by Mariah Dietz
We hold each other’s stare, the moment lingers with unspoken words. It feels as though I can see past his heart all the way into his soul—where there are no part-time jobs or debt or years of schooling left. There is no measurement that makes me feel unworthy or lacking. Instead, I see myself as someone as deserving and beautiful, someone I strive to be—today I am that person.
28
Wes
I blink. Once. Twice. Three times. Still I can’t keep them open. I want to remain curled around Leela’s warm frame and stay lost in this moment.
My phone buzzes again, reminding me why I was attempting to wake up, and I bite back my groan of a protest and reach for it. I have two missed calls and a text.
Ace: Are you okay?
I focus on the small clock at the top of my screen which tells me it’s nearly 4 p.m..
Waves of guilt knot my stomach. I’ve been reliant on them all to help me while I’ve been injured. I should have let them know I was going to be with Leela today.
Me: Sorry. I’m good. I’m just with Leela.
Running a hand over my short hair I look at the time again. How did it get so late?
Leela lifts her head from the pillow and looks at me through half-opened lids before smiling and cuddling into my side. The fan overhead turns lazily, shifting the air just enough to make the room comfortable with our bodies heating each other.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Nothing. How are you feeling?”
Her shoulders lift and fall with a yawn, and then she moves her leg so it crosses over my good leg. “I feel amazing.”
My chest swells with pride. I did that. I made her feel this good. I lean closer and kiss the top of her head as my phone lights up with another message.
Ace: I thought you might be. We were just worried.
Leela pulls the blankets around her and scoots toward the edge of the bed. I quickly grab her wrist. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” She takes a deep breath. “It’s weird for me that you’re so close to her. I know that’s not fair and you guys have been friends much longer than I’ve known you, but it’s strange for me. My ex, he used to have lots of girls who he claimed were friends, but it turned out they were way more than just friends.”
I roll to my side and shake my head. “No. That’s definitely not the case between us. She’s one of my best friends, but Max is like my brother. My feelings for her are one-hundred percent platonic.” I’ve never had someone in my life that made me want to consider what would happen if they didn’t like my friends or I didn’t get along with theirs.
“It’s still really strange for me. To have her text and call you—it just seems like you guys are more than friends.”
I shrug. “She is. I consider that group my family.”
The tendons in her neck become more pronounced as she sucks in a deep breath that she releases slowly while considering her response. “I can tell she’s important to you, and she seems like a very intricate part of your group.”
“She’s the glue,” I admit.
“Maybe she and Kendall would be interested in doing something with Jasmine and me.”
“I’m sure they would.”
Leela’s smile returns, as does the pain in my Achilles. “Is your foot hurting?” she asks.
“A little.”
“Did you bring any painkillers with you?”
“No. I assumed we were going back to Max’s after class—not that I’m complaining! Because I’m not. Not at all. This was…”
Her laughter fills my bare room, giving it more personality than it’s held in the past two years that I’ve lived here. Leela rolls to face me, her red hair looking darker against my sheets which match the color of her eyes. “I thought you said you had a roommate?”
I shake my head. “Last year I had a roommate. He was a good guy, but a terrible roommate, so I’d asked him to move out at the end of the year.”
“Yikes. I bet that was tough on your friendship.”
I lift my shoulders and consider her words. “Not really. I think if we’d remained roommates it would have been worse.”
“Guys are so different than girls. My sister gets offended when I ask her to leave a room while I’m studying.” Leela rolls her eyes.
“We’re just easily distracted. Something might piss us off, but then a football game comes on or we see an ad for pizza or we’re invited to hang out and all is forgotten.”
Leela laughs, and the sound is warm and inviting, distracting me from the pain that’s increasing by the minute.
“Plus, you know how much free time we have with going to med school. I hate to admit it, but he might have been upset and I was just too focused on school to notice.”
“I know you’ve made some jokes about what kind of doctor you want to be, but have you decided?”
I run a hand down my face. “I wanted to do sports medicine, but the more I consider having to travel all the time, the less appealing it is. I mean, I grew up with my parents doing that, and I don’t know that I’d want to do that to my future family.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but were you able to get ahold of your parents and tell them about the surgery?”
“Yeah. My mom offered to come home, but I told her not to worry about it. I mean, this is a routine procedure versus what they’re working toward.”
“Do you miss them?”
I consider her question for a few minutes before focusing on her green eyes. “It’s always been this way. It’s just what I know.”
Her blank stare tells me she wants to say something, but then a smile crosses out the questions and she leans back further, her hair splaying across the pillow. “You have the best pillows.”
“And all kinds of purposes for them, too,” I tell her, rolling over so I’m on top of her, my chest pressed against hers, making her laugh before I kiss her.
“Should we go back to the house so you can get some medicine?” she asks.
“And some food. I’m starving. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.”
Leela and I get dressed while she tells me more about Jasmine. And then we head out to her Jeep where I give her directions back to Max’s.
By the time we make it back to the house, I can feel my pulse in my Achilles. It throbs and aches so badly I could hardly focus on what Leela was talking about for the short drive. I grab my crutches, careful to get out without touching my leg or foot on anything.
“What can I do to help?” Leela asks, looking me over as we make it to the door.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I’ll be okay.”
Inside, Landon’s sitting in the living room, watching another football game. He lifts the remote to turn it off, and I stop him. “Dude, this is your house. Watch the game.”
Landon looks between Leela and me, attempting to read the situation. He slowly leans back, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of intruding.
“We were going to order some food. You hungry?” I ask him, hobbling over to sit near him and reach for my pills.
“You know me. I’m always in if food’s involved.”
I chuckle to hide my wince, and swallow my pills. I need to elevate my foot, but displacing Landon or anyone else just makes me feel that same bitterness I’ve been feeling too much lately. Instead, I try to focus on the situation and what I can control.
Leela is staring at me. I can read the internal war she’s having as she debates giving me advice on the pain.
“Come, sit down,” I tell her, patting the seat beside me.
Rather than sitting beside me, Leela moves the small coffee table closer to me and grabs a throw pillow from the end of the couch. She props it on the edge of the table. “Why don’t you put your foot up here. I’m sure it would be good for it to be elevated.” She doesn’t mention my pain or comment on how I look uncomfortable, though I’m sure it’s apparent.
29
Leela
I arrive home with
a smile stretching my lips. The drive, which normally seems to stretch and test my tolerance, goes quickly, my thoughts consumed with Wes. It’s been three weeks since we first slept together, and with each passing day, I feel closer to him and it gets harder to say good-bye.
The lights in our living room and kitchen are still on as I close my Jeep door and pocket my keys. It’s after 1 a.m., making this both unusual and concerning—my parents work so much, they’re generally in bed before ten each night.
My parents are both sitting at the kitchen table when I step inside. Mom’s wearing an old tee of Dad’s that’s stained and has multiple holes, her hands wrapped around a glass of water. Dad’s still dressed in his work clothes, his brown eyes wide as he looks to me.
My heart races considering what has them up waiting for me. “Is Luna okay?”
Mom nods. “She’s fine.”
“Is Troy okay?”
Again, she nods.
“What’s going on?” I slowly drop my bag to the floor, my heart thundering.
“What is going on, Leela? Where have you been?” Dad’s question sounds like a demand. “You’ve barely been home, and the water was shut off today. Do you know how much we had to pay in order to get it turned back on?”
“What do you mean they turned it off? I paid the minimum.”
Mom shakes her head. “You did last month, but this month they didn’t receive payment.”
“Surely they can’t just turn it off because of one month. That has to be illegal, right? I mean, it makes the space unlivable. There are laws set in place to protect us from that kind of thing.”
Dad slams a hand against the table. “Dammit, Leela, what’s going on and where have you been sneaking off to?”
I feel trapped as I look between my parents and they’re matching expressions of disapproval. “I’ve been seeing someone.”
Mom tilts her head, her gaze shifting from exhaustion and defeat to what appears to be hope as her eyes round and her lips flirt with a smile. But, Dad looks at me through eyes that have seen and experienced so much that he’s skeptical of everything and everyone, even me. It’s something I am now realizing I was beginning to do myself and it horrifies me. I don’t want to see a woman carrying an expensive handbag and assume she’s a snotty bitch. I don’t want to look at an athlete and think he has nothing to offer but speed and agility.
“When did you start putting strangers before your family?” he asks.
“I’m not putting anyone first. I’m—”
“We discussed this a long time ago, Leela. You knew we couldn’t afford to put you through all those prep schools and things without you helping out, and you agreed. You don’t get to renege on the deal now that you’ve received all you needed.”
“I’m not reneging on any deal!” My voice is both louder and more forceful than I’d expected, surprising me and my parents. “I work nearly every single day. I’m sorry I missed a payment, but I hardly think it’s fair that you’re accusing me of not pulling my weight.”
“You said you were going to take care of the bills. You claimed you could help lower fees we were being charged—we trusted you.”
“You can trust me.”
“Leela, I paid seventy-five dollars to have the water turned back on today. How was that showing you’re dependable?”
“I helped get Luna transferred to a new school where she’s excelling. I work all the time. I’m going to school full-time, and I still help with cooking and cleaning and all the other chores. I don’t understand how you can say I’m not helping over one mistake.” My eyes sting with the threat of tears, and my throat grows tight.
Dad’s lips remain sealed. It’s an infuriating expression that tells me he doesn’t owe me an explanation, not even a response.
“Leela, Troy has offered to help, and he told us you were really opposed to it, but…” Mom begins, her words trailing off.
“You can’t be serious! You guys can’t truly be considering allowing him to help. What if someone found out? Do you understand you’d be arrested? That Luna and I would, too? My dreams of becoming a doctor would be over.”
Dad shakes his head. “You and Luna wouldn’t be impacted. We would take full responsibility. But, we’re drowning in debt. Our credit cards are maxed, and once the rainy season starts, I’ll have less jobs…”
“We’ll make it. We always do. We only have a few more years—”
“We can’t keep doing this for a few more years!” he says. “You made this decision, Leela. You started dating that rich kid and throwing your responsibilities to the wind.”
It figures he knew about Wes. Generally, Dad only bothers asking questions when he assumes to know the answer. “He has nothing to do with this!” I have no idea what they truly do know about Wes, likely only what Luna does—which is that we go to school together and he drives a nice truck—everything else is purely speculation.
“You never made these mistakes before him. You used to find extra shifts, and you haven’t helped with cleaning in weeks. Jasmine mentioned she’s been planning Jordan’s party all by herself—you’ve even abandoned her. I know you’re embarrassed by us and that you grew up here, but is this guy worth turning your back on everyone who cares about you?” Dad stares at me, allowing his words to penetrate through my anger which transforms into guilt and then sadness and finally ends with doubt.
Dad tilts his head, and his eyes narrow with apprehension. “We might not have fancy clothes and cars, but we’re family, and we stick together.”
“I’m not trying to pick him over you guys.”
“But you’ll have to,” Dad says. “He’s nothing like us. As you hang out with him more and more, it’s going to get harder for you to remember your responsibilities. He wasn’t raised like you to have values and morals.”
“That’s ridiculous. You know nothing about him!”
“I know rich people way better than you do, kiddo.” His tone isn’t condescending, though his words are. “Rich people expect everything to be given to them. He’s probably had everything handed to him on a silver spoon.”
I don’t know if Wes has ever worked. It seems crazy that I don’t when I know so many details of his life, but I don’t. However, I do know how hard he works to apply himself in medical school and how dedicated he is to his friends and to me.
“You’ve barely dated. You don’t know what love is,” he tells me.
“I never claimed to love him.”
“You never claimed not to, either. Sometimes it’s what we don’t say that is the loudest.” He raises his eyebrows.
I look to my mom, waiting for her to say something. To understand that this is so much more than what can only be seen on the surface. “I don’t understand why I can’t have both?”
“If he’s so great and so wonderful, why didn’t you feel like you could tell us about him? Why have you been keeping him a secret? Obviously, you know he’s wrong for you.” Dad extends an arm.
“I haven’t told you because I knew you’d react this way.”
Dad sighs heavily, a reaction more commonly used with his interactions with Luna. One that says he finds the excuse inadequate and exhausting.
“Don’t you understand? Since I was a kid I’ve been balancing on this precipice, trying to navigate between two worlds—neither of which I’ve ever felt accepted in. At home, people see me as a deserter—an elitist. At school, I’m a fake, a phony. I finally feel like I’ve met someone who sees me—me!” I cry, placing a hand over my chest. “Not what makes me different or the same as anyone else—just me. Who I am. What I like. What I want to accomplish. He’s the only person who’s taken the time to know who I am. And I hate that you’re trying to make me question the sincerity and reality of him.”
“You’re trying to simplify it, Leela! This is about how you’ve neglected your responsibilities to your friends and family, and in doing so we’ve lost more money that we couldn’t afford. This is where you belong. With us. We’re your family
, and you don’t turn your back on your family.” Glaring at me, I hear all the silent insinuations that follow his words.
Would I choose someone else above them?
Will I remain here like they expect? Have always expected?
Will I fail and root myself here?
“Why are you doing this?” Tears blur my vision. “Why can’t you be happy that I’ve found someone who makes me happy? Why are you forcing me to choose between what I want and what you want? Isn’t this my life?”
A deep frown mars Dad’s face. Pain is present in his brown eyes, and I briefly wonder if he’s remembering my childhood unfold before us. All the times I talked about working in a hospital and saving people. The years I spent working. The miles I walked to bus stops. The nights I stayed up late with a flashlight under a blanket so as to not wake Luna while I studied. Does he realize everything that I’ve invested into my future? Everything he might be risking by accepting money from Troy? Everything I’ve done to contribute?
Tears fall down my cheeks in rapid succession.
“Go to bed. Think about it, Leela. Think about it with your heart. Think of everyone you know here. The people you grew up with.”
“I’ll get extra shifts,” I tell them, taking a deep breath and wiping the rest of my tears away. “Just don’t take money from Troy. Please.”
“If it happens again, I’m not coming to you about this.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to promise that he won’t take that risk.
But he doesn’t.
When I wake up, my eyes are crusted with tears and dried makeup. My head throbs, and my lips are painfully dry. Thankfully, I have a morning class and can slip out of the house before anyone notices.
My shower is a quick wash and quicker rinse, and then I get dressed, careful to remain silent as I pull on my shoes and grab my bag that I had left in the kitchen last night.
