Beautiful Lies

ten

I never asked for Zack’s key back. I’m not sure why; I guess I felt like it would have been adding insult to injury. And ostensibly, we were still close, still good friends. But I thought that it was understood that he was no longer entitled to use it without my permission. Friday morning proved me wrong.

My heart nearly stopped as I stepped from my bedroom into the living space and my sleepy brain registered a form lounging on my couch. I felt the rush of fear to my fingertips and a shriek rise in my throat in the seconds it took me to recognize Zack. He was looking at me with an expression I’d never seen on his face before. It was worry, but it was anger, too, shaded by resentment.

“Zack,” I said quietly, raising a hand to my chest. The fear had drained, leaving annoyance in its place. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” he said incredulously. “Ridley, people are worried about you.”

“People?” I said with a frown. “Like who?”

“Like your parents, for Christ’s sake. What’s going on with you?”

“I just saw my parents the day before yesterday.”

“Yeah, ranting and raving like a lunatic about their not really being your parents. And then you don’t even call to let them know you’re okay?”

“Zack, what does that have to do with you?”

I was flashing on something here, something I had always hated about my relationship with Zack—or should I say Zack’s relationship to my parents. I often had the feeling that he was a clone they had created for the sole purpose of marrying me and taking care of me in a way that they no longer could. It annoyed me to no end when we were together. And now that we were no longer a couple it was downright infuriating. I felt heat rise to my skin and my throat got tight.

“Zack, you need to go. Right now,” I said, continuing on to the kitchen.

“Ridley, talk to me,” he said. “What’s happening?”

I ignored him as he followed me into the kitchen. I noted that he wasn’t wearing his shoes and this rather threw me over the edge. How could he take off his shoes? What gave him the right to come into my apartment and make himself at home?

“Zack, did you not hear me?” I said, turning to stand and look him in the eye. “Leave.”

He looked so hurt then, as if I’d slapped him in the face. What was wrong with me? Why was I being so mean to him? My childhood friend, my former boyfriend, the son of a woman I loved like a mother. It was Zack. Why did he feel like an interloper, someone I needed to put out of my apartment?

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re right. It was wrong of me to come here. I was—” He stopped short and looked down at his stocking feet.

I sighed, feeling like a total bitch.

“I know you were just worried,” I said as gently as I could, moving toward him. “But this was not a good idea.” I put my hands on his arms.

“Ridley,” he said, holding my eyes with his icy blues. In the syllables of my name I heard all the ways I’d hurt and disappointed him, all the hope he still held for us. Hope fanned by my parents and his mother, I’m sure: Let Ridley have some time. She’ll come around.

“Zack, I’m sorry,” I said. I’m not sure why I was apologizing. He pulled me into his arms and I took in his familiar scent and rested against him for a moment, like we visit our memories. You’re a fool to let that boy go, my mother had complained. Maybe she was right, as she had been about so many things. But I didn’t love Zack, not like that.

“What’s up, Ridley?” said Jake, emerging from the bedroom. Zack pulled away from me quickly, as though I’d bit him hard on the neck, looking at me with surprised hurt. For a second they both stood in my line of vision, and the contrast between them was so stark it was nearly comical. Zack: blond, perfectly pressed chinos, white oxford, Lands’ End barn jacket slung over the arm of my couch, Rockports under my coffee table. Jake: dark, the giant dragon tattooed across his ripped chest and abs, faded denims, bare feet (irresistible).

Zack’s face fell and I felt like a kid caught playing hooky, hanging out with the wrong crowd. My stomach bottomed out for the hurt he must be feeling, but in my rebel heart there was just the smallest twinge of satisfaction. Let’s not forget, he’d stormed my boundaries and was in essence checking up on me for my parents. That was not okay with me.

“Who’s this?” said Zack.

“Zack, this is Jake. Jake, Zack.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Jake, offering his hand.

Zack just looked at him, and after a second Jake withdrew his hand with an understanding nod. Zack brushed past him, grabbed his shoes and his jacket. Guilt and sadness brought heat into my cheeks. I’m not sure why, but it’s a feeling I was pretty comfortable with in my relationship with Zack. I didn’t say anything as he walked toward the door, carrying his things.

“I need your key, Zack. This wasn’t fair.”

He pulled the key from his pocket and handed it to me with a half-smile I couldn’t read. A strange thought flashed through my mind: He made a copy.

“I’m not even sure who you are right now, Ridley,” he said.

“I’m not sure you ever did, Zack,” I said. The words just slipped from my mouth. I don’t know why, since it wasn’t something I had consciously considered before. But as I said it, I knew it was true. I knew it was why I’d left the relationship, because I was never able to be myself without feeling guilty or as if I’d disappointed him. Like a child acting out against a controlling parent, where every independent action causes the parent pain and the child is punished. Subtle, though, not overt so that people would see. Almost imperceptible, in fact…except to me.

He left still in stocking feet. I guess the act of putting on his shoes in front of Jake was more than he could bear. I looked out the peephole after I’d closed the door and saw him sit on the top step to lace up his sensible shoes. I felt guilt and anger like a ball of gauze in my throat.

“Everything all right, Ridley?” said Jake from behind me. I liked the way he said it, with concern but with the underlying assumption that I could handle the events of my life. He wasn’t jealous or angry. I liked that, too. I appreciated that I didn’t have to baby-sit his emotions while mine were in a twister in my chest.

“Not really. Things pretty much suck at the moment.”

He nodded and walked over to me.

“Except for last night, right? Don’t forget about my delicate ego,” he said with a broad smile that was contagious and pulled up the corners of my own mouth. I felt a heat in my belly and his hands were on my shoulders.

“That didn’t suck too much,” I said, putting my face to his chest and letting him hold me solidly against him. In a minute we were at it again.

I dozed a little after we made love again. When I woke, I didn’t open my eyes right away because for a second I didn’t think he was next to me on the bed. If I opened my eyes and he was gone, then I’d have been afraid that what had passed between us was nothing more than my fantasy. If he was gone, I was a fool. But after a second, I could smell his cologne. A second later I felt his palm on my belly and it sent a current of electricity through me.

“You’re awake,” he said.

I opened my eyes to see him looking at me. “How did you know?”

“Your breathing changed.”

“You were listening to me breathing?”

He nodded, his lips curling into a sexy, lazy smile. I thought he would say something corny here but he didn’t say a word. I liked him more every minute. I felt a flutter of worry at the realization and checked my emotions. Take it easy, cowgirl.

“What time is it?” I asked, sitting up and looking at the clock. It was after ten.

“You have work to do,” he said simply. I liked that he knew that and it wasn’t an issue. Zack never considered my job a real job and viewed any time spent on it when he was around as an infringement on our time together. Jake threw his legs over the bed and got out. I got a nice little show as he pulled on his jeans, grabbed his shirt from the floor. Very nice.

“My studio’s on Tenth and A,” he said, sitting down on the bed and taking my hand. He put it to his lips. “Come by if you want to see some of my work later. First door on the west side of A between Ninth and Tenth, across from the park. It’s red; you can’t miss it.”

“I’d love that,” I said. I felt like sighing but smiled instead. “Around four.”

He leaned in to kiss me, lightly but for a long, sweet minute. Then he left without another word.