Lex

Chapter One





“Lex, are you about done?” Roni, or should I say Veronica my quasi best friend who happens to live on the same parcel of real-estate I do, calls from our small shared backyard.

“I’m in here,” I yell, walking over to the window that’s open above the white apron sink. I’m standing in the kitchen, slaving rather tirelessly over my vintage stove. It’s exhausting being me sometimes.

Quieter now, Roni reaches my back screen door and welcomes herself inside.

“Are you attempting to boil water, again?” she inquires, sarcastically with a juicy all-knowing smile as she plops her jean-clad country girl butt down at my table, seated in the most perfect breakfast nook. Complete with bay windows, draped with mint green swags, a booth with a floral print cushion, two chairs, and a rectangular farmhouse table.

“I’ll have you know, I’m using the kettle for some tea, Sassy Britches. Would you like some?”

Already knowing her answer, I pull two blue paisley printed mugs from inside my newly renovated white cupboards. I had my dream kitchen installed six months ago, leaving me with pale pink walls, a giant silver chandelier, a refurbished nineteen fifties stove, and a sealed wood slab countertop. It’s almost like having a butcher block as my entire counter, except its smoother.

“Don’t I always? And you wouldn’t…”

Holding up the biscotti that I ordered online, shushes her. Well, for the time being. It won’t last long. Never does.

This is a daily routine for us. I wake up at six on the nose, do a rather invigorating yoga session alone in my meditation room—I had one of my five sizeable bedrooms converted to Zen status two years ago and it’s been money well spent ever since. After yoga, I shower and primp—it takes a lot of time. Between my hair and my entire makeup regiment, it’s no quick routine, and by eight, I’m downstairs doing this.

Lifting the annoying whistling tea kettle from the stove, I serve our tea and biscotti on petite white scalloped edged plates, and take a seat across from my fussy best friend. Who just stumbled out of bed less than ten minutes ago and is ready to get on with her day. The perpetual indigent slob, or so you would think, looking at her day in and day out.

“So are you going to make me check it myself or will you give me the goods willingly?” She winks, pulling her green tea to her mouth and giving me a god-awful smirk over the rim of her mug.

“Work’s great,” I uppity answer, aimlessly avoiding eye contact. I can feel her pupils drilling holes into me as we speak.

“That. Is. Not. What. I. Meant. Lex, and you know it,” she clips, seething in her chair, biting angrily into her breakfast. It’s not much of a breakfast. I know this. But I swap out flavors of tea and biscotti on a weekly and sometimes daily basis to keep it fresh and interesting. It’s our thing, and has been for the past six years.

“Mmmm,” she foodgasms.

Yes, I know, those chocolate chip with macadamia nut ones are my new favorite.

“Good?” I sip my tea, following her lead.

“Delicious as ever. One minute I swear you’ve found the best biscotti and the next you surprise me with an orgasm on a plate.”

Awe, isn’t she darling? That’s a Roni compliment sandwich for ya, ever the proper lady.

“Now…” Quickly rendering her happy mood useless, she moves into starring daggers at me, more intensely this time.

Alright…alright…I surrender. For now.

“My profile has had sixty two hits and I’ve received twenty one emails since last night,” I sputter blankly, and internally I’m wallowing in unhappiness even speaking about this.

“That’s fantastic!” She claps—literally—like a two year old girl whose mom just bought her a sparkly Barbie doll.

Yes, soooo…joyful, Roni—not!

If only she’d have the mountain of obstacles, I have to overcome to find a date, let alone a boyfriend. She doesn’t get my dilemma, between my giant secrets and even larger scars. It’s impossible to force her to recognize I’m not a normal girl. I may look like one, but parts of me are so hard to admit. I just choose not to. It’s better for everyone if I pretend to be okay. Even if I’m not—well, not entirely. Don’t get me wrong, my life is spectacular. It’s the darkness that looms over me, that’s not.

“So? Did you pick one?” She is way too excited and getting a tomboy like her excited is a rarity.

“One what?” I play stupid, I know what she means.

“To date, silly.”

“No, I did the profile for you. To keep you happy. I’m not planning on securing any dates.”