Heartless (6 page)

“Wayne, don’t freak out. She’s just got a mask on.”

Wayne’s balding head appeared over Marsha’s shoulder. Morning sun glared off his white shirt. “Hey, little Heather Feather. Everything all right on the home front? Has Leo started the reno?”

“It’s all good,” I said. “I’ll show you.”

I picked up the lap top and walked out of the bedroom. “How’s your jet lag?” I asked.

“Brutal,” said Marsha. “But Italy is divine.”

“Leo’s Italian, but I guess you knew that. He likes to be called
Leonardo
.”

“He’s a character, isn’t he?” said Wayne.

“Truly. Here it is.” I panned the lap top left to right and back again so they could see the progress.

“Is that a hole in the wall?” said Marsha. “Look Wayne, they took out the interior wall. Looks better, doesn’t it? Told you.”

“I think they’re taking out the exterior wall this week,” I said.

“Looks great,” said Wayne. “You take care, Feather Light, I’m going to grab a coffee on the
piazza
.”

“Ciao, Uncle Wayne.” Coffee on the piazza… That sounded lovely. I carried my laptop back toward the bedroom.

“Are you sure you’re fine with all of this?” said Marsha in her restrained-worry voice. “How are you doing on your own? Did you see Miranda yesterday, I mean, today, for you?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I saw Miranda, as usual. Everything’s great.”

“Brian said you could call him for anything, remember?”

“I know. Don’t worry. You guys have fun. I’m enjoying myself.”

“What do you mean, ‘enjoying yourself’?”

I laughed. “I’m fine. I’m doing well. I met a cute guy.”

“What? Wayne! Damn, he’s gone already—does Miranda know?”

“Chill, Aunt Marsha. I’m fine. Yes, Miranda knows. I’m taking things slow. He’s nice. Very gentlemanly.” Sort of. I left out the part about him leaping into her convertible. He had been a gentleman on our fro-yo date. “We haven’t even kissed. We’re just friends right now.”

Marsha held her head in one hand. “I just wanted to be there when this happened, when you felt you were ready. You need someone like a mother around. I knew it was too soon to take this trip.” She sighed heavily.

I bit my lip. My mother had made different choices in her life, which it had turned out, didn’t include being there for me when I needed her. I could blame her all I wanted but it wouldn’t change anything. She had been depressed and unstable since I was little, since she tried having a little brother or sister for me. Five miscarriages had addled her brain. Her religious fervor completed her crazy.

“Marsha, I’m fine. I know you’re there for me. I’m sure nothing will happen before next Tuesday when we talk again. I told you, I’m taking it slow.”

“I know, but not all boys know the definition of slow. You know that, don’t you? You know you can say no?”

Marsha didn’t know about Ethan. No one did. She had adopted me as a frightened God-fearing virginal sixteen year old. She soon found out I had stopped being God-fearing, but I never mentioned the fact that virginal was also obsolete. “Miranda gives me good advice. Please don’t worry.”

“All right, all right. I trust you, Heather. I know you’re ready to grow up now.” She rubbed at her eye. “I’m not crying. I’m not. The sun’s just so bright.”

“Go out and enjoy it! I’ve got to get this mask off and get to sleep so I can get up for work.”

“Nighty, night then. Talk to you next week.”

“Have fun!” I shook my finger at her. She laughed. I clicked the red hang up button and put the computer to sleep.

Now I was worried it was too late to call Josh. But I’d see him tomorrow morning… Should I just wait? Or would his feelings be hurt if I didn’t call? Would that make him worry? I dialed up the number. If no one answered I could just leave a message.

Within three rings, the line clicked over to voice mail. I heard a chirpy female voice and wondered if I’d accidentally dialed the wrong number.

“Hi! Neither of us can come to the phone right now. You know what to do!”

I froze.

Josh didn’t live alone? I hung up and sat down. Who was I kidding? Of course, Josh had a whole life I didn’t know about; I only knew what he told me. He seemed so open and honest. He didn’t
say
anything about having a girlfriend. He didn’t
act
like he had a girlfriend. But all I had to do was remember his good looks and his charm. Of course he would have tons of women in his life. Who was I to think I was so special to a guy like Josh?

I sat on the couch in the dark living room and clutched a pillow to my chest.

I had been living such a sheltered life these last three years, lovingly protected by Aunt Marsha and Uncle Wayne after the tragic and controversial death of my parents. Living in Los Angeles, I was far, far away from my childhood home in Wisconsin, and glad of it. I wanted—
needed
—to forget my past and start over. I was a terrible liar, so I didn’t plan on making up a different story, I would just avoid delving into the past and focus on the present and the future, which I was finally starting to feel a bit hopeful about, thanks to Miranda, Marsha and Wayne. And Brian, too, who trusted me with the store and made me feel useful and valuable and not at all like a 60 Minutes feature story.

Silent tears slid down my cheeks. Josh had brought up so many good feelings in me, but now the bad ones were coming back. Clearly, I wasn’t ready for this. Not for love or heartbreak. I was better off keeping my heart locked away, so it couldn’t be destroyed again. Miranda had said I could trust myself, but I wasn’t so sure. I felt so confused.

I pushed the pillow harder into my chest. I felt my nipples harden. Heat pooled between my crossed legs and I felt a tiny throb. I uncrossed my legs and pressed my thighs together. It was all right to touch myself. Miranda had said so. But my fingers were tentative, unpracticed. I had allowed Ethan touch me there a few times in 10th grade. It had felt so good but I had felt so guilty after, and dirty. I had touched him, too, and been shocked by his hardness, the shape and length of him, the hot energy pulsing inside him. He had begged me to let him go inside me, into the wet slippery channel his fingers explored, but we both knew it was wrong. We went to the same church, and Pastor Guthrie was like our own private God and he told us what was right and wrong, and so we knew it was wrong to touch each other, but it was so hard to stop. Our bodies seemed to be made for each other and like magnets our parts were drawn together no matter how hard we fought against the pull. We fought three times and overcame that strong pull of desire but at the fourth battle… The fourth battle we lost. The day of the fire. The day of dying.

I was crying hard now, and the heat between my legs had turned to ice. I was curled on the couch in a fetal position lost in my memories. At the edge of my awareness I heard Miranda’s voice reminding me to breathe. I stroked the inside of my wrist gently, a physical calming technique she had taught me. Then I put the pillow aside and sat up. I reached for one foot and then the other and worked my way up my legs, over my stomach and ribs, to my shoulders and head, whispering, “This is me,” as I outlined myself from head to toe. “This is me, this is now, all is well, I am safe and whole, loved and loving.”

The memories receded. Ethan’s face faded. I turned on a living room light and looked at the photos of Marsha and Wayne on the mantel plus the two framed photos of the three of us together. Our new little family, built from the cracked pieces of my broken life. A new form. A new present, with the possibility of a happy future.

I avoided Josh as best I could the next morning but he caught me by the closet when I was getting my flip flops out.

“Heather? Why didn’t you call me back last night? Are we still on for Friday?”

When I didn’t answer right away, he touched my shoulder. I flinched.

“Is something wrong?” he said

“Joshua!” called Leo from the kitchen. Josh rolled his eyes.

“Do you have girlfriend, Josh?”

“No, why do you—”

“—Joshua!”

“Coming! Listen, Heather. I can’t talk right now. Leo is—”

“—Who’s on your voice mail message?”

“My voice mail?…”

Just then, Leo rounded the corner. Josh took a step back from me.

“Joshua!” Leonardo pushed the sledgehammer into Josh’s chest. “Back to work.”

Sheepishly, Josh followed Leo back to the kitchen. I fled to the safety of the paint store to avoid the awkwardness with Josh, Leo’s grumpiness, and their loud banging.

It was one of the longest days ever. I mislabeled a gallon of paint and an irate customer had to make an extra trip back; Eliana was in a foul mood because she hadn’t slept and Brian nearly lost his temper with her, which I’d never seen happen; plus Josh and I seemed to have had our beginning and ending without a middle in between, and I felt kind of sad about that. I knew I didn’t want to be just another notch in his belt

By the time I got home, the dust had settled in the kitchen but everything was still such a mess that I decided to eat my take-out dinner on the back deck. So I didn’t see the note taped to the fridge until early the next morning. And I probably wouldn’t have seen it if Leo hadn’t ripped it off and said, “What’s this?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Looks like Josh wrote it.”

“Let me see.”

Across a Post-it Josh had scrawled
Voicemail =Mom
.

Voicemail equals mom…. Josh lived with his
mom
?

“Is he bothering you, Miss Hedder?” said Leo.

“No. No. He’s fine. But where is he this morning?”

“Picking up lumber. Because if he is acting too friendly, I’ll talk to him. We are
professional
!” Leo jabbed the air with his finger. “And you will have the best kitchen ever!”

“I’m sure I will, Leo—
Leornardo
, sorry—everything’s going great, really.” I backed out of the kitchen, leaving Leo to engage in his passionate endeavors.

Josh didn’t arrive before I left for work, but I felt more relaxed now after reading his cryptic note. I had gotten all worked up about Josh living with a girl and the girl turned out to be his mother. I had a sad little laugh at myself.

I kept hearing motorcycles everywhere I went, and, of course, I kept thinking they were Josh’s but they weren’t. In fact, I’d never even paid much attention to how many motorcycles were in LA. Not until I met Josh. That’s what happens when something grabs your attention, it seems to echo and reverberate everywhere in your life. One day I would have the courage to get on the back of his bike, wrap my arms tight around him, and race like the wind. One day.

Since I had given Leo a key to the house, he and Josh would arrive early and get right to work. All week Josh was busy picking up supplies, hauling wood around, or assisting Leo with something so that I didn’t get a chance to talk to him much in the mornings. As Friday dawned, I wondered if he was already bored with me. Did he snoop around the house when I was at work? He seemed more professional than that, but what if his curiosity overcame him and went into my room? Since leaving Wisconsin and moving in with Marsha and Wayne, I had given up trying to define myself by knick knacks, decor, or clothing, so there wouldn’t be much to find, unless he was looking like a private eye. If he looked in the suitcase at the back of my closet and found that shoebox…

I had stopped collecting news clippings and magazine articles after about six months, but I’d kept what I’d found. Not that I ever looked at it. But not even Marsha or Miranda knew it was there. Josh wouldn’t go to that much trouble to find out more about me. I was pretty sure about that. I hoped he’d be patient enough to get to know me. If he did wander into my room, accidentally-on-purpose trying to find the second bathroom or something, he’d probably find the blandness boring, which might be enough to turn him off. I made a note to get rid of the box, though. If I was committed to building a new future, I’d have to get rid of any evidence of my past.

By the time Friday rolled around, I was getting excited about our date.

Josh and Leo arrived together. Josh looked serious, and barely made eye contact with me, as he followed Leo toward the kitchen. I was about to say something, but before I did he fell back a step from Leo, gave me a wink, and slipped me a note..

I’m taking you to dinner tonight. No arguments, skinny minny! It’s my friend’s restaurant and he’s expecting us and if you back out now I’ll look like an idiot, so even if you don’t feel like going I hope I’m making you feel guilty enough to say yes now. I’ll be back to pick you up at 7.

He had drawn a winking smiley face at the end of the note and signed it,
J.

Driving to work, I felt giddy and nervous. I had a dinner date tonight! I squealed and bounced in my seat. Then I took a deep breath. Beach-girl would be way too cool for squealing, except when she saw here friends across a crowded room or something. With guys she’d be cool and expect to be treated like a goddess. I flicked my hair and pursed up my lips in the mirror. I could fake cool if I had to. And since it seemed like I might be cramming three years of no life into one catch-up summer, I’d better start mastering this fake it til you make it technique. Yikes, that got my worry thoughts flying. What else would I have to fake? And what was the difference between faking and lying? Was it as big a gap as what lay between the real me and beach-girl? My mood had sobered considerably by the time I pulled into the parking lot of Color My Life.