Lovely Girls(18)


I stared out the front window onto the dark street. At our old home, back in Buffalo, I’d known all my neighbors by name, known who their children were, had watched their lives unfold over the years. Birthday-party balloons tied to mailboxes, graduation celebrations, receptions held after funerals. Here, I was still a stranger. Maybe I always would be.

I took a long sip of whiskey out of a heavy cut-crystal glass from the set Ed and I had been given as a wedding gift.

Ed.

Whiskey on the rocks had been his go-to. Drinking it now reminded me of when we were newlyweds and how it had tasted on Ed’s breath when he kissed me. I liked remembering us back then, the way we were all those years ago. Before everything had gone wrong. I took another long sip of the whiskey, hoping that the alcohol would quickly numb me. I was feeling too much and needed it to stop.

“Mom?” I turned to see Alex standing in the doorway, backlit by the glow of the hall behind her. “Why are you standing here in the dark?”

“No reason. I was just thinking.”

Alex flicked the switch on the wall, illuminating the austere overhead light that I’d already decided I hated and needed to replace immediately. It was yet one more item on the never-ending to-do list that came with moving.

“Why don’t you ever cry?” she asked, her tone accusatory.

“Of course I cry.”

“Not over Dad. You haven’t cried once over him.”

I inhaled sharply, as though she’d slapped me. “People express grief in different ways.”

“Maybe. But normal people cry when their husband dies.”

Alex and I stared at one another.

I thought about lying to her. Telling her that I missed Ed. That his death had unmoored me. That I cried when she couldn’t see me. But Alex would know I was lying.

“My feelings about your father are complicated.”

“You hated him,” Alex said bitterly.

I shook my head. “No. I hated what he’d become.”

“I miss him!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t get it. I miss him every minute of every day. And you don’t even seem to care that he’s dead!”

“Of course I care,” I said. “And if you ever want to talk about him or talk about what happened, I’m always here to listen.”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you hungry?” I finally asked, groping for a topic that would defuse the tension. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I made roast chicken and green beans amandine to celebrate your big win today.”

Alex didn’t speak. Her silence felt like an accusation. Maybe it was.

I rubbed the space between my eyebrows, a stress-triggered habit I’d picked up over the past year. “Why don’t we just focus on what a good day we had today. I’m so proud of you.”

Alex shrugged, but one corner of her mouth quirked up. “I still can’t believe that girl wouldn’t shake my hand after the match.”

“That reflects on her character, not on yours.”

“I know.” Alex hesitated.

“What is it?”

“That ball was out. You saw it, right?”

“Yes, absolutely. Mrs. Hudson saw it too.”

“Those girls think I cheated. Daphne and her friends. I heard them questioning the call.”

“It was just because Stacey’s mom was making a scene. You know how some people love creating drama.”

“I heard Daphne say I cheated,” Alex said flatly.

“But you didn’t. And you know you didn’t. That’s all that matters.”

Alex lifted one shoulder and let it fall.

“Well, I think it’s great that you’ll be on this team, and competing, and meeting new people. Maybe you’ll make some new friends.” I could hear how overly peppy my tone was. I sounded like a sitcom mother and wasn’t surprised when Alex gave me a withering look.

“Like Daphne and her two minions?”

“Well . . . no,” I admitted. “But there are other girls on the team, right?”

Alex shrugged and turned away. “I don’t care about making friends. I just want to beat them all.”





CHAPTER TEN




* * *





VIDEO DIARY OF ALEX TURNER



* * *





AUGUST 24

Alex sat on her bed, cross-legged and hunched forward. She wore a maroon hoodie and gray running shorts. She looked pale, and her eyes were wide.

Oh, my God. I can’t believe what just happened. I mean . . . did it happen? No, I know it did, I took a freaking video of it, but . . . oh, my God.

Alex shook her head from side to side. She ran a hand through her hair, which was loose around her face and damp from the shower.

Okay, so I should probably start from the beginning, right? Hold on.

Alex set down her phone, causing the video to veer wildly to a camera shot of her bedroom ceiling. When she picked the phone back up, she was lying on her bed, holding the phone up in front of her.

After practice today, Coach called a team meeting. Our first match is Tuesday, and he said he was going to put out the lineup. I was sort of nervous about it because I don’t think he’s paid much attention to me during practice. But I’ve won almost all my practice sets, both singles and doubles, so I thought I had a decent shot of making the lineup.

Margot Hunt's Books