I open my mouth to tell her everything: how I despise Kimber, how awful Parrish is, how desperate and clingy and suffocating I find Tess’ attention. But then I look into her face, really look at it, and I know that I have to put my grandmother’s feelings before my own.
To buy myself an extra moment, I pick up my coffee and take a small sip, swallowing all of my pain and anger and resentment along with the mouthful of mocha. I plaster on another fake smile. I wonder how many of them I have in me? Is there a limitlessness to the amount of time we as humans can fake our own emotions? Or do they just all come tumbling out at some point, cascading like a rockslide around our hearts until it’s quiet and dark and buried?
“I think it would help immensely,” I admit, feeling a sharp sting of panic at the idea of my room back home being empty and barren, wiped clean, erased like I was never there. Even Maxine’s room still looks like hers, minus some clothing, a lamp, and a few spare pieces of décor. When she comes home on holidays, she stays in her own bed, puts her clothes in her own dresser, paints her nails at the same antique dressing table she’s had in her room since my earliest memories.
I try to tell myself that, if by some miracle, some supernatural intervention by the universe, Tess allows me to go home, she’s wealthy enough to pay for it all to be shipped back. It isn’t permanent. That’s what I take comfort in: that nothing in this world is permanent. Everything changes—even this. Worst case scenario, the day that I turn eighteen, I’m getting the fuck out of here.
“My room looks out at the lake,” I offer, my own watery smile no more real than my grandmother’s. But we each pretend, because that’s all we can do at this point, play the roles that were assigned to us. “I'll send Maxine some pics and she can forward them to you.”
We both pause, Tess’ rule of zero contact for a year hanging heavy around both of our hearts.
“She won't find out about this,” I explain hastily, glancing over at Maxine. She isn’t bothering to hide her tears. Her face, despite being wet with salt, is much more real than mine or my grandmother’s. That’s one of the things I’ve always liked about her, one of the same things that always gets her into trouble: my sister doesn't hide her emotions, not for any reason. There are positives and negatives to that, to be sure. “Tess, I mean. We’re calling from Maxine’s phone, and I snuck out of the house …”
“Dakota Banks,” my grandmother breathes, aghast at the very idea. I’d have never done anything like this back home. There wouldn't have been any reason to. At the very least, even if I’m being scolded, I'm being called by my own name. “Tess is a woman with a lot of trauma in her background. Imagine if she finds you missing? What will her reaction be?” Guilt sweeps over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in cold and foam and salt. I know what her reaction will be because I’ve already seen it. “Honey,” she starts, and I get the idea that she’s shoring herself up to say something she’d rather not. “You know that your grandfather and I miss you more than anything. That we’d do anything to get you back.”
“I know that,” I whisper, dropping my head slightly. I stare at the rough surface of the wooden table beside my coffee cup. They really would do anything. I know because I saw them try, saw them fight against an impossible storm. Tess’ money, those awful DNA tests, the publicity, the threats to Saffron … Trafficking a kidnapped child across state lines comes with hefty prison sentences. Instead, she was offered a guilty-time-served verdict for the time she spent in jail during the negotiations. I want to believe that Tess did that because she was trying not to hurt me, but really, I think it was just a bargaining chip to use against my grandparents.
“I wish your grandfather was here to see you,” she tells me with a slight frown. “But he’s having surgery on his leg today. Did you tell her about that, Maxine? How the old fool broke his ankle trying to move a bunch of dirt?” She huffs out an exasperated sound, but it does nothing to hide the anguish lurking just beneath the surface. We’re both fairly shitty actors, it seems. Must run in the family.
As soon as that thought hits me, I feel my fake smile begin to crack at the edges.
“What time will he be out of surgery?” Maxine asks, and my grandmother answers, as if this is a normal conversation between family members, as if nothing at all is going on. Maybe … maybe we can just pretend that I’m away at college like Maxine? “Make sure to call me as soon as you hear anything, and I’ll pass the news on to Dakota.”
My grandmother hesitates for a minute, glancing off to one side. She's only fifty-nine—Grandma had Saffron at twenty-one, and Saffron had Maxine at nineteen—but her face looks so old and tired right now, in a way that it didn't before. Heavy, that’s what it looks like. Like her emotions are too heavy to wear on her face.
“I don't want to advocate you sneaking out of the house, but … if you get any opportunities like this again—to call us, I mean—without Tess knowing, then … Well, I'm just saying that I won’t hesitate to answer.”
I choke on whatever it is that I was about to say, knowing that I can’t stay here long, that I have to get back before Tess notices that I’m missing. If I don’t, then I'll ruin any chance I might have for sneaking out in the future.
“Miss you and love you fierce,” is all that I manage to get out.
“Miss you and love you fierce,” my grandmother replies, kissing the screen with her bright red lipstick, the color she always wears, that makes me think of home. The call ends, and Maxine very carefully sets her phone on the table.
“Do you think you could give me a ride home?” I blurt out, because I want to be alone to … I don't know, feel? Why does it seem so much harder to just feel things in front of other people? “The ride that got me here, well, he’s long-gone.” The words come out dry and caustic, and Maxine frowns. Before she can answer, however, X speaks up.
“I'll take you,” he offers, giving Maxine a long look. “That way, Tess won't see you with Maxie. And anyway, I was hoping to stop by and visit Parrish before the party. If you duck down when we pass through the gate, I bet you can get in and act like you never left before Tess even notices.”
It’s a good idea, actually, so I nod and pick up my coffee as my sister looks on helplessly.
“Stay,” she says, putting her hand over mine. “Just for a little while. I'll tell you all the bullshit gossip from campus, and you can complain about your sexy stepbrother—”
“Sexy?” X interjects, raising two dark brows.
We both ignore him.
“Please,” Maxine pleads, pouting out her lower lip in that way she knows that I can't resist.
“His sexiness doesn’t make up for his awful personality,” I grumble, dragging my coffee closer and pushing down the overwhelming urge to cry. What good will that do me? Sure, I’m a bit of an introvert, and I far prefer the great indoors to the great outdoors, but I’ve never been a sulker or a crier—not that there’s anything wrong with that. It just isn’t who I am. “Fine, I can stay, but not for too long. Otherwise, we won’t be able to do this next weekend.” I flash Maxine a pleading look of my own and she laughs.