As I Am (14 page)

“Shh, Kinley! There are people around!” she says, looking around to see whose head may have turned to hear me declare that there’s actually a male on the planet
not
interested in her.

“Oh, so you care if people hear
this
conversation. Nice.”

“Why are you being so rude?”
she asks, genuinely perplexed by my behavior.

I stop in my tracks, almost unable to gather the words to say in response to her ludicrous question.
“
I’m
being rude?” I counter with a look that emphasizes my words. “Are you kidding me right now? After what happened last night,
I’m
the one being rude?”

“
You were eavesdropping! You weren’t supposed to hear what we were saying,” she explains pathetically.

“
That’s your defense? Who cares how I heard you! Why would you say it in the first place?”

“Kin
, you know Christine and I have been concerned about you for years,” she begins. “I just want to help you to be your best.”

“How is telling your bitchy friends that I’m one size away from being morbidly obese helping me?
Outside of being completely and utterly untrue, it was mean, and if you can’t see that …”

“I do see that. I mean, I see it now. I didn’t think you were there and, obviously, I wouldn’t
have said it if I knew you were there.” Addy takes my shoulders in her hands.

“You are
unbelievable. It’s not so much that you said it. It’s that you even thought it. Is that how you see me?” Tears begin to form in my eyes and I do my best to will them away, but one escapes, revealing to Addy just how hurt I am.

“Hey
… I’m sorry, Kinley. I really am. Can’t we just forget it ever happened? Let’s move on, like we always do,” she says.

I want to forgive her, but this time it’s not the same. “I have to think about it,” I tell her.

“You have to think about forgiving your sister?” Addy takes her hands from my shoulders and crosses them in front of her, stunned and annoyed at the same time. “We’re family. We forgive and move on.”

“You dug a big hole this time, Addison, and it’s going to take
a lot more than your half-ass apology to get you out of it. If you really care about me, you’ll give me some time to reconcile how I feel.” I watch Addy for a response. Her expression is hard, annoyed at me and unwilling to be empathetic. How have I gone along with this my whole life? “And just so you know: I may be able to move on, but I will
never
forget this.”

One of the other life
-guards calls to Addison and her attention is drawn away. I use that as my opportunity to walk away but Addison calls to me. “Hey! We’re not done. Don’t walk away from me!”

I stop in my tracks again and collect my thoughts for a moment before I turn around and walk right
back up to Addy. “You do
not
get to tell me what to do anymore.”

I don’t have any more to say and there’s nothing else Addy can offer that will change how I feel right now
, so I turn on my heels and retrace my steps back up the path. I need time to process and heal, but Addy doesn’t understand that. She didn’t even get that when it became clear Mom wasn’t coming home any time soon. I cried for days, but Addy just
moved on
like it was no big deal. She was so cold about the whole thing and could never even try to see it from my point of view.

She’s completely incapable of being empathetic. It’s one of the many reasons she doesn’t understand my passion for photography. She can’t wrap her brain around the concept of looking through the eyepiece and really seeing what’s going on
… the shape of the earth or the way the light streams through a window; capturing the most honest of moments when people don’t know anyone is watching. I’ve seen other people’s love and hate, joy and sorrow, and even passion through the lens of my camera. Addison can’t see anything but herself.

I think that’s the thing that separates Addy from Mom so much
, that thing that makes Mom and I connect. We try to see the world through others’ eyes, looking out at what’s happening around us. We observe, take note, and record life.

And
now I feel really dumb, like a big hypocrite.

For someone who observes life I can’t believe that I have been so blind to Addison’s selfish behavior.
It’s not that I’m just now seeing that Addy is the definition of self-centeredness. It’s that only now am I seeing that I was not immune to her manipulations. I had always thought that Addy had my back, and that I was just being a good sister by going along with what she wanted. After all, I thought she only wanted what was best for me. Her cruel words echo in my head, proving me wrong.

If Addison and I are going to salvage our relationship, she’s going to have to make some major changes.
The sad part is that I don’t think Addison is capable of making those changes.

If anyone ever told me that my sister and I would one day be at odds and not speaking to each other, I would have told them were dead wrong. If they said I would be the one holding the cards of our speaking terms, I would have
told them they were crazy. But that’s exactly what’s happening. I haven’t spoken to Addy in a week. I’d like to, but I can’t bring myself to do it. She has yet to even make an attempt at making things right between us. She’s approached me like nothing has happened and even once had the audacity to try and talk to me again about how I needed to stay away from Miller. She is utterly clueless and I refuse to let her off the hook.

At times, the last
week has been kind of awkward. Cal is still sitting with Addy and the rest of her crew at meals, while those who had once been both my and Addy’s friends have chosen alliance with me. At first I felt badly about that, but Bridget and Carrie were quick to point out that Addy would be flying high from some kind of win if the tables were turned. Cal hasn’t said much. I think he doesn’t want to choose sides and I won’t make him. That’s something Addy would do, and is probably working on right now. I won’t stoop to that.

I haven’t seen Margaret in a couple days. Well, I’ve seen her, but haven’
t had a chance to talk with her. She’s been with her cabin mates, and from where I was standing, she looked like she was doing okay. I still want to talk to her, though. I know all the tricks to being around people and acting like you don’t have a care in the world so I just want to make sure she’s alright.

“Hey! Kinley!” Amy calls to me. She does a little running walk to catch up to me before I round the path back to The Lodge.
“Can you help me with something?”

“Sure. What’s up?” I agree.

“I need some help getting things prepped for tomorrow. Do you think you could help me?” she asks.

“What about Tiffany? Can’t she help you? Not that I mind
… I’m just saying that shouldn’t she be the one helping you?” Amy and Tiffany are on Arts and Crafts duty now and I think Amy is about to either kill Tiffany or herself. They’re more opposite that me and Addy.

“She’s an idiot. I need to get in there and work it all out. The kids are working with clay and the Fellows got a
new kiln this year. Mrs. Rogers has some experience with the kiln so she’s going to handle that part. I just want to make sure that I have a lay of the land before tomorrow morning. So … will you help me?” she explains. I see her point. I haven’t had much interaction with Tiffany, but what I have hasn’t left me with the most stellar impression of her.

“Of course
.” I smile. “Just let me put my camera up and I’ll walk back with you.” I run inside and upstairs, putting my camera away in my and Amy’s closet, and grabbing a hoodie on my way out.

“You don’t mind missing the bon
fire tonight?” Amy asks as we walk back toward the dining hall.

“No.
It’s better that I avoid it. I’ve been editing most nights anyway,” I tell her.

“You’re ok
ay with not seeing Cal?”

“It’s fine,” I say. I try not to feel
awkward around Cal, but the bonfires are the most awkward. He’s so comfortable and at ease there. He’s in his social element and I’m just … there. And with things the way they are between me and Addy, things are even more awkward because Cal is part of her circle.

“And Miller?” Now Amy’s tone tells me she’s fishing for something.

“What about Miller?”

“C’mon, Kinley. I know you like him.
Everyone
knows you like him,” she tells me.

“What are you talking about? And what do you mean
everyone
knows I like him? I don’t like him. We’re good friends. We’re both artists and we understand each other,” I say. It’s almost all completely true. I do like him … a lot … but he just wants to be my friend, and since I’ve never had that before, I’m not going to do anything to mess it up. Besides, I’m sort of with Cal and what kind of foolish girl would I be if I didn’t ride that out as long as possible. He’ll eventually realize he’s making a huge mistake and break things off with me anyway.

“
Listen, Kinley, I know we don’t know each other
that
well, but I’d like to think we’re relatively close so I’m going to butt in,” she says bluntly. “I’m just saying that’s my point. What do you have in common with Cal? No offense, but nothing. Why are you wasting your time with him?”

We walk up the steps to the dining call and swing the door open. I flip on the lights and Amy heads to the back corner where all of the arts and crafts supplies are kept. I still haven’t answered her, although I have a feeling I don’t need to. It’s evident to everyone, including me, that Cal and I aren’t a good fit.

“I take it by your silence that you know I’m right,” she says with a coy smile.

I sigh and give in to Amy’s inquisition. “He’s
Cal Harper
, and he’s interested in me of all people. How could I possibly give up so quickly on whatever it is that we’re doing?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Amy drops a box of clay onto the table with a loud thud.

“Look at me, Amy. Now remember what Cal looks like. We’re a walking contradiction and yet, he wants to be with me … sort of … I think,” I stumble.

“
First of all, shut up with this ‘look at me crap.’ Not everyone sees you the way your sister does. I don’t give a rat’s ass what size you wear. I’ve never thought about it and I never will Secondly, it sounds like you’re
wonderfully
sure of this relationship.” Amy has mastered the art of the simultaneous sarcastic tone and look.

“It’s not a relationship.
I don’t think. I don’t know.” I sound like a moron. Folding my arms on the table I flop my head into them. “What am I going to do, Amy?”

“Do you like
Cal? I mean,
really
like him?” she asks, softening her tone.

“Honestly? Not any more than as a friend. What is wrong with me? Cal Harper kisses me and I feel absolutely nothing. When I’m with him
I’m at a loss for what to do or say … especially say. He’s really smart when he has to be, but when he doesn’t? I couldn’t drown in how shallow the water is that we wade in!”

Amy looks at me with surprise. I don’t think she was expecting me to be so forthcoming. I don’t think
I
was expecting to be so forthcoming.

“What?” I say, responding to Amy’s look.

“Nothing. I’m just … This is … I’m feeling kind of proud of you,” she tells me.

“Proud of me for what?”

“I’m proud that you’ve realized on your own that you need to break things off with Cal.” Relaxed now, Amy continues sorting clay, of which I have provided zero help in doing. I stand up and move to the cabinet and get more clay to bring to the table.

“I’m not breaking things off with him,” I tell her matter-of-factly.

“What? Why not? What about everything you just said?” Amy drops another box of clay on the table, this time with a louder bang.

“A girl like me can’t break up with a guy like Cal.
It’s
Cal Harper
,” I tell her.

“
Sit down, Kinley.” Amy sits and I follow her instructions and lead, sitting next to her. She leans her elbow on the table and looks at me with a sort of motherly look. It makes me think of my mom, whom I have yet to email and tell about the fight Addy and I are having. She’s God knows where, so it’s not like she can step in and do anything. And I don’t want her emailing Dad or Christine about it. When it comes out exactly what Kinley said, Dad will say nothing because he thinks it’s a “girl thing” and Christine will reinforce Addy’s cruel concern. “You’ve still got a long way to go to get your sister’s manifesto out of your head. When are you going to get it, Kinley?”

“I do get it.”

“No, you don’t. You know, my mom would sit down with me and my sister and give us these random pep talks. She was a therapist, so … kind of an occupational hazard. No matter what topic she chose for that pep talk, she always ended it by saying ‘the direction of our lives is mostly determined by the voices we respond to.’ Then she’d say, ‘you have to choose the direction of your own life by choosing which of those voices you listen to.’ Kinley, until you shut those voices out, you’re going to keep thinking that you’re not worth enough to cut things off with someone like Cal. You’re going to keep playing along, listening to that voice in your head that tells you to be and act a certain way; the voice that says, ‘who do you think you are to break things off with
the
Cal Harper?’ Screw that voice, Kinley. You’re better than that. I think you know you’re better than that, but you’re just afraid to admit it because you’ve been told for so long that you’re not. I hope one day you’ll shut that voice out and listen to the voices that tell you how awesome you are; tell you that you’re one bad ass photographer with an inspiring future ahead of her; that you’re better than a shallow whatever you want to call it with Cal Harper or any other hot douchebag; that you’re Kinley effing Carmichael.”

Amy watches me, waiting for my reply. I wish I could take everything she just said and soak it in, believing and living it every day for the rest of my life. I wish.

“You don’t understand, Amy. I have spent my entire life knowing that I’m not as good as Addison. Addy took gymnastics when we were little. I tried to do it and I looked like an Oompa Loompa in the purple leotard. And, of course, Addy was much more agile than I was. Then there was the time when we were twelve and I wanted to try out for cheerleading along with Addy. That was quickly shot down after my mother didn’t want me to be embarrassed like I was with the gymnastics. And shortly after my stepmother came into the picture, she offered me a dollar for each pound I lost until I could wear Addy’s clothes. But … my favorite, really, are the two times I came home from school – once when I was fourteen and then again when I was sixteen – to find my stepmother and sister in the living room with brochures from a fat camp in California. Those are just the examples from my family. There’s no way I could even begin to explain the comparison I’ve had to deal with from other people,” I tell her.

“
No offense: your family sucks. But you,
you
are the one who determines how much credit you give any of their crap,” Amy says.

I think for a minute, not sure of what to say next. I could try to explain the awkwardness that defines my life anytime I’m around Addy
, but that seems like an impossible task. Everything Amy has said is right, but I just don’t know how to fix any of it.

I
lean forward and wrap my arms around Amy. “I wish I could flip a switch and exist as the person I want to be. I want to be that strong but … it’s hard. Everything I thought was true about how my sister related to me was a lie. I trusted and believed her. But … while I may still be mad at her, she
is
my sister. I can’t go on forever not forgiving her.”

“Forgiving her doesn’t mean you continue letting her treat you the way she does,” Amy says with a cautionary tone.
I don’t know what to say in response to that. She’s right, but Addy and I have always just moved on. I’ve been holding out as long as I can but I don’t think I can keep Addy at a distance much longer. I actually kind of miss her.

“And then there’s Cal
…” I muse.

“You don’t even like him like that. Why don’t you just tell
him that you two make better friends?” Amy suggests.

“It seems weird
, like winning the lottery and refusing the money,” I tell her.

“That’s only because your definition of
the lottery has been determined by your sister,” she says with a convincing smile.

I smile at the absurdity of it all and feel a physical weight lift off my shoulders.
I still don’t know if or when I’ll be strong enough, but it doesn’t seem quite as impossible as it once did. I take a deep, cleansing breath and give a short, breathy laugh of release. “Thanks for butting in.”

“Any time!”
She smiles.

The su
n continues to set as I follow Amy’s lead in organizing tomorrow’s craft with clay. An orange glow spreads over the camp and flows into the dining hall, distracting me more than once from my task. It’s gorgeous and I wish I had my camera. There are some amazing rays of the setting sun streaming through the windows, catching dust particles in their beam. Those are some of my favorite types of shots because they capture what is unseen to the naked eye … which is what I wish Addy would do with me.

Actually, it’s not necessarily about Addy. What I want,
really want, is to be seen, for someone to look at me and see what can’t be seen … the way I think that maybe Miller sees me. But, after this conversation with Amy, maybe the seeing me for who I am should start with me?

Amy and I chat about various things as the sky grows darker, making the dining hall lights seem to glow brighter. She tells me about wanting to finish her business degree but is seriously considering becoming a flight attendant. We talk about all the places in the world we want to visit, and I tell her about some of my mom’s travels and how I can’t wait to meet her somewhere out there and travel the world with her. It’s nice talking about my mom without the eye-rolling that Addy usually gives me.