Girl Out of Water(61)
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When I call Tess to tell her I’ll be at Surf Break, I’m pretty sure she squeals for two minutes straight. We then launch into a mass of exciting details.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tess interrupts me midsentence. “We? As in you and Lincoln?”
“Well, yeah,” I say. Tess and I have been so out of touch that she only knows the bare minimum of my new…whatever-ship. I told her about our first kiss and something after that, but I haven’t updated her thoroughly. And although she mentioned she’s met a summer fling, I don’t even know his name. “If we split gas, it’ll be cheaper than me flying, and well, you know…”
“So, like, you two are banging? Holy shit! Dude, you were supposed to tell me when you had sex so I could send you a you had sex congratulations card. I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”
“Why does everyone think we’re having sex?” I ask. “Tess, we are not banging.” I pause. “We are making out on a somewhat regular and enthusiastic basis.”
“And you’re only telling me this now? Darling, best friend, you’ve got to keep me updated. And you’re going to drive halfway across the country together? Alone?” She pauses, and even though we’re miles apart, I can see her eyes narrow as the gears of her mind turn. She doesn’t know Lincoln like I do. He’s not driving halfway across the country to have sex with me. He’s driving halfway across the country because he likes adventure. He won’t stop talking about how excited he is to be on the road again and to visit his friend Wendy from middle school. Apparently their parents were friends too. Wendy’s mom is Vietnamese, and she used to have “best bánh mì” competitions with Lincoln’s dad.
“So um, what are you going to tell Eric?” she asks.
“What?”
“Eric, your other best friend, whose face you made out with before ditching us all for Nebraska?”
The words sting. Everything stings more when it comes from your best friend. “I didn’t ditch you guys,” I mutter, my throat tight. “I came to help my family. You know that.”
“You’re right.” She breathes out. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ve just barely heard from you. I miss you.” She pauses, and those gears turn again. “But you’re finally coming back, and Eric will see you toting some hot piece of man along with your luggage. Where did you guys leave things? We haven’t really talked about that either.”
Probably because Eric and I haven’t talked about it. I don’t know where we left things. After that first text message, we haven’t mentioned the kiss at all. When I think of the kiss, I remember liking it more than I actually remember it. I’m with Lincoln now. And Eric is a best friend from back home. I haven’t told him about Lincoln, but we haven’t talked at all, so it’s not lying. It’s…well…it’s not lying.
“Anise?” Tess prods.
“Yeah…” I say slowly.
“You made out with your best friend. Okay, your second best friend. And then you started dating another guy without telling him. And now you’re going to bring the new guy home with you. Don’t you think you should give Eric a heads up?”
“No,” I say, quick and stubborn. “I wouldn’t care if Eric hooked up with someone else. It’s not like we were dating. It was one kiss.” But even as I say those words, I know they’re bullshit. I’d be thrown, maybe even hurt, if he found someone else to wrestle into the water this summer. My cheeks burn as I cast my pride into the flames. “Did he hook up with someone else this summer?”
“God, Anise, you are truly amazing. No, he did not. You know, he told me you weren’t talking to him. I tried covering for you, said you were busy with family stuff, but I think you hurt him falling off the face of the earth like that.”
“Well, why didn’t you tell me that?”
A long pause. Her voice isn’t as solid when she speaks again. “Because you weren’t really talking to me either.” A pause. “I love you Anise, but you’ve been shitty about communicating.”
I think about the unanswered texts, the missed FaceTime calls. I’ve been blaming it on the distance, the never-ending babysitting duties, the time difference. I’ve been blaming it on everything except myself.
Did I fuck up?
Did I take off and leave everyone behind?
Did I—am I—doing exactly what my mom does? Was it inevitable that I’d end up like her, giving zero shits about the people I’m supposed to care about? I’ve spent so much of my life swearing I won’t be like her, and without even realizing it…
Panic makes me light-headed. When was the last time I called Cassie? Texted Marie? Why didn’t I ever send those postcards from Ashfall? How many unanswered messages do I have online? As the thoughts connect, my breathing strains, like I’m wearing a shrunken wet suit and can’t find the zipper.
“Anise, you still there?”
I manage a tight, “Yeah.”
I’m about to say I’m sorry and ask how I can fix things, when she says, “Look, I’ve got to go. My parents need help with the dinner rush. I’ll keep the Lincoln thing under wraps until you figure it out. I can’t wait to see you, okay? I’m seriously so excited, but I’ve got to go. Bye!”