The Replacement (25 page)

“Oh, the snow globe,” she says absentmindedly, wandering into the bedroom. My heart rate flutters as she waltzes right over to my bedside table, where the globe sits next to my dream jar.

“I love it,” I say dumbly, unsure of what to do as she proceeds to pick it up.

“I thought you would.” Cradling it in her hands, she studies it for a moment and laughs fondly, as if a pleasant memory has come to mind. “That night of the festival was really something, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was fun.” My hands smooth over my sweater sleeves and land inside my pockets.

“Me and you, and Ryder and Nate. We were all so chummy, don’t you think?” Carrying the globe with her, she begins to trail back out into the living room. “It’s a shame we couldn’t have more double dates like that.”

“Someone else will come along, you’ll see.”

“You think?” She glances down at the globe and then lifts her eyes to mine.

The stare lances me.

I gulp and start searching for my purse and keys. We should get out of here, get moving. “I guess that’s easy for you to say,” she adds, tilting her head with a smirk. “I mean, look at you. You’re a goddess. Long legs, celebrity hair, perfect tits…you just have it all, don’t you, Elise?”

Ice drenches my bones. My throat goes dry. The room is closing in, and every cell in me shrivels up in panic. She can’t be doing this. Not here. Not like this. Not now. “Natalie—”

“You know what I really don’t get, though? All these guys you screw—ya know, half the town, Nate included—don’t seem to see the ugliness in you.” She laughs and shakes her head, rolling the snow globe between her hands. “They don’t see your heart, all charred and black. Don’t see that you’re a liar, a manipulator…a thief.”

My hackles raise and despite the fact that she’s clearly giving me exactly what I deserve—humiliation on a silver platter—I immediately feel the need to defend myself from at least one of those accusations. The only one that isn’t entirely true.

I grapple and cling to it tightly.

“I don’t steal,” I demand, voice tight and hard.

“Oh, no? So, taking something—someone—who clearly belongs to someone else isn’t stealing? Wow, you really are deluded. And here I thought you were just a stupid, selfish slut, just like everyone tried to tell me you are. Silly me, I didn’t want to listen.”

Her voice is cold, piercing my heart. My black, charred heart. “I understand you’re upset. I wanted to tell you—so many times, I wanted to tell you the truth.”

“You’re such a damn liar!” Natalie suddenly explodes. Her chest is heaving in anger, her eyes flaring with contempt. “The fact that you even
attempted
to be my friend after…after you screwed him, is just a testament to the fact that you’re a conceited, selfish bitch. Don’t you see that? Who does something like that? Seriously!”

I go to speak but she glares at me, daring me to interrupt her.

“You know what the most infuriating thing is? I think those guys
do
see how ugly you are on the inside. They’re just willing to overlook it for a piece of ass. They’re bottom feeders, just like you. I just never pegged Nate to be one of them. Do you know what he told me, Elise?” Her eyes narrow and I don’t just see disgust, I see the damage.

I finally see the hurt I’ve inflicted upon this girl, and in that one single glimpse, I see every woman I’ve ever hurt—every woman who ever belonged to a man I decided to claim as my own personal conquest.

“He told me you
begged
him.” She laughs dryly. I’m stunned to see such smugness radiate from this girl. I guess all things are possible when you’re bursting with animosity. I don’t bother correcting her. There wasn’t much begging involved on my end the day I screwed Nate, but of course he wouldn’t tell her that. “And what about Ryder? My God, is he really that blind?”

All of the air leaves me at the mention of his name. My hackles were raised before, but now I feel like a hunted doe, ready to spring into motion at the slightest hint of danger. I look her straight in the eyes. “Don’t bring him into this. You don’t know him.”

“Is he just another Nate?” She lifts her chin, egging me on. “A good guy who’s willing to pick up any scraps that might be left for him? Does he even realize he deserves so much better?”

A laugh bursts out of my throat, and I can’t control the darkness that creates the sound. “Are you seriously comparing Nate and Ryder right now? Did you really just call Nate a good guy? What kind of
good guy
tells his ex-girlfriend that? He knew telling you about what happened between us would hurt you, Natalie. Don’t paint him as something he isn’t. He isn’t innocent, and he knew exactly what he was doing.”

A flash of disbelief flickers in her gaze, and she steps toward me, raising an index finger to jab at me in the air, like a disappointed parent to a misbehaving child. “You’re disgusting. If Ryder knows what’s good for him, he’ll run fast in the other fucking direction and never look back.”

My hand acts on its own accord and shoots out, smacking her hard across the cheek. I suck in a breath and stumble back, watching her expression shift from disbelief to pure rage in less than a second. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling the tears well up behind my lids. Holy fuck, where did that come from? “I’m so sorry.”

Natalie’s shoulders spring up and she hoists the snow globe back, sending it sailing over my shoulder and across the room. I shout as I hear the crack, hear it explode as it shatters against the wall. Spinning on my heel, I turn to look down at the broken glass.

“I trusted you,” she says flatly, her arms hanging limply at her sides. She looks deflated, like all of the anger she’d been bottling up has leaked from her system. “I liked you. All I wanted was to be your friend. You don’t want friends. I see that now.” Her eyes glaze over with tears and she levels me with her glare. She shrugs lightly, her voice trembling. “You just want to hurt people, because you’ve been hurt.”

My limbs are numb but I step forward before she can move. “I’m broken,” I say, trembling. “Like the globe.” I limply gesture to the glass shards. “You can try putting it back together, but it’ll never be the same. It’s not an excuse, Natalie. It’s just reality. I was wrong. I knew what I was doing with Nate would hurt you and I went ahead and did it anyway. I know you will never forgive me. I know there’s no going back. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, but it won’t change the fact that I’m sorry. Just please…
please
, leave Ryder out of this. He’s good, noble, honest…all of the things I’m not. Don’t hurt him because you want to hurt me for what I’ve done.” The tears are spilling onto my cheeks, and I let her see them. Every last one.

“Don’t worry, Elise.” She begins to wander lifelessly to the front door. “I won’t say anything to him. Nate only told me today because I went to his place, asking him to give us another chance. Pathetic, huh? Ryder won’t hear it from me because I’m not like you. I consider other people’s feeling before I act. I’d never stoop so low.” Her hand closes over the doorknob and she pauses, her back to me. “For the record, I knew you were broken. Not like it was a secret. I wanted to know you anyway.”

The door opens and closes with a quiet click, and all of my hopes for being someone’s something follow Natalie out, reminding me of my true identity. I am a substitute. A misfit. A liar, a thief, and a whore. I exist to be used, not to belong.

I steel myself and straighten my shoulders, and my father’s haunting voice wraps its icy fingers around my throat.

“You’re responsible for what you’ve taken from your mother now, Elise. Don’t waste her beauty, do you understand? She passed it on to you, my dear. Harness it, and own it.”

My mother was an accessory, just like me. She knew it, no matter how much she might have concealed the hurt. She found ways to be useful and never once complained about her fate. Maybe it is time to start taking my father’s words more seriously. Maybe it is time to own it.

***

Splash, splash, splash.

My feet slap the surface as I float and lean back against the pool wall. It’s a warm summer day and the sun is raining down on me as I swim in the hotel’s turquoise L-shaped pool, humming softly to myself. My mother is beautifully poised in a lounge chair, her floppy hat and big, round sunglasses shadowing her classic features as she flips through a magazine. Her long, red nails are perfectly manicured and her sleek, white one-piece swimsuit complements her smooth, silky skin. A pair of gold chandelier earrings glint in the sunlight. She is the shining image of old Hollywood glamour, right down to her ruby red lips and romantic, pressed golden waves. One day I want to look like her.

“You’ll burn, darling,” she says, her eyes glued to the magazine, “you should come in the shade for a while. You know your father won’t be happy if you burn.”

I don’t see what she’s so worried about. My dad hasn’t been around all weekend. He’s brought my mom and me to L.A. for a weekend business trip, setting us up in a gorgeous—and no doubt pricey—chateau, but he hasn’t spent any time with us so far. I can see my mother’s disappointment. Every now and then, she glances at her diamond-studded watch, her eyes scanning the patio grounds, hoping to catch a glimpse of my father. He never shows.

“Mom,” I ask, pulling my wet hair over my shoulders, running it through my fingers, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course, darling, what is it?”

“Do you love Dad?”

She places her magazine on her lap and lifts her sunglasses. “What a silly question, Elise. Of course I do. Why would you even ask that?”

“I’m just curious…how you know, I mean.”

“How I know what?”

“That you love him.”

She laughs lightly, but it’s a fake laugh. A guarded one. “Well I did marry the man, darling.”

“People get married all the time. It doesn’t mean they love one another.”

She slowly slides her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose, pulling them off completely. “Where on Earth is this coming from? You’re 16 years old.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about love.”

“Obviously you don’t, if you’re asking me that question.” She looks defensive, as though my curiosity is an affront. It strikes a nerve in me.

“It’s just a question, Mom. No need to get upset about it. I’m curious, that’s all. How do you know he loves you back?”

Her pretty, long legs slide to the left, off the lounge chair, so her feet are planted firmly on the patio. “Elise, when two people love one another, they don’t always have to label it, do you understand? When you love someone, you just know. You just…fit. You see certain qualities in each other, you dance until the sun comes up and get lost in one another until you forget your name and where you were born. Everything is hazy. You’re dazed.” She stands in one fluid motion and begins pacing slowly, dreamily, back and forth as she looks fondly in the distance.

“You do crazy, treacherous things,” she continues, “and the next thing you know, you’re so wrapped up in that person’s presence, you can’t seem to think about anything else. Those thoughts consume your every waking moment. They become your world. Without them, you cease to exist. Naturally, when you experience something like that, you simply…merge. You’re no longer your own.”

“That sounds like obsession, not love.”

“Oh darling, love is obsession. There is a fine line between the two. One does not exist without the other. One day, you’ll understand.”

“But obsession is biased,” I say quietly, thoughtfully. I swim up to the edge of the pool to look up at her, resting my head over my arms. “If that’s all true, then…you’re only seeing the good, the exciting, the romance. What about the bad? Are you just as enamored with one another when things are ugly?”

“Elise,” she smiles, bending down to gently swipe a rebellious blonde strand from my forehead, “my beautiful girl. So wise beyond your years. When did you become so old?”

“I hope I fall in love some day,” I say wistfully, smiling back at her. “I want love and obsession. It sounds exciting.”

“You’ll experience it for yourself, soon enough.” She slides her sunglasses back on, rising to full height. With a delicate hand on her hip, she peers down at me and I can see the warmth in her eyes, even though they’re covered. I might not believe my father really loves her, and I might question if what she says she feels for him is truly love, but I know without a shadow of a doubt, she loves me. I don’t care how dysfunctional her mind may be, or how life has polluted her thoughts. I don’t have to agree with the abuse she endures from my father. Her hurt is my hurt. She’s my mother, and I’ll always be her biggest fan.

Splash, splash, splash.

The pool water hits the wall as I sink my head beneath the surface. I can hear the soft lapping above me as I descend. When I reemerge, I’m no longer 16 years old. I’m not in L.A., and my mother isn’t sitting poolside, sipping on champagne. She’s six feet underground, and I’m collapsed on my sofa, wrapped in a throw blanket while the faint laughter from an episode of
I Love Lucy
echoes in the background. A bag of peanut butter cups is spilled open on my lap.

I groan as I recall Natalie’s visit earlier this afternoon.