Caroline gathers her flashcards into a pile but leaves them on the table. Her way of suggesting I use them after she’s gone, I’m sure.
“I’ll show myself to the door. Bye, Quinny.” She wraps her in a hug and exits without another word.
The rest of the evening I try so hard to be present with Quinn. We watchInside Out 2but I miss most of the context of the movie. All I can relate to is the character Anxiety, and how it’s taking over my own control center.
Summer had so many opportunities to tell me she isn’t Henry’s mother. Why didn’t she?
Near the credits, Quinn falls asleep tucked against my arm. I carry her to bed, then head for the bathroom. I should be out in the studio, but after a day like today, it would be fruitless. Words won’t come. The same way it’s been this entire week.
I brush my teeth, use the bathroom, and strip down to my boxers. The relief I feel when the mattress that was delivered today molds to my body is the one bright spot I hold on to. Especially when the emptiness around me threatens to pull me under.
I have a love-hate relationship with nighttime. It’s dark and quiet and lonely. I swipe a hand across the side of the bed El once occupied, missing the way she’d curl her leg over mine. She’d rest her head on my chest and tell me about her day. Nowthe only weight I feel there is the anxious ball that threatens to collapse my lungs at any given moment. The constant reminder that it’s all up to me now.
I flick on the lamp, slide on my glasses, and pull out the journal I keep in the top drawer of my nightstand. I add a few necessary lines before tucking it back where it belongs. When that doesn’t help me feel better, I pull up the empty text box that’s been taking up way too much space in my head all night.
I consider myself a good judge of character. Todd, for example, wasn’t the first manager who offered me representation. One guy who did is behind bars for three DUIs, and another is facing a lawsuit for selling the intellectual property of a fellow artist. I’ve never been wrong with who to trust before, and it’s driving me crazy that I might have been too quick to trust this time. That I was acting in desperation and didn’t know Summer as well as I thought I did. I’m basing my decision onseemsinstead ofknows, but sheseemstoo nice to find herself behind bars isn’t enough. This is why I don’t ask for help.
Summer deserves a thank-you for dropping everything last minute. More than one thanks, actually, in the ever-growing list of ways she’s saved me. But, it seems, she’s also been lying to me, and I’m still pissed about it. I war with myself.
When I finally hit send, the frustrated side of me wins.
10
SUMMER
“This show is so toxic.” Julia stuffs a handful of buttered popcorn in her mouth.
I watch Stephen fabricate another half-truth to get his way with Lucy.
“That’s why I love it. Makes me feel better about my life.” I cross my cozy, sock-covered ankles and wrap an arm behind my head to look over at her. She’s cringing at the TV screen before she inhales another bite.
“Isn’t that the truth.”
Tell Me Lieshas become our Friday night routine ever since I moved in. I know what a sacrifice it is for her to watch this show with me, and I appreciate her for it. Evenings are her only time to recharge. I make myself scarce as much as possible, but having friends with busy lives and a bank account that’s draining without a job, it’s a lot smarter to stay in.
My phone vibrates against the couch cushion. I snatch it up, expecting it to be a recruiter for one of the jobs I applied for. I turned on my LinkedIn notifications earlier even though it’s the weekend tomorrow. I’m desperate to hear back from someone.
It’s not a recruiter. It’s a text message from the same unknown number that called me earlier today.
EVERETT: When were you going to tell me that Henry isn’t your son?
I sit up with a start.
“What’s wrong?” Julia presses pause on the remote.
“Rhett just found out I’m not Henry’s mom.” I cover my mouth with my hands.
“What do you meanjustfound out? How long have you been co-opting my kid?”
I look over at her with wide eyes.
“Wow,” she says with an expression I can’t read.
If it were from anyone else it would roll right off my back, but I admire Julia’s opinion of me too much. She’s better in every way, and it stings when the maturity gap between us feels a football field apart. I pivot my body so my feet touch the carpet.
I must look defensive because she adds, “I’m just surprised Henry didn’t tell him already, that’s all. You know his attention to detail.”
Surprised. That’s a better adjective thandisappointedorangry.
