15. The Confession
THE CONFESSION
I sit at my desk and stare at the numbers.
The fan account is open on my phone, tucked under my desk where nobody can see. I haven't posted in months.
I open the account now. The last post is a Riley fill breakdown from months ago—the cross-sticking analysis, the way she rotates her wrists. Riley herself left a heart emoji and I felt that heart emoji like validation.
A new practice video dropped two days ago. Riley in her home studio, working through a four-on-the-floor pattern.
I start a new post. I type: The grip shift at 2:34 is perfection.
I delete it.
I type: New Riley practice video and it's everything we needed.
I delete that too.
I close the app.
On Sunday, Jani calls.
“Rebecca found this nice currywurst down the street, so we had that. Anyways how are you?”
"I'm fine."
"You sound so miserable."
"I'm—" I stop.
I don't say them.
"I'm just tired," I say instead. The lie is so thin I can hear Jani's silence on the other end.
"Do you want to visit me?" she asks.
"I don't know."
"You should come. I think we need to hang out."
"I know."
"I love you, you know that, right?"
"I love you too," I say.
After we hang up, I sit for an hour with my hands folded in my lap and my heart doing something that hurts.
That night, Rhonda calls around 11:07 PM. I've been sitting on the couch for hours doom scrolling on my phone.
"I just wanted to hear your voice," she says.
“Oh really?” I say before I can stop it.
“Yes, I miss you every second.”
I don’t say anything.
She tells me about the cottage—the recording sessions, the cold mornings, the frost sitting on the trees like they're made of glass. She tells me about Sandy and Erica orbiting each other. She tells me about Jeremy making breakfast and Ana teaching her a new bass line.
"The frost is really something," she says. "It makes everything feel still and like the season is resetting."
"I wish it worked that way for everything."
"Yeah. Me too." A pause. "I'm sorry about the photo. And I’m sorry about the booking agent."
"I know."
"That's not enough, is it?"
"No," I say. "It's not."
"I'm trying to figure out how to fix it."
"I know that too."
She breathes through the speaker. The distant sound of wind through trees.
"I miss you," she says.
"I miss you too."
We stay on the phone for another hour later. We talk until she falls asleep with the phone against her ear, and I listen to her breathe, and I don't hang up. I let myself feel the weight of everything I'm holding—the Jani secret, the Ravita hurt, the decision I haven't made yet.
I make a decision the next morning, standing in my kitchen with a coffee I'm not drinking and the group chat notification blinking with another Belladonnas sighting.
I'm going to tell Ravita and Marnie. I'm not going to wait for Rhonda's permission.
I text them: Can we meet? I need to tell you something.
Ravita: When?
Let’s meet after work, at our usual cafe.
Marnie: I'll be there.
But first I call Jani, because if I’m done hiding, I’m done hiding from her most of all.
“I’m seeing someone,” I blurt out. “She’s a woman. Her name is Rhonda. She likes bass. I mean she plays bass for the Belladonnas.”
There’s a silence, and then Jani laughs. “Of course. You know that you’re terrible at lying and that I knew since that photo, right?”
“What? Really?”
“I am going to need every single detail. But first—are you okay?”
“I will be. I’m telling my friends tonight. And I—” I take a breath. “Can you come this weekend? I want to introduce you to Ravita and Marnie. As my sister.”
The line goes quiet, because Jani knows what that means. My friends have spent three years worshipping her band. They have a shrine. Marnie has a spread. And not one of them knows that the bassist they idolise from three rows back is the girl I grew up sharing a bathroom with.
“You’re going to give them a heart attack,” Jani says.
“Probably.”
“Okay.” I can hear her smiling. “Okay. I’ll come. Let’s give your friends the shock of their lives.”
I sit down and I look at Ravita and Marnie and I tell them everything. About Rhonda. About the mask and the merch table and the airport and the couch. About a year of texts and voice notes and the secret I’ve been carrying.
I tell them about Rhonda's voice on the phone at 11 PM. I tell them about the rooftop photo and the fight and being invisible. I tell them about the fan account dying.
Ravita's face goes through phases: surprise, then hurt, then anger, then a deeper hurt that sits underneath the anger. She folds her arms and stares at her coffee.
"You couldn't tell me?" Her voice is quiet but sharp. "You see me every day. I asked you. I asked you and you lied to my face. I literally showed you the photo of Sandy at the mall two weeks ago. And the whole time you had Rhonda Mars on your couch. On your couch, Lena."
"I know."
"How many times? How many times did you see her?"
"I don't know. A lot. Most weekends."
"Most—" Ravita stops. Takes a breath. "Okay.
And how many times did we talk about Belladonnas sightings in the group chat and you just—what, laughed?
Smiled? Acted like we were this team of fans hunting them?
And then the acoustic show. I invited you.
I asked you directly. You said you had to work.
But you were probably with her instead, weren't you? "
"Yeah," I say. There's no point in defending myself. "I was."
Marnie leans forward. Her face is careful, controlled. She's watching me like she's trying to piece together a puzzle where the pieces don't fit anymore.
"We sent you blurry photos of Belladonnas in the wild.
We spotted them at malls and shops and we texted the group chat losing our minds like we'd spotted celebrities and the whole time you were dating one.
You were dating their bassist, Lena. And you just let us send you photos like we were insane. "
"I wasn't thinking about it like that."
"Like what? Like we were being stupid? Or like your girlfriend was just some musician you were hiding like she was something to be ashamed of?"
The words hurt more than I realise. I deserve all of it.
Ravita picks up the thread. "I showed you the photo at the mall.
I was excited. I said, 'Look, it's Sandy, it's so cool that they're just living their lives in the city,' and you smiled.
You smiled at me and you knew. You knew I was showing you your girlfriend's bandmate's photo and you just sat there. "
"I know. I should have—"
"You should have told us," Ravita says. "That's the thing. You should have said something. Anything. Instead you just kept lying. It’s been so long, Lena. You literally chose her over your friends."
"I wasn't choosing her over you. I was trying to—"
"To hide her," Marnie finishes. "To hide her from your friends. Which means you were hiding yourself too, I guess."
I don't have a response to that.
Then Marnie’s shoulders relax. Her face softens. She leans back in her chair and she takes a breath and something shifts in the room.
"And honestly? I always thought they were kind of good. I just never said it because you and Ravita would have killed me." She smiles a little. "Their bass player is really good."
Ravita's eyes go wide.
"Okay, I admit we were really mean," Ravita says. “We shouldn’t have had those rules.”
"Not that mean," I offer.
"If you had felt safe, you would have told us." Marnie says.
Ravita stands up. She walks to the window. She stands there for a long moment, looking out at the street, and I can't tell if she's about to walk out or come back.
She comes back.
"I don't like that I was mean about them.
I don't like that I spent months being dismissive of a band where my best friend's girlfriend plays bass.
That's—that's really embarrassing, actually.
" She sits back down. "But I also don't like being lied to.
And I don't like finding out that you've been seeing me every single day at work and lying through your teeth about what you were doing with your evenings. "
"I know."
"You don't have to keep saying you know."
"Okay."
Marnie reaches across the table and takes my hand.
"We're upset you didn't tell us," she says. "We care that you felt like you couldn't tell us."
"Yeah.” Ravita says quietly. "I care that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. That hurt more than the lying."
"I'm very sorry," I say.
"I know," Ravita says. "And I believe you."
"I know."
"I still love you," she says. "But I'm so angry. And I need time to work through the anger."
"Yeah. Of course."
Marnie doesn't release my hand. She asks the barista for more coffee. She orders a slice of cake and asks me what I want. I say nothing. She orders cake for me too.
By the time we’re ready to leave, Ravita’s hugs me at the door. And I don’t let them go home.
“There’s one more thing,” I say. “My sister is home and I want to introduce you to her.”
“Really?” Ravita’s eyes widen and she forgot she’s mad at me. “I would love to meet your sister.”
“Oh my gosh, yay! Finally!” Marnie jumps up and down.
The whole walk over they pepper me with questions I dodge, buzzing with the specific delight of being finally, let in. Ravita keeps side-eyeing me like I might bolt. I don’t.
Marnie makes a sound I have never heard a human being make.
“That’s—” Ravita’s hand comes up. Points. Drops. Comes up again. “That is Jani Anderson. That is—Lena. LENA. Why is Jani Anderson in your apartment?”
“Because she’s my sister,” I say.
Silence.
“Hi,” Jani says—not getting up, and smiles. “So you’re the two who’ve hanging out with my sister for years.”
I roll my eyes, because Jani's only ever this cool with people who aren't me.
What happens next is loud. There is screaming.
There is Marnie sitting down on my floor because her legs have stopped working.
There is Ravita saying “YEARS”. And there is my sister—gracious and famous—answering their questions and signing Marnie’s phone case and being, for once, allowed to be a whole person in the same room as my whole life.
And there’s me, in the middle of it, holding nothing back and hiding no one, watching everyone I love collide, and finding that it doesn’t end the world.
Later, when they’ve gone home hoarse and glowing, I text Rhonda: I told my friends everything. And they met Jani.
A pause. The dots cycle. Rhonda: How did that go?
Me: A lot of screaming but it was great.
Rhonda: Good.
And in that one word, I feel it. I feel myself becoming visible again.