No end.
***
Dori
When Deb told me to pretend that kiss didn’t happen, it sounded so simple.
Sometimes I forget my own aversion to lying, and how lying involves pretending not to feel things that I actual y feel.
Thinking about Colin reminded me of the sensation of having my heart smashed to smithereens, and then trying to pretend that I wasn’t a walking ghost. When he dumped me, it was such an unanticipated end that I moved through my life in a state of shock for days afterward, waiting to wake up. When I final y realized that it wasn’t a nightmare, that it was real, it hurt so much I didn’t think I could survive.
But I did. And to do so, I had to pretend not to feel it, at least in front of him. In front of my friends and classmates. In front of my parents. And in front of his mother, who for al of her genuine concern and her experience in counseling troubled teens, was clueless to what her own son had done to one of the students right under her nose.
The key to lying skil ful y is never lie to yourself. And the best way to keep yourself honest internal y is to have one person, someone you trust above everyone else, who holds and protects that secret true thing for you. The thing you have to hide from everyone else. Deb has always been that person for me.
When I told her about Colin, she nearly came unglued.
Submerged in her studies as a first-year med student, she’d known I was dating someone, but hadn’t been as available during the time of my brief sexual relationship with him. The entire story, from the magical beginning to the devastating end, was relayed in one conversation.
My sister has always known how to hold my heart, and her anger at Colin quickly yielded to my need for the empathy only she could provide. “Oh, baby girl,” she said, her voice breaking. “You need a pint of java chip and a funny movie. I’l come home the weekend after mid-terms, and we’l do an official exorcism. Gather a stack of photos and anything else you’d like to set fire to, because we’re going to burn that worthless boy right out of your memory. It won’t hurt like this forever. I promise.”
She was right, of course. Three years later, I can’t remember how it felt to love Colin. I recal the loss of him as though it had happened to someone else—some naïve, reckless girl I’l never be again.
***
I hear Reid’s voice just before he comes around the corner, upbeat and friendly as he replies to hel os. He’s here uncharacteristical y early, too, so I haven’t had time to go over the steps in my head that Deb and I discussed, like a last-minute cramming session before an exam.
One—act like the kiss didn’t happen.
Two—if he al udes to the kiss, shrug it off.
Three—arrange to work in a separate area.
Four—don’t get caught alone with him.
“Hey,” he says, this greeting proceeded by the usual coffee aroma that announces his arrival. My addicted caffeine sensors perk up immediately in expectation of the soy latte I know he’s holding, along with a bounce in my heart rate at the sound of his voice.
My own body is a traitor.
I turn, smile, take the latte, thank him. Ignore his fingertips brushing over mine. Ignore his beautiful eyes, the dark blue of them intensified by the snug navy t-shirt he’s wearing.
“What are we doing today, boss?”
Ignore his now-familiar husky morning voice.
We’re in the master bathroom, in blatant noncompliance of Rule Four. I hear other people in the hal way, but we’re definitely alone. “Um, I think you’re working with Frank today.” My eyes slide away from his.
“Mmm. Okay. See you at lunch, then?” He leaves the room, sipping his coffee, not waiting for an answer.
If I didn’t know him, I’d think he’s fol owing Rule One.
What if he is fol owing Rule One? That makes everything easier for me, right?
In theory, if Reid pretends we never kissed, it’s easier for me to pretend we never kissed.
This is what people mean when they use the term in theory.
Chapter 26
REID
I’m not surprised that Dori’s strategy is to act like nothing happened between us yesterday. Avoidance is a clever method for getting past any type of emotional eruption.
John and I would never have sustained a friendship this long without turning the occasional blind eye to each other’s assholian outbursts. Dori responded to that kiss with uninhibited abandon, after which the logical part of her brain began screaming for a do-over back to the moment she could have kept it from occurring at al .
That is not going to happen.
She wants to pretend I never kissed her. I want a repeat performance. Those goals stand on starkly opposite ends of the spectrum. The first step to pul ing her to my way of thinking is to meet in the middle. I just have to figure out where the hel the middle is.
The Habitat project is winding to a close. The house is almost finished, and no one is immune to the building anticipation of that completion, which won’t occur until after Dori has departed for Ecuador and I’ve served out my sentence. I have to admit, I sort of want to see it done, see sentence. I have to admit, I sort of want to see it done, see them get the keys. Gabriel e’s parents have been working some hours here and there, so I’ve seen them around, though we haven’t crossed paths while working—I’m sure Roberta made sure of that. So I’m kind of stunned when Mrs. Diego appears next to me before lunch, as I’m emptying a bag of mulch into the shrub and flower borders across the backyard.
“Mr. Alexander,” she says, her accent thick, meester alisander.
Since no one was injured when my car plowed through the front of their house, and since the house was a rental and therefore not their property, it wasn’t necessary for the Diegos to be present at court. Regardless, I recognize her immediately from the news reports that surrounded my accident. She’s petite, more so than she looked on TV, standing next to her husband as they were interviewed by multiple news stations, gesturing to the gaping hole in the house behind them and praising God and a shitload of saints that none of their children were injured.