Experiment in Terror 04 Lying Season (7 page)

Ada came back in with a computer printout in her hand.

I took it from her and peered at it. “What’s this?”

“
I got a gift certificate. Fifty bucks at the designer shoe warehouse. I’m sure there’s one in Seattle. Go and get yourself a sexy pair of shoes when you’re there.”

I looked over the printout and it confirmed what she was saying.

“
Ada,” I began.

“
No,” she said, closing my hand over the gift certificate. “I have enough shoes.”

“
You’re just too good for discount shoes,” I said with a smile.

She smiled back. “You know me too well. Now go break Brock’s heart. You’ll need it for practice.”

And with that, she shut the door behind her, leaving me with the gift certificate in my hand, wondering when my sister had become 23 and myself 15. At least, that’s what it felt like.

~~

The date with Brock went better than expected. He picked me up (I wasn’t about to ride Putt-Putt in a dress, nevermind the helmet hair) in his Honda Civic and took me to a trendy bar in downtown Portland, with a smashing view of the Willamette River.

He was a perfect gentleman. He laughed at my jokes, paid for the food (despite my insistence), and he looked quite handsome in his grey dress shirt, a nice change from his jock outfit.

We talked about a lot of things, though I tried to keep the conversation focused on him. Only near the end did he start asking more and more about the show and ghosts. He was a believer, which was good. The last thing I wanted was to be with someone who just wanted to pick my beliefs apart. That would be akin to a Catholic going out with an atheist.

No, Brock was fine. And he was a good kisser, too, as I found out on my parents’ front stoop. He didn’t seem to want anything more and anything less. It felt good to taste someone else’s lips, to feel someone else’s feelings, especially ones so transparent.

But as I was saying goodbye to him, I had a heavy, sinking feeling in my heart.

For one, there was the fact that he liked country music. The minute he admitted his love for Rascal Flatts, I knew we would never be. And then there was the simple, sad, ugly truth that he wasn’t Dex.

I tried my hardest to ignore that feeling the entire date. I tried so hard. But at every awkward pause and every glance at the clock on the wall and every quick slurp of wine, all I could think about was that if this were Dex sitting across from me…everything would just be OK.

And that thought made me sad as hell. It’s like that first date you take in order to move on. Full of false promises and lies you tell yourself, the lies that you’ll find someone else, someone better. At some point, those lies become truths. But I needed that to happen sooner, rather than later.

So as I was saying good-bye to Brock, and my heart had no real interest in seeing him again, the logical side of my soul kicked in. I asked him if he wanted to go out again when I got back from Seattle, and he said yes. He even looked a bit surprised; maybe he was smarter than I thought and had been picking up on mixed signals from me. I knew I had been sending them.

I watched him get into his car and waved at him as he drove off. Even if I wasn’t all that excited about a second date, I knew it needed to happen. I needed to move on. I needed, more than anything, to prove Uncle Al wrong.

CHAPTER FIVE

On Monday morning I strapped my over-stuffed duffel bag (Ada’s satiny dress included) onto the back of Putt-Putt and got ready to blow the popsicle stand that I called home.

Ada was already at school and my father was off teaching at the university, so it was just my mother and me, staring at each other uneasily in the crisp, foggy morning. Traces of overnight frost still clung stubbornly to our wide lawn, making our house look like a gingerbread one rising out of white icing.

“
Do you know where you’re going?” she asked, looking extra skinny under the heavy fur coat she was wearing, probably made out of Swedish wolverines or something.

“
Yes mom. I Google-mapped it,” I said, my breath coming out in a frozen, hanging cloud. I flashed her my iPhone in one quick motion.

“
I don’t know what that means,” she said, pulling her coat in closer. I eyed her feet. She only had her morning slippers on.

“
It means I know where I’m going,” I replied patiently and gave a final tug on the bag.

I walked over to her and gave her a quick hug. Her coat smelled like a mist of dated perfume and mothballs. She had that coat for as long as I could remember and wore it almost every day when the winter air hit Portland, yet it still smelled like something out of a 1920’s German film.

She embraced me back and pulled away with a worried mother look. Sometimes I want to tell her that the more she frowns and twists her lips to the side, the more the wrinkles will come. But that would be cruel and I know she’s aware of it. My mother knows everything about preserving beauty.

“
I’ll be fine,” I said, even though she hadn’t spoken.

She just smiled tightly and looked down at the shiny brown/black hairs of the coat. “I know.”

She looked up and her expression had changed. Now she was the no-nonsense mother I knew too well.

“
How was your date last night?” she asked. “We had gone to sleep and you weren’t home yet.”

I almost detected a prying naughtiness in her voice, as if she was hoping I’d gotten lucky or something.

I gave her a suspicious look. “It went fine.”

“
Are you going to go out with him again?”

“
Maybe,” I said and turned back to my bike, ready to not only leave the popsicle stand behind but this weird, awkward conversation as well. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

She sighed and I looked back at her one last time. She looked fed up but gave me a quick wave.

“
Be safe.”

I nodded, slipped on my helmet, took one last look at my Google map directions, and got on the bike. I popped one ear bud in my ear, flicked my iPod to the newest Slayer album and off I went.

~~

I didn’t start freaking out until I was a Google map-block away from Dex’s apartment. And when I say freaking out, I mean, full-on panic attack. Going up the wrong way on a one-way street didn’t help either. I quickly pulled my bike into a small parking lot between a donut shop and a sleazy motel, got off it and put my head between my legs.

My entire body was awash with the sickening pins and needles effects that my panic attacks (or extreme nervousness) produced. I was so focused on not losing my breath or fainting out cold in public, that I barely noticed the freezing rain that fell steadily on my back.

I straightened up, leaned against the donut shop’s brick wall and raised my head to the sky, hoping the wetness would bring some sense of reality to me.

Sometimes panic attacks did creep in out of nowhere, but I knew this one was the pure product of the situation. Really, there was nothing to be afraid of. I was going to see Dex. Yes, sometimes things between us were a tad awkward when we’d been apart for a while, but even now I didn’t think that would be the case. I had even talked to him the morning before, getting the directions to his apartment.

I guess I just wasn’t sure what Jenn would be like. And I didn’t know how they would be around each other. What if they were some super-affectionate couple and were kissing every five minutes? The thought of that made my eyes roll back in my head.

“
You all right, girlie?”

I blinked hard at the rain and looked over at a young, dreadlocked man who was stopped on the sidewalk near me.

I nodded quickly, not finding the words and feeling embarrassed.

“
Least someone here likes the rain,” he said, more to himself than to me, and started swaggering down the street until he was out of my sight.

I gathered my thoughts and composed myself. I needed to pull it together here and now or this whole week would be a waste of time. If Jenn and Dex were going to be all coupley and cute, so be it. This was just part of the process and I would just have to deal.

Though I didn’t want to, I conjured up an image of them together, lips locked in a passionate embrace. It hurt, boy did it ever, but I kept that image in my mind’s eye and forced myself to see every detail, to feel everything I was going to feel. Disgust, shame, embarrassment, jealously, envy, awkwardness, even lust. I felt it all right there in that parking lot beside Top Shop donuts, not seeing the people walking past with their steaming coffees and brightly confectioned donuts in hand. I just saw Dex and Jenn. Jenn and Dex.

And then it was over. I imagined the worst and I was still alive, although my legs were shaking slightly and I was feeling pukey.

I shook it off regardless, put on my favorite Alice in Chains song “Again” in my ear to empower me (yeah, I know, strange choice but I was in Seattle after all) and got back on the bike.

I took Putt-Putt around a few left turns, trying to get on the one-way street heading in the right direction and soon enough I was parked outside of their building. It was located on the corner, across from a convenience store and the monorail tracks and stood out from all the other buildings in the neighborhood thanks to its jaunty French design. It looked like the apartment buildings you’d see in Paris, albeit woefully out of place with the Seattle Space Needle looming nearby.

I looked up at the windows, wondering which apartment was theirs and if they were watching me. I took in a deep breath, clenched and unclenched my fists, and walked over to the front doors.

I entered in their buzzer number on the directory and waited with bated breath. There was a quick click from the speaker and when I went over to go speak into it, the door buzzed loudly.

That was a bit too trusting; I could have been anyone. Unless, of course, he or she really had been watching me come in. That made me feel even more nervy but I shoved down the itchy, hot feeling that was creeping up my throat and entered the pristine, art deco-like lobby. I made my way to the elevator, the wet soles of my boots making squeaking rat-like noises on the black and white tiles. I paused in front of the mirror by the elevator and gave myself the once over.

I was wearing my high, cherry red Doc boots, black leggings, a hip-length grey sweater and my black leather jacket, duffel bag in one hand, my brown messenger bag and helmet in the other. I had a bad case of helmet hair, which, combined with the rain, made me look like a scruffy toy dog. My nose was red and could have done with some powder and concealer but I was afraid the longer I stayed in the lobby primping myself, the more likely that either Dex or Jenn would come down and catch me in the act.

I got in the elevator, went up the one floor, and cautiously stepped out into a red carpeted hallway. Their apartment was at one end of the hall, the door looming like something out of the
Dark Tower
.

I walked carefully down the hall and briefly thought about turning around and running away. But I didn’t and I couldn’t. I just kept walking, heart in my throat, aware of how
ridiculous
my feelings were. But knowing didn’t make them go away.

Time to get this over with
, I thought and knocked on the door in three short raps.

The door immediately flung open and I found myself face-to-face with none other than Jennifer Rodriguez.

I lost all feeling in my body. I know my eyes looked frightfully wide. I wasn’t even able to fake smile at her.

She was taller in person, maybe 5’9”, at least the same height as Dex. She was thinner, too, as was usually the case with TV (or internet) personalities. She was lean and long but had more oomph and bang to her form than my skinny-Minnie sister. She was wearing tight jeans, high heels, and a black sleeveless low-cut top that showcased a pair of smallish but mesmerizingly perky breasts. Her skin was the color of clouded honey, her eyes a fiery hazel, her hair annoyingly shiny and curly and a shade or two darker than her skin tone.