Authors: Sharisse Coulter
“He wined
and dined and romanced me until I suffocated from the stench of roses. My
life—my being—became a dance of royal obligations broken up only by
family obligations. My education, hobbies, interests and friends were relegated
to the realm of trifles, to be entertained only when bored.” Noelle mimicked a
stuffy royal with a prim jut of her chin. “I was never bored. When you turn
your back on your friends often enough, they stop calling. I couldn’t blame
them.” Her eyes flashed from anger to sadness.
“So what did
you do?” Jenna scooted forward on the chair, rapt.
“I did what
women do. I suppressed my feelings and got pregnant.”
“I didn’t
know you had kids.” Jenna blurted. Noelle’s eyes glassed over, like she was
somewhere else. Jenna regretted saying anything.
“I don’t. It
turned out to be a tumor. I was told I had mere weeks to live. My husband
wasn’t equipped to give the emotional support I needed, so I called my friends.
They tried to understand. But they didn’t know what to say either. Too much distance
lay between us and I couldn’t muster the energy to bridge the gap.”
“So what
happened? I can’t imagine … ”
“It was a
long time ago.” From the look on Noelle’s face, Jenna wondered if time had
softened the grief.
“Anyway, I
realized I was alone. And I decided if I was going to be alone, I better do
something I loved with the time I had left. When weeks turned into months and I
seemed to be improving on my own, the doctors were stunned. They called it a
miracle. I knew, deep in my heart of hearts, it was a sign I needed to get out
of that life and start fresh. So I took a job as a nanny for a family
emigrating to America, and voil
à
, here I am.”
“How did you
get into photography?”
“In
university, I’d taken a few courses and amassed a portfolio of portraits of my
classmates. Hanging out, playing polo, some studio poses. Later, when many
became important figures in the world—as children from prominent families
do—my little student portfolio looked more important. I got a job
assisting a fashion photographer in New York and one thing led to another.”
“You make it
sound so simple.” Jenna said.
Noelle smirked. “Things sound simple when years of
struggle are whittled down to a paragraph. Nothing worth anything is simple.”
***
Jenna returned to the cabin late, still absorbing
the day. Noelle’s story reverberated in her head and heart as she thought about
how brave she’d been. Jenna breathed in the pine of the walls. She took in the
view, the moon sparkling upon the dark water. Then she picked up the phone and
dialed without thinking.
“Hello?” The
sound of
Airika’s
voice pierced Jenna’s softened
heart. In equal parts, she wanted to talk to her best friend—to tell her
about the
Vogue
shoot and
Noelle—and also, if at all possible, cause bodily harm through her
venomous rhetoric. Instead, she hung up.
Her heart
clenched as though in a vice-grip. Her fingers itched to make another call, but
her earlier bravado dissipated, giving way to sadness and self-pity. Bravery
sounded so clear the way Noelle told it, uncomplicated.
Left to her
own devices, Jenna couldn’t mask the pain. Betrayed by her two best friends
together felt like the universe kicking her in the gut and then disemboweling
her for fun. If she believed in reincarnation, she’d have been certain she’d been
a puppy-kicking, mass-murdering bigot.
She needed
some air. From the driveway she looked up into the clear night sky, dazzled by
the myriad stars, made more ethereal with her breath. Puffs of freezing smoke
drifted across her vision. She walked to the end of the driveway to get a
better look. She tripped over a box, falling to the ground with all the grace
of a hippo on ice.
Sharp pain
forced a scream from her lungs. She looked around, embarrassed. No one saw her
fall. Suddenly she began to giggle. She giggled at her clumsiness. She laughed
at herself being more concerned that someone saw her make a fool of herself
than her own pain. She guffawed at the absurdity of the whole scene, of her
life, of being in this place. She laughed until her cheeks were covered in
frozen tears and her sides hurt.
Then she
picked up the box. The label, written in familiar handwriting read:
It’s time.
-Zach
. Back inside the cabin, she
opened it, revealing a brand new cell phone. She smiled, turning it over in her
hand. He attached a case with a picture of a vintage camera and a packet of
sticky crystals for her bedazzling pleasure. The card inside said:
Jenna,
You’ve come a long way and now you’re ready
to make it back to the 21st century.
Anya helped get your old number back. Hope you like the case. I couldn’t
bring myself to put those pink crystals on, but I know you love them.
Zach
She
beamed. Like a kid on Christmas morning, she ripped through the packaging,
assembling her new toy. The screen lit up as it came to life, informing her
that her mailbox was full. She figured now was as good a time as any to clean
it up. Since she wasn’t ready to be on speaking terms with either
Airika
or Alex, she could at least hear their messages
groveling for forgiveness.
Twenty minutes
later, her smile faded, a dark cloud forming over her head. At least half the
messages were from Anya or Felicity, usually hanging up quickly, remembering to
call her at the cabin. The other half was from Alex. Most from the first day,
asking her to talk to him, to hear him out. Later, they got more desperate and
pathetic. The last couple didn’t even sound like him. Part of her wanted to
call and check on him, make sure he was okay. That made up the smaller part and
she opted to let him suffer a little longer.
She was in
no mood to soothe anyone.
Airika
hadn’t called or
texted at all. Not one message in two weeks. They used to speak at least twice
a day. The longest they’d ever gone without each other was maybe a day or two.
But even then, they usually emailed.
Her best
friend hadn’t so much as called, let alone apologized.
Bitch!
The only conclusion she could draw from that was even worse
than what
Airika
did with Alex. Jenna realized, with
a sinking heart, that if
Airika
wasn’t talking to
her, she was talking to someone else. Jenna had been replaced. As the thought
settled in for the long haul, Jenna’s mood plummeted.
Did my friendship really mean that little to her
?
All those
sleepovers, the lemonade stands they’d run together, the partying and getting
into clubs with their bad fake ID’s, the endless talks about boys and
clothes—had it been one-sided? She’d been a generic
celebutante
friend,
a seat
filler, no one special, except that she
had a dreamy husband.
The truth of
it shook her to the core. It was so clear.
Occam’s razor.
Her legs felt like jelly. The couch swallowed her up as her life flashed before
her eyes, like a person on the brink of death. But instead of the memories she
thought she had, they flashed before her, rewinding the best friend parts,
replacing them with images of her mortal enemy. How could she have been so
stupid?
Chapter
34
Jenna awoke still feeling wound up. She thrashed
around in bed for a while, to no avail.
Thunk
! She
looked over the edge to see what fell. It was a frame she hadn’t noticed
before, an old photo of Alex and Zach on either side of her, sandwiching her.
She set it face down on the nightstand.
Something else caught her eye in the open
suitcase.
No
, she thought. But she
needed an outlet, and she hadn’t even worked out since she’d been in Tahoe.
It’s not like I’m getting it anywhere else
,
she thought, pulling The Rabbit out of the bag.
As she
leaned into her pillows, starting to relax and enjoy herself, Alex’s head
popped in her mind. She didn’t want to kill her momentum so she tried to focus,
to think of something else to keep her in the mood. Zach’s face appeared in her
mind’s eye, she envisioned his chest, wet and naked, like that summer. The
memories turned into moving images in her head, as she mentally lived out her
younger self’s fantasy. He was so hot—strong and sensitive to her needs
at the same time. Soon she felt herself heating up, getting close.
It took a minute for the sound of her new phone’s
ring to register. She picked up too late and voicemail got it first. She
chucked it on the bed and tried to regain her happy fantasy.
“Jenna? You home?” Zach called.
Startled, she shot up out of bed, Rabbit falling
to the floor, the sound of the vibration getting louder. She tried to find a
shirt to throw on so he didn’t burst in on her, naked. “Just a sec.” She said,
frantic to stop the damn thing.
Where is
the off button?
“I tried to call first,” he said, getting closer
to her bedroom door.
Running out
of time, Jenna threw the convulsing creature at the hardwood floor with all her
strength. It had a mind of its own, flopping around on the boards. The cruelty
of being robbed of an orgasm by the threat of being humiliated sapped her
ability to think straight.
She heard Zach just outside the door certain he
could hear the taunting buzz. Before she realized what she was doing, it was
silent. Bludgeoned to death by stiletto. Like a deranged, blue-balled Elmer
Fudd
, she had killed The Rabbit.
“You okay?”
Zach turned the doorknob and she kicked The Rabbit under the bed, just in time.
He poked his head in her room, frowning at the stiletto still in her hand. She
looked at it, and shrugged. “Spider,” she said.
She stood up
and pulled the edges of her sleep shirt down with one hand while smoothing her
out of control hair with the other. She suddenly felt light-headed and saw
stars. Zach reached out to steady her. She took a deep breath and looked up at
him. He took an appraising look and grinned.
“You
wanna
get some breakfast?” Zach said, smiling.
“Sure. Give
me a minute to change and … do my hair.”
“Watch out
for those spiders,” he said, turning to head back to the living room.
She watched
him go, trying not to pay attention to the way his shoulders filled his shirt
or how touchable his curls looked. She definitely wasn’t picturing the rest of
him naked beneath those clothes.
What’s
wrong with me?
She chided herself
in the mirror, her flushed cheeks making her normally pale skin look even
paler. Her blue eyes had a glassy look to them and her hair … what to do with
that rat’s nest? She didn’t want to take the time to flat iron her now kinky
curls so she brushed and braided it,
then
added a
beanie, for good measure.
She looked out at the platinum colored sky,
threatening snow. She threw on some (mostly) clean clothes and took one more
deep breath.
Zach was uncharacteristically chatty on the drive
to the restaurant. He grilled her about Noelle, photography, asked if she’d
gone skiing yet. She found his enthusiasm infectious and soon her mood, like
the clouds, parted, revealing a beautiful day.
Their
conversation was easy, relaxing. He told her about his latest project, the
difficulties of shooting videos in the backcountry where the weather was
volatile and equipment failures ruin entire weeks’ work. Despite his venting,
it was obvious how much he loved what he did. At the restaurant, she asked him
questions and he answered, illustrating points with his hands, occasionally
jumping up from his seat to clarify or demonstrate. She laughed and lapped up
Noelle’s praise, delivered via Zach in the same manner.
Two hours
later, full and happy, they drove back to the cabin.
“Coffee?”
she asked.
“Sure.”
As they sat
down on the couch the atmosphere shifted. She became hyper-aware of his
proximity, his smell, shampoo and laundry detergent, and wondered if the shift
was in her head or not. She got up to make coffee. She raised her eyebrows,
lifting a mug in his direction. He nodded.
“Sugar?”
“Yes, Love?”
He said, affecting a terrible British accent. She rolled her eyes. “Looks like
you’re a popular lass. A message awaits your ladyship.” He said, pointing to
her new phone, vibrating on the coffee table.
She traded
him his coffee for her phone, enjoying the flirtatious banter, and sucked in a
breath when his hands grazed hers in the exchange. She clicked the voicemail
button to distract herself.
“What’s the
matter?” He asked, losing the accent.
“It’s not
important,” she lied.
They drank
their coffee in silence. Finally, Zach jumped up and held up one finger. He ran
outside and she heard his car door open and shut. He came back inside waving a
DVD.
“Yours?” she
asked. She wanted to see the film he’d told her so much about, but dreaded the
idea of hating it and having to figure out what to say.