Page 70 of Holiday Love
“I’m on my way to dance lessons,” I blurt as a way of explaining, way too quick, too loud.
“Oh,” with a small shrug, like the details of my life are so insignificant she can’t be bothered with them. “Whatever. I wanted to talk to you.”
So shewaswaiting for me?
“Okay…” I trail off, uncertain how to handle this situation.
“Just because Teddy and I aren’t together right now doesn’t mean he’s available.” Her hands go to her hips.
My first thought is a giddy,they aren’t together!
Followed by a quick,it doesn’t matter. He’s not mine anyway.
Didn’t I just get off the phone with his sister? MyfriendGwen? The same Gwen who asked me to keep an eye on her brother and who has no idea that I already crossed a line I swore I wouldn’t with that little morning slip-up at my parents’ house.
Want you so bad.
Teddy’s words, said in the heat of the moment, and then quickly revoked.
With complete confidence, I tell Gina, “Teddy and I are just friends. That’s it.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously, and I try not to squirm, to shift guiltily. She doesn’t need to know about our hands and what they did. That’s all in the past. A distant memory, pressed between layers of regret and denial.
“Well, good,” she huffs, flicking her hair off her shoulder. The movement is practiced, almost regal, but I catch the detail she probably doesn’t want anyone to notice—how her fingernails are chipped, bitten down with the edges uneven. For a second, I wonder if maybe she isn’t quite as flawless as I first thought.
“He’s not the type to sit still for long.” Her nose tilts up, as if she’s daring me to argue. “Teddy likes parties. People. That kind of life. He likes to have…fun.” Another glance up and down me, clearly implying that I’m notfun. Like I’ve never seen a day offunin my life.
I bristle at this simplistic explanation of Teddy. “Sure. He likes fun, but he can be serious too.” I think back to the pier in New York, how we talked about life, death, fate. And there was his offer to support me as I dealt with my mom’s cancer. How Teddy said I could talk to him about it whenever I needed to. That’s not fun stuff. It’s real, messy, but still he was there for it.
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve known him for years, and you’ve what? Spent a couple of weeks with him?”
That shuts me up. She’s right. She knows Teddy in ways I can only guess at…intimateways given the obvious jealousy, the possessiveness, in her tone.
“Of course.” I lift my hands, palms out. “I wasn’t trying to say otherwise.”
“I’m sure you think you’ve gotten lucky, landing someone like him,” she barrels on like I didn’t even speak. “He’s good looking and funny and charming.” Something wistful enters her tone, almost yearning. “But he’s not the settling-down type. Not a ‘let’s stay in and hang out just the two of us,’ kind of guy.”
“Really?” I tilt my head, thinking that’s exactly what Teddy’s been doing with me, but maybe she’s right? Maybe she knows him better, and once that cast comes off it’ll be back to his old party boy lifestyle?
“Really,” she says, her voice sharp and certain. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Just remember who he is and who he should be with…” Her eyes give me one last assessing stare before she finishes with a caustic, “spoiler alert. Itisn’tyou.”
She pivots, heels clicking, back stiff as she stalks off. I stand there, a grown woman in a pink ballet skirt, watching her disappear. My chest aches, not only from the sting of her words, but from the part of me that wants, desperately, for her to be wrong.
About Teddy. About me. About all of it.
Chapter thirty-one
Teddy
We’re at the beach. The one we can see from Helen’s balcony.
It’s windy today. Seagulls flap hard against the gusts. I wonder if Sam’s there, riding the air currents like a tiny, feathered surfer. My gaze drifts to the flags rippling on top of the roller coaster. They snap in the breeze, and the sound reminds me of Helen’s dress, Pier 15, staring at the Brooklyn Bridge, Helen’s mouth on mine. I sigh, wistful for a time I’ll never get back but I can’t stop replaying.
In addition to the sound of the flags, there’s the buzz of beachgoers, the thump of a volleyball on sand, and the distant hum of a Coast Guard helicopter overhead. I watch it closely, wondering if maybe someday I’ll be up there or down on a rescue boat, skimming over the waves.
Yesterday, I bought a test prep book for the ASVAB. It’s huge, as big and thick as one of those old-fashioned yellow page directories my mom kept in a bottom drawer in our kitchen for years, claiming it might come in handy just in case the entire Internet came crashing down. Gwen and I used to tease her, saying if that happened having a phone directory would be the least of our concerns.
Helen taps my shoulder and points at a guy dressed in a full-on Santa suit, who’s roller blading down the sidewalk with a boom box under his ear. The funniest part is that he’s blasting out holiday tunes. Laughing, I turn my head to watch him pass. “Only in California,” I tell Helen, who nods in agreement. Just past the skating Santa a familiar figure saunters toward us with his hands in his pockets.
