Erin McCarthy - Believe

“Why?” I asked, stung by his vehemence. “Not that I am, but I mean, I know I’m like a total mess and I’m not exactly hot these days but . . .” I stopped speaking, appalled by what was coming out of my mouth. And because there was no “but.” I could no longer claim to be a fun party girl, or a loyal friend, or someone with a healthy dose of self-respect and confidence. I had none of those things anymore.

Nor did I bother doing my nails or getting a bikini wax or wearing anything other than saggy jean shorts and huge T-shirts anymore either.

“Robin, that is not what I meant, Christ.” Tyler shook his head. “I meant you are way too nice of a girl to be getting involved with him. Phoenix, well, he has problems.”

Didn’t we all.

“What kind of problems?”

“Big ones. He just . . . it’s just . . .” Tyler shook his head. “Just don’t go there with him, seriously. You’ll regret it.”

“But he’s your cousin,” I said, my phone vibrating again to remind me I hadn’t answered Phoenix’s text. “And I’m not going anywhere. I was just asking about him.”

“I care about Phoenix. I do. But he’s not easy to get close to.”

“What do you think about his girlfriend? Angel?” I knew I should have dropped the subject, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I was morbidly curious.

“I’d never even met her before tonight. But he usually picks head cases. Like his mother. Freud would have something to say about that.”

“Freud was full of shit,” I said, because I was annoyed with the whole conversation. I didn’t want to be talked out of feeling a little twinge of pleasure at the fact that Phoenix had shown interest in me. Whether it was just to be friends, or something more, was irrelevant. I just wanted someone to look at me, in all my pale, non-drinking glory, and think I was someone they wanted to talk to. That’s all.

“You know you’re going to have to move into the house you all rented,” Tyler said, totally changing the subject. “Unless you’re mad at Rory or Kylie, there is no reason you can’t. So either clear the air or drop the whole thing.”

I bit my fingernail, and stared out the car window as we pulled into the driveway of the house we had rented for the school year. “I’m not mad at anyone.” Except myself.

“Then why do you want to move out?” Tyler parked the car and stared at me. “Seriously.”

“I don’t know,” I lied. It wasn’t even a lie of effort. It was just a lame shrug off.

But Tyler didn’t let it go. “It’s because of Kylie, isn’t it?” he asked.

Startled, I turned to him, my heart rate kicking up a notch. “What do you mean?”

“Look, Robin, I saw you and Nathan making out at the Shit Shack at that party that night, the one where Riley got into it with the frat dude. You were in his car and you were kissing and I saw it.”

Mortification caused a blush to stain my cheeks. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I don’t remember that,” I told him honestly. “I blacked out that night.”

“But you know you did, don’t you?” Tyler held out his hand. “Look, I haven’t said anything to anyone, not even Rory, so just be honest with me.”

“Please don’t,” I begged him, terrified he would tell the truth and Kylie would be devastated and everyone would hate me. “I would never do that sober, I would never hurt Kylie. I feel awful about it. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and that’s why I can’t live there. I can’t even look at Kylie without thinking I am the worst sort of friend ever.”

Tyler drummed his fingers on the wheel, taking one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it out the open window. “It was just that one time, right?” he asked.

“Yes.” I nodded vehemently. “It was vodka, plain and simple. It will never happen ever again.”

“And that’s why you haven’t been drinking.”

“Exactly.” I looked at the house, tears welling up in my eyes. “I just can’t act like nothing happened . . .”

“But you have to,” Tyler told me. “You have to try to be normal or it’s all going to come puking out and then Kylie will just be hurt. You know Jess. She’s like a dog with a freaking bone. She won’t let this go. So the best thing to do is to stay in the house like you planned. That way you won’t fuck Kylie over twice by sticking her with extra rent, too.”

“I was going to pay the rent,” I protested weakly, stung by his use of the phrase “fuck Kylie over.” It was the truth, the unintentional truth, and it was horrible.

“Robin.” Tyler’s voice softened. “We all make mistakes. Don’t make another one.”

“This wasn’t a small mistake.” I dug my fingernails into my thighs, wanting the distraction so I wouldn’t cry.

“Neither was me breaking up with Rory on Christmas.” He gave me a smile. “I mean, that was a huge mistake.”

I gave a watery laugh. “That wasn’t your finest moment, I’ll admit that.”

“I know you think you’re doing the right thing for Kylie, but seriously, the right thing is to stick to the plan.”

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do anymore, but I did appreciate that he wasn’t screaming at me that I was a drunken slut. “Thanks, Tyler.”

When I got out of the car, I paused on the big, wooden front porch and watched him back out and pull away. Sitting on the steps, I let the hot sun seep into my skin, and I twisted my hair up into a messy bun that I tied off with my own hair. Then I pulled out my phone and answered Phoenix, unable to resist, bad idea or not.

There was too much time in my own head, too many minutes to turn around and around what I had done and why and what it said about me. Too much time to feel the guilt weaving its way into the fabric of me, so that if I tried to tug it out it would unravel all of me.

The urge to talk to someone who was a total stranger, who knew nothing about me, was irresistible.

Milk does a body good.

Then I immediately thought maybe that was too flirty. So I added a second text.

What are you doing?

Which then seemed like a stupid question to ask. What was he going to say? Nothing. And would he think that was suggestive or something? And why did I care?

It seemed like I didn’t remember the rules anymore, the normal way to talk to a guy without parties and booze and hookups. Or maybe it was just I didn’t know how to talk to a guy like Phoenix.

It was ten minutes before he responded. I wasn’t doing anything, just lolling in the sun, cradling my phone and trying to work up ambition to take a shower.

When he did respond, it surprised me.

Working out. Thinking about you.

A shiver ran through me. There was no mistaking that message.

Thinking what?

That I want to see you. Busy tonight? Want to hang out?

There was no question that I wanted to. But should I?

I glanced out at the street, at the cars lining up and down Ludlow Avenue. We had the second and third floors of an old house, and I did like the neighborhood. But it was lonely living in the house solo for the summer, and I had no plans for the night. I could go inside and watch a movie by myself or I could watch a movie with someone else. Someone who just might understand what it felt like to be lonely.

Sure. Want to come over? Watch a movie?

I didn’t think he had any money and I didn’t have any ambition to change my clothes. I didn’t want to go out out. I didn’t want it to feel like a date, and I didn’t want there to be alcohol around. I just wanted to feel comfortable again.

He sent me a picture back. It was a cat, leaping through the air. THIS , it said.