Page 109 of Personal Foul

Unfortunately, it’s all too real.

She points at the door. “And Dylan? How much of this does he know? Is that what happened with you? He found out you were lying to him too?”

“No. That’s not what happened. He’s known all of that all along.” And more.

She nods slowly, incredulous, her eyes wide. “Wow,” she says slowly. And not positively. “Let me get this straight. You can tell some guy that I didn’t even think you liked not that long ago all about your family and your wealth and apparently losing everything. But you can’t tell me? Who you’ve known for three years, your supposed best friend and roommate?”

I don’t know how to respond to that. Nothing I say at this point will make anything better. So I opt to not say anything.

But she scoffs at my silence. “Seriously? You don’t have anything to say?”

“It’s different.” It’s a lame answer, but it’s the only one I can give.

She nods some more, that same incredulous nod, looking down at her hands. “It’s different,” she repeats. “Okay then. I don’t even know what to do with that. I’m guessing there’s more that you’re not telling me. Because apparently you haven’t told me about much of anything.” She stands and moves to the door, stopping halfway out with her hand on the knob. “Thanks for giving me plenty of notice you’ll be moving out. I’m sure I won’t have trouble finding someone to replace you.”

With that, she’s gone.

And I am all alone.

* * *

I drag myself to class every day, and do my best to stick to my usual routine. This semester is already paid for, I might as well make the most of it. After classes are over, I babysit Grace, but instead of heading to Dylan’s or going back to my apartment, I stick around.

Spending time with Hope and her family is the balm that I need right now. While I might not have any friends, at least I still have my sister. And I’ve been talking to Mom most days. Her new job is going well. And I finally break the news that Dylan and I broke up on Wednesday.

She and Hope must be talking too, because that same evening, Eric takes Grace to play in another room, leaving Hope and me alone to talk. I always know my sister wants to have a private conversation because Eric and Grace disappear. The last time it was to talk about money. But this time …

Hope breaks out a bottle of wine and pours two glasses, handing one to me before taking her seat at the other end of the couch. She sips her wine, not looking at me, taking her time bringing up whatever it is she wants to talk about.

“So fill me in about this Dylan guy. Ever since he came over to have a tea party with Grace, she’s been begging for him to come back.”

I run my fingers up and down the stem of my wine glass and clear my throat. Any mention of Dylan brings unwanted tears to the surface, and I don’t want that to come out in my voice. “Yeah, she’s been asking me too. Unfortunately, that won’t be a possibility.”

“Oh?” She does her best to sound mildly curious, but I know she already knows.

“We broke up over the weekend. I’m guessing Mom told you?”

“Busted.”

I force a smile. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tiptoe around the subject.” I mean, tiptoeing would actually be nice. But it won’t help me in the long run. And after everything that’s happened, my new philosophy is to be as honest as possible going forward. Even though I delayed telling my mom about Dylan for a few days, that’s better than three years. Not that I could keep the ruse of a relationship with him going for that long without his active participation anyway. And while it’s possible he would go for that, I have no desire to pretend to be someone I’m not anymore.

I’ve done that for too long, and ultimately, it’s exhausting and ends in misery.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve seemed happy these last few weeks. Mom didn’t tell me what actually happened …”

The way she trails off makes it obvious she’d like me to fill in the blanks. Sipping my wine, I try to decide how much to tell her. Maybe I should just tell her everything. What the hell, right? It’s not like I have anything left to lose.

So I start at the beginning. How Dylan and I bumped into each other earlier this semester, crossing paths at the football team game nights and whenever Isabelle wanted to flirt with Andrew. How I recognized him right away. How he was connected to the girls who made my life miserable in high school.

Hope makes a sympathetic face when I get to that part but doesn’t interrupt me. Her expression darkens when I get to the part where he overheard me talking to Mom when she called to tell me Dad was under investigation. How I begged him to keep it a secret, and he blackmailed me.

“He what!?” She holds out a hand in the universal signal to stop. “He was blackmailing you? And you were dating him? How does that even happen? Was he somehow blackmailing you into dating him?”

“Let me finish. I promise it will all make sense.”

But after I tell her the rest, she gives me a dubious look. “Charity, you said it would all make sense. But I still don’t get how you go from hating the guy to going to his sister’s engagement party like that.”

“Sorry,” I mumble. Putting it that way, I know it doesn’t make sense on the outside. “He … changed. The longer we spent together, and especially after we had to pretend to date, he changed. And he tried to help me. And I know it probably doesn’t make much sense to you because you’ve always had friends and lived the life you wanted. But for a while there, he was the only one who knew everything. He was the only one who understood.”

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