16. Liar #2
“She’s got a psycho stalker after her,” Tom offered, because I wanted the brick wall to start displaying my dirty laundry for the world to see.
I didn’t talk about my problems, because how was I supposed to live my life like that?
That’s all I’d do, and I’d never even get to all of them, so it was better to just focus on the positive.
Obviously. Only Beastie was supposed to know about my psycho stalker, and only because I used him to keep said stalker away.
Beastie never talked to anyone about anything.
That reminded me. I needed to text him. And call Aunt Willie.
“A week of camping and fishing with Nix? How peaceful,” Trixie said in a flat voice. “And he told you about me, that I’m a jewelry designer?”
“And mechanic. Do you also do the home health care stuff?”
“I’m not good with people,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Sorry. I’d love to chat about my art, but I’ve got to get to work.
Maybe we can do lunch another time.” She turned and stalked off, leaving me kind of bewildered.
Was she jealous of me? Did she have feelings for Nix that she hadn’t been able to express and thought that he’d ask her to design a ring and then he’d give it to her, so I was a cause for her ultimate heartbreak?
“Don’t mind Trix. She’s just grumpy because she’s on a low-carb diet,” Tom said and gently tried to usher me towards the elevator. I let him, because I’d already been bruised enough that day. Horse watched me go, not seeming to notice the women who jumped around him like a bunch of puppies.
Once the elevator was closed, I turned to Tom the brick wall. “Is she in love with Nix?”
He blinked at me. “I don’t think so. She’s in love with white-wall tires and pasta. Nix and her are always strictly professional. If she’s in love with anyone, it’s Horse. That’s why she hates him so much,” he said with a slight nod before closing his mouth on all subjects.
“I see. Horse doesn’t like her?”
He snorted. “Trix is his ultimate woman, but she’s never given him the time of day, because he’s too available. Also, she doesn’t give anyone the time of day. Or night. She’s OCD.”
“OCD? An OCD mechanic? How does she deal with grease?”
He shrugged and then zipped it for real. Huh. If Trixie was the good-natured one, I’d hate to meet Jezebel who really didn’t like people.
Finally, I was in the hotel room that felt like an upscale man’s gym and went to my smaller room and curled on my bed, getting ready to make my calls.
My aunt answered right away.
“Hey, Aunt Willie. I’m not dead!”
“Sunshine Ray Wilson, you scared me to death! Why didn’t you call sooner?”
“Sorry,” I said, settling down and pulling up the blankets. The air conditioning was on the cold side. I’d have to figure out how to adjust that if Nix was going to be gone so many hours all the time dealing with crazy people. Were they his patients or his co-workers? Could they be both?
She sighed heavily. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good. I got married to this great guy. He’s in home health care, so he’s really comfortable with the needles and the dislocations. We actually had sex, and it didn’t hurt!” It was only a partial lie because I loved her so much.
“Really? You got married?”
“Yep. In Las Vegas, but it was in a church. He’s so gentle.”
“And he’s okay with the fact that you’re dying?” She always went right to the heart of things.
“Yeah. I mean he’s sad about it, obviously he’d be sad about it, but he works with a lot of terminal care patients, so he has a really great philosophy about life and death. He’s just happy to live in the moment with me.”
“He sounds flaky.”
I laughed. He’d taken a bullet for me and then faced his greatest fear to continue protecting me. “Yep, he’s a little bit new-age hippy dippy, but he’s really great in bed, so…”
She sniffed. “And your friend? How does he feel about it?”
“Beastie is fine. He only wishes he could have come to the ceremony. Too bad he’s so busy this summer.”
“Too bad. Sunshine, is this really how you want to spend your last months? Are you really somewhere safe?” It’s like she didn’t trust me at all.
I took a picture of my ring finger then pulled out the marriage certificate and took a picture of that too. I sent both of them and in a few minutes she inhaled sharply. “Nix Death-Hammer?”
“Yeah. It’s a great name, right?”
“He sounds like a stripper or a porn star.”
I giggled. “And you’d know because you spend so much time with strippers?”
She sniffed again. I loved my aunt so much. She seemed stuffy, but she was possibly the coolest person I knew. “I’ve been to Las Vegas a time or two. I’ll come in two weeks to give you a check-up.”
“Aunt Willie, I’m dying! What is the point of a check-up?”
“Your last months should be as comfortable as possible. If your medication needs adjustments, which it will, I’ll take care of it then. No arguments. Give me your address so I can send your things.”
“I love you.”
“Of course you do. I’m the only thing that keeps you out of the orphanage. Watch your hydration, and don’t overextend yourself with this stallion of yours. Death-Hammer.” She tsked.
I smiled while my heart panged. There would be no hayrides for this virgin. “Don’t worry, Aunt Willie. He does all the work.”
She laughed, got my address, and then hung up. She had things to do, like get my package together and save the world.
After that, I had to send a message to Beastie.
I’m dead! 3 X O
That was clear enough to identify me and my new phone number as a liar who was dying but not dead. I snuggled deeper into the blankets ready to doze off when my phone buzzed. Was it Nix?
I frowned at the picture of my bestie Beastie I’d taken while we were drifting around the Caribbean some weekend with his rich worthless friends last summer.
He was calling me? Last summer had been so much fun.
He knew I was sick, but I was only seriously dying since that summer, when I finished my last possible treatment and let go of all hope.
It was a hard summer, but better because Beastie made it fun, full of extreme sports and good food, the only irritation the way he kept trying to set me up with all of his friends, like my imperfect breasts were good enough for them but not him. So annoying.
It took me a second’s fumbling to answer. “Hello?”
“You’re right, you’re so dead. I talked to Christina and she told me that you were shot before you disappeared. You know what I have? Your bloody button. Do you know how worried I was? You gave me ulcers, at least ten, and who am I going to charge for the medicine? You. What’s your address?”
I sighed heavily. “I wasn’t shot, that was the guy I was with.”
“The guy? What happened to him? Is he dead somewhere in a ditch? People might care.”
I laughed and snuggled into my pillow. “You’re so silly, Beastie. We went fishing while his arm healed. And then we got married.”
There was silence for a long moment. “Congratulations.” He sounded official, austere, how he talked to strangers who weren’t me.
“Thanks. It was a lot of hard work, but you know me, always going that extra mile. Enough about me. How are things with you? How’s Stina of the perfect breasts?”
“Annoying. You, because you didn’t even invite me. Give me a recap. Make it particularly outrageous.”
“How can I make it more outrageous than it was? I seduced him by letting him teach me how to fish, and he seduced me by letting me teach him how to carve wood.”
“He’s okay not having sex with you?”
“Well that was rude to ask something so vulgar and completely personal.”
“Eventually, he’s going to rape you, and then I’ll have to kill him. I’ll go to jail because it’ll serve you right to die alone after you didn’t even invite me to your wedding. I would have brought you a really great present.”
I wrinkled my nose, but I was still smiling.
“He’s actually, well, he’s in home health care.
Seriously, he’s really, really gentle. He hasn’t given me a single bruise, and we actually did, um, you know, get all hot and heavy on our wedding night, and I was only slightly sore the next day, but not because I’m me, but just because I’m normal.
Have I ever been sore from being normal before? What is more outrageous than that?”
“Perfect.” He sounded weirdly intense and sincere about it.
“Oh. I guess you weren’t excited about killing him after all.”
“No. He married you. He took a bullet for you. He’s aware of your needs on a subliminal level. He’s perfect for you.”
My heart pinged a little, because he was so not jealous. Maybe it was my pride that was hurt. “Well, okay then. Too bad I’m not a prettier package for someone that perfect.”
He laughed, and it was the nicest sound. I hadn’t heard him laugh like that in way too long. “I’m just relieved that you’re in such a good situation after I was so worried about you. Seriously, Sunny, you’re dead if you do that to me again. How would you feel if our positions were reversed?”
“You’d deserve whatever you get because you always pick fights with the wrong people.”
“You wouldn’t worry about me?” He sounded almost vulnerable. Weird.
“Fine. It was evil of me not to let you know right away, but I didn’t know you knew anything and were worried. You haven’t been around, like you have your own life to live or something ridiculous like that.”
“Never. Me have my own life to live? You are the center of my universe and always will be. You are my sun to my orbit, the moon to my tide, the fan to my hotel room without any air conditioning.”
“Wow, Beastie. That’s traumatic. You have no AC? Where are you? Tell me it’s low-humidity, because if it’s Florida, life isn’t worth living. I give you permission to commit suicide right away.”
“Thanks. That’s what I was waiting for, permission to commit homicide.”
“I said suicide. Don’t be a psychopath.”
“People can’t just not be psychopaths. That’s like saying, ‘don’t be terminally ill’. I mean, the obvious solution to the second is to die, then you’re not terminally ill anymore, but how can you stop being a psychopath? Like Hitler, still a psychopath centuries after he died.”
“Can’t argue with your logic. I miss you.”
“Of course you do. No one else brings you pills. But this guy, this home health care specialist, he brings you pills? I’m jealous. I’m being displaced.”
“Um… He doesn’t exactly know…”
He was quiet for a second. “You married some guy and didn’t tell him you were dying? And you call me psychotic. Poor guy.” He said it dismissively. He didn’t really care about Nix’s feelings.
“It’s nice not to be treated like an invalid.”
“Or you can’t help but lie. Maybe you’re not really married.”
“I am, too.” I switched to video chat and showed my ring and the certificate I’d already had out to show Aunt Willie. “See?”
“Yeah, I see,” he said, but his screen was dark so I couldn’t see him.
I tapped on my screen. “Where are you?”
“I’m in a dark place right now. Literally.”
“Hm. You didn’t try to take out Michael, did you?” Michael Dupre wasn’t an invalid anymore. Not that Beastie couldn’t hold his own, but Michael was on a whole different level than my best friend.
“Naw. You’re going to die soon, so why worry about some stalker?”
“Hm. When you say it, it sounds kind of idiotic. I love that about you.”
“Of course you do. Everyone loves to hear their own misguided philosophies echoed back to themselves.”
“I miss you.”
“You already said that.”
“Are you coming to Las Vegas some time?”
“You want to introduce me to your husband?”
“You said you’d give me a present. No one else is giving me a present.”
“Except Aunt Willie.”
“Obviously. Is it art supplies? Or maybe an original painting by someone affordable but still talented? Ooh, I know, it’s a basket full of my favorites, applets, cotlets, and jelly bellies!”
“It’s kind of involved. I’m not sure if you’ll like it. I made it.” He said it quiet, and it kind of stunned me because as far as I knew, Beastie didn’t make anything.
“Oh, wow. Beastie, you know I’ll love whatever you made me.”
“We’ll see,” he said and then sighed. “I have to get back to work. Thank you for texting, Sunshine. I was genuinely worried.”
“Pyschopaths don’t worry about other people.”
“Maybe I’m not a psycho.”
I snorted. “Please. Then you would have fallen in love with me ages ago. I’m adorable.”
“All my friends think so.”
“Why do you have so many friends? It’s unnatural.”
“You’d have friends if you weren’t a pathological liar.”
“Shut up.”
“Seriously, you should tell your home health care specialist that you’re dying. You’re going to get really unattractive towards the end.”
I made a face at him. “That’s what makeup is for.”
“Oh, right. Makeup totally covers up all the vomiting and seizures. Just put some makeup on it.”
“I’m hanging up now. You have to get to work.”
“He’ll treat you well even if he knows you’re dying, Sunshine.”
“I know. He’s a protector, a champion. I noticed that about him right away.”
“Right away? Scary. Love you, Liar.”
“Love you, Psycho.”
We hung up with mutual satisfaction, although it kind of bothered me that he was so insistent on me being honest with Nix.
It was only six months. I didn’t owe him my truth when this was just a deal he made with his mom.
And I was a liar. Every day. Because otherwise I was just a walking corpse. Life was too short. Especially my life.