Something Like This (Secrets) (24 page)

I threw back my head against the couch cushion. “Please don’t say I like Tom.”

For the love of God, I don’t like Tom.

“Nope, it’s not that. At least I don’t think you do. But, you are jealous of the attention he’s giving me and it’s not because you want to be with him, it’s because you’re mad at me and won’t admit it.”

I lifted my legs onto the couch and hugged my knees. “I’m
not
mad at you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

She puffed out air and cracked her knuckles. “I have a confession.”

“Confess away.”

More cracking of the knuckles. “I read your short stories.”

“What? When? You went into my room? What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, my voice nearing sky-high altitudes.

“I shouldn’t have done it. But you’re so secretive. You’ve only just started hanging out with Lisa and me. You’re always hiding in your stupid room. So, yeah, I invaded your privacy and poked around and read some of your stories. You left them on your desk. It’s not like I opened your drawers or anything.”

“I should smack you.”

“They’re good,” she paused, “sad and depressing, but good.”

“I can’t believe you did that. Here I was feeling guilty about last night...I take my apology back.”

“Does Reece know you write short stories?”

I gave her a hard look which translated into,
Sleep with one eye open, missy.

“No, and you better not say anything. I swear if you tell him...”

“All right, all right, calm your butt down.”

I started writing stories soon after my father abandoned me. It was a way for me to express what I was feeling inside. I also read a lot.

“I should have you arrested,” I said.

The thing was, I wasn’t
that
upset with Grace. She had no business messing around in my bedroom, but I was kind of glad she had found my stories. I wasn’t ready to tell Grace or Lisa about my father, and somehow her finding and reading my stories made me feel as if I was exposing
some
of my secrets. I had written most of my stories during my darkest moments. And now Grace had insight into those moments and I was okay with it, relieved and comforted by it.

“I think you want people to read them. And I think Tom repping me bothers you because a part of you wants to be published.”

“I thought you worked for a senator. When did you become a psychiatrist?” I asked.

“Am I right?”

I tossed a pillow at her. “Yeah, maybe. I’m happy for you, you believe me, right?”

“Of course, dummy. Just stop acting like a lunatic.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good, now let’s go make chocolate chip cookies.”

“First, answer my question about your manuscript. How’s it going?” I asked.

She stuck out her tongue and sighed. “I’m stuck. It’s like the second Mr. Walker and Tom offered to rep me, I froze. When I didn’t have anyone looking over my shoulder, I was on a roll and now, boo, I’m stuck.”

“So, unrep yourself. Tell them you’re not ready. Tell them you’ll let them know when you’re done with the manuscript.”

Glowing, she said, “You think I can do that?”

“Sure, it’s
your
novel. Take charge. You didn’t sign a contract, did you?”

“Nope, just a handshake.”

“There you go. Mr. Walker and Tom aren’t going to be happy, and you better not involve me. But do what’s in your best interest, not Mr. Walker’s or Tom’s.”

She hugged me. “I love you, even if you are a bit strange and definitely a lunatic.”

“What are friends for?”

“Making cookies,” she said, getting off the couch.

I loved working for Mr. Walker, but I decided to put my friendship with Grace first. I had real friends now and real friends were there for each other. I was finding myself, figuring out what I wanted and what I wanted was a view of the whole town from the very top of the Ferris wheel.

“Right behind you,” I said. “Oh and one more thing, how do you know when my birthday is?”

She sucked in her lower lip. “I asked Mr. Walker.”

“Are you serious? Why?”

“Because we don’t know a whole lot about you. And because Lisa and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“How did Mr. Walker know?”

“Don’t be stupid. You applied for a job there, remember? You filled out an application, which he read, of course.”

Slapping my forehead, I said, “Right.”

––––––––

T
wo weeks later, my birthday arrived. I was twenty-four years old. I tried not to pay attention to the little birthday song which invaded my ears as I skipped home from the Metro after work.

Reece, Lisa, and Grace had all texted me earlier in the day to say happy birthday, but that had been it. No flowers from Reece, no lunch or dinner plans, not even a call, just a text. The same went for Lisa and Grace.

As I walked home, I prepared myself for a birthday surprise. Could they have been any more obvious? Purposely not making a big deal about my birthday so they could jump out at me the second I entered my apartment, surprising me with cake and some fancy dinner Lisa had cooked.

I couldn’t lie. I was excited. This time my birthday was going to be different. This time I wasn’t going to spend it alone. This time I wasn’t going to cry myself to sleep.

I flung my building door open and flew up the stairs.

When I got to my apartment, I took out my compact and checked my hair and makeup. I was the guest of honor. I had to look good.

Okay, this is it. I’m putting the key in the key hole. I’m turning the knob. I’m opening the door and
....

And nothing. No one yelled surprise. I skipped into the living room. All the lights were on, but no one was home.

I checked Grace’s room. I checked Lisa’s room. Checked my room, checked the bathrooms. Nope, no one was home.

And just like that, my birthday was the same as years before. I was going to spend it alone. But no, Reece wouldn’t do this to me. No way. Maybe he thought I didn’t want anything for my birthday? Maybe he thought it was best not to make a big deal about it.

I felt tears coming on. No way to stop them. I was crushed.

I dropped my purse and headed for the kitchen. Pouring myself a glass of wine, I resigned my sad self to a night alone with Bridget Jones, singing, “All by myself.”

With a big ole glass of wine, I inserted a DVD into our dying DVD player.

I slithered into the couch, trying hard as hell to hold back my tears, instead taking a huge sip of wine.

Here I was, all by myself, still in my stupid work clothes, my stupid pointy heels, feeling sorry for myself. No friends, no boyfriend. No life.

I guessed the infamous plantain-and-salmon dinner was not forgotten after all and everyone had decided they couldn’t risk a repeat.

Kind of served me right to be alone. Just me, Bridget, and my wine.

I could have gone to visit Elliott the bartender and drowned my sorrows at his bar. Maybe Lula was there and she could offer some words of wisdom, something to the effect of never trust anyone, never let your guard down, and never fall in love with a nice guy because you’ll end up doubly hurt when he stops caring.

I finished off my wine and then promptly went into the kitchen to pour myself a second glass.

Back on the couch, I sipped my wine slowly. My eyelids started getting heavy. I fell sideways, and then I was asleep.

“Jadie, wake up.”

In my dreams, I heard someone calling my name.

“Sweetie, wake up, everyone’s here.”

I opened one eye and there, looking at me, was Reece.

I opened my other eye and standing right behind him holding balloons was Lisa, Grace, Tom, Mr. Walker—and I think, maybe Celeste.

“Happy Birthday!” Grace shouted.

“Happy Birthday!” everyone echoed.

“Did we surprise you? We were really quiet coming in. We weren’t sure where you would be,” Celeste said.

I hadn’t heard them come in, thanks to my wine-induced coma.

Reece kissed me on the cheek. “You didn’t think we’d forget your birthday, did you?”

Groggily, I sat up. “Yeah, I kind of did.”

“We got her,” Grace said.

“We’re sorry we made you suffer,” Lisa said.

“We kind of had to, considering what happened the last time we threw a party here. We had to make you think the party was off,” Grace said.

“I almost let it slip today,” Mr. Walker said.

“Me too,” Celeste said.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything,” Tom said to Celeste.

“Get up, you have cake candles to blow out,” Reece said, taking my hand and pulling me off the couch.

“Follow me.” Grace led us to the dining table.

“Before you blow out your candles, swear you won’t throw food at anything,
or
anyone,” Lisa said.

“She only throws plantains,” Tom said.

“And salmon,” Lisa said.

Everyone, including Reece, burst out laughing.

“I’m guessing everyone knows,” I said.

“Pretty much,” Grace said.

“Every last detail,” Celeste said.

I still wasn’t quite sure why Celeste was there, but I decided not to ask.

I wanted to hug them all, even gossipy Celeste.

“I swear I won’t throw food,” I said, giggling.

On the table was a round chocolate cake with strawberry frosting. The words,
Happy Birthday, Jadie, We Love You
, written in white icing.

I looked at Lisa. “Did you make it?”

Nodding, she said, “I almost added a second tier, but then thought it might be too much.”

“It’s perfect. I love it,” I said.

At that moment, I couldn’t help but think of my father. As happy as I was, I also felt extremely guilty. Here I was, in a warm apartment surrounded by people who cared about me, and I had no idea where he was. Maybe I should have tried harder to help him. Maybe I should have forced him to go to a shelter. I didn’t deserve any of it. Not Reece, not friends, not nice coworkers and a nice boss. How long could I stay in my fairy tale before an evil witch reached in and yanked me back to darkness?

“Okay, give it your all, old lady. Blow out your candles,” Grace said.

Filled with emotions, both sad and joyful, I took a deep breath and made a wish. I wished I could see my father again. I then blew out all twenty-four of my beautiful candles.

Everyone clapped.

Reece hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Happy Birthday, I love you.”

“Everyone into the living room,” Lisa said, pulling candles out of the cake. “I’ll serve. Grace, you fill up the wine glasses and get the beer.”

“Yes, Miss Bossy,” Grace said.

I winked at Lisa. She winked back. I knew she understood my wink meant,
thank you.

“None for me,” Mr. Walker said, rubbing his belly. “I’m trying to do better.”

“You sure?” Lisa asked. “I used light butter.”

Mr. Walker sighed. “In that case, make it a small piece.”

“You got it,” Lisa said.

I grabbed Reece’s hand and stole him to my room, only for a second. I needed to be alone with him. I was on the brink of breaking down in tears.

Once in my room, I kissed him.

“Are you happy?” he asked, once I finally stopped.

“Very.”

“I can’t take the credit. This was all Lisa’s and Grace’s doing. I just did what I was told.”

“Did they drive you crazy?”

“A little.”

“They’re sweet,” I said.

“They love you.”

“I think I love them, too.”

“I love you,” he said.

“I
know
I love you,” I said, tears rolling down my cheeks.

He wiped my face with his hand. “Did you really think I forgot?”

“It’s not that.”

“What then?”

“My father. He’s not here. I don’t know where he is. I don’t deserve this.”

He wrapped me in his arms. “You deserve this, and more.”

“He could be hurt. I’m here, and he could be hurt.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I feel guilty.”

“Feel what you feel. But don’t let it stop you from being happy.”

“I miss him.”

“You may see him again.”

“I hope so.”

“I got you something,” he said, releasing me from his grip.

I sat down on my bed. “What is it?”

“I was in New York today.”

“What? You didn’t tell me you were going to New York.”

“Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

He ignored me and left.

Ten seconds later, he returned. In his hand, he held a small rectangular wrapped box.

“Open it,” he said, handing it to me.

I gently removed the bow and then pulled the paper off. When I saw what was inside, I welled up. It was a copy of Junot Diaz’s short story collection,
Drown.

“Look inside,” he said.

Junot Diaz had signed the inside flap.
Dear Jadie, Keep on keeping on.
– Junot

The evil witch had yet to yank me back. I was still living my fairy tale.

“He was signing books today at a small indie store,” Reece said.

“You went up there for me?”

“No, I went up there for my other girlfriend. I didn’t tell you about her?”

Sniffling and giggling, I said, “Thank you.”

“You’re my girl.”

“Won’t your other girlfriend get jealous?”

“She knows you’re my favorite.”

“I’ll throw food at her.”

“I warned her you’re the violent type.”

“Good, because you’re mine.”

Someone knocked on my door.

“Hey, you two, hope you’re not naked or anything. We have a party going on out here, and we’d kind of like it if you joined us,” Lisa called through the door.

“We’ll be right out,” I said.

Placing the book on the bed, I stood. Then I looked straight into Reece’s eyes and asked him a hard question. “Why haven’t you called your uncle about your novel?”

I knew my question surprised him.

He cleared his throat. “We better get out there before Lisa sends Grace to get us.”

“Grace isn’t scary. I’m more scared of Lisa then I am of her. Why won’t you call him back?”

He started toward the door.