Twelve
Twelve
After the game, I get a ride home from Alex. Travis offered, but I told him he should celebrate with his teammates and that we would meet at his house later so we could go to the party together. I needed to buy as much time as possible to figure out what to do. During the car ride, I immediately try to throw Alex off the scent before he can ask me any questions.
“So, Stella is coming tonight?” I say, going on the attack.
“Yeah, she started driving down from Vancouver an hour ago,” he tells me with a twinkle in his eye.
“You’ve got it bad for her, don’t you, friend?” I say with a huge grin.
“Shut up!” Alex’s face turns purple, and I burst out laughing.
“That’s a good thing, Alex! You look happy, and that is already reason enough for me to love her. I have never seen you all aglow like this.”
“I am happy. I can’t wait for her to meet you; I’m sure the two of you will get along great.”
“I have an idea! You should come to my house for dinner tomorrow. Mom wants to ‘officially’ introduce me to her new boyfriend.”
“Ah, the famous Victor, the only man capable of thawing Esther White’s icy heart,” he replies cheerfully.
“That’s the one. So will you keep me company during this torture?” I implore him with my usual doe-eyed look.
“Of course we will. We can’t stay long, though: I’ve got a romantic evening planned,” he says suggestively.
“Oh, you’re gonna be busy, huh?” I snicker, before turning serious to thank him. “I’m relieved I don’t have to face this dinner alone.”
“Travis didn’t want to come?”
“I didn’t ask him. You know how my mother gets around him. The dinner will be awkward enough as it is; I want to avoid piling on.”
“That makes sense,” he says, smiling.
“I’d better get inside, I need to get ready for the party.” I roll my eyes. I don’t have the slightest desire to go.
“Speaking of parties, you don’t need me to do the safety spiel, do you?” he asks wryly.
“I’m gonna say no. I’ve got a good head on my shoulders, don’t I?”
“I know, but weird things always happen at parties. Just keep your phone on you and call me if you need anything, okay?”
“This is all very thoughtful of you, but I won’t call because there will be no need, and because you will be with Stella and an intrusive friend was not included in your ‘Couple’s Weekend’ package.” I chuckle. “In all likelihood, I will be home before ten o’clock,” I reassure him.
“Have fun, then.” Alex rumples my hair with a move that he would call affectionate, and we say goodbye.
An hour later I’m on the bus headed for the Baker house. I walk down the long concrete driveway, bordered by artfully manicured flower beds. When I arrive at the huge wrought-iron gate, I press the doorbell. Lisa, the maid, recognizes me on the video intercom and opens the gate for me. I pass the patio and find myself at the entrance, where Lisa has opened the door for me and stands waiting for me to hand her my jacket. I give it to her and shyly say thank you.
“Please don’t thank me, Miss Clark, I’m just doing my job,” she says with a pleading look. Inside this house, the words “thank you” do not exist. All this luxury always makes me feel uncomfortable.
“Where’s Tiffany?” I find myself whispering, though I couldn’t say why. It must be the deafening silence that fills this huge, bright house. Everything is white here, from the polished marble under my feet to the stone pillars at the entrance to the vast carpet in the living room, which is surely made from the pelt of some poor polar bear…
“You will find Miss Baker in her room, upstairs.” The maid bids me farewell with a bow and then leaves.
A bow? Really? This is the reason I stopped coming to this house— it’s all a bit much for me.
I climb the stairs and walk down the hallway that divides Travis’s room from Tiffany’s. I can tell that Travis is in his room by the music blaring from the stereo, so I sneak into the good twin’s room. When I enter, I find her curled up on the chaise longue listening to “Like a Virgin,” intent on painting her toenails. She’s wearing a pink silk robe and looks beautiful even in her lounging clothes.
“There you are! Lock the door, I don’t want anyone busting in.” I do as she says, then slip off my purse and shoes and throw myself onto the bed, resting my back on the mountain of piled-up pillows. I’d much rather skip the party and stay here to get a good night’s sleep.
“Are your folks still out of town?” I ask.
“You know how they are. Work comes first,” she says, imitating her father’s voice.
“Where did they go this time?” I clutch a pillow to my chest.
“Dad flew to Dubai for a conference, Mom’s on a spiritual retreat or something like that. Apparently she’s stressed.”
“I’m sorry, Tiff,” I say simply. I know their absence hurts. The absence of a parent always hurts.
“I’ve gotten used to it. When your father is the CEO of a big oil company, you don’t have much of a choice.” She shrugs. “In all honesty, not having them around has its upsides. There’s always a lot of tension whenever they’re in the house. Especially with Travis, who never misses an opportunity to raise hell to get dad’s attention.”
“I still don’t understand what you guys are doing in this hole of a town. With all the money you’ve got, I’d be in Los Angeles, New York, San Francisco! Anywhere but here!”
“Father claims that a tiny, godforsaken town like this is more livable. Corvallis is his magic bubble. Also, the grandparents are here. And OSU is a great school, it has nothing to envy from Harvard.” She waves her hand over her toes to dry the polish just as we are interrupted by someone knocking on the door.
“It’s Travis,” he says in a faint voice.
“No, really?” exclaims Tiffany.
“Is Nessy with you?”
Tiff looks at me, waiting for me to tell her what to do. I give her a hesitant nod, and she lets him in.
“Hey,” I say as soon as I see him in front of me. I sit up on the edge of the bed and, when he reaches me, he gives me a chaste kiss on the lips.
“We’ll be leaving in twenty minutes, you guys ready?”
“Do we look ready?” interjects Tiffany with a raised eyebrow.
Her brother looks her up and down but doesn’t dare answer back.
“I’ll wait for you downstairs. Make it quick,” he says, before closing the door behind him.
“So,” she says eagerly as soon as we’re alone again. She puts her newly painted feet on the ground and observes the result with satisfaction. “Let’s get straight to the point: What is up with you and Thomas?”
I blink slowly at her, pretending not to understand. “T-there is no me and Thomas.”
“Oh yeah, sure. I saw very well what happened today during the game.” She spreads vanilla-scented moisturizer on her already perfectly smooth legs.
“Nothing happened,” I reply, jiggling my foot.
“Nothing? But have you seen the way he looks at you? To say nothing about how he practically incinerated that hot Duck-hunk who was making goo-goo eyes at you. What are you not telling me, Nessy?” She looks at me menacingly, trying to extract information with just her gaze.
“Shouldn’t we start getting ready? That way we won’t be late,” I change the subject.
“Oh, come on! Spill! Since when do you and I not tell each other stuff?”
Since my conscience made me sick with guilt.
“You know I’m going to find out either way.”
I give a resigned huff. “Fine! You wanna know what’s going on? Well, after my fight with Travis this morning, I was upset, and Thomas noticed, and I don’t know how it happened but there was a weird moment between us, and, I don’t know how, but we came this close to kissing,” I say all in one breath.
“What?” Tiff leaps to her feet, eyes wide. “And you’re only telling me this now? I’m your best friend. You should have informed me immediately!”
“Next time I promise to video chat you during the big moment,” I retort sarcastically.
“So you think it will happen again?”
“What? No, of course not! I was… I’m just saying.”
Tiffany gives me a coquettish look. “But would you want it to?”
“I said no!” I answer wearily.
“Okay, okay.”
I let myself sink into the pillows as Tiffany begins to go through some clothes. “Actually, I think he only did it to feed his own ego.” I let myself ruminate, my eyes focused on the ceiling.
“Meaning?” Tiff asks calmly.
“To prove to himself that no girl can resist him.”
“And is that true?” she asks hesitantly, putting away a green dress.
“Of course it’s true! And he knows it. He’s a beautiful boy, I’m not blind. But that doesn’t change anything. He just caught me in a moment of weakness. And then“—I scrub a hand over my face, frustrated—“I’ve got a boyfriend, dammit!” A laugh escapes Tiffany at these words.
“I think someone like Thomas is just what you need right now.” She takes two sheath dresses from the closet, one red and one black with lace details. After a few seconds of indecision, she chooses the black one, which highlights her fair complexion.
I look at her with a frown. “You shouldn’t be telling me these things, Tiff! You should tell me that I am a bad person for letting myself get taken in by someone like him, that I’m disrespecting my boyfriend. You should tell me to leave him alone because guys like him are nothing but trouble.”
“Look, even though I can’t stand him, I do wish my brother well and I am truly sorry that things between you two are going badly. But it’s pretty clear to me that your story has come to an end. I would be a hypocrite if I only told you what you wanted to hear. Should you let it go because guys like Thomas are nothing but trouble? Yes, of course. That’s what you should do. But we both know you’re not going to. When someone like that sets his sights on you, there’s no way out, baby girl.”
I rise up on my elbows, ready to retort. “Do you know what separates us from animals? It’s our ability to choose how we behave. We can control our instincts, especially when they’re leading us in the wrong direction.”
“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t do that.” She turns around and asks me to zip up her dress.
“I can’t tell if you’re crazy or what. Are you really pushing me into the arms of someone like Thomas?”
“No, not into the arms of someone like Thomas, but into new experiences. I’m just saying: your love life has been pretty limited. You’ve only had one real relationship, a long and demanding one. You got into it when you were very young and fragile and now you’re going through a period of change. You need to have fun, to live life, make mistakes, try new things. Instead you spend all your time trying to figure out the most correct and responsible thing to do. You will have your whole life to do that; now is the time to be irresponsible.” She slips on a pair of rhinestone-encrusted heels and touches up her makeup.
I frown at her. “So what am I supposed to do? Table dance in the cafeteria and get drunk every night at some crappy party?”
“Surely you shouldn’t spend every day fighting with your boyfriend, though, don’t you think?” She looks at me in the lighted mirror as she runs a styling wand over her coppery hair. She admires herself, pleased.
I am so confused about all of this that I don’t even know what to say to her. Sensing the turmoil of my thoughts, she decides not to pile on. “Come on, let’s go,” she says instead, smiling sweetly. The next moment, however, she gives me a thoughtful look.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“I’m thinking about what you should wear.”
“Oh, but… I thought I would wear this.” I look down at the clothes I’m already wearing—a pair of black leggings and a cashmere sweater—then I look at Tiffany again, begging her to take pity on me.
“I’m not letting you go to the party looking like that!”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“They’re…sloppy!”
“Hey, what happened to all that talk about not caring about appearances? About being unconventional?” I accuse her sullenly.
She shakes her head. “You can be unconventional and wear cute clothes at the same time.”
I refrain from answering back; it’s a losing battle.
“I’ll take care of you,” she announces proudly. “Come here, we’ll start with makeup.”
Oh God, no.
Tiffany sits me down at the makeup station and begins painting me with a product I’ve never heard of before: primer. After applying foundation and a bit of blush with expert hands, she focuses on my eyes. She chooses a purple eyeshadow and emphasizes the look with a line of black eyeliner, thin and perfect, and no less than three coats of mascara. To finish, she applies a nude lipstick and turns me toward the illuminated mirror.
I stand speechless. The result is crazy. I lean toward my reflection, incredulous.
“See what I mean when I call you gorgeous?” she retorts.
Made up like this, I can in fact see it. I look…sexy. I think she’s also done something to my eyebrows because they are darker and more defined.
“You did great, Tiff, but don’t get used to this.”
“Now we have to think about the dress. Let’s see, let’s see…” She pulls an array of garments out of her closet and throws everything on the bed. Lost in thought for a moment, she taps a finger on her chin, then picks up a dress, eyeballing it. She gives me a side-eye and pronounces, “Nah, too anonymous.”
“Anonymous is perfect!” I squeak, but she pretends not to hear me. She picks up another one and brings it over to me. I can tell from her pleased expression that she thinks this is the one. It is a very short black dress, sleeveless, and the neckline is surrounded by small studs. Eyes wide, I give her a flat “no.”
“Try it on!” she orders.
“Tiffany. Seriously, it’s not my thing. I’d feel half-naked in that. Where’s the anonymous one? Let’s give it a shot.” I hunt for it among the clothes.
“Stop being a prude and try this dress on.” I huff but obey. When I put it on, I see that I was right. It’s tight, shows off every curve on my body, and cuts off at mid-thigh. Tiffany hands me a cropped black leather jacket and a pair of Doc Martens. Unfortunately for me, we are the same size. But I suppose it could have been worse: she could have insisted on a pair of dizzily high heels.
“Nessy! I swear, you are so hot!” Tiffany chirps as I straighten up.
I’m ready to tell her that she’s wrong, but my reflection won’t allow it: she’s right, it sounds absurd but… I feel hot.
“It’s all you!” I laugh, embarrassed.
“Everyone’s eyes are going to be on you tonight!”
What? No. I don’t want to have everyone’s eyes on me. No. No. No. And just who would be looking at me? I’m going to the party with Travis. In just a few seconds, panic has taken complete control of my body. “On second thought, you know… Maybe all of this is a bit much. The dress…the makeup. Maybe I should just put my clothes back on, I mean, they were comfortable,” I babble.
“Don’t talk nonsense! You look perfect like this, and we don’t have time to change anyway.” She slips on her jacket.
“But Tiff…” I grab her by the arm and give her a pleading look.
She takes my face in her hands, as if to reassure me. “You are a stunner. I mean it, you’re beautiful. There is nothing wrong with how you look, so just take a breath, relax, and let’s go have fun!”
I close my eyes and take her advice. I breathe deeply, desperately praying that this party will end as soon as possible. But then I remember one small detail.
“So, Tiff,” I say, trying to be brave. “About what we were discussing earlier… Do you happen to know if Thomas will be at the party? I’d like to avoid any kind of tension between him and Travis.”
“You can rest easy. Thomas is going to Matt’s party at the frat house,” she reassures me as she gives herself a spritz of perfume. I don’t know how to feel about this. Disappointed? Relieved?
“Ah, one last thing before we leave,” she tells me, planting herself in front of me.
“What?” I’m almost afraid.
“This,” She undoes my ponytail and arranges my hair with her fingers. “That’s definitely better. Let’s go!”
Travis is waiting for us in the living room and, when he sees me coming down the stairs, his mouth falls open. “Wow, you look great.”
Tiffany walks past him and snorts haughtily. “You better treat her the way she deserves to be treated.” He ignores her and wraps his arm around my waist. I let him. We get into Travis’s pickup truck and speed toward Carol’s house, just outside Corvallis proper.
A few minutes later, we park in a driveway full of other cars and walk past the open gate. Inside, we find ourselves in front of a very large pool where some guests are already swimming. The garden is as bright as daylight, the lights reflecting off the crystal-clear water of the pool. All around, people are chatting and laughing, underscored by the echo of music coming from inside the house. “Isn’t it a little cold for swimming?” I ask, shifting my attention to the luxurious three-story mansion that rises before me.
“They’re so drunk, they could probably melt ice with their breath,” Travis replies.
“And is it safe to let drunk guys play in the pool? I mean, couldn’t they drown?”
“Maybe. But no one will miss them,” Tiffany puts in with a careless air. We head inside, leaving the drunk boys behind.