Dirty Red (Love Me With Lies)(14)

Mattia always saved them for last. She’d pretend that she forgot the big pink container inside, and we’d sigh and pout. At the last minute, she’d pull it out from behind her back, and we’d jump and cheer like she was so clever. We called the bubbles “empty planets” and the game was to pop as many empty planets as you could before they could self-implode and send their debris hurtling toward earth. Mattia would stand underneath a tree for shade and blow them for us. Our legs were perpetually covered in bruises from this game. We got into the habit of tripping each other to reach the empty planets first. We’d run so fast Mattia said we looked like blurs. She called us the Red and the Raven for our respective hair colors. At the end of the game we’d tally up how many bubbles we’d popped. Twenty-seven for Red, Twenty-two for Raven, she’d announce. Then, we’d limp inside happily, rubbing our bruised shins and asking for popsicles. My mother hated the bruises. She made us wear hose to cover them. My mother hated most things associated with me — the tangles in my hair after a bath, the color of my hair, the way I chewed, the way I laughed too loud, the way I flicked my fingernails across my thumb when I was in trouble. If you asked me, then or now, what she actually liked about me, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. What I could tell you was that my childhood was the cool pop of bubbles on my skin. Court and I laughing and breathing soupy air. Mattia giving me hugs to compensate for the sharp words of a distant mother.



My mother loved my sister. My sister was worthy of love. I remember walking in on them once, as she was brushing Courtney's hair after her bath. She was telling her a story about when she was a little girl. Courtney was giggling, and my mother was laughing along with her.

"We would have been good friends if we'd grown up together. You are just like me when I was your age." I sat on the edge of the bathtub to watch them.

"What about Jo?" Courtney asked, shooting me a smile that was missing its two front teeth. "Would you have been good friends with her too?"

It was like she hadn't even noticed I was in the room until Court said my name. She blinked at me slowly, and smiled at her youngest daughter. "Oh, you know Johanna and her books. She wouldn't have had time to play with us, all that reading she does."

I wanted to tell her that I would burn every book I owned to be a part of their little mother/daughter club. Instead, I just shrugged. Courtney was a lot like my mother; the only difference being that she actually liked me.

I should have been jealous of her, but I wasn’t. She was the kind one in my family; the one who got up early on my birthday and piled a plate with little Debbie snack cakes and sneaked them into my room singing “Lake of Fire” by Nirvana. My birthday was on the Fourth of July — a huge imposition to my parents who hosted a party for the company on that day. But, Court always made sure the day was special. When my straight A’s went unnoticed, she would pin my report card to the refrigerator and circle my GPA in red marker. She was the love in my otherwise loveless life ... the warm blanket in a household that valued frigid emotional temperatures. When everyone else skimmed right over me, my sister zoned in. We had a bond and bonds were hard to come by.

When I brought Caleb home for the first time, my father noticed me. It was as if he could finally look at me now that I had secured a man of Caleb’s caliber. Not only was my new beau from money, he was well spoken, respectable, and ambitious … and he knew a damn lot of sports trivia.

They’d invited us for dinner. I watched them from my perch on the sofa. My dad laughed at everything Caleb said, and my mother buzzed around him like he was a blue blood. My sister was sitting next to me — so close our legs were touching. When we were together, we were always this close. It was a quiet rebellion against our parents. You try to create a divide between us, but we resist. When my parents were distracted with Caleb, Court elbowed me in the ribs and wagged her eyebrows. I burst into laughter.

“Methinks you did good on this one,” she said. “Any good in bed?”

I pulled a face at her. “Why would I be with anyone who was not?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I dunno, Lee, remember that guy from high school? The one with the chin dimple?”

I snorted into my glass of wine. Kirby, that was his name. The name in itself should have told me everything. You could not take a man whose named sounded like a video game avatar seriously. Especially when his head was between your legs and he started humming Kiss while making aggressive jabbing motions with his tongue.

“Women, not girls, rule my world, I said they rule my world…” My sister sang the lyrics, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip like Kirby used to do.

We erupted into laughter, earning a disapproving look from my mother. I swear that woman still had the ability to make me feel fifteen. I looked at her defiantly and laughed louder. I was twenty-eight fucking years old. She couldn’t control me anymore.

I thought everything went splendidly until we climbed into the car. Caleb was holding the door open for me when he suddenly said, “Your dad’s a chauvinist.”

I blinked in surprise. He didn’t say it as an accusation. It was more of an observation. It was a true observation. I shrugged.

“He’s a little old fashioned.”

Caleb pulled me into a hug. He was looking at me strangely, his eyebrows drawn and his mouth pulled into a thoughtful pucker. I’d come to know this as the ‘I’m psychoanalyzing you’ face. I wanted to pull away so he couldn’t see into me, but pulling away from Caleb was like shutting yourself in a freezer. If he was shining on you, you wanted to stand under his warmth, soak it all up. Pathetic. It was also beautiful. No one had ever given me as much warmth. I clung to his arms, and let him psychoanalyze to his heart’s desire. I wanted to know what he was seeing when he looked at me so intensely. He broke the spell, suddenly grinning.

“So, I guess you’ll be staying home, barefoot and pregnant?”

I raised my eyebrows. When he said it, it didn’t sound so bad. “Will this be in your home?” I asked. I was being coy. He kissed the tip of my nose.

“Maybe, Baby.”

He let me go too soon. I wanted to stay there and talk about whose baby I was pregnant with, if the floor my bare feet were standing on was hardwood or tile? If we’d be living in a two-story or a ranch house? My head was spinning. That was as good as a proposal for me. The man was golden. He even made my father look at me like I was human. We’d only been together around eight months, but if I played my cards right I could have my ring by spring. That was a happy night for me.

It didn’t take me long to realize that Caleb was my empty planet.





Chapter ElevenPresent



I jump up when I hear Caleb’s car in the driveway. We’ve been together for over five years, but I still get butterflies whenever he walks into a room. I try not to look needy, but when his key turns the latch and he steps inside, I fling myself at him. I need him to forgive me. I’ve been in perpetual twilight since he stopped smiling at me.

I catch him off guard, and he laughs as my weight slams him into the wall. I have my legs wrapped around his waist and my nose pressed to his. I want to make out with him like we used to do when we first met, but the first thing he says is — “Where’s Stella?”

The smile drops from my face. I hate that. How am I supposed to know?

I sigh and slide down his body, disappointed. “Probably with whatshisname.”

Caleb narrows his eyes at me; his mouth is a straight line.

“Did you spend any time with her today?”

“Yes,” I snap. “I fed her this morning because the manny was late.”

The muscles in his jaw pop as he grinds his teeth. They pop. I flinch.

Pop ... flinch … pop … flinch.

I feel self-righteously angry. It wasn’t unusual for mothers to rely on nannies to take care of their babies. In my circle, it was perfectly normal. Why did he always have to make me feel inferior?

I curl my upper lip across my teeth. “Do you think Olivia would have made a better mother than me?”

For a second, undisguised anger flashes across his eyes. He turns away, turns back to me, and turns away again like he doesn’t know whether or not to confront the fact that I said her name.

I want a fight. Every time he looks at me like I’m a big, fat disappointment, my mind goes to Olivia. It’s like shifting gears for me; Caleb’s disappointed eyes trigger it. Suddenly, I’m in that magical place where I release the clutch, the gas pedal goes down, and my mind is racing toward Olivia. Fuck. That. Bitch. What power does she have over him? I want to run at him, pound my fists against his chest for always mentally comparing me to her. Or am I the one mentally comparing myself to her? God, life is so messed up.

Just then, Sam comes into the room with the baby. The anger on Caleb’s face melts away, and all of a sudden, he looks like he’s about to cry. I know that look; he is relieved — relieved to have something other than me. I turn and walk toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Caleb asks.

“I’m hanging out with Sam tonight,” I say. I avoid Sam’s face and snatch up my purse.

“Let’s go, Samuel,” I snap. I see him stifle a smile as he ducks his head obediently and walks to where I am waiting. I am out the door and down the stairs before Caleb can say anything. I hear them exchange words behind me, but I am halfway to Sam’s car, and I decide that stopping to eavesdrop will ruin my credibility. Caleb is probably warning him about my tendency to become belligerent when drunk. Sam comes jogging out a minute later. Without a word, he opens the passenger side door for me, and I climb in. He drives a Jeep, the kind that has no roof or real windows. I settle into my seat and stare straight ahead. I’m going to destroy Olivia. I’m going to find her and beat the crap out of her for ruining my life.