Faith.
I turn off my alarm before Charlene snarls at me to do it. She’s not a morning person, or an afternoon person, but she’s trying. I hit snooze in case I fall back to sleep, but I’m sore and fully awake now. I want to relive everything Sinjin did to me last night. I push my comforter away from my rapidly heating skin as I remember his body and how it felt covering mine.
I’m no longer a virgin.
I was able to take off my clothes with Sinjin.
Sure, I made him wear a blindfold, but I went through with it. Eventually. And I feel marvelous. I have a boyfriend whom I love, who cares about me, too. Three months ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed it was possible. Now I’m basking in the knowledge that I’m half of a couple, not a twenty-dollar bet.
My phone rings. I answer and Kirsty’s sobbing. “Oh my God, is it cancer?”
She laughs a little. “No. No. We just heard—she’s clear. It’s benign.”
My heart shoots up my throat like it’s riding a pogo stick. “You scared a decade off my life!”
“I’m sorry, I can’t stop crying. I’ve been bawling for the past ten minutes. I’m so damn relieved.”
Tears leak from my eyes, and I will my heart rate back to normal. “I lit three candles at St. Joseph’s for her. Thank God she’s safe.”
“Thank you.”
I know Kirsty’s family banded together to face this. “Okay, tell me how you’re planning to celebrate.”
“Barbecue at our place with the whole Durnin clan.”
I miss Kirsty’s family. I had an open invitation to their parties. “Excellent. Your mom deserves the attention.”
“Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about Sinjin.”
“He’s amazing,” I tell her. “We had sex.”
Her squeal is loud enough to pop my eardrums and make nearby dogs howl in pain. “You didn’t! You did. Oh my God. How was it?”
“Amazing.”
“Beyotch! Spill now.”
Charlene turns over and says, “Do you have to have a phone conversation at seven thirty in the morning?”
“Yes. And as my new friend you should give me privacy by going down the hall and taking a shower.”
“As my friend, you should have told me you’ve never had sex before. Allow me to listen and participate in your conversation. Maybe I want to hear about your deflowering.”
Kirsty asks, “What the hell’s happening right now?”
I answer, “Hang on. I’m negotiating here.”
I tell Charlene: “You’re not ready for this level on the friendship scale. Go get ready for your first class.”
Charlene drags herself out of bed, grabs her shower kit and towel. “There’s not much difference being your friend than your enemy.”
“True, but the sarcasm isn’t as sharp.”
My observation earns a grudging smile. Before the door closes I say, “Thanks, I owe you.”
“You do.”
Kirsty asks, “Did I miss the news bulletin that hell froze over? Have you two called a cease-fire?”
“Yes. I blame Everest. They boinked, and now because he feels guilty, he asked me to be her friend. She doesn’t have one. And I promised Everest I’d reach out. It’s been awkward, but we’re both trying. I never imagined saying this, but she’s okay if you forget her boundary crashing.”
“I don’t know what to say. My brain short-circuited when you said they had sex. And I’d much rather hear about your sex life than hers. Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. Size matters.”
I laugh. “You only get the bullet points. I made him wear a blindfold. He was understanding when I had a midpoint panic attack. His foreplay might be legendary, but you’ll have to take my word for it, since I have no others to compare him against.”
She squeals. “Wow. You win. Dexter Smallwood thought foreplay meant unhooking my bra. Did he—did you—”
“Yes. And it’s so much better when someone else does the work.”
Kirsty giggles. “Right? So, do you think you’ll ever do it without the blindfold?”
“Signs point to yes. Sometime before we graduate, at least.”
“Ha. Hey, Dad’s yelling from downstairs. I gotta run. He asked me to drive the turd to his play date. It must be time to leave.”
“You can’t keep calling him that. It will stick.”
“As soon as he stops acting like one, I’ll stop.”
The turd is Kirsty’s baby brother, Collin, an unplanned, late-in-life pregnancy. He was born when Kirsty began ninth grade. He’s the main reason why Kirsty is going to the local community college back home. She’s helping her parents by staying home to help care for Collin until he’s old enough to go to school. They can’t afford the cost of daycare. Kirsty will do anything for her baby brother and her parents, which includes waiting another two years to transfer to a four-year college.
“Bye. For reals now. I’m happy for you, Faith.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty happy for me, too.”
I disconnect and open the message app. Hopeful Sinjin sent me a text, but it’s from Dana. Guilt does a dirty little booty dance on my nerves.
Hey girl. It’s been a while. Want to meet for dinner? My treat to thank you for introducing me to the doc?
Shit! My gut screams: Don’t. Do. This.
Me: Sounds good. When?
Dana: Tomorrow? 6:30. I’ll drive.
Me: Works.
I lie back contemplating the fact that against my better judgment I’m meeting Sinjin’s ex again. I don’t want to betray his trust. We’ll need to talk about this next time I see him. This is not a conversation to have over the phone or by text.
A few minutes later, Sinjin’s post-coital-morning-after text pings my phone:
How did you sleep?
Me: With my eyes closed.
I add the kiss-mark emoji at the end so he knows I’m joking.
Sinjin: Ha! How do you feel?
Amazing. Sore. Which word best describes how I feel? I think about it for a minute.
Excellent. You?
Sinjin: I wish I didn’t have to board a plane today.
Me: Win big! Don’t bring back any sand or shells. It’s supposed to be bad luck.
Sinjin: R U superstitious? <3
I stare hard at the keyboard heart and will it to divulge its secrets. What does it mean? Does he heart me or my neurosis about leaving the Hawaiian beach on Oahu? His text will keep my mind busy for the next millennium or at least until my brain finds the next thought to overanalyze.
I step into the hallway and run into Raja. I swear he’s like a cat, weaving his way through my feet ready to trip me up.
“Hey, pretty girl, what’s your hurry?” He steadies me before I crash to the floor. “A bunch of us are about to play human bocce ball, and I want my favorite Italian girl on my team.”
“Human bocce?”
“Yeah, an alum dropped off eight human-sized hamster balls today. She’s a venture capitalist, and one of her start-ups manufactures them. Hugill House will take on The Domus. We’re roping off a court between the two dorms.”
“Sounds fun. Sorry I have to miss out. Kick Domus butt.”
“Yeah, we need to pay them back for our whipped cream lawn art loss.”
“That was unfortunate. Good luck this time.”
I head toward the parking lot. I finally found the courage to go clothes shopping with Beau. I find him before he notices me. He’s leaning up against the vintage Mustang that once belonged to his dad. In the crisp autumn air, he’s smiling at his cell, typing away with both thumbs. I wonder who he’s texting?
“Mr. Waverly, I do believe you have your flirt on.”
He looks up and grins, shoving his cell in his pocket. “You may be right.”
“Do tell,” I say. He walks around to open my door.
“Nothing to share, really.” He shakes his head. “It’s early days.” He closes the door, walks around the car to the driver’s side, and climbs in. “You still want to go to Valley Fair?”
“Yes. Chances are better I’ll find stuff that will fit at the mall.”
“Are we going with a whole new wardrobe or wedging a foot in the door?”
“We’ll see when we get there.” I chew my lip. “This is a huge leap for me.”
“I know. Let’s do this.”
He pulls out of the lot and heads toward the freeway. “Catch me up on the life and times of Caleb and Faith.”
I can’t stop the blush that spreads across my face as the images of what Sinjin and I did last night flash in my memory. Beau glances at me. “I see.” He shakes his head and accelerates to merge onto the freeway. “My little girl is growing up.”
I laugh and slap his arm. “Shut up.”
“I’ve never seen you this giddy. It’s a good look for you.”
Great word. It describes how I feel in a nutshell. My head spins, but my heart fills with joy. “Thanks, Beau.”
Inside the changing room, I pull on a pair of jeans. They zip and fit like a second skin, but most girls wear them tight. I stare at myself in a full-length mirror for the first time in years.
I use the trick Beau taught me about three positive things.
If I close my eyes and open them quickly, focusing on my body, I have proportionate curves. When I raise my gaze to my face, I’m not ugly. I have interesting features with large brown eyes and a thin nose. My cheekbones are prominent, and my lips are full.
I reach for the button-down shirt and put it on. It accentuates my waist, not my boobs. Not bad. Beau waits outside the changing room for me. I made a promise to show him each outfit before removing it.
He nods his head. “We have a winner.”
He’s right. We do. “Okay, let’s find more.”
I keep my plans to meet Dana from Beau, too. I’m itchy about this already and don’t want to hear my other bestie tell me it’s a bad idea. So I don’t mention it while we spend the next two hours shopping. I am freaking exhausted now, and I’ll have to fess up to Dad about how much I spent today. Later. I need food now. “Beau, let’s eat. I’m starved.”
“Works for me.”
Beau helps me carry my bags. We’re debating between the food court and The Cheesecake Factory when a female calls out, “Faith, Beau, I thought I recognized you two.”
“Chloe,” I whisper and glance up at Beau for confirmation. He nods his head in the affirmative and plasters a smile on his face.
I glance over my shoulder to see my damn mother walking toward us. I mumble, “She can’t have my kidney.”
“That’s a relief.” He looks down at me in approval as his smirk spreads across his face.
My mother is still a few yards away when she calls out, “Nothing says shopping spree better than fifteen bags spread among you both.”
Beau and I say in unison, “Hello, Chloe.”
There’s a slight hitch in her stride, but she keeps moving toward us, her own smile sharp as she catalogs us both. “Good to see you.”
Beau acknowledges her first. “Looks like you spent some time in Prada today.” He gestures toward her bags.
“Yes, I didn’t expect to find designer stores at a shopping mall, no less. I’d resigned myself to driving to San Francisco.”
I smirk. “You’d be surprised at the sophistication found in Silicon Valley. Locals have learned how to use utensils when dining, too.”
Beau leans down to kiss me on the forehead. “Don’t be difficult.” He narrows his eyes at me. I narrow them right back. He glances at Chloe. “She’s cranky because I pulled her from Tory Burch. She couldn’t decide on a new pair of flip-flops. Style statements are of paramount importance to Faith.”
My mother stares at my hoodie. I happen to be wearing a Tory Burch hoodie from two seasons ago. I’m not a label shopper. I buy what strikes me, be that a funny screened print or something more stylish. Besides, Tory Burch rocks sandals.
Beau pats my hand. “We’re meeting my sister for dinner in twenty minutes. Olivia is a stickler for punctuality.”
This is why he’s my Left Coast bestie. “Saturday morning. Philz Coffee. Nine thirty, right?”
Chloe nods her head. Her expression closed. “Saturday it is. See you then, Faith. Enjoy your meal.”
We get out to the parking structure without saying a word to each other. Once the bags are stowed, Beau opens my door for me and walks around the car to the driver’s side. He climbs into the car.
“Well, that was an unexpected surprise.”
I forget I can walk around a corner and run into her. “Like opening a cupboard to find a black widow.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I know this situation is unpleasant. Has she given you any clue why she’s here?”
“Nope. I guess I’ll find out in a couple of days.”
“Where would you like to eat now?”
“Let’s go to Original Joe’s near campus. I’m in the mood for old-school Italian.”
“Okay, Faith. Don’t sweat this now. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Dana chose the Blue Line, a pizza joint in downtown Campbell for dinner. Our conversation hasn’t strayed from class loads since I first climbed into her car a half hour ago. I’m not going to bring up Caleb or Dr. Boyd, but it feels awkward to pretend to ignore them, too.
“Thanks for coming tonight. It must be weird spending time with me. But I appreciate what you did for me that day. Dr. Boyd is amazing, but you already know that.”
In theory, but not in practice. “Yes, she’s terrific.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
My stomach twists because I’m not exactly sure what she’s asking me. To talk about her relationship with Caleb or mine? The silence between us grows.
“Never mind. I guess hanging out again is out of the question.” She pushes her food out of the way, and reaches for her napkin. “Totally understandable.”
Now it’s awkward, and my fault. I take a breath. “I’m not sure I understand what you want from me?”
“Look, I don’t know the answer to that. I do know that I no longer have any friends. People choose sides in a breakup and they didn’t pick me.”
“I’m sorry your friends turned on you, that’s awful.”
“Yeah, well. That’s the breaks.” Twin grooves appear between her brows. “I’ve been working through things with Dr. Boyd. Identifying patterns in my past where choices I’ve made were solely based on a need for connection or comfort.” She raises her soda glass in toast. “Thanks, Mom and Dad.”
Oh God. My heart shreds in my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m not close with my mom either. I feel you.”
“Bet you never did anything stupid like doing something to please someone without thinking about the consequences.”
Chills spread on my arms. Dimitri. His gloating face. The poster. The bet. “You’d lose your money.”
She knocks her plastic drink cup into mine. “Aren’t we a pair? I guess we have a lot in common after all.”
I wear a gold Gladiators’s hoodie with black Gladiators’s sweats, and flip-flops to meet my mother at the coffeehouse. I refuse to wear anything except my norm around Chloe. I don’t have the confidence to have her comment on the new me and find me lacking. Again.
I get in line to place my order and glance around the room. She’s not here. A few minutes later, I narrow my choices to Ether or Silken Splendor, when Mom joins me in line. I turn to her. “You’re late, Chloe.”
“I’d prefer you called me Mom, or Mother.”
I don’t give a shit about her preferences. “I would have preferred for you to act like a mother during my formative years and to respect me as a person, but we don’t always get what we want.”
When we reach the counter, I place my order for Ether. I want the punch of dark roast.
Chloe orders. “Tantalizing Turkish, no mint leaves.” She takes out her credit card, and I let her pay for the coffee. I’m here at her command, after all.
We step to the left to wait for our order to be filled. She examines the shop. “Well, it’s a change from Starbucks, at any rate, but far from a New York deli.”
I motion to a table in the back. “I didn’t realize you’d ever stepped inside a New York deli. Don’t they sell food?”
“We’ll find many things we don’t know about each other.” She sighs, and the sound is audible. “Faith, can we please start over?”
“You want a relationship with me now, after all these years?”
“Yes.” She pulls out a chair and sits, forcing me to join her.
Okay, fine. I’ll bite. “Why?”
“Faith, I am at a point where I want to review some of the decisions I’ve made over the years and the consequences they’ve had on my life.”
I sit and wait for her to continue, and after a long silence she does.
“I’ve been told I’m too critical of others.”
“You’re vicious,” I answer with honesty.
She leans forward. “That is not true. I’ve helped lots of girls overcome obstacles in their lives. You can’t deny that my influence hasn’t helped you. While you still have abominable taste in clothing, Beau is gorgeous. Of course, if you want to keep him, you’d better make new wardrobe choices.”
Her statement makes me see red, but through the haze of anger I try to imagine Sinjin leaving me because of my clothes. I can’t.
“You know what? You have helped some girls. But with others, you cause more harm than good. I can’t decide if it’s the narcissist in you or if you’re just clueless about human beings in general.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t you think you’re being dramatic? I thought you were an adult, but your arguments remain childish.”
I laugh without humor. “You are an unemployed teen advice guru who gives monumentally shitty advice to girls suffering from negative body image.”
She points her index finger at me. “And just how does anyone expect to fix their body if they continue to stuff their faces?”
I breathe deep. “Negative body image isn’t about being overweight. It’s about hating your body. Ask any anorexic or curvy girl about her body. You’ll get the same answer. How about someone who is flat-chested? Or has a muffin top? No curves, too many curves. In a survey conducted by your rival magazine, Glamour, ninety-seven percent of the three hundred women who responded have at least thirteen brutal thoughts about their bodies each day. Do you have any earthly clue how many ways women hate themselves?”
I don’t take a breath but hammer her with my rant. “So many negative phrases exist about body types. We’re bombarded daily.” My lungs have little air left, but I will finish this. I take a breath and reach for my coffee. My hand shakes. Chloe remains quiet. Observation mode. I rest my cup on the table.
Don’t scream. I’ll lose momentum and power if I do any of those things. “You sit there on your high horse pontificating about not stuffing our faces. What did Teen Beauty tell you when they let you go? Were their arguments childish, too?”
This conversation is the one I’ve thought about. When she paid someone to be me. Each time I turned to Dad when she’d eviscerate me. The kids at school were nothing in comparison to how she made me feel about myself. Worthless. Unloved. Her cruelty shaped me.
She doesn’t answer me. I have no idea whether I’m reaching her.
“You hurt people with your words. I bled. For years. I needed a mom, and you weren’t there for me.”
She rocks back in her chair. “You never needed me, Faith.”
Her expression earnest, she leans forward again, reaching for that connection. I know she believes her own hyperbole. I pick up my coffee and take a sip to keep my emotions under control. I have this one opportunity to tell her what it was like growing up without a mom, and I won’t blow it by devolving into a shouting match.
“Do you want to know the truth, Mother?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here.” She pats my hand, and I want to wipe away her touch. Her face remains eager. “I want us to get beyond the recriminations to find some middle ground and common interests.”
That throws me. Common interests? “I needed you when my breasts grew to fill a C-cup bra at nine years old. When I started my period soon after and had to ask Grandma about tampons, I needed you. And when boys chased me home trying to catch me to squeeze my breasts, making it a fucking game, I was desperate for you. But right now? I’m thrilled to know in my heart that I no longer need you.”
Her mouth drops open then snaps closed. She clenches her jaw. Her face mirrors her shock. “Faith, I didn’t know. Your dad never told me.”
I shake my head. “Do you really think that was something I could talk to Dad about? Grandma knows when I started my period. She was there. You weren’t.”
“I’m sorry, Faith. That’s terrible and exactly why it’s important that you and I build a relationship with each other now. I don’t want to make these same mistakes again.”
Chills spread across my neck and down my back. “Again?” Holy cow. No. My voice sounds thready when I ask, “Are you pregnant?”
She smiles at me. “Not yet. I’ll be pursuing IVF once I’m back in New York.” She clasps her hands around her coffee.
In vitro fertilization. Unbelievable. Poor baby. My half sibling. “Why now? Why burden yourself with a baby that will depend on you for the next eighteen years?”
“Well, it’s not like I don’t know what parenthood is all about. And I take care of Zoe.”
I draw a complete blank then remember her dog. Oh, my sweet baby Jesus, what if Chloe is the sole female in the baby’s life? Stomach acid hits the back of my throat. I manage to choke it down. “You sound determined.”
“Oh I am. I need to prove to myself I can do the mommy thing on my own.”
I force the words from my mouth. “Who will act as your labor coach when the time comes? Who will attend birthing classes with you? Are you planning to drag your personal assistant with you?”
Her face twists. “Nolan works for Teen Beauty, not me. I was hoping you would.”
I knew she’d be on her own. “Why?”
“It’s something we can do together. And you can meet your baby sister or brother when the baby is born.”
Jesus. Hic. “What happens when you decide you don’t want to do the mommy thing on your own?”
“I won’t. I know what I’m doing.”
I’m living proof she doesn’t want to do the mommy thing. At least not for the long haul. Yet she’s planning to have another child to fuck up. I will pray very hard she doesn’t have another girl to destroy with her twisted principles about beauty. “I’ll support my sibling since I want to be a part of his or her life. Is the baby what you meant by our new start?”
“It’s only one of the reasons. I need something from you before that time comes. Since you’re responsible for my job loss—I need you to work with me on a mother-daughter self-help book.”
I choke on the coffee in my mouth. I cough into my hand. It shouldn’t surprise or shock me to understand her ulterior motive for this reunion isn’t about our relationship, or that of my future sibling, but her need to stay in the limelight.
“You want me to write a book with you?” Hic.
“Not the whole book. I already have a draft written. It’s amazing how much you can get done when you don’t have a full-time job weighing you down. I just need a chapter or two. You can talk about the ways I helped you focus on fixing what was broken inside you.”
The pain of this final betrayal isn’t sharp. She’s been cutting through any bond we might have built with a dull knife most of my life. The tears will come. I’ll allow them to fall. Later, in the quiet. In privacy. Where most of mine flow when it comes to this woman.
“Yeah, no. Not going to happen.”
“It’s the least you can do. This situation is all your fault.”
“Wrong again, Chloe. It’s yours. And you’re planning to do it again. To another innocent child. I sincerely hope you reconsider.”
I set my coffee cup on the table and walk away. I’m numb. She calls out to me, but I don’t look back.
Once outside, I start to laugh.
I laugh until I sob.
My tears are part frustration, and part acceptance when I realize the self-fulfilling prophecy of Coco Chanel’s quote. All these years I’ve been beating against a wall, hoping a door will appear.