Where the Staircase Ends

“That doesn’t look anything like you,” she’d said, pushing it away.

I had looked down at the drawing, marveling at the way he’d made me look graceful, elegant. It may not have looked exactly like me, but I thought there were some similarities. And it didn’t matter if I really looked like that; what mattered was he saw me that way, and that made me feel pretty amazing. Beautiful, even.

Sunny laughed when I said the words out loud, making me wish I could have sucked them back inside my mouth. “It’s just a picture, Taylor. It’s not like he actually said you were beautiful. You’re not going to go out with him, are you?”

“He’s taking me out Friday.” My voice sounded small and inferior. She made a face at me again and shrugged.

“I suppose you could do worse,” she had said.

I thought about those words as I watched Sunny sitting on top of her white duvet, her bottom lip trembling as more tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. Even though I knew the answer, I wanted her to say it out loud.

“Who was in the room with you last night, Sunny?” My teeth were clenched, and my fingers were balled into tight fists.

“Please don’t make me say it, Taylor,” she whispered.

I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly through my nose. “Logan,” I answered for her. “You were in here with Logan last night.”

Her eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere except at my face. Finally she nodded and her face got red and puffy again as a new wave of tears broke free.

My thoughts were balls inside a pinball machine, knocking around inside of my brain. I thought about the way she looked at me when I first told her about Logan, the look of disgust that clouded her face, like she was too good for him and couldn’t believe I actually considered him dateable. Yet here she was, falling on her back faster than Tracey Allen at a frat party.

There were rules about that kind of thing, unspoken friendship laws that put boyfriends and ex-boyfriends completely off limits to friends. It’s like once you started dating someone an invisible fence sprung up around them, complete with barbed-wire reinforcements and razor-toothed rabid guard dogs. Technically Logan and I were still together; our relationship wasn’t even cold in the grave when Sunny did what she did, so I had every right to yell at her, scream at her, and slap her across her fat red puffy face.

Then I thought about Justin and the way it felt when we kissed. I thought about the things he said and the way we seemed to fit together, like two pieces carved from the same tree. Logan could draw a million pictures of me and I would never feel that way about him.

Normally I would have been angrier with Sunny, but the surprising thing was that I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be with Logan. I didn’t want to be within ten feet of Logan. If Sunny wanted him so bad, why not let her have him? It served her right.

Sunny covered her eyes with her hands and made a horrible moaning sound. It gave me some satisfaction to see her like that. She really was an ugly crier. Her face was so puffy she looked like she fell into a pile of poison ivy that had a hornet’s nest hidden in it. Ha.

Miss Violet Beauregard pushed her way into the room, her bat ears twitching at the sounds coming from Sunny’s mouth. She launched onto the bed to lick Sunny’s tears, so consumed by her crying that she forgot to growl at me.

“Sunny, stop it.” I finally said, not able to handle the sound of her moans any longer. “It’s okay. I don’t hate you.”

She made a few more moaning noises until I finally reached out to hug her as proof that I meant it. The dog acknowledged my presence with a snarl, its one good eye narrowing on me while the lazy one rolled to the side.

“It’s okay, Sunny. Please stop crying.”

I rested my cheek on the top of her head and wrapped my arms around her small frame. She leaned against me, and we stayed that way for a while before she finally spoke.

“You really aren’t mad?” She pulled away from me and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. Her brows were pressed together in disbelief, as if she couldn’t comprehend why I wasn’t going to lay into her for what she did. I was a little bit tempted to throw a few snarky comments into the mix. It wasn’t often that Sunny apologized for something. It was a golden opportunity to give her a ribbing for a change, but I didn’t feel up to doling out a lecture. She was obviously upset enough for the both of us.

“Let’s just say I’m over it, okay?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, giving her a stern stare. “But he’s not a very nice guy, Sunny. Are you sure you want to start seeing him?”

She shrugged and looked down at her hands. “I was drunk and stupid. It should never have happened. Besides, I don’t want your sloppy seconds,” she added, nudging me with a grin.

I laughed and then looked back at her seriously. “Were you at least, you know, safe?”

Sunny looked away from me, and I knew the answer without her having to say anything.

“Sunny!” I chided. “What if something happened?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” She turned her head away to check the time on the digital clock on her nightstand.

“That’s probably what every single girl on the show 16 and Pregnant said right before they saw a plus sign on their pregnancy test. Come on, you’re smarter than that.”

“And you’re not my mother,” she snapped. Then she shook her head and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just upset.”

“Look, I’ll go with you. We can go to Walgreen’s and get a morning-after pill or something.”

She rolled her eyes at me, but I stared her down until she shrugged and said, “Fine, I’ll go. Just drop it, okay? I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?”

Stacy A. Stokes's books