The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot
TWENTY FIVE
The girls run through their fifth repeat of our routine, nailing every count. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this proud of them, so I decide to reward them with an early finish. Having to move practice inside because of the weather seemed like torture enough as the gym AC sucks, and barely moving has us coated in sweat.
I stand from the basketball bleachers and commence a slow clap, strolling toward them. “Great job, ladies. I think we can call it.”
“But Tonya has been off the entire time.” Stacy pouts, crossing her pale arms over nonexistent breasts.
Everyone looks at Tonya, her tight coiled curls bouncing from a humorless laugh. She scoffs, flipping Stacy off, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “She was on point, just like everyone else.”
Stacy rolls her eyes, huffing as she bends to grab a towel. Amora is on her before her fingers graze the cotton and snatch it away. “Listen, you little shriveled up cunt. Part of being a captain is knowing when to call the practice and when to push them. Everyone has done pretty fucking amazing. So how about you show some gratitude and stop bitching for cutting practice by a few minutes. It smells like you could use the extra time in the shower.”
Amora flings the towel at Stacy’s stunned face and laughs. Stacy looks at me as all the other girls file into the locker rooms, muttering under their breath.
I shrug, popping a fresh cherry in my mouth before I stand. “If you want to make captain next year, you better get your shit together.”
Stacy’s eyes bulge out from her face, spit narrowly missing me as she shrieks, “If I want to be? You said that spot was mine!”
“If everyone hates you, you won’t have shit to lead,” I snap. “Go get cleaned up.”
Grabbing the bag of fruit my aunt packed me, I follow Amora, leaving Stacy still whimpering behind us.
Mina’s been with me for two weeks, refusing to leave now that she knows I’m alone, and packed me the best lunch every day, forcing me to eat more fruit.
It’s been strange, to say the least, but in a good way. It almost feels like having a mom, but better. Every day we talk more about the past, and each time, I let a little bit of the hurt go. According to my aunt, none of what happened had anything to do with me. A narcissistic mother and a busy father. The affair my mother had was bound to happen, and I got caught in the crossfire.
Mina told me that even as a kid, my mother needed everything to be about her and claimed having kids was her literal nightmare.
“She looked me dead in the eyes before her wedding with your father and said if he ever wanted kids, she would leave. She couldn’t imagine sacrificing her body, let alone her time, to take care of something as soul-sucking as a child. Some people are just like that, mija. It has nothing to do with you.”
“ And your father. He was a nice man, but he wanted a family after a while. When your mother had you, she handed you off so fast your dad’s head started spinning. He didn’t want to be a single dad with a wife in the next room. But then she started drinking.” My aunt paused, taking a deep inhale before continuing.
“Your father still loved her back then, so he took her away to some rehab, I’m guessing, out here in Washington. They said her triggers were family-related, so he kept me away. Thinking I would come and cause your mother to relapse. I guess after your mother’s affair, he left, and since he was the only way I got to talk to you, I lost you and had no way to find out where you were. He sure as hell wasn’t answering my calls.”
I’d questioned a lot, but was most curious as to how she finally got my number. Turned out it was as simple as seeing a real estate ad on TV with my father’s face. She saw it and called right away. He didn’t tell her I was alone, probably because he doesn’t know.
The man may have loved me once, but now it only extends to monetary gifts. Which honestly, I would take any day over having two people like my mom.
I yawn, stretch my arms, and walk into the locker room. Soon enough, the girls clear out, leaving me to soak under the hot water and breathe the steamy essence of my lavender soap.
After we shower, Amora convinces me to visit a new coffee spot up the street. Something about a hot college guy she wants to sink her teeth into. When we get there, I find a place in the back, slightly secluded. It’s a dark shop lit by low-hanging lamps that bounce the light off dark brick walls. It’s pretty cozy with old worn sofas and chairs instead of plastic ones, and the smell of fresh ground coffee beans swirls in the air, calming my racing nerves.
I’ve decided to tell Amora a few things. Mainly about Spencer and me. After everything that happened in the pink room, I could use a little of her carefree yet frank advice.
My heart flutters at the thought of our mouths connected, his warm body pressed against mine. What it would be like to give in. Could we really come back from how far we’ve fallen?
“Earth to Lily. Girl, what the fuck are you thinking about up there?” Amora sets my drink down, flopping into the seat across from me. Her long ponytail swings behind her, slapping against her shoulder.
“Sorry,” I murmur, wrapping a hand around the warm paper cup. The heat burrows into my skin, skirting up my arms.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” Amora lifts her coffee, taking a tentative sip.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, wondering where I should start, what she might say. But her support has always been ironclad, even more so after the incident with my mom.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach, coasting around until I feel nauseous. “Erm. Spencer.”
Amora’s rose lips curl, her perfect pearly whites peeking through.
“About fucking time, bitch.”
I STARE AT AMORA, whose mouth has yet to close. She’s stayed relatively quiet the entire time, only asking questions sparingly for clarification. The barista sets a second steaming coffee cup next to her, but she doesn’t move to touch it.
Just as waves of unease unleash like a tidal wave through my gut, she huffs, leaning back into the soft upholstery. She runs her tongue over her teeth before tilting her head to the side. “So, all this” —she waves a hand around— “was because you think he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you thought he was using you for a little summer fun?”
I chew on the inside of my lip until a bitter metallic taste coats my mouth. “Yes.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “And what did you think when he asked to move here?”
“Well, I figured he was eating his words since I” —framing my face, I give a tight lip smile— “Got a little sexier.”
Amora scoffs, picking up her now tepid drink, icy blue eyes rolling dramatically into her head. “I see. Well, honestly, Lil, I think it was a legit misunderstanding. And I got to say, he’s handled all the shit you’ve thrown his way really well. Any other guy would have had you gutted like a fish by now.”
I cringe inwardly at everything I’ve done—all the wasted time. Things could have been so different…
“What are you going to do?” She takes a sip, wrinkles her nose, and lifts a finger to beckon the barista.
“What do you mean?”
“Bitch, it’s clear you’ve got some seriously repressed sexual tension with the guy. That much is obvious, but do you still care about him?”
“No.” Yes. Shit. I do… my stomach curdles, and I push my drink away.
Her face jerks back, eyes widening as her brows shoot into her faint hairline. “Well, then, at your next little meeting thing, apologize and move on. It’s the last one, right?”
“Yeah…”
The realization settles over me like a cloud bearing the next flood. Gripping my necklace, I observe Amora as she flirts with the college guy that’s come to the table. She effortlessly laughs and touches him like he doesn’t light her skin on fire. It must be nice. Not having someone you hate and want to rip their clothes off at the same time.
Fine.
After all, I’ve done, a little apology wouldn’t hurt and move on... well, I guess the bandaid needs to be ripped off sooner or later when I stroll to Kentucky.
Either way, Spencer and I are long overdue for some closure, and it’s time we both acknowledge that.
