If I Tell

CHAPTER nine



My fingers strummed the strings of my guitar. I closed my eyes and bobbed my head, feeling the sound more than hearing it. I hummed, rolling new words to the melody over in my mind. I tried different versions of the chorus, playing the same chords over and over. I’d been composing and rewriting for weeks.

Then, forgetting about chord progressions or melody, I improvised a new sentence to see if I could open my mind and get it right. I didn’t have it yet, but I trusted my process. It would come.

I strummed, searching the music and letting sound wash over me.

“I saw you there, exposing your lies.”

The phone rang and I snarled at it, but Grandma had told me she was expecting a call, so I put down my guitar and leaned across my bed to pick it up.

“Jaz?”

“Hey, Mom.” Damn. I’d been too out of it to check the call display.

“Hi, honey. I’m so glad I finally caught you. I haven’t seen you in ages. You should see me. I’m huge. Bloated. I look like someone injected my entire body with helium. I think the baby dropped though…”

She went on and on about week thirty-four of her pregnancy, describing new symptoms and ailments. In vivid detail. After she mentioned hemorrhoids, I tuned out until she said, “Will you go shopping with me? Take my mind off it?”

“Uh…” I tried to think of an excuse, but my mind was still too slow.

“Please,” she begged until I agreed to meet her at the mall after work.

When I hung up, I picked my guitar back up but instead of my own song, I played Grandpa’s favorite Neil Diamond song. The same song Jackson had sung the night he drove me home.

“Sweet Caroline,” I sang and closed my eyes. The hole Grandpa had left throbbed in my heart, and I couldn’t breathe properly for a second.

“Jasmine?”

I jumped at the sound of Grandma’s voice and pulled my fingers off the strings almost guiltily.

“I didn’t hear you come home.” I put my guitar down on the bed.

“I just came from the church. I could really use your help.”

“What’s up?”

“There’s an open volunteer spot,” she said.

I waited. I’d heard a million variations over the years since Grandma retired from nursing. For as long as I could remember, I helped serve Thanksgiving dinners to the needy at the local church. At Christmas I helped put together food hampers. Then there were Grandpa Joe’s impromptu concerts at the Senior Center and community fund-raisers Grandma volunteered us for.

“Our seniors group needs a volunteer on Wednesday nights. Kind of a karaoke thing. They need someone to play guitar. The man who was supposed to handle it had a heart attack.”

I wrinkled my nose, thinking how much I didn’t want to play guitar for a bunch of off-key old people. “There’s no one else?”

Grandma shook her head and pressed her lips tight, and I knew she wanted me.

I sighed. “All right. I’ll talk to Amber about not scheduling me Wednesday nights.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” Grandma sat on my bed, her slight frame barely indenting the comforter beside me. “Are you working tonight?”

I nodded.

“Good. You can talk to her tonight.” She smiled. “You could use some nights out. Other than work, I mean.”

Things were pretty bad if Grandma thought a night out with senior citizens would do me good.

“I go out. I hang out with Ashley at school and I work.”

“Hmph. I’ve never even met this mysterious Ashley. When are you going to have her over?”

“For a play date?” I said. “We’re a little old for that.”

“I’d like to meet her. I don’t care that she’s gay, you know.”

I stared at her, wondering how she even knew that.

“I’m not stupid, Jazzie. I catch on. I read between the lines. And while I may not understand the whole homosexuality thing, I certainly appreciate that it is a reality. I’m a pretty flexible old woman, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

I held in a laugh and managed to keep a straight face. “Well, I didn’t think you’d care. She’s a competitive swimmer, and she’s really good, so she spends most of her time in the pool. Which is why she doesn’t come over, not because I didn’t think you couldn’t handle it.”

Grandma harrumphed at me. “She swims? I wish you’d swim. I never understood why you gave swimming up. You know, your grandfather overruled me on that one, but I’ve always regretted not putting you in more lessons. What if you fall off a boat?”

“When’s the last time I was on a boat?”

Grandma cleared her throat. “You never know when life will invite you on a boat.”

“Really, Grandma? I’ve made it this far without an invite.”

“Well, that’s because your grandfather was as afraid of the water as you were. All the more reason to get you swimming. I might want to take you on a cruise or something, except I can’t because you don’t swim.”

“You would never go on a cruise,” I told her. “You’re too busy.”

“Well, someday I might want to.” She harrumphed again. “Your grandpa was stubborn. Just like you. He didn’t want to make you feel bad about fearing water. I thought you should overcome it. I should have put my foot down.”

She cleared her throat and glanced at the watch on her thin wrist.

“Why don’t you bring Ashley over after work if she’s not swimming? I’d like to meet her.”

“I’m meeting Mom after work to go shopping.”

“You are?” She frowned and sat down on the end of my bed. “Can you do me a favor? She’s really not dealing with her last trimester well. Poor Simon.”

I reached for my charm and rolled it in my fingers. “Poor Simon? He’s the one who got her pregnant.”

“Your mom’s acting very temperamental.” Grandma’s expression looked as sour as it did when she drank her daily green-vegetable supplement. She’d tried to make me take that stuff, but it tasted truly horrible. I made such a big deal about gagging that she gave up on trying to force me.

“She’s put on a ton of weight, and she can’t walk without waddling. Plus, it’s been raining around here for weeks. Who wouldn’t be grouchy?”

Grandma stood and went to my dresser. “I think it’s more than that. She’s upset all the time. Pregnancy isn’t supposed to be so, I don’t know, hard. She wasn’t like this with you. Maybe it’s because she’s older? I hope she and Simon aren’t having problems.”

She picked up my framed picture of Grandpa from my dresser, smiled at it, and put it down. “Anyhow. Would you do me a favor and talk to her? You know your mom. She won’t listen to me. You’re better with her about stuff like this.”

“I am?”

Grandma nodded. “Yes. She listens to you. You know she isn’t always very secure about herself. She’s had to make some tough decisions in her life, hold her head high while people criticized her.”

Including her own mother, I wanted to add. Grandma was hard on her sometimes. She didn’t let Mom forget she was the one who raised me.

“Try to get her out of her bad mood,” Grandma told me, as if I had a magic wand I could wave that would cheer up my mom instantly. “Maybe take her some of those fresh homemade chocolate cookies from Grinds. She loves those. She needs to cheer up for the baby.”

Grandma reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

“Buy us some treats too, if you want.” She handed me the money.

I shoved it in my jean pocket, wishing twenty dollars would buy Mom a new boyfriend. Now, that’d be a real treat.

***

After my shift, I hurried into Amber’s office at the back of the coffee shop.

“Hi, Amber.”

She glanced up from the schedule on the computer screen in front of her. “Hmm?”

“Um. Would it be okay if I took Wednesdays off for a while?”

Amber chewed the pen lid in her mouth, staring at the spreadsheet in front of her. “It’s not a busy night. Shouldn’t be a problem. What’s up?” She looked up at me for a second and then glanced back to her screen.

“My grandma wants me to volunteer at the church.”

Amber tore her eyes away from the computer screen. “Church?” She grinned.

“As a musician-slash-helper for the seniors. Sort of like karaoke night. I’ll play guitar.”

Amber laughed. “Really? That’s awesome.”

I shrugged. “Grandma always gets me into stuff like that.” I thought about what Mom had said. “I think she wants to save the world.”

“From what?”

“I don’t know. Good music?” I smiled. “She thinks everyone should join in her efforts.”

“Well, good for her. And good for you for pitching in. I’ll pull you off Wednesdays.” She typed something on her keyboard. “Oh. Lacey’s booked a few off too. Oh, well. No problem. Jackson and I can handle it. It’s not busy.”

“Thanks.” I turned to go.

“Hey, Jaz.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Yup?”

“Is everything okay with you and Lacey?” Amber scratched at her short red hair.

I lifted my shoulder and turned back to face her.

“Does it have anything to do with whatever happened between you and Nathan?”

“No. I mean, there is no me and Nathan.” I hadn’t seen him much lately, and when I did, he ignored me.

Amber tilted her head, watching me, and then grinned mischievously. “What about Jackson? You two have a good time working together.”

My face warmed. “We’re just friends.”

Amber lifted her pen to her mouth again and chewed the end. “You sure you don’t have a little thing for him?”

“Me? No. No way.” I was horrified. Did it show?

Amber laughed. “Don’t look so mortified. He’s a good guy. Cute.”

I didn’t dignify her with an answer. I wondered if she knew he might be dealing again. I didn’t have any real proof, just the odd phone calls he got and how he turned his back on me when he took them.

“Okay. Never mind. What do I know? I’m just your boss, right?”

“Exactly.” I made a mental note to tone it down around Jackson at work. I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. I had no desire to make people think we were anything but friends.

I left her office and went around the corner, almost smacking right into Lacey. We did an awkward dance, moving to the same side and then back again until Lacey grabbed my arm.

“Hey, long time, no talk.” She beamed at me like a long-lost friend, which I guess she was. “I just came by for a coffee. I was about to go in to say hey to Amber.” She paused. “You want to sit down and have something to drink?”

“I can’t.” I didn’t say anything about meeting my mom for shopping. Before the Simon episode, I’d have invited Lacey along, but now I had no desire to see Mom and Lacey chatting and laughing together about anything.

Lacey blinked. “I guess you’re still mad at me.”

“No.” A total lie.

“We haven’t hung out in ages.” She pushed out her bottom lip.

“I see you at work.”

“I know. But we haven’t hung out.” She paused for a moment, tugging at the bottom of her shirt. “I miss you.”

I lifted a shoulder and avoided her eyes. What did she expect from me?

“I’m not stupid, Jaz. I know what I did was wrong.”

I shifted from one foot to the other. It was the perfect chance to ask the question I was afraid of asking. How far she and Simon had gone? I was afraid she didn’t remember. Afraid that she did.

“Are you avoiding me because of Nathan?” she asked.

I shook my head and wanted to shake her. “Nathan doesn’t even talk to me anymore.”

“Well, you blew him off. You should have let him cut the cord. Guys need to do that. It saves face, especially after hooking up.”

“I guess I don’t have your experience. And we didn’t hook up. Not really.”

“That right? That’s not what Nathan said.” Lacey shifted from one hip to the other. Bada boom, bada bing.

“I didn’t sleep with him, and you know it.”

“Do I?” She twirled hair around her finger. Around and around. “You fooling around with Jackson now?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks. “We’re friends.”

Lacey flipped her blond hair with her hand. “Well, try not to fool around with Jackson. It’ll ruin another friendship.” She glared at me. “It seems like you’re running out. Next you’ll lose the lesbian, and I imagine she’s hard to get rid of.”

Lacey spun on her heels and stomped away from me in a huff. Her words hung in the air, but I couldn’t let them just dangle there. I took off after her, following her out to the parking lot. I caught up to her and grabbed her by the shoulder.

“You’ve never even bothered to get to know Ashley,” I told her. “And thanks for believing Nathan over me. I don’t care what he said. It’s not true. I’m nothing like you.”

She glared at me. “Meaning what?”

“I’m not a slut.”

She blinked quickly, and we stared at each other in shock. I didn’t know which one of us was more surprised by what I’d said to her.

A car honked behind me, demanding us to move out of the way. Lacey lifted her middle finger and the driver drove around us, screeching and squealing away.

Her eyes shone. “You know, you’re the one person who never made me feel like that was true,” she said. “You are the only person who didn’t think of me like that.”

“Like what?” I demanded, wanting her to say it. Admit what she was.

“A slut,” she whispered.

“Well, I guess things change.”

Lacey opened her mouth to speak but I kept going.

“Nathan is the first person I’ve even made out with. And yes, I was drunk, but it was horrible. I would never keep doing that. I hated myself for it. And I didn’t have sex with him. I stopped before we went too far. I shouldn’t even have to tell you that.” I growled in frustration. I sounded like her. Defensive. But this wasn’t about me. “But even if I did, even if we had, Nathan doesn’t have a girlfriend, so what would it matter?”

We eyed each other warily, like two gunfighters with our hands on our holsters.

“Why Simon, Lacey? Do you need to go after all the taken ones too? Couldn’t you leave one guy on the planet alone?”

Lacey’s head dropped to her chest after I pulled the first trigger.

“I don’t even remember much,” she said softly. “I don’t remember how it happened. I just remember looking up and seeing you.” She lifted her head with pleading eyes staring at me. “Your face. The way you were looking at me.”

I hardened my heart against the tears that plopped down her cheeks. “This time I can’t just forgive you,” I told her.

“You can’t forgive me?” Lacey said. “I don’t forgive myself, Jaz. I feel awful. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t.”

I hardened my heart. “No, you can’t.”

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and rubbed under her eyes with her fingertip.

Her misery hurt me. “Why, Lacey? Why do you have to be this way?” I asked.

Her lips pressed together tight. “You want to know?” she asked and blew out a puff of air. Her voice turned icy. “You want to know the truth?” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Remember how I told you about my stepfather? Number two. The way he watched me. Trying to sneak in when I showered or changed?”

I squirmed and bit my lip, nodding.

“Well, what I didn’t tell you, what I forgot to mention was that number one was worse. Much worse.”

I swallowed a lump of dread. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.” Her voice was bitter, dripping with cold. “He did more than watch. The only person I ever told was my mom, and you know what she did? She blamed it on me. She said that I asked for it.” Lacey closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her eyes were full of hate. “I was only thirteen. A kid. What kid asks for that?”

I swore softly under my breath, but she kept going.

“Mom dumped him, but before long she brought home number two. At least number two only looked. I had to live with that until I was old enough to get out of there.”

Another car pulled into the parking lot, its wheels crunching over the pavement, but it pulled into a spot behind Lacey, and neither one of us moved.

“So maybe that’s why I drink. To try to forget. It doesn’t take a psychology degree to figure it out. Why I’m such a slut, as you said.”

I opened my mouth to speak and closed it. I tried again. “I’m sorry, Lacey. I mean, why didn’t you tell me before?”

She stepped back, looking away from me. “Because I didn’t have to, Jaz. I don’t go around bragging about the gory details in my life. You accept me for who I am. Or you did. You put up with my stupid drinking. And the boys. You never made me feel like I was a bad person because of it. Until now.”

A third car pulled into the parking lot and stopped, waiting for us to move. Lacey stared at me, her expression wounded but at the same time just as hateful as mine felt. The car honked and I walked off to the side. Lacey didn’t move. She seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I managed, but my voice was strained. I wanted to go to her, take her by the hand, and move her out of the way, but I couldn’t.

Why had we never told each other the secrets we carried around? Talked about the things that had happened to us? We’d been drawn together, sensing somehow our wounds and differences, but we’d never opened up. We’d never talked about the things that could have brought us closer. Maybe we could have helped each other sooner.

The driver in the car rolled down his window. “Hey, would you get out of the way already?”

“Forget it, Jaz. Just forget everything.” Lacey started to run. Her feet pounded on the ground. I felt paralyzed, stuck to the cement and helpless as I watched her go, unable to go after her and give her what she needed from me. I couldn’t forgive her. No matter what had happened to her in the past.

My insides gurgled with bile. My stomach churned with my inability to forgive my best friend. Or Simon. I couldn’t forgive either of them for what they’d done.

***

I walked down the busy hallway in the mall, spotting Mom at our meeting place in front of the food court. I hurried toward her, clutching the paper bag full of cookies I’d brought from work.

She whimpered when she saw the bag. “Oh, God. No. Not the cookies. Take them away. Please.” She stepped back to distance herself from the bag. “I don’t need cookies around me right now. Willpower. Zero.”

I dropped my arm, shifting the bag to my other hand.

“I’m such a cliché, aren’t I? Fat pregnant woman with raging hormones.” She started waddling away with a crazy look in her eyes. “I want to buy you some new clothes. Thin clothes. Live vicariously through you. You, skinny minny, got your metabolism from someone else.”

“You mean the Sperminator?”

She clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth just like Grandma and lifted a shoulder. Him again, her expression said. She’d brought him up, not me.

“Maybe.” She stopped. “Anyways. Here. Let’s go in here.”

She grabbed my arm and dragged me into a trendy jean store. “Pick out any pair of jeans. What are you, size four?”

“Um. Two,” I answered, embarrassed at my skinniness. I headed for the jean rack, my enthusiasm for a new pair of jeans dampened by the mention of the Sperminator.

Mom groaned, shuffling behind me. “My thigh is a size two right now. Why don’t you try some different styles? You have such a cute figure.” She sounded almost annoyed.

I made a face and flicked through a rack of jeans. She always tried to get me to wear what she liked.

“Jaz?”

“Mmm?” I studied jean styles without enthusiasm.

“Do you think Simon really loves me?”

I stopped flipping past pant styles. “What? Of course, he loves you,” I lied.

Did a man who loved his pregnant girlfriend make out with her daughter’s best friend? If yes, he was head over heels.

“I’m worried Simon won’t be able to handle fatherhood. His dad couldn’t. He fooled around on his mom until they divorced.” She laughed, but her humor quickly dissolved and her face crumpled. Fine lines deepened around her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. I’m mad at everyone. I want to kill Simon. Your grandma is making me crazy. I spend every day at work trying not to yell at my customers or cry.” Tears plopped down her cheeks. “Can I have the cookies?”

Flustered, I handed the bag to her.

A salesclerk appeared out of nowhere, a sneering teenage girl about my age with curly auburn hair piled on top of her head. She clacked on gum and shook her head. “No food in the store, ladies.”

Ignoring her, Mom pulled a cookie out of the bag and bit off a big hunk. Crumbs fell to the carpet. “My doctor tells me I’m gaining too much weight, but all I want to do is eat.” She shoved the entire cookie in her mouth and chewed.

“Hey, no eating in the store.”

I shot the girl an evil eye and put a hand on Mom’s back, pushing her toward the exit of the store. “You’re not fat. You’re pregnant,” I said to calm her.

“Ha. I’m as big as a house.” She sniffled and handed the bag back. “Take it away from me.” She patted her stomach. “I’m supposed to be glowing and beautiful. Instead I’m huge. And grouchy. With pimples.” She sniffled again. “Don’t let Grandma throw me a baby shower, okay? I can’t handle a party.”

“I’ll try.” I tried to think of something reassuring to say. “Anyway, you look great. You’re supposed to have weird cravings and be grouchy, aren’t you? Maybe you’re just tired. You should sleep more. Let’s go. I don’t need a new pair of jeans, anyway.”

She just stood there with a sad expression.

“Really, Mom. I don’t.”

She flashed a fake smile. “Sorry, Jaz. I didn’t mean to wreck our shopping trip. Listen to me rattling on about myself.” She wiped cookie crumbs off the side of her lip. “I’ll take you shopping after the baby is born. I promise. We’ll have lots of time to spend together doing fun things. Like shopping.”

She reached inside her purse and pulled out keys. “I’ll drive you home.” She sniffled loudly. “Sorry. I’m up and down like a roller coaster on speed, but I’m fine.” She held out her hand. “Give me the rest of those cookies.”

I handed her the bag without a word.

“To hell with calories. I’ve been on a diet my whole life. I’m pregnant, and I’m letting loose.”

As we headed for the exit, I watched her uncharacteristically gobble a handful of cookies. Her bloated face looked miserable.

“Simon loves you. He’ll be there for this baby,” I said. I felt worse telling another giant lie but she ate it up, just like the cookies.