Page 38 of Reckless Girls
I laugh self-consciously. “Seriously?”
She nods again. “Seriously. But it’s weird, because sometimes you’re like—”
Sitting up straight, she clenches her fists, her jaw, stares off into the distance like a woman on a mission, and I laugh, embarrassed and pleased at this version of me.
“Like a proper Valkyrie,” she says, letting the pose drop. “But then, other times, you’re all—”
A new pose. She curls her shoulders forward, ducks her head,looks up at me through her lashes, and I laugh again, but it’s forced. Is that how I come across? So… meek? Timid?
Eliza shakes it off, sitting up straight again. “I have not evenbegunto figure you out yet, Lux McAllister,” she concludes, and I am surprised to hear myself reply, “You and me both.”
The words hang there, neither of us saying anything for a long time.
Eliza gestures toward the pool in front of us. “I know it looks pretty, but it’s brackish. Totally undrinkable.”
“I wonder if those shipwrecked sailors ever stumbled across it,” I say, grateful for the change of subject. I imagine those men from long ago, sunburned and skinny, wearing the heavy blue wool coats of the British navy in this heat. “That would’ve been fucking awful, right? Coming ashore, discovering paradise, but it won’t help you.”
“Water, water everywhere, not a drop to drink,” Eliza quotes as she nods. Then she elbows me. “But that’s not us, thank Christ. Plenty of water back on board.”
“And plenty of wine,” I add, making her laugh.
“That, too.”
She leans back on her elbows, toeing off her shoes and lifting her face to the sky. “So, tell me everything about yourself, Lux.”
I mimic her posture. “Everything?”
“Well, the interesting bits.”
I scoff. “There aren’t many of those.”
Eliza looks over at me, sliding her sunglasses down her nose. “I refuse to believe that. My god, woman, look at you! Living in Maui, sailing around the world with a scorchingly hot man… Brittany tells me you nearly went overboard in a storm on the way here and completely kept your cool.” She shrugs. “That all sounds very fucking interesting to me.”
The weirdest thing is, when she says it like that, I actuallyfeelinteresting. Like someone who has done shit.
And I really like that version of me.
Maybe it’s the easy warmth in her voice, maybe it’s the beauty of our surroundings, maybe I just really like Eliza, but I hear myself say, “My mom died. When I was in college.”
I find myself telling her the whole story: about the divorce and my dad’s new family, how I asked him for help when Mom was sick, and how he wouldn’t give it.
“What a prick,” she mutters, and the words are out before I can stop myself.
“I got him back.”
Eliza turns to look at me, eyebrows raised, and I can’t help but smile a little even as the memory brings back this queasy mix of excitement and shame.
“He came to her funeral, believe it or not. After all of that, he fucking showed up at the memorial service.” I shake my head. “I couldn’t believe it. He said he ‘owed it to her.’”
Eliza snorts. “Seems like he owed her a shit-ton more than that.”
“Exactly,” I say. “He couldn’t be there for her when she was sick, but he could fly all the way to San Diego once she was dead?” I shake my head, remembering Dad in his nice navy suit, his expression contrite, my whole body stiff as he’d gone to hug me.I wanted to be here for you.
“Of course,” I go on, “he’d brought his new wife and his new kids. Had the decency not to bring them to the funeral home, but they were there. Might as well take in the world-famous zoo when you fly into town to pretend to care about your oldest kid, right?”
That’s what had gotten me the most. I would’ve respected him more if he just hadn’t shown up, but he wanted to have it both ways. Look like the Good Dad when it didn’t matter anymore, and actuallybethe Good Dad to his new kids.
“So, what did you do?” Eliza asks, and I glance over at her.
