Vivid Lies

by Alyne Robers

  "He confessed to starting the fire," she tells me gently.

  My mind spins. The drugs slow my thought process. The memories I tried so hard to block come back to me and I know what I saw. Brooklyn dropped that lighter. She dropped it knowing it would burn the house down like our father had failed to do.

  Why would he confess to a crime he didn't commit? A good parent might take the fall for their child as a sacrifice made out of love. But he's not a good parent. Or even a parent at all, really.

  "The boys have been asking to see you," Mrs. Walker says, changing the subject.

  "Boys?"

  "Miles and Kane. They come every day, hoping they will be allowed a visit."

  "Kane is here?" I figured he would be home by now. It's been a week.

  "Yes. He refused to leave."

  Tears spring to my eyes. The girl he thought he was sneaking around with turned out to be crazy. He saw two girls and now only one shell remains. He was tricked just like I was.

  "Why did you hire him?"

  Mrs. Walker hands me another candy bar that I quickly accept. The sugar is a change to the blandness surrounding me.

  "That night, Miles left with you. I know he loved you both and was trying to save you, but I was worried sick. He wouldn't tell me where you were, except near Miami. When he refused to bring you home, I knew something was very wrong. Call it mother's intuition."

  Tears fall down my face freely. I can now remember Miles carrying me to the jeep and shoving me in the backseat after he pulled me from my dad's hold. He promised to keep me safe. He must have been devastated, but he was so strong for me.

  "I don't think he knew how to help you, and he didn't want to hurt you. I hired a private investigator in the area. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

  Even Kane was a lie. Did he ever want to know me, or was it all a job for him? Did he know that it was all a lie?

  Mrs. Walker gets off the bed and kneels in front of me. She takes my cold hands in hers, wrapping them up in warmth. I let it soak into my skin and spread through my body. She's a cloud gray. Sad, but comforting and timeless.

  "I won't lie to you, baby girl. You have a long road in front of you. It's gonna be hard, it will hurt, and it kills me to see you go through it. But you are not alone, you hear me?" her southern accent gets thick with emotions as she grips my face. "I will be here every damn day. I will answer any question you have. I love you like you were my own because you are my baby girl. Maybe not by blood, but I earned you."

  I break down and throw my arms around her neck. I fall to the floor and, although Mrs. Walker looks like she's a tiny woman, she takes my weight and holds me in her arms like I am a little girl. I cry into her blouse that smells like roses.

  She lets me cry, running her fingers through my long hair. I am done being strong and I let all the tears go. I feel her shaking with her own tears but she never lets me go. I cry until I run out of tears. I pull away and she brushes the hair out of my face.

  "I love you, London. I will be here for you. Miles and that boy are here for you. Don't you forget that. It will never be the same, but you will okay. Brooklyn wouldn't want you give up. She wanted you to live."

  "Thank you," I say with a raw voice from crying. It's the first bit of comfort I start to feel.

  It's dinner time and the nurse interrupts to leave my dinner tray. I make a face at the smell of fake meatloaf and over-cooked green beans. I'd rather eat ramen noodles.

  "Hang in there, London. You are such a strong young woman."

  We get up off the floor and Mrs. Walker helps me into the bed. I'm weak from the medication and lack of sleep. Strangely, the nightmares have stopped. I realize they were my mind's way of telling me the truth. I just wasn't ready to see it yet.

  I eat my dinner reluctantly while she fills me in on town gossip. It's all petty in the grand scheme of things and we both know it. But it's the familiarity and simplicity that soothes me. I feel less heavy than I did that morning. The grief and loss is still there, but I can breathe just a little better now.

  "I'll be back tomorrow. Whether you like it or not."

  "Thank you," I say, meaning it more than she could realize.

  "Think about talking to Miles. He can answer a lot of questions for you that I can't. He needs you right now. He lost someone, too."

  I nod, too scared to speak. My heart breaks when I think about looking into those green eyes and seeing the hurt reflecting back at me. That fear is only multiplied when I remember what I put him through the past few months. I'm not sure how we can ever move past this. How can I ever get past it?

  Mrs. Walker pauses at the door and looks back at me.

  "Kane never turned you in, London. He told me he couldn't find you and refunded the money."

  TWENTY-NINE

  London

  Group therapy is a special type of torture for me. I never was a very social person, so sitting around with a bunch of strangers and sharing our feelings is not my cup of tea. I don't participate, but it makes my doctor happy to see me there. I listen and I watch the others, but I don't share. I don't know if it's so I don't break down, out of shame, or denial.

  I want to go home. In the psychiatric hospital, I feel alone. Memories haunt me, but no amount of talking or medication makes me feel better. My only hope of release is to cooperate and talk to the therapists. I go through the motions each day but after another two weeks, I still feel trapped. The heavy weight on my heart doesn't get any lighter.

  A knock comes at the door and I smile, expecting Mrs. Walker with flowers and candy like usual. That's become my highlight of my day. When Miles walks in my room, I am shocked into silence. Even though he can read my distress all over my face, he clears the distance between us and wraps me up in his strong arms.

  As soon as I feel his heartbeat against my cheek, I crack wide open. I cling to him like I'm drowning and he's my lifesaver. He holds me tight, kissing the top of my head and I regret pushing him away these past few days. With him, I finally feel like I'm not alone. I feel connected to the old me. I feel the connection to my sister that I lost.

  "Fuck, London. I missed you so much."

  I pull back and grab his face, rubbing his cheeks and memorizing the face I used to know by heart all over again. His eyes are a jaded green with bags under them. He has more scruff than usual, making him look weathered and older. I'm reminded I'm not the only one who lost Brooklyn.

  Long moments pass in silence as we hold each other. Unspoken words float in the air, wrapping around us and holding us together like binds. Memories flood in.

  Miles telling me he loved me in his song. The way he kissed me—desperately and passionately. The way I felt cherished, safe, and loved when he looked at me. The way he begged me to stay with him. The memories are disconnected. Hazy in my own mind as I lived someone else's life.

  Brooklyn, stay with me.

  There's an undercurrent of the feelings I had for Miles. I can remember the way his hands felt on me, how we kissed. The way he looked at me. Part of me feels that pull still there.

  We pull apart and I rub my temples to chase away the headache forming. On top of losing my sister, I also deal with the daily reminders of the things I did as Brooklyn. My cheeks heat with embarrassment and I try to hide it behind my long hair.

  "Hey. Don't hide from me," he says as he tilts my face back up to him.

  He pulls out a candy bar and hands it to me. I laugh as I take it, picturing his mom telling him to soften me with chocolate.

  "Thanks," I say as I tear it open shamelessly.

  We sit in silence on the hard bed watching out the window. I try to gather all the thoughts racing in my mind. So many questions. Miles seems to sense my need for time and patiently waits me out. It's refreshing to be around someone who just knows how you feel and not have to tell them. I thought I would never have that again.

  "You knew." I finally say. "Why did you let me go on like that?"

  He sighs and rubs his fac
e roughly. I hate to see the stress in his body but I can't make it go away. I'm not ready to forgive just yet. I need more answers still.

  "Not right away. In that car ride, you changed. We stayed at a hotel for two days before I found an apartment. You didn't speak for the first day. The second day you became her."

  I swallow down a sob. I don't remember those days. I remember moving into the apartment, imagining my sister by my side.

  "We ran because I thought you would be in trouble for the fire. I saw your dad was still alive and I thought I was keeping you safe from him. Then, I couldn't bear to be the person to tell you the truth. I couldn't hurt you."

  I want to understand. I really do. I hate being angry or bitter against Miles. I love him but it hurts.

  "Why let me go through that?" I ask. "You kissed me as London. And as Brooklyn. You let me carry on living a lie."

  My face heats as I think back. The stripping. Kane. Miles. Things only two separate people should do.

  "I promised myself I would never lie to you again, so I will give you an honest answer."

  "I would appreciate that."

  "I was selfish. I didn't want to let her go either. It's not right, but she was there, in my hands and it all felt so real. You both were. I wanted to live in that lie with you. I'm a complete asshole for letting it go on. I just didn't know how to help."

  I hate to see the tears well up in his eyes. Miles was always our strength. Seeing him break like this is painful.

  "I wasn't sure for a while," he says, looking out the window again. "It was all so real, I couldn't tell which one was real anymore."

  "Which one did you want it to be?" I ask.

  Miles looks at me like I had stabbed him in the heart. His eyes are begging me to understand. He's being split in half just as I was. Knowing the feeling, I move closer to hold his hand.

  "You loved her?"

  "I love you both. I thought Brooklyn was finally letting me in and I am so shitty for trying to hold on to that. I think deep down, I knew she was gone and that made it harder to let go."

  I look down at our entwined fingers. I was letting him in. As Brooklyn, I craved his sweet protectiveness and gentle love. I was giving my sister her happy ending. I'm being a hypocrite if I hate Miles for holding on to the illusion that I created.

  "I'm so sorry, London. Please forgive me, because I can't take it if I lose you too."

  I launch myself at him. Miles catches me and doesn't let go. I hold on to him and his pain because it mirrors my own. Brooklyn may have been the only person to ever understand me this deeply, but Miles has been just as close. I want to be there for him because he has been there for us for most of our lives.

  We hold each other, quiet with our own thoughts. I try to sort out the feelings I had for him weeks ago. I can still remember the way my heart fluttered when he looked at me. I remember the way he made me feel loved and worthy. Even being plucked from the strip club, he made me feel cherished. Does it matter if he was calling me a different name? Was I a different person? Who am I now?

  "Kane wants to see you," Miles finally says when the room starts to dim with the setting sun. We are lying in my bed with my head on his chest.

  "He's still here?" I ask. I fully expected him to give up. I'm not sure who he thinks he's waiting for.

  "Yeah," he sighs. "He's been staying with me."

  "You? What, are you guys friends now?"

  He laughs and it's nice to hear again.

  "I don't know if I would say that. We both still want the same girl."

  I bury my face in my hands. I spent most of my life single and now I find myself with two men at the same time.

  "Oh god," I mumble into my hands. "I was sleeping with him and then kissing you. How could I do that?"

  Miles hisses and I look up to see the pain in his eyes. Maybe that was more than he needed to know.

  "You didn't know. I tried to keep him away from you in the beginning. I thought he would see the truth and, to be honest, it pissed me off he was pursuing you, even if he thought you were someone different."

  "What about now?"

  "Kane doesn't really do what he's told to do," he says. His voice is a mixture of humor and annoyance. "He cares about you, too."

  "I don't know who I am anymore," I admit.

  "You will figure it out, babe. You don't need to cut us out to do it."

  Maybe that’s true, but it doesn't make it easy. I have two men who fought for the attention of two very different women who ended up to be one. Will either of them still love me in the end when I emerge as one? What if both of them were just in love with a lie?

  "I don't want to hurt anymore," I whisper. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

  Miles just squeezes me tighter. He doesn't offer words of comfort because I don't think there are any. He could have lied, made up something to make me feel better. I value his silence more because it's the truth.

  "You were always the strong one, London. You survived so much and didn't break. That strength is still there, just buried. Find it."

  I digest his words and soak up his comfort until the nurse makes him leave for the night. When a storm rolls in that night, I listen to the thunder. I watch the lightening make shadows on the ceiling. I don't cower or cry, because I've been through worse storms. The winds sing me to sleep.

  THIRTY

  London

  I was staring out the window, watching raindrops race down the glass, each drop making its own path. I breathe on the glass and watch it fog up. With my finger I draw a heart with an arrow through it. Am I capable of love anymore when my heart is so broken?

  I feel him before he makes a sound. I don't turn around right away. I let myself focus on the way my entire body awakened in his presence. My heartbeat accelerates and my breathing picks up, fogging up more of the window.

  "Did you bring chocolate?" I ask, still watching the rain outside.

  "Of course."

  His voice paired with his approaching footsteps sends a shiver up my spine. I turn to watch him come into my room and dump out a brown bag out on the bed. There had to be twenty different candy bars.

  I laugh. "Kiss ass."

  "I'm not above kissing ass, London." My name falling from his lips brings so many memories.

  The marina. Dancing at the wedding. The first night I was with him as Brooklyn. The rough way he took me, breaking his table. The last time he was with me as London. The way my name fell off his lips when he came. The way his eyes bore into mine like he could see the truth.

  "Did you know? When Mrs. Walker hired you, did you know the truth?"

  "No," he says. "I thought she was looking for you both to bring you back home."

  "But I saw those reports in your apartment about the fire." That was the moment I started to break. I saw the photo of what remained of my home and read about the body found inside.

  "I asked my brother to hire you as their photographer to get close to you. I went to the club to watch you. But then I held you in the bathtub during the storm and I cared for you. More than I should have. I worried about why you were running and what you were hiding from. I had this strong urge to protect you, so I told Mrs. Walker I couldn't find you."

  Kane sighs and looks down at the floor.

  "When I started to spend time with you, I didn't feel right digging around so I didn't. I told Mrs. Walker I couldn't find you because I knew you left for a reason. I've never done that before. Work was always work, and I strived to uncover any secrets I could. But I wanted to let you keep yours."

  Kane walks to the window and traces my heart on the glass.

  "Until that night. Miles was very upset when he found out about us and then you ran off. We couldn't find you and so I looked you up, hoping to find a clue about where you went and what you were running from. That's when I found the articles and you showed up."

  We stand in silence for a few moments. His presence is calming after so many weeks of being without him.

  "Come w
ith me?" he asks, holding out his hand.

  "I'm not supposed to leave my room without asking," I tell him. I still put my hand in his anyway.

  "Shh," he whispers. His fingers cover my lips and I feel the heat of them on my mouth. I've been so cold.

  Kane slowly drops his hand and pulls me behind him. At the door, he pokes his head out in the hallway, checking both ways before opening the door wider. The hall is empty as he pulls me down to the stairwell.

  "Where are we going?"

  "This way."

  Kane leads me up the stairs to the top level. I think we might be going to the roof until we step out into another hall. It's empty like it's barely used. The age of the hospital is more obvious on this floor. The paint is chipping and some of the doors have been removed. The building used to be a TB clinic when it was built over a hundred years ago.

  We pass a large room with a piano and drums set up. Another room has a makeshift stage. They must do the activities I never join in up here. Kane pulls into a room near the end of the hall. I'm distracted by the floor-to-ceiling windows on the back wall. Without the bars, I can see the dark clouds and the fog surrounding the trees below.

  When I turn, Kane is laying out a white cloth on the floor.

  "I'm not going to have sex with you up here," I tell him. Is that really the first thing on his mind right now?

  Kane looks up at me, his lips pulling into the confident smirk that drew me in in the first place.

  "That wasn't the plan, sweetheart," he assures me. "I wouldn't turn it down though."

  I laugh despite myself.

  "Come here," he says in a low voice that makes my heart pound a little harder.

  My feet obey him. Even though my mind is questioning every little thing, I can't stop myself from coming to stand in the center of the sheet. I'm still affected by him.

  "You want truth?"

  "Please." I nod.

  "Take off your clothes."

  I give him a questioning look but Kane stares back expectantly. His dark eyes swirl with just as much turmoil and fear as my own do, except behind all that, I see the confidence and belief that I'm seeking. My hands move to remove my clothes until I'm standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a bra and underwear.