“Were you planning on seeing your family when we were in town?” Another question and I’m sure she’ll try to dodge it.
Taya chuckles, but the tone is far from amusement or humor. “No. If I had, they probably wouldn’t have even known I was there.”
Well, that’s a lot to unpack.
The headlights shine on the highway, and I move my hand up her thigh, searching for her hand. When I find it, I lace our fingers together. It’s starting to get difficult whenever I have to let her go in any way. I crave holding her in whatever way I can and find myself reaching out subconsciously.
“What do you mean?” I don’t want to push, but she seems to be letting a wall down, and I want to topple it.
She sighs but takes her other hand and begins rubbing her thumb on mine where our hands are joined. The motion relaxes me, and I wish like hell we were out of this car and in one of our beds.
“My mom hasn’t called in weeks. She and my dad have barely been up to see me since I came to college. They’re always jetting off to Kathleen’s competitions, though it’s been that way since we were kids, so I don’t know why I expect anything more. When I am home, the conversation always turns to horses, or equipment, or whatever the fuck they’re doing for Kathleen next. So I really don’t go. I don’t know, it’s been like this most of my life. I feel like they barely know me, and my mom, as you can see, has no idea how to talk to me. As if it’s that hard. Kathleen is the abnormal child, by all standards.”
Her voice nearly breaks, but she covers it up, and by the way she physically shrugs, I can tell she’s been burying these emotions for as long as her sister has been riding horses.
“I’m sorry, Taya.” I say it simply because no amount of me trying to fix anything will help.
Sometimes, things just suck, and that’s all.
“It’s nothing, really.” She looks away again.
The highway stretches in front of us, and I wish so badly I could pull over and kiss her right now, but I want to get us home and upstairs so we can do way more than kiss.
My hand squeezes in hers. “No, it is something. You saw how messed up my family is. I know how that kind of tension takes a toll. It’s pretty unfair that your mom and dad dedicate so much time to your sister, but can’t seem to make a few minutes to call you.”
The shaky breath she takes is laced with tears. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I mean, you name a big moment in my life, and I guarantee one of my parents missed it because they were off at a competition with Kathleen. Eighth grade graduation, my first varsity basketball game, the time I got inducted into French honor society, even prom. Only my dad could drop me off at college because Kath was competing in equestrian nationals in Georgia. I just feel forgotten.”
God, the despair in her voice absolutely guts me. I hate that she feels so unseen, that I contributed to that not so long ago. This girl is brilliant, gorgeous, and so humble and laid-back that it makes me want to spend every moment with her.
“I see you. I will never forget you.” Removing my hand from hers, I run the back of it over her cheek, caressing that velvety smooth skin. She closes her eyes, leaning into my touch, and I feel it.
The healing we’re providing each other. Her, by coming with me into the den of lions that is my family. She stood tall and didn’t need any special consideration. Taya simply supported me and was the steady presence she always is. Swimming with the sharks usually makes my blood boil, but I find myself pretty calm on this drive home. That’s because of her.
And I hope I can give her the same. She deserves to be seen on every level; she deserves to be the priority and have her accomplishments celebrated. It’s been mere days since we became attached at the hip, but I feel like I know her on a level deeper than almost anyone I’ve encountered thus far.
Maybe it’s because we are both broken in the same way and just want someone to see the real person underneath.
22
Taya
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
Amelie leans on me, her head on my shoulder, as I drape my legs across Bevan’s lap. We’ve always watched TV like this since we were kids, all over each other. Bevan usually scratches my arm with her blood red, coffin-shaped nails, and I’m in heaven. Is there a better feeling than someone softly tickling your arm or back? Sex be damned.
“You’re not. He’s a douchebag. Just think of him as a douchebag.” Bevan flicks off Gannon’s face on the TV screen.
I’m not sure why we’re watching this or why we agreed to let Amelie watch the entire season of the reality dating show Gannon left college to go on. They started filming weeks ago and still are, since we can’t reach him by phone or email thanks to production’s rules. But they’re now airing the first episodes, and it’s brutal on Amelie.
So we decided we’re all going to watch together. That means viewing a shitty reality show on a Thursday night when we could be out, or I could be up in Austin’s bedroom. Which is where I’d rather be, no offense to my best friends, but I’ve had years with them. Austin and I are just discovering our groove … and his moves. Wink face. I could discover that guy all day long.
But Amelie is so shook by this. Imagine being the girl who has been head over heels in love with her best friend, who leads her on in terrible fashion, for more than half her life. Then imagine that said love of her life decides to date a woman on TV, professing his attraction to her every other scene when he barely knows the girl.
On the screen, Gannon is blathering on about falling for some girl who looks like a Kardashian-replica Instagram model. She’s draped all over his lap in a bikini bottom that can only be classified as dental floss, and I’m pretty sure he’s three shots in.
Then he drops the line.
“I think I’m falling in love with you. I could spend my life with you,” says an on-screen Gannon, and then the upcoming scenes after the commercials flash to him looking at diamond rings.
Bevan actually sits up and sprays the drink of soda she just took all over the room. “I’m sorry, what the fuck did he just say?”
My ears are ringing, and I have to shake off my shirt sleeve from where she just soaked it in Diet Coke.
“He’s thinking about proposing to her! Proposing? He’s twenty fucking years old. What’s he going to say next? ‘I could see myself marrying her.’ Is he fucking serious?”
Tears stream down her face, and I can honestly hear the cracks fracturing her heart right now. Bevan and I exchange a look, knowing we should put a stop to watching this. But at the same time are completely aware that Amelie will just go to her bedroom and watch endless clips of this on YouTube.
“Come here.” I pull her into a hug, and she begins to sob into my sweatshirt.
I have to hand it to Gannon, though. The guy is good. He’s going to get his fifteen minutes and more, which is what he’s always wanted. Gannon is the flashy star that was way too big for Webton even when we were eight. He was voted “most likely to be famous” in our senior year yearbook. The guy is charming, gorgeous, has this wicked little smile, and knows exactly how to turn on his best self for a camera.