Page 65

Wish for something more permanent. 
It affected me in strange ways.  My stutter disappeared almost completely.  I had almost no problem ignoring insults from the usual bullies.  That sort of thing just rolled off me. 
I started trying harder in school.  Not because I liked it, or because I felt better, but because I wanted to finish and leave.  Dante would be heading east for college the following year, and I was planning to go with him. 
The rest of the school year felt like it passed in a thick, gray fog, but pass it did, and at the end somehow I rallied enough to actually graduate. 
Dante left for college just two weeks into the summer.  He had a nice apartment already set up for him for his freshman year at Harvard. 
I went with him because I could not conceive of doing anything else.  
It felt wrong right away.  He was instantly busy, and I felt aimless, listless, shiftless.  Pointless.  I had nothing to do.  When he was home with me, which wasn't often, he was tirelessly studying, whereas I was just watching TV, or reading book after book, feeling useless. 
And worse, I was afraid when I was alone.  Irrational fear.  Debilitating.  If I let the fear rule me, I'd have never left his side.
But I couldn't do that.  Pure stubborn pride prevented it.  And an instinct to do more than survive.  I needed to thrive again. 
And in order to thrive, I needed to find my own identity.  My own life.  My own purpose.
I started with something normal.  As small of a change as I could stand.  I got a job.  Another waitressing gig.  Dante hated it but he'd have done anything, agreed to just about anything by then just to cheer me up.  
He was attentive.  And he was loving.  Possibly more so than ever.
It took a very long time before I wanted his touch for anything aside from affection and comfort, and he never showed one sign of losing his patience about it. 
To the end of my days, I'll appreciate that.   
He never even brought it up.  When we talked about it, it was because I was worrying over it.
And even then he found the words, just the right ones, that I needed to hear.
The only ones that helped.
"This is not about me," he told me tenderly, "and what my body asks from yours.  This is about you and what you need.  I need to be what you need.  That's all that matters right now.  The rest will come later.  We have time.  All that you require.  We have it.  And when you're ready, I'll be here.  Every second of every day.  That'll never stop."
CHAPTER THIRTY
"Hear no evil, speak no evil, and you won't be invited to cocktail parties."
~Oscar Wilde
PRESENT
SCARLETT
"You're seeing somebody, aren't you?" Farrah asked me, not for the first time. 
We were shopping (her idea), and it was her first official day of unemployment.  "How are you planning to make rent?" I responded, trying not to feel as hostile as I felt. 
I'd become resentful as I pondered all of the ways she must have betrayed me over the years, and it only seemed to grow, until it was difficult to hide even though I knew that I absolutely had to. 
Because if this spy for Adelaide had any clue that I was onto her there would be questions that led to consequences that I was not yet prepared to deal with. 
"Waitressing.  Every role I can find.  The usual.  They assigned the crew a new lead when you left.  She was beastly.  I just couldn't take it, so I quit.  I bet Leona and Demi won't be far behind."
We were on the hunt for a new sexy little dress for Farrah's hot date that night.  It was really just an excuse to shop.  Farrah always had a hot date and enough sexy little dresses to cover it, I was sure.  
I was helping her because she'd asked, it was my day off, and I was trying to act how I normally would.  Normal me rarely said no to shopping. 
We'd been at it for a few hours, and Farrah had circled back to the same question five times.  I knew she wasn't going to let it go, and I knew why. 
Now that I was looking at her with nothing but suspicion, it occurred to me that she was always asking me too many questions, always curious, prying, nosy, with friendly nudges about everything in my life that I'd always just thought was part of her outgoing personality. 
I tried to behave as if I didn't know how she'd hurt me and found every good memory I'd ever had with her had turned sour. 
Some part of me, the part that gave too much of myself to friendships, was still trying to make excuses for her.  Maybe she needed the money.  I had no doubts Adelaide could afford to pay well.  Maybe she'd agreed to spy before she'd known me, and maybe she didn't share everything with Adelaide.  Maybe she'd come to care for me.  Maybe she felt bad about what she was doing. 
When I wasn't making excuses I was still trying to deny what was becoming more apparent, more undeniable, with every exchange, but even I could only rely on denial for so long. 
"Come on!" Farrah nudged me playfully as we sifted through dresses.  "Who is he?  Dish it!" 
I sent her a weak smile and tried to lie convincingly, though I had no energy for it.  "Me and Anton, but listen, it's nothing serious.  We're just killing some time.  It's not worth going on about."
I could tell that wasn't the answer she'd expected, and she gave me a strange, probing stare for it, but at least it got her to drop the subject. 
We were done and driving home before she brought it up again.  "Does Demi know you're hooking up with Anton?" she asked me, tone careful.