by Lex Martin
When I get up, I decide it’s time to call Jax. He sounds thrown off to hear from me, but that’s probably because he has some random girl in his bed, and talking to his sister at the same time is a tad awkward. I hear her giggle and ask for her underwear. Ew!
I sigh. “Jax, stop being such a whore.”
“I know,” he admits. “But at least none of them can say I’ve promised anything.” He muffles the phone and tells Casey bye.
“My name is Candy,” she says in the background, sounding dejected.
“Jesus! You can’t even learn that poor girl’s name?” Thinking back to my one-night stand, maybe that’s better. I hope that guy doesn’t remember who I am. “Listen, I called to make sure you have a game Saturday because I don’t want to haul my ass out all the way to BC only to find out the times got switched.”
“You’re coming?” I hate that he sounds so surprised.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I haven’t attended any games this season. I’ve been really slammed.” When we were growing up, I never missed any. Not one.
“I didn’t expect you to want to come after our fight.”
“I’m your twin. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Can you get me three tickets?”
“Definitely. Hey, Orange Juice,” he says, using the nickname he had for me when we were kids, “I really am sorry.” He pauses to exhale. “I hate that all this shit went down, and I know I didn’t handle it well.”
“It’s okay, Apple Jacks.” I haven’t called him that in years. “I closed you off too. Let’s just move forward, okay? I know I don’t say this enough, but I love you, and I want us to be close.”
“Wow. You’ve gone soft on me. What are we going to do next? Make friendship bracelets?”
“Fuck you. And stop trying to screw every woman in New England. You’re going to catch something, and your ween is gonna fall off.”
“My ween?” He laughs so loud my ear rings. “See, you just need to find me a nice girl so I can settle down. How about one of your roommates? They’re all hot.”
“Keep your dirty mitts off them, perv.”
When the laughter stops, he’s quiet. “Clem, I honestly didn’t know Mom wasn’t paying your tuition. Let me help.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my eyes sting with tears.
I clear my throat. “I don’t want your money. I’ve been taking care of myself for a while now, and I think I can handle it.”
I cover the phone to sniffle.
“I knew you’d be like this,” he mumbles. I can almost see him shaking his head. “Look, I don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself. You’re the most capable person I know. But BU is expensive, and it’s not your fault our parents are self-absorbed fuckers.”
“I appreciate the offer. So much. But I can handle it.” I hope.
He sighs. “Okay, but if it gets to be too much, or if you need me to spot you some money for a while, I’m more than happy to help.”
“Thank you, little brother.”
He laughs into the phone, and I smile. I should call him more often.
* * *
After our date this past weekend and what happened with Wheeler on Monday, I thought Gavin and I were getting close, but he’s out of touch this week. We plan to meet up for dinner on Tuesday, but he texts that he’s slammed and can’t make it. I end up calling him because I just want to hear his voice—totally sappy, I know—and ask if I can bring him dinner, but he says he’s eaten. He sounds irritable and stressed, so I’m about to say goodbye when I hear someone’s voice in the background before he muffles the phone. For some reason, all I see is red—red lips, red hair, red coat. I get off the phone almost positive he was with Angelique.
My stomach sours as I try to come up with a scenario that would explain why they’re together when he has work to do, so much that he won’t let me come over. He’s never had a problem working on an article when we’ve hung out in the past.
I don’t call the rest of the week. Part of me says I’m a jealous lunatic while the other part of me is freaking out like it’s a damn five-alarm fire. After all I’ve told Gavin, after what he learned from overhearing my argument with Jax, after our nights together, I know I’ve bared myself to him. And I’m scared. The nasty urge crosses my mind to wonder if he’s going to sell me out to the press, especially now that he has so much dirt on me and my family.
Idiot, he is the press. I roll my eyes at myself.
I’m tempted to numb myself out and take my pills, and as luck would have it, my therapist can’t fit in an appointment for two weeks. The secretary always asks the obligatory, “If this is an emergency…” In other words, if I’m about to slit my throat or jump from a high-rise, they’ll move some other crazy person’s appointment. Of course, I’m not that batshit, so I take the first available slot and hang up.
When Gavin calls on Thursday, he’s obviously preoccupied. Gone is his casual flirtatiousness and that laid-back laugh. He says he’s working on a big article, and I let it go at that. If this is about work, I can live with it, but the nagging idea that his ex has something to do with his quick trip to Mars eats away at me.
By Friday when he doesn’t ask me to work out with him, I know something is wrong. Like a muggy night that smells of damp soil before the rain, I sense it coming.
Maybe he couldn’t handle me breaking down after that conversation with Wheeler. Maybe he thinks I really am too fucked up. Maybe he’s rekindled things with Angelique. The last insidious idea makes me ill. Whatever it is, whatever has come between us, I’m getting the big brushoff.
When I finish working out on Friday night, I can’t stand it any longer. The warning bells going off in my head, the ones that led me to Daren’s room the night I found him in bed with Veronica, tell me I should see Gavin face to face, that this will help me figure out what’s really going on. Ignoring the pit in my stomach, I steel myself for whatever lies ahead.
Gavin said he would be working late tonight. As I walk home from the gym, I decide to stop by the Free Press office, which is down the street from my apartment. When I walk in, a harried-looking girl in overalls and glasses asks if she can help me.
“I’m looking for Gavin Murphy. Is he around?” My voice comes out cool and calm despite my internal turmoil.
She crinkles her nose. “I haven’t seen him lately. I don’t think I’ve seen him in at least a week.”
“You’re here a lot?”
Her shoulders sag, and she groans. “I never leave. Sometimes, I sleep on that futon,” she says, pointing behind her.
“Fuck.”
“I know, right?” She’s almost cheerful because she thinks I’m commiserating with her when I’m wondering where the hell Gavin has been.
Why did he say he was working? I suppose it’s possible he’s working from the dorms and is emailing his assignments, or maybe he’s doing something for the Globe. I start to leave, but curiosity gets the best of me.
“Hey, can I ask another question?”
By the time we finish talking ten minutes later, I think I might throw up. As I walk down the street, I watch my feet amble along the sidewalk. I’m so distracted, I end up back on Commonwealth Avenue instead of Bay State Road, and by the time I’m underneath the blue awning of Warren Towers, I’ve cooked up a dozen hair-raising ideas in my head, and none of them are good.
I mean to go home. I mean to walk away, to close myself off before I get hurt. But I can’t. It’s like I’m driving by an accident, and bodies are everywhere, and I have to watch. I know that Gavin and I are a train wreck about to happen, and I have to see it happen. I have to know for sure. Just like with Daren.
The feeling in my stomach is too familiar. I’m suffocating from the similarities, and everything in me screams that this is the same.
That night, Daren and I were supposed to hang out, and he had been acting strangely all week, so I was looking forward to having a movie night so we could talk. His car drove up and a few minutes later the light from hi
s TV flipped on, casting a blue hue through his window. But he didn’t return my texts, and he didn’t return my calls. In that instant, I knew something was wrong. I just didn’t know how wrong. I didn’t know I’d find him in the arms of my best friend.
Shaking my head to clear that ugly memory from my thoughts, I step off the elevator and find myself standing in front of Gavin’s door, but I’m scared to death to knock.
“Hi, Clem!” Carly’s wide smile greets me. “Murphy’s not in. I think he went out of town. Maybe Rhode Island. He was in a hurry when he left. See,” she says, pointing to the dry-erase board that reads, Be back in the morning. Call Mark if you have an emergency at x1333.
She looks at me sideways, probably wondering why I don’t know that my boyfriend has left town and will be gone all night or maybe even the entire weekend. Who knows? I sure as hell don’t.
“How are you?” Carly asks, still studying me.
“I’ve been better.” I wander back to the elevators and press the call button.
“I’ve been wondering if I could ask you a favor.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before she continues. “I volunteer for a non-profit at school that helps troubled children. I wanted to ask if you’d perform at our fundraiser. Maybe sing a song or two. You and Murphy can do one together if you want.”
I nod absentmindedly. Gavin has been lying to me.
Carly hands me her phone. She’s talking, but I haven’t a clue what she’s saying. Oh, she wants my number. I stare at the device a second before I can process what to do.
“Do you want to play with Murphy? Should I book both of you?”
“What?”
“Would you like to perform with Murphy?”
“No, most definitely not. I… I don’t need an accompanist. I play the piano.” Or at least I used to in a prior life.
“Okay, cool. I’ll call you with the details.”
I don’t remember saying bye. I don’t remember walking home. I barely remember walking into my apartment. Fortunately, no one is home. I head straight to the top drawer of my desk and pull out my prescription bottle and pop that little pill that makes me numb.
-
21 -
I sleep well, a side effect from my medicine, and after a five-mile run, I launch myself in the shower where I continue to obsess over last night. Why does some girl on his floor know that Gavin has left town and gone to a different damn state and I don’t? Even though my meds usually grind out any remnant of emotion, I find myself crying. What is it with me crying this week? No, I will not allow myself to fall apart over a sexy face and a great body. Okay, he’s more than that. So much more, which is why this hurts.
After I change, I find my roommates waiting for me in the living room.
“These shirts you made for us are great,” Dani says, holding up a white, long-sleeved thermal t-shirt with a red X. I’m wearing one with the letter J, and Jenna is wearing the letter A.
“Why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?” Jenna asks.
I’m not talking about this right now. I’m going to coordinate the dumb t-shirts that spell my brother’s name, paint streaks across our faces and pretend that everything is okay because I’ll be damned if I let another man break me.
“It’s nothing,” I say, plastering a smile on my face. “I’m tired.” Reaching into a brown paper bag, I pull out a few tubes of face paint. “Okay, ladies. Who’s first?”
When we arrive at the soccer field an hour later, the girls and I grab seats in the front row near the team.
Jax sees us and struts over, grinning. “Shit. You guys went all out. You haven’t done the t-shirts since high school.”
I stand up and give him a hug. “It’s my way of making up for missing so many games this season.” Seeing him happy helps numb the bitterness that’s welling up in me.
His smile widens as he stares at the letters that spell his name. “X marks the spot,” he says when his eyes fall on Dani.
“No, Jax,” I whisper, remembering how I used to reserve that letter for whatever flavor-of-the-week he was dating. I tap him on the shoulder a few times to get his attention. “What’s the deal?” I ask, motioning to the field. “You gonna win today or what?”
“We’d better. Some pro scouts are supposed to come, so I need to have a good game.”
“You always have good games.” I playfully punch him in the arm. “Go kick some ass, Apple Jacks.”
He grins that slightly crooked smile before he glances up at the stands. This was always the worst part of the game. When he’d look for our parents who never bothered to show up. That’s why I came up with the t-shirts and face painting. I wanted to make up for the fact that our parents were such assholes.
At half time, BC is up two to nothing. Jax scored the first goal, and he’s having an amazing game. I swear he gets better every season. I head back to the concession stand to get the girls some snacks, which is the least I can do for dragging them all the way to Chestnut Hill. When I get back to the stands, I stop so fast a kid bumps into me, spilling his drink down my arm.
A few feet away, Ryan greets Jenna with a big, sloppy kiss, and Gavin stands next to him. He looks tired, but when he sees me, he grins. It’s that beautiful smile that lights his eyes. And it totally pisses me off. All I can do is glare.
“Here are your drinks,” I say as I hand the sodas to Jenna and Dani, who must sense the tension because everyone stops talking. Ignoring Gavin, I sit next to Jenna, and I take out my phone. I sense Gavin watching me before he walks over slowly and sits on the other side of me. I scroll through my texts.
“What’s up, Clem?” Even the way he says that gets under my skin. He almost always calls me by my full name.
“Just checking my messages.” I scroll through my phone, the tension building until I think I might burst. “You know, I must be confused because there’s nothing in here from you that says you were going to Rhode Island.” I turn and stare at him, and for a guy with a decent tan, he looks a little pale.
He starts to say something but stops. Finally, he says, “I can explain.”
The air gets sucked out of my lungs, and anger radiates from my pores.
“See, I’m not interested in after-the-fact explanations. Call me crazy, but I tend to prefer truth in the moment.”
As if the stars are aligning to ruin my life, I hear another voice, one from both my dreams and nightmares.
“Emmie?”
Only one person on the planet has ever called me that.
Frozen in place with the fear that I might be having some kind of seizure—because why else would I be hearing Daren’s voice?—I close my eyes a beat before I open them and turn to find that Daren Sloan is, in fact, a foot away.
Standing at six three, Daren towers over me. His dark hair is hanging in his honey-colored eyes, and he’s all epic swagger and devilish charm. The boy I loved when we were kids has grown up. Of course, today is the day I wear face paint. I have two streaks along my cheekbones, like warrior marks. Awesome.
“Emmie, it is you,” he says, stepping closer to hug me, lifting me out of my seat.
I stand there, stiff. I haven’t seen him since our high-school graduation, and although I’ve been to dozens of my brother’s games over the years, we’ve never run into each other.
“You’ve gotten taller,” I say finally, which makes him laugh. “What are you doing here?”
“For once I don’t have a game or practice, so Veronica and I thought we’d catch Jax’s game,” he says motioning down to the other end of the stands. My eyes roam to Veronica, who looks willowy and elegant and is apparently ignoring the fact that Daren and I are having a little reunion. When her eyes meet mine, she gives me a small wave.
“Wow. Hell really has frozen over.” Feeling slightly lightheaded, I blink to make sure I’m not imagining this.
He laughs that self-amused chuckle that always gets people eating out of his hand. “Hey, you look seriously amazing. Damn.” He places a hand ove
r his heart. “The girl who got away.”
Before I get a chance to respond to his asinine comment, Gavin clears his throat, and even though I’m more than pissed at him, I do the polite thing and introduce them as Ryan scoots closer to me, practically knocking over Jenna.
“Dude, I’m a huge fan.” He reaches out to shake Daren’s hand.
“Ryan, stop drooling,” I say, annoyed. For a guy who is used to being the center of attention when he’s on stage, he sure is being a fangirl right now.
“And that was an awesome game last weekend! In the fourth, when you faked it to the receiver but then ran it in for a TD from the twenty-five-yard line? Holy shit! That was insane!”
Daren studies Ryan and nods slightly. “You were the one in Clementine’s seats.”
Ryan grins, apparently excited to be recognized.
I cross my arms. “About that, Daren. You don’t need to keep sending me tickets.”
“Are you kidding?” Daren’s eyebrows furrow like I just kicked his puppy. “When we were twelve, you were the one who convinced me to play football. You said I had a great arm for the game when my parents wanted me to stick with baseball. I’d never be here today without you. So, sorry, you’re stuck with the tickets.”
I sigh. This is awkward. I feel Gavin’s eyes on me like laser beams, which pisses me off more. Like he has anything to be angry about. I’m not the one running around behind his back.
“Okay, well, great seeing you,” I say to Daren with a curt wave.
“I just saw your mom last weekend when I went home. She came over for dinner.” His eyebrows bunch. “My parents ask about you all the time.”
“It’s nice that someone’s parents care about me. Mine sure as hell don’t.” Under my breath I mumble, “They named me after a piece of fruit. How much more evidence do you need?”
He frowns.
My friends, who all know the drama of Daren, are avidly watching this exchange, and now, I can almost hear the ice shift in our sodas.
