Page 99 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
“So it’s natural maybe you heard one of us—me or your parents—talk about him at some point. But you didn’t have any close personal relationship.”
“Ah, I see.” What Sam’s saying is perfectly logical. I remember my parents were big on education, always expecting me to do well in school. They could’ve talked about Tony in front of me. But my instinct—the same one that tells me when I’m totally off in my interpretation and phrasing for a composition—says Sam isn’t leveling with me completely. And the same instinct is saying he’s not going to give me any more information.
“Okay, well, thanks,” I say. “I was just wondering.”
“We should have lunch this week,” he says suddenly.
“Actually, I’m busy this week. And also tired. Still a little jet-lagged.”
“Still? It wasn’t that bad of a flight from Paris, was it?”
“Vienna, actually. And no. Just not used to the time zone here yet.”
“Well…if you’re tired. I’ll have my assistant send you a few possible dates.”
“Sure.” I hang up, then sigh. I don’t know why I turned down his lunch offer. About two to three times a year, when he and I happened to be in the same city—him on business and me on my endless travels—he asked me to lunch or dinner, depending on his schedule. I always said yes because he took the time to tell me tidbits about my past. But this time…somehow I don’t want to hear it.
I look at Tony’s text. If I ask him if we’ve known each other before, is he going to give me the same answer Sam just gave me?
Most importantly, can I believe Tony? He was evasive yesterday about Jamie. He could be that way again. Based on Sam’s reaction, there’s something he doesn’t want me know about Tony. Given that Tony didn’t bring up anything even though he had opportunities to do so during our conversation when I brought up Sam and Marty, it could very well be something Tony doesn’t want to share with me either.
I wish I had someone whose words I could take at face value. It’s exhausting to have to second-guess my own memories.
I pull up Tony’s text, then type, Sorry, had a late breakfast. My finger hovers over the send button. But I can’t bring myself to hit it.
I sigh, delete everything, then type, I had a late breakfast, so I won’t be able to eat at the normal time. You have to work today, don’t you?
There. That feels less…rejection-like. I don’t really want to say no, even if I’m afraid Tony might not be entirely honest, just like Sam. Ugh. I prop my head on my hand. Why am I so contradictory? This isn’t productive.
A text arrives. No problem. I can eat late.
Hmm. When a guy’s persistent, that means he’s definitely interested, so I can use that to get what I want. Except I’ve never been much of a femme fatale or cajoler of men, and I have no idea how to use my “feminine wiles,” as Julie put it. Instead of trying to be like her, i.e., great at that sort of thing, I should just be myself. Tell Tony point-blank that I want him to be honest with me, because otherwise there’s no point in us spending time together.
My mind made up, I reply, One thirty.
I practice the piano, recording myself and then listening to see where I’m not quite on point.
Do you know how important it is tolive? Art is an expression of life! How can one play music about love if one has never loved?
The words slide into my mind. The voice is accented, gentle but slightly exasperated.
Then another voice…younger, giggly… Something’s on TV and I’m watching it with a girl about my age. A pretty Asian.
“No way that’s a real penis! It’s gotta be a special effect!” she says, throwing popcorn at the screen.
“I’m pretty sure they don’t do CGI for porn,” I say, unable to tear my eyes from the thing that looks more like an elongated watermelon than anything human.
“Don’t they audition to hire more realistic looking actors? What are we going to tell Tatiana? Sorry, the porn we watched had a very unrealistic depiction of sex?”
The Coke I’ve been sucking down gets caught in my nose, and I cough until I can’t breathe. “Holy shit,” I wheeze. “Who said we have to tell her anything?”
“I want her to know we’re trying really hard to experience life in full! We’ve already seen sixteen romantic movies and ten action flicks.”
“Just switch to a different movie.”
Who’s Tatiana?
The second the question appears in my mind, the vision vanishes. I close my eyes, willing it to come back. Something about the scene felt so familiar. And it wasn’t like remembering a movie. I was definitely a participant. It was my own memory.
