Chapter 13
The Story of Greta and Taylor
Taylor and I always lived in the same city, but it wasn’t until two years ago that we moved into each other’s orbit.
Before that, our circles had always been separate.
He was my sister’s age, and he’d achieved legend status by the time I started high school, even if most of us hardly ever saw him because he skipped most of his classes.
We moved on parallel paths but at different speeds. Lucy had talked to me about him before I really knew of him, but I remember she didn’t like him the way the rest of the girls in her class did. When school was over, he dropped off my radar.
Until one Saturday in the middle of July.
It was a hot, muggy afternoon, almost ninety degrees. Olivia and I were sitting on the back porch of her house when she got a message from Sheila, the girl she worked with at the grocery store.
“She says there’s a party at the Browns’ place.”
“Do they have a pool?” I asked right away.
“Yeah. A big one, and a Jacuzzi too.”
“I’m sold.”
Olivia grabbed the keys to her mother’s car and drove to the most exclusive neighborhood in Ink Lake.
She was wearing a skirt that resembled a tutu that day, aquamarine, with black platform sneakers and a T-shirt you could see her bikini through.
Her designing her own clothes is probably what made us friends.
People had thought we were the class weirdos ever since we were little, in her case because of how she dressed and in mine because, to quote a girl from school, I had a bunch of bizarre ideas.
So we used to hang out in the schoolyard at lunchtime to keep from being alone.
As time passed, our lives grew closer.
I spent the afternoons playing at her house if my parents were away and my grandfather had work. Olivia would come over for lunch when Lucy was well, and when that happened, the world was a bright and happy place again for all.
I watched her grow up. She watched me grow up too.
In the last two years of school, Olivia struggled to make decent grades.
She dreamed of running away and broadening her horizons.
She sent a dozen applications to different design schools, but they all turned her down, so she stayed in Ink Lake and got a job at the supermarket.
She was off on Saturdays. If she hadn’t been, maybe I’d never have even gone to that damn party.
“Here it is,” she said.
She stopped in front of a huge house. Even from the front door, you could hear the music and what sounded like canned laughter. A girl with a nose piercing who we didn’t know opened the door. I figured she must be the Browns’ daughter.
“Who are you two?” she asked.
“Sheila invited us,” Olivia responded.
“Cool, come in,” she said, seeming not to care who showed up there or why. “Use the outside bathroom. There’s booze in the kitchen.”
We thanked her before she walked off.
Sheila was lying on a hammock and drinking something red through a straw. She waved when she saw us, and we walked over. She introduced us to her friends, all of them girls in their twenties who’d come home for their summer vacation.
I looked around. The yard was big, but it felt cramped with thirty people out there.
A loud screech caught my attention, and I looked over to see a guy with a girl on his shoulder just as he was jumping into the pool.
Pssshhh. The water splashed the people there sunbathing.
The two of them emerged a few seconds later.
He was laughing, and she was pretending to be pissed off.
“Is that Taylor?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Sheila rolled her eyes. “He’s a moron. Believe me, we’ve all been tempted at some point, but he’s a lost cause.”
She couldn’t know that, far from disappointing me, that was music to my ears. Broken things attract me: That’s a defect I’ve had forever. Maybe because deep down I want someone to look at all the broken pieces of me and find something there worth salvaging.
I didn’t ask any more questions. I just accepted the drink I was offered and stayed with the girls for the next half hour, listening to a conversation about something or other. I don’t know because when something doesn’t interest me, I stop paying attention.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the house. There were flower beds outside, vines climbing one of the columns, tall windows that revealed a comfortable living room.
I’ve always been fascinated by homes, not just the special scent of each one but the way the families interact.
What happens behind closed doors is a mystery I like to unravel.
I could imagine them all there sitting around the table, TV turned off, no background noise, having interesting conversations about their day.
I have this dumb tendency to think rich people’s lives are perfect, even though I know there’s no reason for them to be.
“Should we get in the pool?” Olivia asked.
“Later. First, another drink. Is there gin?”
“Inside, I think,” Sheila said, distracted.
I walked toward the back door. When I went inside, I noticed the details, the empty umbrella holder, the framed photos. Instead of going to the kitchen, I went upstairs, peeking in the rooms. There wasn’t much to see, but that only made me want to look harder. I knew I shouldn’t, but…
“What are you doing here?” Taylor appeared in the middle of the hallway.
“What are you doing?”
“Grabbing a T-shirt I left here the other night.”
“So what, you want me to applaud you because you bagged the hostess?”
His expression looked chastened, as if he’d decided he should be careful about what he said next. But that didn’t help him think of anything brilliant. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You’re right. I got lost.”
Taylor seemed to find that funny. “Have I seen you before? What’s your name?”
“My name is I’m not into you.”
“Hey, come on, wait…”
I turned around, about to go back outside, but he got in my way and blocked the stairs. Now I had his attention. Probably the only reason was that he wasn’t used to girls not being interested in him. That’s how stupid guys are: Show them something they can’t have, and they’ll go crazy for it.
“Could you move?” I said.
“I could, but I don’t want to.”
“You’re honestly irritating.” I tapped my foot.
“Come on, tell me your name.”
“What will you give me in exchange?” I crossed my arms.
“My undivided attention.”
“Well, what an honor.”
He smirked. “It is. You don’t know it yet, but eventually you will.” He looked down at my purple bikini top. “You feel like a drink?”
I thought it over briefly. He had a couple of things going for him: a decent sense of humor, the beauty of a lost cause, and the fact that I was bored to death that summer.
“That’s the first interesting thing you’ve said all day,” I said.
He smiled, accepted the challenge, and let me pass him on the way down the stairs. In the kitchen, we went on flirting. I told him to try to guess my name.
“You look like an Aubrey.”
This time I smirked. “Try again.”
“Amy?”
“No. But I like it.”
“Holly.”
“You’re getting colder.”
“Daisy?”
“You’ve got a weird thing for names ending in y.”
“Maybe. I never thought about it before.” He came so close that our bodies were touching. “Give me a clue. It’s not fair. You already know my name.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“Everybody knows who I am.”
“It’s only because you used to be classmates with my sister,” I lied, not wanting to feed his ego. “Her name’s Lucy Peterson. She was sick, so she was absent a lot.”
“That rings a bell…”
“You gonna make me that drink?”
“You gonna tell me your name?”
We stared at each other for a few seconds.
“Greta.”
“You’re not lying, are you?”
“That’s not my style.”
“Okay, Greta,” he said, drawing my name out. “So what do you think about me and you grabbing our things and leaving this boring-ass party?”
I didn’t hesitate. It’s easy to make decisions when you don’t expect anything too great out of life.
I said goodbye to Olivia and got on the back of Taylor’s motorbike.
The sun was going down as I wrapped my arms around his waist and we took off up the street.
We stopped at a bar to drink beer and play pool.
I beat him three times. He thought it was funny at first, but he got cranky when he figured out it wasn’t just beginner’s luck.
“Fuck this game. You want to come to my house?”
We wound up between the sheets. It was fast, intense, honest—just lust, just two bodies seeking each other, a moment of abandon before returning to reality.
We lay there on our backs.
“Hey.” Taylor was still panting. “I forgot to tell you, but I’m not looking for anything serious. I don’t want to hurt you, but…”
“Shut up.”
“What?”
“Shut up. You don’t have to waste your time making excuses. I told you before: I’m not into you. So relax.”
I got up and looked for my clothes while Taylor watched me wordlessly. I don’t know what light bulb lit up in his head, but he came over, grabbed my chin, and kissed me. Then he started getting dressed.
“I’ll take you home.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was turning off his motorcycle by the sidewalk. I handed him back the helmet he’d lent me. I was turning around as he said, “By the way, are you doing anything tomorrow at eight?”
Looking at it honestly, our relationship hasn’t changed much since. With Taylor, it’s easy to let go because there’s no commitment: He’s seen other girls; I’ve hooked up with other guys. But in a pinch, we always know the other one’s there—I mean, where else would we go?
When I got home that first night, I was startled to find Lucy in the kitchen, barefoot, in cartoon-print pajamas.
“You scared me,” I shouted.
“Was that Taylor Parks?”
“Yeah. Were you spying on me?”
“No, I just came down for something to eat and happened to see you.”
“Are those crackers in your hand?” I asked.
“Be careful with him, Greta.”
“Give me those crackers.”
“I’m serious. I don’t understand what you’d see in a guy like that. He’s definitely never cracked open a book in his life, and his favorite movie is probably Fast & Furious or some dumb comedy. What do you think you’re going to talk to him about when you hang out?”
“You’re so innocent, Lucy,” I replied in a bitter tone I instantly regretted. “Who says I’m interested in him anyway?”
She looked disappointed as she handed me the crackers and walked out.