and she laughs. “You look beautiful. Thanks for today. For what it’s worth. I’ve always been honest with you about the friendship with Ben.”

  She grins, opening her vehicle door. “Oh, I know you have. Ben’s going to try to change your mind, though. Mark my words.” She gets into her large SUV and pulls away. She has a sticker of a dog paw with a red heart in the middle on the back window.

  I drive back to Ben’s house, careful of the busy intersections while I’m lost in thought. Norah knows Ben well. Not that it complicates things more than they already are. It merely heaps more guilt on top of a tricky situation.

  ++++

  I decide not to broach his pseudo breakup separation with Norah in favor of keeping the mood light and carefree. He took his turn in the bedroom getting ready, while I told him all he needed to know about who was going to be there and what I expect of him. According to the online RSVP site, Marcus won’t be in attendance.

  “And his friends will leave us alone, I’m sure. I made you wear a suit so you have to act like a gentleman, not a hand for hire.”

  Ben scoffs audibly. I make sure to keep my tone light. It bothers him when he thinks I view him in any other way than the way I’m supposed to see him. People change and our times surely have changed, but my perception of Ben is supposed to warp to meet his desires. It’s easy most days, because he’s always been Ben to me. It’s harder now that I’m living here and I see his demeanor change almost completely in the span of a work day.

  While he’s changing, I pull out the dress and cut off the tags using a kitchen knife. Sliding off my shorts, sandals, and T-shirt, I heft the soft material of the dress over my head, careful not to mess up my hair or makeup. The plunging V neck dips to mid stomach, so I remove my bra and toss it over the counter to land on the sofa, my bed.

  “You can dress in my bedroom,” Ben says, voice low. “You’re a woman. You like the kitchen, but some things should stay in the bedroom.”

  Grabbing the knife I used to cut off the tag, I aim it at him in mock outrage. “Take it back.” I smirk. Cursing at him in one of the languages I know he’s fluent in, I make my way around the counter. A half grin pulls the side of his mouth up as he replies back something just as mean.

  He raises one brow. “Or else what? You attack me with a steak knife? Sounds like my kind of Friday night.” It’s now that Ben finally lets his gaze dip to the rest of my body. His neck works to swallow as he takes in the neckline, or lack thereof. “Or maybe we can add something else to the agenda.” He licks his lips.

  I set the knife down on the edge of the counter. Even I have limits on how far I’ll go to prove a point. “You like my dress?”

  “It jogs a certain memory.”

  Picking up the heels—something I almost never wear—off a barstool, I balance on one foot and then the other to slip them on my feet. “I didn’t have the rack to wear this back then, but I did buy it for the color.”

  He’s watching my every move—studying every motion and movement my body creates. Sometimes it’s like I’m an art model on display for him. If I move just the right way maybe the spell will be broken, and he’ll be unable to remember what he’s desperately trying not to forget.

  �
��You look pretty dashing yourself, Mr. Brahams. Thanks for coming with me. It’s the culmination of everything I’ve been working toward.” I bury the compliment in other mundane facts so I don’t have to feel awkward about giving it. He does look stunning, though. Now that he fills out a suit with broad shoulders and thick arms, I know no one is going to miss him regardless of what he’s wearing.

  “I need you to know something,” Ben replies. “Something I want to say that has nothing to do with you, but it probably has everything to do with us.”

  Sighing, I steel myself for more conversation I’d rather not have. “Can we chat on the way? I don’t want to be late. My face will literally melt off at midnight. Like Cinderella except more real. Like Courtney Love.”

  He laughs and grabs his keys to lock the door.

  “Norah wants to take a break from our relationship.”

  I nod. “We talked today while she was helping me get ready for tonight. Talk about weird. It feels right, though. Being her friend. She understands us, Ben.”

  “She understands how I feel about you, Harps. Not us. No one else can understand us.”

  He closes his door to the truck and starts it up. “I need to know where we stand. It’s almost as if the stars are aligning right now in the sky we grew up under, to make us happen.”

  Panic sets in. I’m not the type of person who destroys a relationship for the sake of my own feelings. I always put others before myself. “What are you asking?” My words come out in a rush of hysteria.

  “It’s been a while since we last had this conversation and I’m dropping it into our space again. For your consideration. You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. I can tell you’re about to hyperventilate over there and I don’t want one of your tits to pop out in a panic attack. We’re not dressed for Jazzercise right now. I’m throwing it out there again. That’s all.”

  He’ll throw it out there until the cows come home. Until we’re old and gray, and I’m finally brave enough to take what I want. “You aren’t officially broken up, though. Are you?” It’s a minor detail most people this in love would overlook in light of our situation. I’m wary—in unfamiliar territory.