Lipstick Apology (30 page)

The hallway was so quiet I heard my loafers clomp as I walked toward my homeroom. I opened the door, crossed the room, took my seat, and planted my head straight down on the desk.

 

“LISTEN, I KNOW
things have been kinda tricky with Owen lately, Em,” Andi said at lunch later, interrupting my conversation with Lindsey about our Christmas plans. “But I really think you should still give him a chance to apologize and make things work. I mean, a million girls would jump at the chance to date Owen. Would you really want to throw that away?”

“I don't know, I—” I began.

But Andi forged on. “Think about what he's done for your popularity in this school.”

I looked across the lunchroom at the fireplace. “It just isn't worth it to me.” I didn't mean it to come out harsh, I just wanted to be honest.

But Andi shrugged, got up, turned, and walked across the lunchroom. I watched her exit through the patio doors, shiver from the cold, and wrap her arms around Aidan from behind. He turned and gave her a kiss. For Andi, life without her boyfriend and popularity was unimaginable.

I stared up at the festive silver bells strung across the ceiling. Without looking down, I whispered, “Why does a breakup never just involve the two who are doing the breaking?”

“I don't know,” Lindsey said, following my gaze upward. “Silver bells, silver bells,” she sang softly. “Soon it will be Christmas Day.”

 

WHEN I SAT DOWN
in chemistry class, Anthony handed me a thick stack of papers.

“You retyped our report?” I asked. “Why? I had my copy done.”

He gave me a sympathetic smile, something completely unfamiliar to his usual teasing nature. Obviously, he had heard about the breakup. “I didn't change anything,” he said. “Just, ya know, tidied it up a bit.”

I flipped through the pages, feeling guilty that I had contributed so little to our partnership.

As if he could read my mind, Anthony said, “You've kept things exciting.”

I stuffed my copies back into my backpack and passed the newly typed report forward. Anthony tapped me on the arm and pointed his chin toward the back of the room. “Guess she's not too heartbroken, huh?”

“What?” I turned my head. At the back lab table Carly and Ethan were smiling at each other. Carly whispered something in Ethan's ear and he burst out laughing. Mrs. Klein gave him an evil look, so he covered his mouth, but his shoulders were still shaking. Carly smirked at him playfully and handed their reports forward.

Does she have no pride?!!!!
I wanted to march over there and smack her on the head. Her humiliation had prompted me to break up with my boyfriend, and here she was, making jokes with her tormentor! All class I was fidgety. I kept stealing glances toward Carly but never could catch her eye. I decided to wait for her after class.

When Carly walked into the hall, I grabbed her arm. “Hey,” I said.

“Oh, hi!” Carly said.

Ethan came from behind, tapped Carly on the shoulder, then flashed her a peace sign as he walked on down the hallway. She smiled toward him, holding her fingers into the same V shape.

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “
What was THAT?
I guess everything's
peaceful
between you guys?” My voice was shrill.

Carly started to head down the hall, so I walked with her, even though my next class was in the opposite direction.

“I met Ethan at the library on Sunday so we could finish our chem reports,” Carly said.

“Uh-huh,” I said, waiting for more.

“Well, we had a long talk. I told him how upset I was. He said he was sorry for hurting me, and I forgave him.”

“
He said he was sorry, and you forgavehim
.
That's it?
You're going to let him off that easily? After
humiliating
you?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Carly stopped in front of her English lit classroom. “Yes, it was humiliating,” Carly said calmly. “But you know what? I'm glad it happened.”

I gave her a crazy look. “What?”

“That night my mom and I sat on the couch eating Doritos and talking about how men will never love us. My destiny, I thought, was to be fat and alone. But the next morning I was at the gym with Trent and I had a total meltdown. And Trent said something that really stuck with me. It wasn't about my weight. If I walk around thinking I'm not worthy of love and respect, I'll never get it. When I'm happy with myself, no one will ever be able to shatter me emotionally again.”

“TRENT said that?” I thought about how Trent had been so supportive to Carly. It's funny how just because Trent was eccentric and always cracking jokes, he always surprised me when he showed signs of compassion. But this wasn't the first time I had seen his acts of kindness.

Carly laughed. “Yeah, I know. But I think spending so much time with women has given him some insight into our insecurities. So after the gym, I called my counselor and scheduled an emergency session. He said this was a perfect opportunity for me to learn how to forgive.” Carly averted her eyes momentarily. “I guess I still haven't forgiven my father for leaving. So, according to my counselor, this whole thing with Ethan is a
stepping stone for my personal growth
.” She made air quotes and rolled her eyes.

“Man, where do they come up with this stuff?”

“I know. But I just decided—you know what? The man might have a point. So I decided to confront Ethan, and it was so freeing.”

I smirked. “So what exactly did you say to Ethan on Sunday?”

The bell rang. Locker doors slammed shut and people from the hallway raced into their classrooms.

Carly smiled. “I told Ethan he was an ass.”

I laughed.

“I told him that just because he was graced with over six feet of height and long lean muscles, it did not give him the right to put down someone less genetically gifted. Then I told him he was an idiot and totally incapable of passing our chemistry lab without me so he better get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness.”

I laughed. “So did he?”

“Apologize? Yeah, he did. And he was pretty nice about it.”

I smiled. “Well, I'm glad you feel better about it.”

“Yeah, I mean, don't think I still don't have moments where I visualize Ethan's skull crashing into a metal basketball hoop.” Carly smiled and swung her purse over her shoulder. “Hey, and thanks—for Friday night and Saturday—well, thanks for everything.” She opened the classroom door and disappeared within.

 

I EXPECTED A SEVERE REPRIMAND
or at the very least a little
tsk-tsk
from Dr. Reeves. But he was all smiles, humming Christmas carols and talking snow.

“I remember back when I was a little boy up in Vermont, every Christmas was white,” Dr. Reeves said with nostalgia. He massaged my jaws, prodded at my teeth. “This is going to make you feel a whole lot better, hon.” He handed me a case, rattling the retainer inside. He smiled. “But it only helps if you wear it.”

“Okay,” I said, taking the case. “I promise.”

He extended his hand to me. “Now where's that pretty little aunt of yours?”

Hmm. “In the waiting room,” I said.

“I'd just like to talk to her about some follow-up appointments,” Dr. Reeves said, following me out of the exam room.

Jolie sat in a deep leather chair reading
InStyle.
She saw us approaching and stood up.

Dr. Reeves shook her hand, and I noticed he remembered her name.

They talked about my new night guard and follow-up appointments. Then the conversation turned to the holidays, the weather, tourists flooding the city. Dr. Reeves smiled a lot and Jolie played with her hair. They didn't seem to notice me or the mounting number of patients filling up the waiting room.

I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

When I returned, Dr. Reeves was gone.

“I wonder if he's that friendly with all of his patients' aunts,” I said playfully.

Jolie didn't say anything, but she smiled, biting her lips a little.

We got into a cab and Jolie gave the driver our address.

“You know,” Jolie said suddenly. “It's time.”

“Time?” I asked.

“Time to move on. I'm at a place now where I'm not looking just for intensity and romance. I want to live with an everyday contentment. It's time to forgive all those jerks from before—forget all the hurt and give the shy kid an honest try.”

“Oh my God, the dentist asked you out!” I exclaimed.

She smiled wistfully out the cab's dirty window. “The dentist asked me out.”

 

THAT NIGHT I COULDN'T
get the idea of forgiveness out of my mind. Carly, who was so willing to forgive and forget—even to bond—with the person who humiliated her, and Jolie deciding to let go of a lifetime of disappointing relationship failures. I couldn't help but realize that there was one blatant person who had not yet rendered forgiveness. That person was me.

IT WAS A SNOWY SATURDAY NIGHT
when I found the answer I had spent months searching for. The ironic thing is, on that night, I wasn't searching for answers. When Jolie said she knew nothing about the apology, that the letters were insignificant, I believed her. Or maybe it was just what I wanted to believe. So I thought there was nothing left to hide. All I was looking for was a roll of Scotch tape to wrap Jolie's Christmas gift.

I was bundled in red plaid pajamas, my nightstand lamp burning as a flurry of snow trickled down and painted the Manhattan landscape white. Jolie had put on a brick red ball gown, twirled in a circle like a princess, and left for her fancy work party, which was held every year at some mansion on Long Island. Once she was gone, I pulled the small jewelry box out from my dresser drawer and dangled the necklace from my finger. It was a delicate silver chain with a charm in the shape of a lipstick tube. In my mind, I thought this could be a new beginning for me and Jolie. Maybe we could finally put the past behind us and accept that the apology would remain unsolved. Lipstick could be seen for what it was—makeup—not the instrument used to scrawl my mother's final words.

I laid the jewelry box on a sheet of silver wrapping paper and got up to search for the tape. I found none in the kitchen or living room, so I ventured back to Jolie's office. I rummaged through the large writing desk. The top two drawers contained bills and paperwork. The bottom drawer was locked. I'm not a nosy person. I respect privacy. But for some reason my heart started racing and I kept thinking about the hidden manila envelope filled with the letters from “D.” Could there be something else to hide? I scavenged through the top drawer until I found a key and shoved it in the lock.

Diaries. Black-and-white-speckled composition notebooks and although I had never seen them before, I just
knew
in my heart that they were my mother's. I reached in and opened the first one. I drew in my breath as I saw my mother's slanted left-handed cursive. Something in me snapped.

I grabbed the books, clutched them to my chest, and raced off to my bedroom. As I skimmed through the black-inked pages, I had the strongest feeling of déjà vu. It was a feeling of fear deep in the pit of my stomach I had only experienced once before, on a summer trip to Hershey Park. On that day I was strapped into the hot, black seat of the Storm Runner roller coaster. As the coaster started its wobbly ascent, my legs dangled in the still summer air and my heart quickened to a steady beat. With the slow rickety buildup of suspense, my stomach clenched and my breath shortened until the coaster suddenly reached the peak, tilted slightly forward, then sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. I teetered eighteen stories high in the air with the seamless blue sky fading into to the miles of green Pennsylvania landscape. My head spun with anticipation and fear. I knew that I couldn't stay at the top forever, because just like Newton says, all things that go up must come down.

That's how I felt on that blustery Saturday night as I flipped each scribbled page of Mom's diaries. Suspended. Caught between the
before
and
after
.

And just like on that roller-coaster ride so many years ago, I came crashing down.

Words filled my eyes.

Terrible words, like:
Affair . . . Daniel . . . Guilt . . . Guilt . . . Guilt.

And just when I thought I wanted to cover my eyes and bury my head, it got worse:
Pregnant . . . Not sure . . . I count the days . . . I think it's Daniel's . . . I can't tell Mark . . .

 

LIFE IS DEEPLY UNFAIR.
It took real talent to make my life even more tragic. But there I was, not just an orphan, but a bastard child. I was so mad at my mother. I was angry at Jolie. I had no idea how to process this new information. I had a hard enough time with death. Now, to discover my mother forever questioned my paternity—it made dead parents seem positively trivial.

I wanted to call Georgia, but she was on a ship in Hawaii.

I wanted to call Lindsey, but she was at her grandmother's house in Westchester.

I wanted to pick up my phone and speed dial the Big Guy and have a conference call with him and my mother. I'd like to tell them both:
This is so not fair.

Instead, I picked up the lipstick necklace and with all my strength yanked the chain until the clasp gave way and popped open. The lipstick charm flung off the necklace and bounced against the bedroom wall with a
ping
. I cried hysterically as I grabbed a pair of tweezers off my bathroom counter. I picked up the charm off the floor and with the tweezers I dug and ground until the little round diamond at the base of the tube was flung out of its setting. Then I collapsed into a puddle and cried.