Текст книги "Lying Out Loud"

Автор книги: Kody Keplinger

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter 28

I didn’t leave the guest room for two days.

Partly because I was sad and miserable and didn’t want to inflict my pain on anyone else. But mostly because I was ashamed. Ashamed of my meltdown in front of Amy’s parents. Ashamed of the truth.

Mr. and Mrs. Rush knocked on the door a few times, but I didn’t answer.

I wanted to go to Amy, to find safety and comfort with her the way I always had. I wanted to call Ryder, or better yet, to have him here with me. To have him put an arm around me and tell me it would be okay. To say something pretentious and ridiculous so I could make fun of him and stop thinking about everything else.

I missed them.

But, more than anything, I wanted to barricade myself in this room, to be alone forever, punishing myself for every awful thing I’d done.

Eventually, however, my need for food outweighed my desire to lock myself away Rapunzel-style. I waited until everyone else was asleep before sneaking down to the kitchen.

At least, I thought everyone was asleep.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I looked up from the bowl of cereal I’d just poured. Amy was standing in the kitchen doorway, dressed in pink-and-black-striped pajamas and fuzzy green slippers. I ducked my head and focused my attention on the Cocoa Puffs I was about to consume.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” I said.

“I haven’t slept well lately.” She walked past me and opened a cabinet, grabbing a bowl for herself. Once she’d filled it with cereal, she came over to the island and stood across from me. “My parents told me what happened at your house…. I get why you didn’t want them to know, but why didn’t you tell me she was gone? I would’ve kept it secret for you. I would’ve tried to help.” There was a note of hurt in her voice.

“I know you would have,” I said, swirling my spoon in my bowl. My appetite was waning all of a sudden. “But … it wasn’t about admitting it to you. It was about admitting it to myself.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It was easier to say she’d kicked me out for doing something wrong. Then I could pretend it was true. It hurt less than acknowledging that she’d … she’d left me. Just left me.”

“Do you have any idea where she went?”

I shook my head. “No. She was seeing a guy. She probably took off with him somewhere. Who knows? It’s not like it’s the first time.”

I’d called my mother “flaky” for years, but that was an understatement. From the time I was eleven, I never knew if she’d be home when I got off the bus after school. Sometimes she’d stick around for months, and things would be almost normal. She might forget my birthday or accidentally lock me out of the house, but she was around.

And then, sometimes, she wasn’t.

I was in sixth grade the first time she pulled her disappearing act. She’d been seeing this guy, Dave. He was younger than her, and even then I knew he was kind of a loser. One day, I came home and the house was empty. Luckily, by then, I knew how to take care of myself. I lived off cereal and microwavable meals, even when she was home.

She’d come back three days later, tanned and happy. Dave had suggested an impromptu road trip to Florida, and she could’ve sworn she’d left a note. As if that made it better.

After Dave it was Carl.

After Carl it was Trevor.

And then I stopped keeping up with their names. It wasn’t like I saw them much, anyway. Sometimes Mom would be gone for days, and I’d find out later she’d just been across town, crashing at her boyfriend’s house. Sometimes she’d vanish for a week – a shopping trip in Atlanta, a romantic getaway in St. Louis, a week in Chicago. She lost several jobs because of those random trips.

So when I came home one afternoon last September, I wasn’t surprised to find her gone.

But a week turned to two.

To three.

To four.

She’d never been gone that long. And the house was too quiet. The nightmares happened almost every night.

So I’d called Amy, told her I needed a place to stay. Told her I’d been kicked out, because I didn’t know how to say the truth: that my mom was gone for real this time. That she’d left, and I didn’t think she’d be coming back.

“I’m sorry,” Amy said. “But maybe things will get better. My parents used to be gone all the time, too, and —”

“It’s different,” I said. “Your parents were gone, but they paid the bills. They made sure you had a place to stay. You could call them, and you knew they’d be back eventually. I haven’t heard from my mom in … five months?” I pushed my bowl away, barely touched. “Her phone doesn’t even work anymore. For all I know she could be dead.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Even if I don’t say it, I can’t not think it. And – this is terrible, but – sometimes I wonder if that would make me feel better. If I knew she hadn’t come back because she couldn’t. Not because she doesn’t care.” I shook my head. “Sorry. That’s morbid. You already think I’m a bad person and I just told you I wish my mother was dead. Nice job, Sonny.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Amy said.

“No. Just a bad friend.” I picked up my bowl and took it to the sink, dumping my food into the garbage disposal. Once it stopped running and I turned around, I found Amy staring at me.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked. “Since we’re being honest with each other?”

“Sure. What is it?”

Amy chewed on her bottom lip and looked down at her own bowl. “I meant everything I said the other day. About you pushing me around. But that’s not the only reason I was mad.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s always been just us, you know?” she said. “Sonny and Amy. Amy and Sonny. We were a team. And then everything started happening with Ryder, and it felt like you only wanted me around to help you win him over.”

Ryder. Just the mention of him caused a painful ache in my chest.

Amy continued, “And it wasn’t just that you were pushing me around – I’m kind of used to that.”

I grimaced. That wasn’t something I wanted my best friend to be “used to.”

“It’s that you were doing it for him. You were doing everything for him. You talked about him all the time. And I started to realize you weren’t opening up to me the way you used to. You were telling him things instead. I didn’t even know you’d written to your dad until he called on Christmas. That’s the kind of thing you used to talk to me about. And then when you started dating Ryder, you hardly spent time with me. I was jealous. So when I’d found out you’d lied about telling him the truth … It really hurt, Sonny. I didn’t feel like we were a team anymore. It … it felt like you didn’t care about me.”

She looked up at me, eyes wide and a little wet.

And seeing her on the brink of tears brought me there, too.

“I’m sorry. For all of it. Of course I care about you, Amy. More than anybody. You’re my best friend. I never meant to hurt you.” I took a deep breath. “Part of the reason I spent less time with you after I started dating Ryder was the whole college thing.”

Amy looked down at her feet.

“I shouldn’t have said all that the other day, about you having it so easy.”

“You weren’t wrong,” she said.

“I still shouldn’t have said it. And I shouldn’t have lied to you about college,” I said. “But every time you talked about it, I just felt … scared. Because I knew you’d be leaving me. And I knew that if you knew I wasn’t going, you’d be upset, too, and … I don’t know. I didn’t want to think about it. And I didn’t have to when I was with Ryder.”

“I’m sorry that I just assumed you were going,” she said. “I guess I do take the good things in my life for granted sometimes.”

“I think we’re both probably guilty of that.”

She hesitated. “Why did you lie to me about telling Ryder the truth?”

“Because I didn’t want you to be mad at me?” I said. “That sounds ridiculous in hindsight. But I guess I just thought … I thought that if I lied, I might be able to keep you both. Instead, I lost you both.”

“You didn’t lose me,” she said. “But you will if you keep doing this.”

“I know,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “But it’s scary to tell the truth sometimes. I’ve always been able to hide behind lies. To shield myself.”

“What are you shielding yourself from?” she asked.

“Judgment? Scorn? I don’t know.” I wanted to lie right then. To get out of this conversation before it got too honest. But Amy was right. I couldn’t keep lying. “The funny thing is, I hid behind lies because I was scared that … that if people knew everything, saw all of me, they’d take off running. Like my mom did. So I’d only let bits and pieces show. Instead, the lies ended up driving everyone away.”

“Not everyone,” she said. “You’ve got the Rushes in your corner. But you’ve got to start letting us in. Letting us help. You know … you mentioned college.”

“I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”

“Just hear me out,” she said. “That’s another thing. No more talking over me or pushing me around. That’s got to change.”

I nodded. “Sorry.”

“That’s on me, too,” she said. “I’ve got to start speaking up. I’ve got to stop being quiet, weak Amy and start being … Fierce Amy.”

“Fierce Amy?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Someone’s been watching America’s Next Top Model.”

She ignored me. “Back to the college thing. It might be too late for next semester, but that doesn’t mean it can never happen. There are scholarships – I’ll help you find them. And my parents aren’t just going to kick you out on the street after you graduate.”

“I can’t let them keep taking care of me.”

“Then you can pay some rent when you find a job,” she said. “But let us help. You’re part of the family, Sonny. Whether you like it or not. You’re stuck with us.”

“I guess I can think of worse people to be stuck with,” I said. “But what about us? Are we back to normal? Sonny and Amy?”

“Not quite,” she said. “That’s probably going to take a while. I love you, Sonny, but you’re going to have to prove that I can trust you again. That you’re not going to lie to me anymore.”

“I can do that,” I assured her. “It’ll be a hard habit to break, but … but I can take an oath. A vow of honesty.”

“That sounds a little more dramatic than what I was hoping for, but okay.” She put her bowl in the sink. She hadn’t eaten much of her midnight snack either. “Now come on. I know it’s silly, but I have a hard time sleeping when you’re in the other room.”

We headed toward the stairs together. “You know,” I said. “While we’re trying to build a healthier friendship, we might want to deal with our whole codependency thing.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “But maybe another night.”

Chapter 29

“Okay. Here goes. Ahem. I, Sonny Elizabeth Ardmore —”

“Shouldn’t it be Sonya?” Amy asked.

“No.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to be all official about it, it should probably say your full name.”

“Ugh. Fine.” I picked up a pen and scratched out Sonny before scribbling Sonya above it. “There. Sonya. Happy?”

Amy shrugged. “Personally, I still think the whole thing is a little on the ridiculous side. But I guess that’s not really a surprise coming from you.”

“Forgive me for liking a little bit of formality when it comes to taking my oaths.” I picked up my paper again and cleared my throat. “I, Sonya Elizabeth Ardmore, hereafter swear to tell the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help me —”

“Isn’t that plagiarism?”

I looked up. “Huh?”

“Aren’t you plagiarizing the oath people take on the stand?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know if that’s plagiarism.”

“It might be.”

“What if I change the last bit? From ‘so help me God’ to ‘so help me’ … Gert?”

“I’m not sure if it has quite the same power? Gert can’t smite you.”

“No, but she can stop running while I’m in the middle of a busy highway and get me killed.”

“Fair point.”

I scratched out God and replaced it with Gert to avoid any possible plagiarism allegations.

“Okay. Last try. I, Sonya Elizabeth Ardmore, hereafter —”

“Should it be ‘hereafter’ or ‘hereby’?”

I dropped the paper back onto the desk. “I give up. I’m never reading anything out loud to you again.”

Amy giggled. “Sorry. It’s just hard to take this seriously! I’m glad you’re determined to stop lying, but is this really necessary?”

“Yes. This makes it official. And it gives you license to punish me if I break the oath.”

“Well, in that case …” She stood up from the bed and walked over to where I was sitting. “I know I’m teasing you, but I really am glad you’re doing this, Sonny. Not the oath – that doesn’t matter to me – but just trying to tell the truth.”

“It’s terrifying,” I admitted. “It shouldn’t be. I know it shouldn’t be. But I’ve been able to hide behind made-up stories for so long, being honest feels like being vulnerable.” I picked up the pen. “But clearly the lying didn’t do me any favors, so …” I leaned forward and scribbled my signature beneath the typed-out oath. “So, there. It’s official. No more lies for me. Not even tiny white ones.”

“Hey, Sonny, what did you think of the chicken Dad made last night?”

“I can still plead the fifth.”

Amy chuckled.

I picked up the signed oath. “Can I frame this? Do we have a frame?”

“I’m sure we can find one.” She smiled at the piece of paper. “I think telling the truth will earn you some serious karma points, too. Have you talked to Ryder?”

“Karma doesn’t like me that much. And neither does Ryder. He still won’t speak to me.” There was a squeezing feeling in my chest and the threat of tears whenever I mentioned him. I took a deep breath and tried to shake it off before standing up and stretching my arms over my head. “I think I have a long way to go before the universe starts doing me any favors.”

Just then, my cell phone began to ring. I glanced down at the screen and was surprised to see a number I recognized. It belonged to Daphne’s, one of the clothing stores in the Oak Hill Mall, where I’d applied back in December.

Amy must have noticed the startled smile on my face, because she laughed and said, “Or maybe not,” before prancing out of the room.

* * *

I had made a vow to be honest about everything and with everyone, no matter how difficult it was.

And that meant I had to talk to my dad. In person.

It was a two-hour drive to the correctional facility, but Mr. Rush assured me that he didn’t mind taking me.

When we arrived, a guard patted us both down, checking that we weren’t bringing in anything illegal, then we were free to enter the room where the inmates waited. The room was lined with long, rectangular tables. The wearers of the orange jumpsuits were on one side, and the rest of us were on the other.

I may not have seen my dad in years, but I knew him the minute I saw him. Mostly because he looked so much like me. His hair was blond and curly, his nose had a slight upturn, and his ears stuck out just a little more than was fashionable. Yep. I was his spitting image, as the old folks say.

“Sonny.” His face split into a wide, boyish grin when he saw me. “Wow. You’re a grown-up. In my head, you’re still this tall.” He held his hand just a bit higher than the edge of the table.

“Well, you’re not too far off,” I said. I smiled, but the nerves were eating me alive. This man might look and sound like me – I definitely got my charm from him, not Mom – but I still didn’t know him.

He could have been a liar like me, too.

He had been in the past.

Dad looked up and spotted Mr. Rush standing behind me. “Hello,” he said.

“Dad, this is Mr. Rush,” I said. “He’s my friend Amy’s dad.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember little Amy. And that’s where I called you on Christmas, right? At the Rushes’ house?”

I nodded.

“Hi. I’m Collin,” Mr. Rush said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Dad hesitated. “Thanks for bringing Sonny Bunny here to see me. I take it her mother refused? She’s always been a little on the difficult side, if you know what I mean.”

I sat down in the folding chair across from Dad and took a deep breath. Behind me, Mr. Rush cleared his throat.

“I’m going to step outside for a minute,” he said. “Give you two a chance to talk.”

When he was gone, Dad turned to me, confused. “What’s going on, Sonny Bunny?”

“Dad, I … I need to talk to you about Mom.”

I let it all spill out then. From her short disappearances when I was younger to her complete abandonment now. I told him about staying at Amy’s and how kind the Rushes had been to me. I told him every little detail, even when it hurt like hell to say aloud. By the time I was done, his confident, smiling, all-charm demeanor had fallen away.

His head was in his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. And he looked like a different person. Older. Haggard. Like someone who’d been in prison for years.

“Fuck,” he said. “Goddamn it.”

“Dad?”

“I’m so, so sorry, Sonny.” And I thought he might have been on the verge of tears. “I had no idea. Your mother was always unreliable, but I didn’t think she’d ever …” He took a deep breath and looked up, our eyes meeting. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said.

“Yes, it is. I’m your father. I should’ve been there. Instead of here.” There was a note of anger in his voice now. This gruff tone that I hadn’t expected. It was so startling that I scooted back in my seat a little. “I should’ve stayed in touch with you.”

“You said you tried to write and call.”

“I didn’t try hard enough,” he admitted. “I told myself I’d done everything I could. I’m a good liar that way.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“I figured you’d be fine with your mother. She didn’t want me involved anyway, so … But damn it, if I had known she’d do this, I would’ve … God, I could kill her for leaving you.”

“Maybe don’t say that with so many guards around?” I suggested. “Look, the important part is that you’re here now.”

“Yeah.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his, the anger in his voice fading. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Literally,” I joked. “Prison and all.” I paused. “Sorry. Was that rude? I’ve been told I have a bad habit of undercutting serious moments with jokes.”

But Dad was smiling. “You get that from me.”

“I do?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It’s gotten me into trouble a few times. As for being stuck here, though … Well, not for much longer. I should be getting out in a couple of months.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “And … I know you don’t really know me, and I don’t even know where I’ll be living yet, and you’ll be graduating soon, but …” He cleared his throat. “But I hope we can spend more time together then.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

But I wasn’t getting my hopes up just yet. Dad had been out of jail before. The question was, how long would he stay out?

I wasn’t ready to trust him completely, but I was ready to try. To give him a chance and to let him surprise me. Now that he knew the truth about Mom, about everything, we at least had a place to start.

We talked for a while longer about the boring stuff: school, hobbies, et cetera. He asked about Amy, whom he vaguely remembered from my childhood, and he even inquired about my romantic status.

“I actually just went through a breakup,” I admitted as the familiar ache of missing Ryder throbbed in my chest again.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Boys are the worst and you can’t trust any of them. I should know.”

“Well, not in this case. In this case, I’m the one who shouldn’t have been trusted.”

I was glad that Mr. Rush walked in before my dad could ask any more about that subject. Because – vow of honesty and all – I would have had to tell him the truth.

“Sonny,” Mr. Rush said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s about time to go.”

Dad stood up. “Thank you,” he said to Mr. Rush. “For taking care of my daughter.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Mr. Rush said. “We love Sonny. We’re glad to have her.”

The guard signaled that it was time for us to go. I stood up and hugged Dad over the table. His scent overwhelmed me. The smell of generic soap and … him. I remembered being three or four years old, crying after I’d slammed my finger in the door as he held me to his chest, rocking me, telling me it would be okay.

Fast-forward fourteen years, and I was crying in his arms again.

“I love you, Sonny,” he murmured into my hair.

He let me go slowly, and I wiped my eyes, not sure what had brought on the sudden tears this time. “Bye, Dad.”

He waved as Mr. Rush led me out past the guards. It was hard to walk away from him. But we’d give this whole father-daughter thing a real try. And even if it didn’t work out, as hard as that would be, I knew I wouldn’t be alone this time.

“Thank you,” I said to Mr. Rush once we were in the car.

“Of course,” he said. “I don’t mind driving you to visit your dad.”

I shook my head.

Because that wasn’t what I’d been thanking him for.