“You do?” I question, unsure whether she really gets what I mean.
“A sweet girl like you, not having any friends or family is a sign of something wrong. I always thought you were running. At first I thought it was an abusive boyfriend, but I was never really sure. You don’t let men get too close, so it was the best guess I had.”
“You’re one to talk,” I hiccup back at her.
“Never said I didn’t have my own secrets. Maybe that’s why we work so well together. We’re always in the present, neither of us pressing each other about our past because we don’t want to have to answer about our own.” I’d never thought of it like that before, but she’s right. We never talk about our time before we were friends. Now I wonder what her secrets are.
Seeing the question in my eyes, Jeanette responds, “Mine are for another day, when I’m ready.”
“Mm-kay,” is all I say. I trust her to tell me when she’s ready. I wouldn’t want her pushing me about things I wasn’t ready to tell. But I’m ready to talk now. Carter told me last night I was free. I just didn’t know that meant free from him too.
“My real name is Layla O’Leary, not Layla Matthews. You might know my father, Dean O'Leary.”
When Jeanette gasps, I know she gets it now. Dean O'Leary is a well-known name in the papers and to top it off, the FBI has been looking for him for the past few years. I’ve been keeping my own tabs on my father on the internet the best I can but he seems to have disappeared without a trace.
I was shocked and relieved that my name somehow never got thrown into the mix. I kept waiting for my picture to pop on the news, but it never did. My father kept me so well hidden over the years I’m not even sure many know I exist.
“Holy shit,” is all she says.
“Yeah, holy shit. Let me start at the beginning. Well, what I can remember anyways.” As I tell Jeanette all that went on before I left, she just sits and listens with a few questions here and there. I tell her about my love of—and obsession with—Carter, the night I can’t remember and how it took him away from me. I tell her about the last time I went to the prison, and I tell her about running away. Then I go into last night.
“Wow, that’s all so crazy, Lays. And you think he’s gone?”
I just nod my head, not wanting to say it out loud. It’s all still so confusing to me. He said he loved me, that I’m his. He had my name on his chest but he kept saying he wasn’t good enough for me. Maybe that’s what won in the end.
“And all you know is he did eight years for manslaughter?”
“Yes, the man he killed was never identified. The report said he had no ID and no one could identify the body.”
“You’re upset because he’s gone? You want to be with him?” Jeanette asks, and I can tell she’s hesitant to push me.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Looking around, I find the picture of Carter and hand it to Jeanette.
“Jesus, he doesn’t look like a man to fuck with,” she says while turning it over and reading the back.
“I know he looks scary, but he was always so different with me. Well, he used to be. I think prison changed him. I hear they say that can happen.”
“But you’re free, right, Lays? He may have left, but you got that. He told you you’re okay to live now, to not be scared. Not having to be scared is a wonderful thing.” She’s right, but I feel longing in her words. Why is Jeanette scared?
“You’re right,” I say.
It’s time to really start living. I need to come to terms with the fact that a part of me will always love him. I need to stop trying to fight it. Embrace it and move on. In fact, I know just the way I want to do that.
“Will you come with me? I have a few places I want to go today,” I ask.
“Where to, Miss Lays?”
“I want to go look into getting a piano.”
“Fuck, I hear those things cost out the ass. This Carter dude leave some money before he split?” she jokes, trying to make me laugh.
“I have some ‘oh shit’ money I’ve been holding on to and I think I’m ready to use it now.”
“Sounds like a plan. We’ve got to stop and grab something to eat though, because the caveman fucked every calorie from my body,” Jeanette groans, jumping up from my bed.
“Also…I want to get a tattoo,” I blurt out.
Jeanette swirls around and gives me a look like she doesn’t know who I am. “Now we’re talking,” she says, doing her classic eyebrow wiggle. “Get that ass up, Lays. We got shit to do, and you can’t wear that sheet in public.”