Page 83 of The Other Side of Paradise
But it turned out that was exactly what I needed: permission to suck at something. And honestly, I’d taken off my dress mostly to get a reaction from Allison, but there was something about the vulnerability of it—of knowing Allison was studying every plane, every shade of my body, that made it feel like nothing else mattered but this moment, in her cute little oceanfront bungalow, the windows cracked to let in the briny air and the sound of the waves on the beach, trying to block out the shapes of Allison’s body with my paintbrush. Paint spills splattering on my bare skin only made it stand out more, this feeling that I was bared before her, and I guess it was that it felt silly trying to hide something while I was showing all of this to her, so I spoke, quietly, in between brush strokes.
“I skipped the brunch.”
“I did kinda figure that out…”
“Dad wanted to talk to me before brunch.”
She grimaced, looking up at me over her canvas. “Did you go?”
“Yeah.” I swiped aimlessly at the canvas a few times before I said, “It went better than before. Also worse. He seemed like he was actually open to talk. I got to… to say what I needed to. But it didn’t go down nicely.”
“I’m so sorry.” She set down her brush. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t say a lot,” I laughed thickly. “I talked over him nonstop. Mostly he just didn’t seem to like what I was saying. He kept telling me how I need to be grateful. For this. For everything.” I took another frustrated swipe at the canvas. “And I am. I know I’ve had everything handed to me. I know I’m lucky. Well-off. Taken care of. But it feels like… like I don’t get to be my own person. And does it count as a great gift if I’m not allowed to refuse it? And then I’m obligated to… to…be grateful?”
She softened. “If it’s not provided with genuinely zero strings and no expectation of reciprocity, then it’s not a gift, it’s a payment. And if you can’t refuse the transaction, then that’s extortion.”
“I guess…” I pursed my lips. “It just feels stupid. Whining about an expensive island vacation.”
She stared back at her canvas for a long time before, quietly, she said, “You have dreams that aren’t just getting money and luxurious gifts. If something is getting in the way of that, I mean… I’d be pissed off too. If somebody kidnapped me to lock me up, I’d be mad even if they locked me up in a million-dollar house.”
“I mean, I guess…”
“I, uh… I mean, that’s how I feel about my parents,” she said quietly, picking at something invisible at the edge of the canvas. “You know, they gave me a roof over my head and food on the table when I was growing up. And all they asked in returnwas for me to be straight. They could give me all the money in the world and I’d turn it down.”
I sighed, setting my brush down and leaning against the window, the breeze coming through it cool on my bare skin. At length, I said, “You know why I think I’m so… drawn, to you?”
“Um.” She stood straight upright. “Bad taste?”
I shot her a smirk. “I thought you said I had good taste.”
“Oh…” Her voice was small, eyes flicking down over my body and back up to meet mine. “Um.”
I laughed, turning back to the window. “You really are your own person. Your parents wanted you to fit a mold, and you put so much distance between yourself and all of that. Made a life here where they couldn’t reach you. I just… I wish I could do that…”
I felt her eyes on me for a long time before she came over to me, racked with nerves in every step, and stood with her arms folded on the window ledge next to me. “You are,” she said quietly. “Your family’s been trying to tell you what to do. You’re standing up to them—for your sake and for Ryan’s—and doing what’s right for you instead of what they want.”
“It’s messy as hell, though.”
“That’s how everything is when you’re in it. It’s not like things are clean for me, either. My mom still texts me a lot. She’ll make it about logistical things like my student records and financial aid documents so I have to respond. The question is where your heart is.”
I sighed. I painfully wanted to kiss her. “What a jackass.”
She laughed. “Yeah.”
“Do you think my family is jackasses?”
“Yeah. I mean, Ryan’s cool. Oscar’s… it’s kinda hard to have an opinion on the guy one way or the other. But he’s, er, inoffensive. But the rest of them? Yeah.”
“Thanks.” I looked down, my voice small, soft. She sidled closer to me.
“You could have told me your dad wanted to confront you… I know it’s easier when I’m there.”
“I didn’t want to…” I shrugged. “I mean, you’d already told me you were… busy. Today.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her expression tighten, her face flushing, before she looked away. “Stella, that was… it’s just…” She sighed. “You—you should know I didn’t mean that.”
“What, because I’m just assuming you’re lying?” I laughed, voice a little thick but something sparkling in my chest, a tiny mote of hope that maybe Ihadn’ttotally embarrassed myself.
