In the lounge, Pooja and Juliet dance to the Indian music, dressed to the nines in colorful saris—Pooja in pink and Juliet in purple. Sweet Jesus. I bite my fist as I stare.
The two of them prance around barefoot in front of us. Frank smacks me in the chest and joins in. The three of them laugh as they move in circles around the lounge.
I can’t take my eyes off Juliet.
I love Juliet in purple; especially purple beaded silk that’s strategically placed to expose my favorite parts of her—her flat stomach and belly button, her long neck, and her hair, which lays in waves over her back with some sort of gold headband thing dipping down over her forehead. I watch, mesmerized by a Bollywood fantasy as she spins and shakes her hips, her waist twisting and bending to move her amazing ass.
She catches my eye. Hers are fully made up and colored to match the purple silk. Her delicious lips are painted a deep pink. She looks like a fucking goddess, and I’m certain she knows it.
Instead of stopping and running over, saying how happy she is to see me, yelling at me for avoiding her, or asking me how Gram is like everyone else, her gaze locks with mine. She bites her bottom lip and sexy smirks as she looks me up and down. Her hips shake as she extends a long arm. She points to my chest then motions me over with a curl of her finger.
Jaw dropped, hard as a rock, trying not to think about her pink bra and her tits in my mouth, I stare at Juliet like an asshole. Frank shakes his way to Pooja and dances with her as Juliet approaches me.
Without a word, she gazes up through dark, fake lashes. I see it—the look: the “I’m Juliet—I’m in room one” look; the “how’s this for dramatic?” look; the “I’m-dropping-my-towel-so-look-at-my-incredible-naked-ass-as-I-step-in-the-shower” look. Juliet is on fire with flirtatious color.
I let her pull me into the lounge and dance around me. I’m not much of a dancer, especially to loud Indian music, and my body is so tight that I probably can’t move anyway. Pooja yells over the music to Frank that she and Juliet are dressed to go to a wedding.
In the hospital with Gram, every blip of the machines makes me more sad. Here with Juliet, every beat of the music makes me want her more. She’s the color and the life that I forget exist during the long nights by Gram’s side. My heart beats as I watch her twist and turn in a pool of purple, the sparkle of her dress flashing me in the eye, waking me up, the shake of her hips reminding me of our night, the way my fingers felt inside of her, the way she fell apart around me, with me.
She looks at me from under those long lashes, teasing me, torturing me, reminding me there’s life in me yet. I fight every muscle in my body to keep from touching her, but I’m only human, right? I reach for her and graze her skin with my fingertips. She spins out of my grasp, but snaps her head to look me in the eye. The corners of her lips turn up into the smirk that melts me, and I grab hold of her bare waist, her skin hot under my hands.
Like a paddle to the heart, her touch jolts me alive and I pull her hips to mine.
She wraps her arms around me, still moving to the beat, her breath in my ear. I bury my nose in her hair. This. This is where I want to be. This is where I want to hide forever.
Then she tenses and pulls away, and I’m cold. She continues dancing, as she points behind me to Tina, standing in the hallway with her art supplies. Tina grimaces and holds up her phone, flashing the time. The fantasy fades. We’re back to reality.
Juliet moves to Frank and Pooja, but watches me over her shoulder. I miss her. I miss all the things that we shared. I miss her crazy reds and giggling pinks, our Monday mornings, the way she kisses, the way her skin feels. It’s better this way, I keep telling myself. Ben is good for her. She needs someone like him—stable, on the right path, someone who can give her a family.
I look her up and down one last time, imprinting her in my mind. Later, I’ll sketch her. It’s better this way, I think again. Hopefully someday I’ll believe it.
Juliet
On Tuesday afternoon, I sign in under my fake name and spend time with Gloria. Even though she’s not my gram, being around her feels natural. We talk about school, and I tell her about my classes. I pull out my new lipstick and ask her what she thinks. I give her the PG-rated Sheridan basement gossip. She says my descriptions and Chase’s sketches help her picture everyone. I wish we had more time.
Since she seems chatty on this particular Tuesday, I ask her about Chase’s mother. She beams as she tells me stories. I comment that Heather sounds a lot like Chase. She agrees. “The thing about Heather, and also Chase, is that she had a hard time expressing herself without a paint brush. When Chase was little, whenever he’d get angry at me, which he did often, I’d ask him to draw it out because he couldn’t find the words.”
I picture a little Chase with a box of crayons and a drawing pad. “I don’t know what to do for him.”
Gloria reaches for my hand, and I give it to her. “Just don’t give up on him. I need you to help him through this.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and I fight some of my own as I squeeze her hand. “I don’t give up easily. I’ll keep trying. For you.” I take a deep breath. My lip quivers, but I force myself to ask. “Can you do something for me?”
“Whatever I can.” She curls her fingers around my hand.
I swallow the tears. “I had a sister. She died.”
Gloria gasps. I keep talking so she doesn’t interrupt me with condolences. That’s not what this is about.
“We were twins, identical. I was goofing around on the Internet and met this man.”
My voice quivers as I try to put the awful memories into words.
“I made plans to go to the mall and meet him, even though I knew it was wrong. When I told Justine, she tried to talk me out of it. I told her she was no fun. She was worried about me though. She didn’t like to do things that were wrong. We fought, and she yelled.”
I shudder thinking of that fight with Justine, how our last hours were so unlike the thousands we’d shared prior. But I force myself to continue, looking at the wall because I can’t look at Gloria. “When I got over the idea that this was some romantic thing and figured out he was bad news, I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone until I met with him, so I told Justine I was going. She decided to take charge, to get me out of trouble like always. She pretended to be me and went to tell him that she…I…wasn’t interested. At the mall, I hid and watched. I saw her say something to him, and he said something back. She looked back where I was hiding and pointed to the exit, then left with him.”
Gloria’s voice shakes, and her eyes water. “Oh my.”
Hearing the story out loud makes me sick. A tear falls down my cheek, but I keep going. “I didn’t understand what was happening, you know?” I sniffle and wipe my face, determined to get it out. I don’t look at Gloria as I continue, “I followed them out to the parking lot. She yelled for me…”
I shut my eyes, blocking out the sound of the last word I heard from her: Juliet! Every night for four years, I’ve heard it. “That’s when I saw he had his hand on her waist, a knife to her side. He pulled her away. I tried, Gloria, I tried to keep up.”
“You were only a child—”
“—but I lost them. It was so fast. There was a car… I never saw her again. The police found her body a few days later.”
I drop my head into my hands and count my deep breaths like the therapist taught me all those years ago. I’m okay. It’s over. Finally, I look at Gloria. She struggles to sit up straighter, dabbing at her eyes, too. “You probably didn’t need to hear that. I’m so selfish. I’m sorry I upset you.”
“You poor girl,” Gloria whispers. “What an awful thing. What an awful man.”
“The reason I wanted to tell you…I don’t know how this stuff works…Heaven and all that…but…” I bite my lip to stop crying. “…if you see her?”
Gloria saves me from speaking the rest of my request. “Sweetie, if I see her, I’ll tell her you’re sorry. But I’ll also tell her
what a beautiful woman you are and how you’re strong and brave and smart as a whip. I’ll tell her you love her. And you know what?”
I fight my tears and swallow the lump in my throat. I can’t find a word to answer her question.
She answers for me. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be smiling.”
I lean down onto the bed and wrap my arms around Gloria. She must be suffering under my weight, but I can’t stop myself. “Thank you.”
Then she whispers the same words her grandson said to me. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I nod, but I know she’s wrong—it was my fault. Justine died for me, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.
Chase
After every ballet class, Juliet knocks on the door and harasses Rob, asking for me. He always covers, but as we sit eating dinner one night he asks me what’s up.
I’m not sure why I confide in Rob. Maybe because, like he’d told me, he’s all I’ve got. “She’s not mine,” I say. When that explanation doesn’t satisfy him, I fill him in about Ben, past and present. I devour six of his chicken tacos while we talk.
“She obviously cares about you.” He scoops more chicken onto my plate. “She goes ballistic when I tell her you aren’t here. She looks me right in the eye like she can tell I’m lying. Honestly, it’s frightening."
"Juliet’s used to getting her way. She’s a fighter."
"She’s fighting for you. Why don’t you talk to her?"
I think about Juliet and her spark, her colors. “I don’t want to feel the things I feel when I’m around her then have to watch her go back to Ben. I can’t do it.” I practically lick my plate clean, I’m so hungry. “I want to move on and try to forget.”
Rob shakes his head. Looking at him is like looking in a mirror, except his eyes have a rugged, weathered look, and his hair is a little shorter than mine. I may be a nut job like my mom, but physically, I take after my father’s side.
“I tried to do that with someone I loved once, too.” Rob stands to clear the table. “The problem is that you never forget.”
So Peter Pan ran from a girl. “Maybe it’s not too late for you.” I’m uncharacteristically sympathetic toward Rob. Maybe it’s because he keeps me fed.
Rob turns on the faucet in the sink to wash the dishes. “It’s too late. She’s gone. I let her go like you’re letting Juliet go. You don’t want to be like me, losing myself in stuff that doesn't matter. Shitty friends, shitty jobs, shitty women.”
I think about Rob’s words and his story and everything about Rob suddenly makes sense—his restlessness, his inability to commit, his abandonment of the family. He doesn’t want to feel either. I panic. I’m going to turn into Rob. Once Gram dies, I’m going to be Rob, and I’m going to be miserable, and I’m going to spend my life chasing fake Juliets because I can’t have the real one.
With the water running in the sink, we miss the ringing phones—first mine, then Rob’s. The chances of them ringing at the same time are slim, and we freeze and stare at each other for a long second.
Rob picks up his phone first, confirming what we both know. “The hospital.”
We rush through city traffic to the hospital in time to see the doctors leave Gram’s room. We pace the waiting room, unsure of what to expect. I wonder if I’ll get the chance to talk to her again, to say goodbye. Why haven’t I said goodbye yet? All those hours we’d spent together, and I didn’t say goodbye? I can’t remember the last time I told her I loved her. Why aren’t Rob and I in there right now?
The doctor approaches us in the waiting area and ushers us to what they call a counseling room. He asks us to sit, but we pace instead. When he says, “She's stable,” Rob and I sigh in relief. Thank God.
“She knows she doesn’t have much time and she wants to talk to Chase. Soon, we’ll give her a sedative to keep her out of pain. It’s best that you’re prepared. I’m so sorry.” The doctor squeezes my shoulder. I can only nod. His sympathy seems genuine, but he can't understand how his words kill a part of me I’ll never get back.
Still, I’m grateful for any additional time. “Can we see her?” I ask as a formality. There’s no way I’m not going to see her. The doctor nods and walks us down the hallway to Gram’s room. Rob waits outside as I take my usual seat next to her bed. She turns her head from the window and looks at me. Even though I’m really trying to be strong for her, I can’t stop myself from crying the way I did when I was a little kid.
“Chase. Don't be sad for me.” Her voice is soft.
“How am I going to survive without you?” I whisper back, unsure if she can hear.
“You’re going to be fine.” She pauses and takes a long, slow breath. “You are going to have a great life. I’ll be watching, too, so don’t screw it up. I’ll haunt you." She’s teasing, but I can’t smile.
“I love you, Gram.”
“I love you, too. The best thing that ever happened to me is you. Don’t worry about anything. Follow your path. Follow the colors, Chasey.”
My tears fall onto her pillowcase as I lean close and gulp hard. Pain shoots down my throat right to my heart.
Like magic, the memories flood into my mind and suddenly, I remember. “Follow the colors, Chasey.” She’d said it to me a million times. How could I have forgotten? Follow the colors.
I lift my head to look into her eyes. “Do you see the colors, Gram?”
The corners of her lips turn up, and for a second the sparkle returns to her eyes. She sees the colors! For some reason, the thought comforts me. I wish I had time to talk to her about it. I smile through tears and grab her fragile hand.
“I have to tell you something,” she whispers so softly that I have to put my ear to her lips to hear. “It’s really important…”
Juliet
I go to dinner with Ben, but I can’t settle down. I’m jittery and anxious, and I play with the food on my plate. Ben’s caregiving tendencies kick in, and as we walk toward Sheridan he puts his arm around my shoulders. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“You can’t fix this.” Ben wants to make everything right for me, as always.
“I can’t if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
I sigh. My sweet Ben. He deserves as much honesty as I can muster in the situation. “I miss Chase.” I tell him I’ve been trying to see Chase for weeks and keep getting pushed away by his uncle. “I guess he doesn’t want to see me. He won’t answer my calls. I don’t want to push him, but I know how tough this is on him, and when he shuts people out…I mean, what if he self-destructs? Remember Sara? She’s all wrong, terrible for him, and what if he’s gone back to her?”
“If he did, that’s his mistake to make. There’s nothing you can do about it, Jules, especially if he doesn’t want you to fix it.”
I frown. “I guess.”
Ben swipes his access card over the pad next to the door to Sheridan and holds the door open for me. “Let’s text him again, tell him we’re thinking about him, and then try and have a nice time tonight.”
I rub my hands together, happy to be in the warmth of the building. Ben kisses my shoulder. “What do you feel like doing?” he asks.
I don’t feel like doing anything, so I don’t answer.
“Want to see what Rodrigo and Winston are up to?”
Ben huffs. “Okay. I’ll share you tonight, but this weekend you’re mine. Don’t make plans.”
He kisses my cheek, and I want to snuggle into his warmth. “Why not?”
“Surprise.”
When I look into Ben’s eyes and see the smile I’ve loved for years spread across his face, my heart flutters. “I love surprises.”
“I know,” he says.
My mind wanders to a night a few months ago. So you love surprises and hate being tickled. I’m going to start a list…
Later, when Pooja and I shut the lights, I ask her if she knows anything about Ben’s surprise.
“If I tell you it involves a romantic weekend in the city, would that
satisfy your curiosity?”
“Yes, it would. Thanks.” I snuggle into my comforter.
“I think he’s trying to set the perfect scene for your first time.”
“I hate that it’s such a big friggin’ deal. It’s embarassing. This whole floor has been having sex all over the place. I feel bad that Ben thinks I need this.”
Pooja giggles. “In Ben’s defense, I think he’s tried everything else.”
She’s right. I’ve been avoiding the big night with Ben. Every time we get close, Chase’s “I love you” stops me.
“Have you heard from Chase?” she asks, reading my mind.
“No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I sigh and roll toward the wall. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
***
On Saturday night, after an incredibly long and boring week, with the light of the full moon dancing through my little half window in Sheridan Hall, I wait for Ben with my overnight bag. Ben’s always busy. I’m always waiting for him.
Restless, I call Chase.
Every time I call him, I hope he answers. I hope he tells me that he’s fine, that he misses me, and that his grandmother is going to be okay. But he never answers, and I know his grandmother is not going to be okay. I try to follow Ben’s advice and let him be. I remember how I’d felt when Justine died. Although I try to respect Chase’s wishes, it’s hard. The more I think about the men in my life, the more it dawns on me that I’m in a weird situation. I love Ben, but I love Chase, too. And Chase is the one who needs me now.
But Chase isn’t mine, and he doesn’t want to reach out to me for help. He doesn’t know how to handle what’s happening in his life—what’s already happened in his life. He may never be ready for me, and I know there’s a chance that when his Gram dies I’ll never see him again as he falls deeper into himself.
She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) Page 17
