Abithica (7 page)

If she noticed how quickly I’d changed the subject, she didn’t bring it up again. And yet, I couldn’t help remembering my latest entry in my mental notebook: Faith often fakes it.

What if she’d hung around after I’d urged her to go? What if she’d
seen
the way I’d reacted to Lane?

Tucson

I spent the rest of the day looking for clothes I’d buy as soon as I found a way to recover my purse—assuming there was any money left in it when I did get it back—as well as watching out for Lane and Shae every minute. The last thing I wanted was to run into either of
them
again. In fact, I’d decided my original suspicions were all wrong, that there was no way they were meant to be part of this Sydney assignment. The whole thing was absurd, another example of things I shouldn’t be thinking about. No sooner had I gotten the idea in my head than the rest of my ability to reason went haywire. By the time Faith was ready to leave, this time to meet Steven at her house, not one inspiration had made its way to me. Faith wasn’t the problem. It was Sydney. She wasn’t helping me one bit. There simply had to be something I could do to bring about some sort of change in her, but she was evidently fighting the whole thing.

We headed to Faith’s place in comfortable silence, this time with the car’s top down, but we’re barely out of Tucson before it hit me. Silence… Faith? There was an oxymoron for you! Sure enough, when I looked over, her mouth was drawn into a straight line. How long had she been like that?

“Wow, Faith, is everything all right? You look a little tense.”

“Steven will be home when we get there,” she said quietly as if that should explain her distress. “We’re… shacking up, as you call it. You should be happy though. Didn’t you once say I should ‘try on’ my boyfriends before buying them? Well, this time I took your advice. He spends more time at my place than his.”

Why does she look like she’s about to throw up?
“That’s great… I think… I get to meet him then, right? Do you think I’ll like him?”

“I hope so. I sure do. He’s everything I always wanted in a man.”

“Then
I’ll
like him as well. Are you worried he won’t approve of me? Is that why I’m seeing white knuckles on your steering wheel? If you want, I can find another place to stay.”

Dumb, dumb, dumb! Where would you go?

Thankfully, my words fell on deaf ears. Faith was still focused on Steven. “You don’t understand, Sydney. From the day we met, he’s wanted to meet you. Nothing will give him more pleasure than to see us together and happy.”

“That’s no reason for the tension I see. Come on, Faith, tell me the truth. What’s really going on?”

“All right, then, it’s you I’m worried about. Are you sure you want to do this? I mean… I know how you feel about the men in my life. You’ve told me enough times.”

“Does he love you?” I finally asked.

She nodded while keeping her eyes on the road. “I know you’ve heard this before and you’re sick to death of it, but this is finally it, Sydney. Steven is the man I have been looking for. I’ve finally found him. God knows I’ve waited long enough.”

“I’m happy for you, then. I really am.”

She loosened her death grip on the steering wheel, and her whole being seemed to relax. What a riddle she was! How could somebody so good at reading others mistake the right guy fifteen different times? Fifteen, if Kojak had been right, that is.

“Oh, selfish me, I almost forgot.” She was suddenly beaming as she groped into her purse, pulled out a folded note and handed it to me, never once taking her eyes from the road.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“That young hottie from the play area gave it to me, to give to you. You remember him, don’t you? The little girl with him had chocolate all over her face? She was hugging your leg? Don’t worry, you’ll be pleased. Read it, before I burst!”

The letters were bold and confident. I could almost hear his voice.

Sydney,

It was nice meeting you. Shae doesn’t usually react that way with strangers. The truth is she hasn’t spoken to anybody in a very long time. She has been through more than a kid her age should, and I realize it isn’t your problem, but I think you can help her. Would you be willing to meet us in the food court at the same time tomorrow? It will be our treat.

Hope to see you there,

Lane and Shae

I read it twice. “I don’t understand. How did he know how to find me? How did he know my name?”

“I told him,” Faith said, proud of herself. “Am I bad? He heard you mention Dillard’s shoe department. You were away window shopping by the time he showed up with that darling little girl. He wanted your phone number, but I wouldn’t give it to him without your permission, so I suggested a note instead.”

So while I was skulking from store to store, constantly on my guard in case I was seen, Lane had taken things into his own hand. Did this mean I had to rethink the Sydney reconciliation all over again? That he, or possibly Shae, would play some part? That could be really dangerous, considering the chemistry that had practically taken over my senses. How would I ever handle
that?
What did it all mean?

I sat there, not sure what I should say.

“Oh, come on, Sydney! Did you see those curls? Only trustworthy boys can grow a head of hair like that! He sure beats Kojak… or Max… or whatever you want to call him!”

“You read
hair
too?”

“No, I just made it up, but it’s worth pursuing. It makes sense… hmmm….” Just when I thought she’d started to swing to a different topic, she zoomed right back, suddenly excited in a gossipy sort of way. “So anyway, are you going to meet him?”

“Why are you so wound up? Since you already read the note, you know he just wants me to talk to his daughter, nothing more. He thinks I can help her.”

“Daughter? He never told you? She’s his sister, actually step-sister. Furthermore, he’s unattached and eligible. I can tell these things. So
now
are you going to meet him? I have the perfect shoes for you to wear. You’ll knock him right out of his socks!”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

Cave time, alone time, introspection—call it what you want—all I know is I needed it, a lot of it. I was feeling more “off” than usual when we pulled into the driveway, and under the circumstances that’s saying a lot. Steven, on the other hand, was “on” and all that on-ness was more than I could handle.

I didn’t notice it right away.

He was standing on the porch wearing a warm, genuine smile. My first thought upon seeing him was
this is one content man
. I couldn’t help but smile back as he approached the car and welcomed me home. Faith hadn’t been kidding about the shacking up part. He meant it, too, the whole welcoming me home thing. It didn’t matter what horrible things he’d no doubt heard about me. My being there really did please him. Everything about him was gentle, from his slow movements to the delicate way he held his hands. And
that
, right there, was the problem.

From that moment forward, I was hyper-aware of his hands.

I sat there and watched them as he “rushed” in his slow manner to make sure Faith didn’t twist an ankle getting out of the car. I watched them open the door for her and the way they settled tenderly on her shoulder and lightly caressed the silk covering her skin. An unexpected wave of envy washed over me. I quickly shrugged it off. After all, she was my friend. I was happy for her.

I watched the same hand leave her shoulder and offer a very old school, very gentlemanly assist out of the car. The hand sort of hung there. Wondering why she hadn’t accepted it yet, I leaned over and glanced at Faith. Aha! She was too busy watching me. Are you all right, she wanted to know.

When I didn’t answer, she gave me a reassuring pat on the arm as if she knew and understood exactly what I’d been thinking, and then she accepted Steven’s waiting hand. As soon as their eyes met, I ceased to exist. It was just the two of them in their very own world, holding an entire conversation with their eyes.
Faith is my friend, and I’m happy for her. Faith is my friend, and I’m happy for her.
The odd part was that I totally understood what I was seeing, as though I might have been one half of such a couple more than once in my forgotten past. Sydney would never have understood such a thing, so it had to be me. Darn it! If only I could remember more.

I was somewhat relieved when they finally broke eye contact and began using words, but I was back at it—Steven’s hands, I couldn’t take my eyes off them, not even long enough to get out of the car. One settled on the small of her back while the other gripped her elbow to better guide her toward the front door. When Faith’s arms snaked around his waist in a semi-hug, my wave of envy returned, this time drenching me. Touchy-feelies
and
they were silent conversers? Aw, hell! This was going to be a very long night.

They stopped at the front door and waited for me to get out of the car, too engrossed in each other to wonder what was taking me so long. Thank God! By the time I stepped foot on the porch, Steven’s hand was busy again. This time it was tracing intimate circles on the back of Faith’s hand. I fought the urge to smack it away, then an even stronger urge to smack myself for being so petty. How could I have ended up feeling this way so soon after the switch? Or was Sydney working on me in her silent way?

I suddenly wondered what Lane’s hands looked like, how they would feel on my bare skin. It was right about then I realized the real answer to my question had just arrived. It was Lane! He’d unlocked my doors, so to speak, slipping right past the security system into my emotional center. Because of him, I’d once again broken The Rule, damn him! Even though I’d convinced myself that the whole mall incident had nothing at all to do with the Sydney-Faith relationship, it didn’t change what he’d done to
me
. Now, instead of being able to stay objective, I was being forced to deal with my own, deep, lustful, super-embarrassing desires. How could I have let that happen? Had it ever happened before? Was Claire the first time, or….

Was that more chuckling from above?

Faith was frowning at me. She pointed at my shoes and mimicked me pulling the laces tighter. I bent to oblige her, half-smiling. In her world, a shoe was the answer to any question, no matter what. What I would give for my world to be that simple! To have all the answers to my problems color-coded and waiting in a closet for me each morning. Of course, every single pair would have to have Kryptonite soles, the same stuff that robbed Superman of his powers. Maybe Kryptonite would put me more in control. Of course, my situation was real and Kryptonite was fictitious, but if I
could
own such a collection, I already knew what my first purchase would be—army boots! Yes, after Tom’s kiss when I was Claire, and my own disturbing reaction to Lane, my erotic self really needed some heavy insulation. Ooooh, good thought! Boots sounded like something Faith would have come up with. What else would my collection have? Pink ballet slippers? Now there was a thought. Maybe they’d work as well as army boots. Would Lane have looked past the superficial Sydney and seen the true me if I’d been wearing them? Better yet, how about pink
camouflage
ballet slippers?
Why do you insist on thinking about him? Forget him! And forget about any meeting tomorrow. You can’t handle it, even if it’s supposed to help Shae.

When I straightened from retying the remaining laces, Faith dragged herself away from Steven with some effort, then put her arm around me as he disappeared inside.

“
You
are thinking far too much, darling. Do you realize how hazardous it is to your health, not to mention giving you unsightly wrinkles well before your time? It will also make you withdraw even further into that tortoise shell you seem to be carrying around on your back.” Her smile was genuine, caring. “I recommend snapping out of it. This is a happy occasion. The three of us have a lot of time to make up for.”

Was I that transparent? I’d have to watch my step. No more tortoise shell and
no more thinking.

* * *

We hadn’t taken three steps inside the house before I began worrying again. How much did Faith really know about Sydney, if their estrangement had taken place several years back? That would still have made Sydney—me, in this case—at least sixteen years old and well on my way to doing who knew what with guys like Max. Which definitely meant that I drank. Did I smoke? Do drugs? She’d mentioned some kind of police scene, so was I into serious trouble way back then? Was I even supposed to know
how
to behave properly? If Max was any example, then I’d probably “tried on” every bald, scary giant in the area. Faith would suspect as much, so in addition to shedding my tortoise shell, I’d have to be careful about everything I said. I promised myself to say as little as possible while I was thinking up ways not to think. Maybe I should even make that promise into another rule and call it into play the next time I happened to switch into a teenaged Goth punk, if ever. Right then I couldn’t think of anything worse.