Count My Lies

Chapter 15

15

On Saturday night, I set an alarm for seven thirty the next morning. It turns out I don’t need it, even though it was past midnight when I went to bed; I wake when the sun rises, just before six.

I tried to go to bed early to make sure I was well rested for the day, but I was too excited to sleep. As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about spending the day with Jay. I know I promised myself I’d be better in the name of friendship, but I can’t deny how I feel when I’m around him, the way my heart flip-flops, the flush in my cheeks. It’s harmless, I keep reassuring myself, as most crushes are. And who wouldn’t have a crush on Jay? I’m a woman with a pulse, last time I checked.

Now, I take my time getting dressed. I find a pair of dark jeans in the back of my closet and a flowy boho top from my teaching days. Then I wash my face and put in my contacts, rummage through the bathroom drawers until I find a bottle of half-dried-out foundation and some cakey blush. I dot the foundation over a smattering of pimples on my chin—something I was sure I wouldn’t be dealing with in my thirties, but alas, here we are—and rub some of the blush on my cheekbones. It’s subtle, but it helps.

Before I leave my bedroom, I don the hat I bought from the shop and the necklace Violet complimented me on. In my purse is a small box with a similar necklace inside. I found it at the same store. It’s not quite identical, since the one I’m wearing is supposed to be a family heirloom, but it’s close. They wrapped it for me in gold glitter paper, topped with a bow. I can’t wait to give it to her.

In the kitchen, I toast some bread and pour a cup of coffee. I hardly taste either. My whole body is wired with energy. An entire day with the Lockhart family. I feel so lucky I could scream. When I’m finished eating, I step into a clear morning, the sky a brilliant, cloudless blue. The marina is only a little over a mile from my apartment, so instead of the subway, I decide to walk.

I arrive quickly, in fifteen minutes instead of the twenty shown on my phone, and walk up the dock. The air is different here than in the neighborhoods—crisper, cleaner, wet with salt. The yachts and sailboats that line the path are oversized, looming tall, sunlight glinting off their shiny exteriors.

The weather is warm but not hot, a faint breeze skimming across the water, a perfect early summer morning, the kind you wait all year for. The smile on my face feels permanently affixed.

As I near the end of the dock, I hear Violet calling to me. I put my hand to my brow, squinting into the sun.

“Caitlin, hi!” Violet is standing on the bow of a large sailboat, waving. Next to her is Harper, her arm also above her head, swinging it back and forth. They’re both in straw sun hats and wear matching red plastic sunglasses.

I wave back, grinning. I want to run down the dock, fling my arms around them, squeeze them tightly.

When I get to the boat, Jay is standing on the side, Violet and Harper behind him. He offers me his hand, and I take it, then take a step off the dock. The boat rocks with the shift in weight, and I almost fall backward. Jay grabs me by the waist, pulling my body to his to steady me. Suddenly, we’re face-to-face, so close I can feel his chest against mine, the tickle of his breath on my lips. He smells like spearmint gum.

“Whoa, there,” he says, smiling, and everyone laughs. He doesn’t let me go right away, holding another few seconds. When he does, I breathe out, my heart pounding.

“Welcome aboard,” Violet says, extending her arm, motioning around the boat. “And happy birthday!”

“Thanks! Happy birthday to you, too! It’s beautiful out here,” I say, looking around. “I’ve never been boating. Do you guys come out here a lot?”

“We started the tradition in San Francisco,” Violet says. “Jay surprised me with a sunset cruise around the marina the first year we moved there, and we’ve done it ever since. We’ve upgraded a little over the years, haven’t we, babe?” She laughs a little sheepishly.

Jay gives her a strange smile. I’m not sure if he doesn’t like her calling attention to their money, or something else. Maybe I was wrong before; maybe something is going on between them that I don’t know about. I look to Violet, but she seems unbothered, still smiling.

“Well, I’m going to take us out,” Jay says, starting toward the back of the boat. He brushes against me as he walks by, and I can smell the spearmint again. My heart skips a beat.

“Can I pour you a glass?” Violet asks me, holding up a clear plastic cup. There’s a cooler at her feet with a bottle of champagne on ice, as well as a bottle of sparkling apple cider. Both are open, half-full.

“Sure,” I say, and she reaches for the cider. She tips the bottle too quickly, and the cup overflows, bubbles spilling over the side. Violet shrieks and we all laugh.

“Whoops!” she says, holding the glass out so she doesn’t get wet. “I’d be a terrible bartender!” When the bubbles subside, she hands it to me. “For the birthday girl.” I take it from her, smiling.

“Cheers!” Violet raises her cup. Harper and I do the same. “Cheers!” we both echo, our plastic cups all knocking together. The cider is crisp and sweet, its bubbles effervescent in my mouth. Everything is as perfect as I imagined it would be.

“Ready?” Jay calls out, and we all nod.

The three of us climb to the front of the boat, Harper in Violet’s lap, our faces to the wind. Behind us, the sail unfurls, billowing in the wind. The boat begins to move, slowly at first, then faster, until we’re out of the marina, into the harbor on open waters.

“I love it out here,” Violet says, inhaling deeply. “Jay’s colleague has a boat that we go out on sometimes, too. It’s one of my favorite things to do in the summer.” She tips her head toward Jay. “If you’ve never been sailing, you should ask him to show you how.”

“To sail?” I look back toward Jay. He’s standing at the back of the boat, holding a rope in his gloved hand. He has a pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed Wayfarer sunglasses on, his hair tousled by the wind. He’s as handsome as I’ve ever seen him.

She nods. “It’s fun. It’s easier than it looks.”

I hesitate.

“Go!” She smiles encouragingly.

Cautiously, I stand, the boat rocking over the small waves, and, wobbly, make my way toward Jay. I glance back at Violet, who has already turned back around. She’s pointing something out to Harper—another boat, maybe—who is nodding emphatically.

Jay smiles at me as I approach. “Everything okay? Not seasick, I hope.”

I shake my head. “Violet said you’d show me the ropes.” I look down at the ropes in his hand. “Literally, I guess. I’ve never been sailing before.”

“Yeah, sure, I’d be happy to.” His smile broadens into a grin, white teeth appearing. He looks genuinely excited by my interest.

I smile. “Okay. So.” I look up at the sails and the ropes and pulleys. “This looks complicated.”

He laughs. “It really isn’t. We’ll start with the basics,” he says. “This is the tiller.” He points to a wooden stick-like thing behind us. “It’s used to steer.”

I nod. “Got it.”

“Go on, then,” he says, like he’s daring me.

Hesitantly, I reach out, wrap my fingers around it, then look back toward him.

“Nice grip,” he says. His tone is teasing. My whole body flushes, heat radiating through me.

He grins again, bites his lip. God, he’s good-looking. I press the back of my hand to my flaming neck. Is he flirting with me?

“And these”—Jay points to the ropes, still smiling—“are called sheets. Each sheet refers to the sail that it controls. This sail”—he points to the sail directly in front of us—“is the mainsail. The front sail, toward the bow, is the jib. So, when you want to move the mainsail you use the mainsheet; if you want to move the jib, then you will pull the jib sheet. Make sense?”

I swallow hard, willing my blush to fade. “Yep, seems easy enough,” I manage.

He shows me the boom, which, apparently, I should watch out for, lest it knock me over, and the stays and shrouds, which look like wires, and the halyard, which looks like more wires.

“You with me?” Jay asks.

“Mm-hm.” I nod, trying my best to sound convincing. I am not, in fact, with him. I’m having trouble focusing on anything besides the way his arm keeps brushing against mine.

“Great. The sailing part is actually pretty simple. There are a few rules to get us started. First, you can’t sail directly into the wind. So if we want to go there”—he points directly in front of us—“we’ll have to sail forty-five or fifty degrees to the left or right of the wind, then back the other way. And that’s called tacking. We do that by moving the sails we just talked about.”

“That doesn’t sound simple. It sounds like math class.”

Jay laughs. “I promise you, it’s easy once you get the hang of it. Look how well you handled the tiller.” He winks.

I blush again, knees turning to jelly.

“Seriously,” he says. “You’ll see. Are you ready to give it a shot?” He takes a step back and motions for me to take his place.

“What? No way,” I say, shaking my head and holding my hands up, palms to him. “I’ll capsize us! It’d be like Titanic , round two!”

Jay smiles, amused. “I’m going to show you what to do,” he says. “The only real way to learn is by doing. And lucky for us all, there are no icebergs in the East River. Come on, grab the rope,” he says, holding it out to me. “Right hand above left.”

Reluctantly, I do what he says. Although, truthfully, if he’d asked me to jump off the boat with a brick tied to my ankle, I’d probably do that, too. Aye, aye, Captain!

The rope is thick and braided, taut, under my hands. “Like this?” I look over my shoulder at him.

“A little higher.” Jay takes a step closer and reaches around me. He puts his hands over mine on the rope and slides them up. My heart rate quickens at his touch, the closeness of our bodies. “Okay, now we pull. Lean back, just a little.”

I ease back, into his chest. It’s warm and sturdy. Is it my imagination or does he move even closer? “Good,” he says. His breath is in my hair, against my ear, my neck. I want to close my eyes, but I don’t. I keep them trained forward, body stiff.

The bow of the boat begins to turn. “Oh!” I say, looking back at Jay, surprised by the movement. He laughs. “Pretty cool, huh?”

I nod. We begin to pick up speed. I tighten my grip on the rope. His arms are still around me.

“Okay, now, let go and pull here.” He guides my hands to another set of ropes. “Watch the boom! And, oh, loosen your hold, now pull again. Yep, just like that.”

The boat begins to shift in the other direction. He takes a step back. “See, you’re doing it!” he says proudly.

I grin at him. “I’m doing it?”

“You’re doing it! That’s it. Well”—he laughs—“not exactly it, but it’s a start. We’ll adjust the mainsail as the wind changes, but until it does, you can relax and enjoy the ride.”

“Where’d you learn all this?” I ask him.

“Summer camp. When I was ten.”

Naturally. The only boats at the summer camp I went to were old, rusty canoes, floating in warm swampy South Carolina lake water. No one minded, though. We splashed through the inky water, feet sinking into the muck, trying not to tip the boats as we hoisted ourselves in. It was just a rinky-dink YMCA day camp; my mom couldn’t afford to send me to the sleepaway kind with cabins and bunk beds and bonfires. So sailing? Yeah, right.

Jay sees the look on my face and laughs. “What?”

“I was just thinking about the boats we had at the camp I went to. We were told they were canoes, but they were more like old sardine cans. We used branches we found on the shore as oars.”

“I was on scholarship, if that makes you feel any better,” he says. “We didn’t have a lot of money growing up.”

“Really?” I say. I turn toward him, surprised. “You don’t seem like…” I trail off.

“What, a poor kid?” He smiles wryly. “Thanks, I guess. But I was. Neither of my parents graduated from high school, so they always had pretty shitty jobs. They made ends meet, but we never had much.”

We’re both quiet. He isn’t looking at me anymore, instead staring out ahead. I clear my throat and say, “I grew up without money, too. My mom worked as a housekeeper, but she had health problems. She called out sick all the time, always ended up getting fired for missing too many days. We moved around a lot because we couldn’t pay the rent.”

It’s more honest than I’ve been with anyone in a long time. Even Violet. Maybe because he was like me, a poor kid who just wanted to fit in.

This time when Jay looks at me, it’s like he’s seeing me for the first time. Slowly, he nods. “It’s a hard way to grow up. I hated it.”

“Me too. Which is why I never told anyone. I made excuses about why I could never invite anyone over to our apartment. And since no one visited, I was free to tell them we lived in a mansion. And that my dad was a movie star in Hollywood. I thought that would make people like me.” I shrug.

Jay nods. “It’s hard to explain it to people. What it’s like. I don’t think Violet’s ever really understood. But I shouldn’t be surprised, considering.”

“Considering what?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Her family has always had money. Her dad is some hotshot lawyer—Violet worked for his firm in San Francisco—but they have generational wealth. Her grandmother left a trust for her when she died.”

I frown, confused. She’s never mentioned money. Or a trust. But it makes sense: the big brownstone, the expensive clothes, the ease with which she glides. Still, I’m surprised it never came up.

He sees the look on my face. “She doesn’t usually talk about it. She thinks people will look at her differently if they know she comes from money. Even in Brooklyn, where everyone comes from money. I think she likes people thinking that we’re self-made, but I’m not sure why. No one here is impressed by new money.” There’s a hint of resentment in his voice. “It’s funny, I grew up wishing I had the kind of money she did, and all she wants to do is hide it.”

“Unless you’re a member of the Poor Kid Club, you just don’t get it, do you?” I give a little laugh. “No dues required, thank god.”

Jay laughs, too. “I’m glad you came today. I like you.”

I grin at him. “I like you, too.” And I mean it. I mean it more than I could ever tell him.

Then, “Oh—!” I say in surprise, “—that moved. The direction thing.”

“Good eye! Okay, grab the mainsheet, there. Right, you got it. And pull a little. Exactly, nice! You’re a fast learner,” he says appreciatively.

I shrug modestly, though inside I am giddy. He likes me.

Jay sits down on the bench beside me and clasps his hands behind his head, leaning back, eyes closed, face toward the wind. It ruffles his hair, leaving it standing on end. He’s so handsome it almost hurts. I look away, back to the water, before he opens his eyes and catches me staring.

I spend the next hour with him as he shows me how to speed up and slow down, change directions, maneuver the sails. I listen attentively, eager to please. He moves my hands, my body, into the right positions, demonstrating the proper techniques. When he touches me, I feel like I’m on fire. The air is warm and wet, sea spray misting our faces, dampening our skin. Once, just once, I allow myself to imagine him lowering his mouth to mine, the taste of salt on his lips, his tongue.

Finally, Jay glances down at his watch. “Are you hungry?” he asks. “We can take a break.”

I don’t want to, not really—it’s too easy to pretend that it’s just me and Jay on this boat—but I nod. “Sure, sounds good.”

He cups his hands around his mouth and yells, loudly, so his voice carries, “Here okay for lunch?”

From the front of the boat, Violet gives us a thumbs-up.

He turns to me. “I can take over from here. I’m just going to anchor us. I’ll meet you up there in a few minutes.”

I start to leave, then turn back toward him. “Thank you,” I say.

“For what?” Jay cocks his head.

“For teaching me. For letting me sail the boat with you.”

“You’re welcome.” A mischievous smile plays at his lips. “Maybe next time you can teach me a few things.” He’s trying to make me blush again. It works.

“Stop!” I say, giving his shoulder a soft shove. There’s a familiarity between us now, a closeness that wasn’t there before.

“Stop what?” He laughs. It sends a warm feeling through my limbs.

I shake my head, laughing, too. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m kidding,” he says. “Really, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

We stand there, smiling at each other, until finally, I thumb toward Violet and Harper. “Well, I guess I’ll head back now. See you in a bit.” Cool, Sloane. Très cool.

I turn and carefully make my way back up to the bow, the boat rocking over the waves. I hold on to the rail to steady myself.

“How was it?” Violet asks as I take my seat across from her.

“Really fun,” I say. “Just like you said.”

Violet beams at me. “I knew you’d like it.” She drains her glass, as if in a private cheers with herself for a job well done. She seems looser than she normally does, more relaxed. She sees me staring and raises up her red plastic sunglasses, winking at me.

Instantly, I feel guilty. She’s such a good friend. And how do I repay her? By flirting with her husband, wishing he was mine, that he would kiss me. I force myself to smile back at her. I’d never do anything, I tell myself. It’s a silly infatuation, like my high school obsession with Robert Pattinson, lusty, fevered, and forever confined to the darkened recesses of my bedroom, where I spent night after night fantasizing about him sinking his vampire fangs into my tender teenage flesh.

Jay joins us a few minutes later, carrying the cooler and a brown grocery bag. He sets them between us and sits down next to me, across from Harper and Violet. His thigh brushes against mine. Our eyes connect. Just a crush. But I know it’s not.

“Refills?” Violet asks, reaching for the cooler. Jay and I both nod and pass her our cups. Even though it’s just cider, I feel a little drunk, light-headed and euphoric, high from the day, the salt air. Jay. His leg.

“For you,” she says, handing me my glass, “and you.” She gives the other one to Jay. Then she picks up her own cup and raises it to mine. “To my Gemini twin.”

I beam and touch my glass to hers. “Cheers.”

Jay reaches into the paper bag. “Who’s ready to eat?” he asks.

“I am!” Harper yells, her hand shooting above her head and waving wildly. “I’m so hungry I could eat ten sandwiches!”

“How about you start with one?” Jay says good-naturedly as he unpacks paper-wrapped deli subs, a few bags of chips, and a parcel of grapes, and passes them around. We eat leisurely, the boat bobbing beneath us, the sail rippling in the wind.

“Something about being on a boat makes me so hungry,” Violet says, opening a second bag of chips. “Jay, are you going to finish that?” She eyes his sandwich longingly.

“Here, you can have mine,” I say quickly. I’ve only eaten half. I slide it toward her, happy to make Violet happy.

“You better thank Caitlin, Jay,” Violet says, winking at me. “Otherwise I would have left you to starve.”

“Thank you, Saint Cait. My hero. Again.” He gives me that slow smile that makes me tingle, my stomach flip. I blush, smile back.

When we’re finished and everything’s been cleared away, Violet clasps her hands together. “Should we do presents?” she asks.

“Yes!” Harper shrieks, bouncing up and down in her seat. “Open mine first! Do mine, do mine!”

Violet laughs and cups her hand around Harper’s cheek affectionately, kissing it. “Okay, okay, darling girl, I will.”

Jay reaches into a big bag and hands Harper two gifts wrapped in silver paper. “Give these to Mom,” he instructs.

Harper happily does as she’s told, presenting them proudly to Violet. “This is the one from me!” she says, holding up the bigger of the two.

Violet pulls off the ribbon and tears into the wrapping. There’s a large white box inside. Violet opens the lid, lifts out its contents. It’s a light pink robe, soft-looking, like you want to bury your face in it. “I love it!” she says. She runs her hand over the soft material. “Thank you, Harpie, it’s beautiful!”

“I picked it out myself!”

“She did,” Jay confirms. “We spent all afternoon looking for the right gift, and she decided this was it.”

Violet pulls Harper into her arms, covering her with loud kisses. Harper squeals and wriggles away. “Now open Dad’s!”

Violet glances at Jay, then picks up the second package. Carefully, she unwraps it, more carefully than she’d unwrapped Harper’s. She turns it over in her hands, studying it. It’s a book, a hardcover copy by Bill Bryson.

She flips open the front cover, then to the title page. Both are blank. Quickly, she shuts the book and looks up, smiling at Jay. “Thanks, Jay. Bryson is his favorite,” she says, turning to me. “Have you read any of his books?”

I shake my head. I’ve heard of him—he’s a travel writer, I think—but have never picked up anything he’s written.

“He’s the best,” Jay says. “ In a Sunburned Country is my favorite.”

“It’s why we went to Australia for our honeymoon,” Violet adds.

Jay shifts, clears his throat. “Well, should we—” he starts, but I interrupt.

“Wait, I have a little something for Violet, too,” I say, reaching into my bag. “Here.”

I take the small, wrapped box, bow on top, and pass it to her. My heartbeat starts to pick up, my stomach feeling like it does on a too-fast roller coaster. What if she doesn’t like it? What if she thinks it’s stupid? Or ugly? Maybe she complimented me on mine just to be polite. I smile at her. My lips feel tight.

Violet takes it from me, smiling back. She unties the bow and removes the wrapping paper, then lifts the lid of the little box to reveal the necklace. The tiny pearl glints in the sunlight.

“It’s like mine,” I say tentatively. “Like my grandma’s.”

“Thank you, Caitlin,” she says quietly, looking up at me. The wind has ruffled her hair. It’s wild and loose, framing her face. “I love it.”

I smile broadly, relieved. She likes it—but I realize she isn’t putting it on. I feel a tinge of disappointment, but then see that she has turned around, rooting through a large canvas tote. When she turns back toward me, she’s holding a small gift bag stuffed with gold tissue paper. “Great minds,” she says, winking as she hands it to me.

“For me?” I say, even though I know it is. I’m beside myself. Violet nods.

Delighted, I reach into the gift, my fingers brushing against a small packet, a folded square of tissue paper. I take it out and unfold the paper. Inside is a gold pendant hanging from a thin gold chain. The pendant is a nickel-sized square, a starburst etched into the metal. It has an antique feel, a vintage relic of the past, but I’ve seen it before. Around Violet’s neck.

“I have one, too.” She smiles and reaches into her sweater, pulling the chain out for me to see. “Gemini twins.” My heart swells.

“Want me to put it on?” she asks, and I nod, unable to speak. She takes the necklace from me and scoots closer. I can feel her breath on the back of my neck as she hooks the clasp together, light and feathery.

“Let’s see,” she says and leans back.

Proudly, I lift my chin, put my shoulders back. “Beautiful,” Violet pronounces, and both Harper and Jay nod.

“Now time for cake!” Violet announces. She reaches into another bag and pulls out a miniature cake with a plastic lid. She uncovers it and gently places two candles into the icing. She lights the wicks and Jay and Harper begin to sing to us, loudly and off-key.

Looking around at Violet, Jay, and Harper, everyone windblown and rosy-cheeked, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I close my eyes and blow out my candle.