While You Were Pretending

Chapter Six

Sunshine seeps through the slatted blinds, behind where I’d forgotten to close the curtains. I roll away from it, all the way against the far edge of my queen bed. That’s not enough, though, and I find I can’t fall back asleep.

Groggy, grumpy, groaning, I question why the f**k did I stay up so late last night? Instead of getting to bed around ten and falling asleep before eleven, midnight had come and gone, and I finally took some Zzzquil around two. In all that time I caught the Marie Kondo bug from Peyton but had left it all half-done.

A little worse for wear, I shift my legs off the bed, rubbing my face slowly. The emerald paint on my walls catches the sunlight boldly, looking a few shades lighter. I can see the layers of dust on my cherry wood built-ins, having left my least favorite chore for today. The same goes for laundry, of my cream bedding and curtains, having done all my clothes first. (That of which, I thought I’d made great progress putting away, but in the light of day I’m terribly wrong.)

Realizing the time, I jump up and run to my door. Throwing it open I call, “Dad?”

Rushing to pull jeans on, clean shirt in hand, I skip steps on my way down to the kitchen. “Dad?”

Mom’s sitting at the table, a cup of tea in one hand, a paperback book in the other. “Mornin’, Luke.”

“Where’s Dad? Why didn’t he wake me up?” I shove a hand through my unkempt, too-thick hair. “Fuck.”

Mom raises her eyebrows at the f-word. “Your alarm didn’t go off and when he tried to wake you, you didn’t even move. He called Jimmy instead.” After looking at me, her expression softens. “Luke, it’s okay. You’re on winter break! You’re not in trouble or anything, Dad wanted to let you sleep.” Her hand pushed the Dunkin’ Donuts box across the table, “Have some breakfast.”

After sitting down, I pull apart a glazed donut. “You’re up kind of early.”

“I have plans to go into the city to do some Christmas shopping. Wanted to get through my tea first.” She lowers her book, flat onto the table, “What about you? You going to go back to bed?”

Mouth full, I shake my head. After a hard swallow, I mutter, “Probably going to see Peyton today.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly. “That’s every day since you’ve been back home. Didn’t get enough of her at school?”

“Actually… we didn’t see much of each other over the past few months. One, maybe twice a week… she really got into hanging with her roommate and her classmates from her psych class.”

Her concerned-Mom-face appears. “And you?”

“Had Matt and Ross, plus a study-group for people actually pursuing a bachelor’s in literature.”

Relief spreads across her face, “Well, that’s good! Nothing wrong with meeting new people.”

I nod and reach for a chocolate-covered donut, “Yeah, definitely. But yeah, so Peyton and I have been catching up.”

There’s a long pause. “And how’s… the whole Jaqueline thing, going?”

Before I think, I speak, “Oh! Great. She’s been really nice. She’s all alone in that hotel though and Peyton isn’t warming up just yet, so I was thinking about asking her to a movie or something.”

Fuck.

Mom gives me that I-wish-your-father-was-here looks and nods thoughtfully, trying to buy time. “That would be very nice of you… maybe you can make it a group thing, introduce her to some people. Three weeks is a long time to be stuck in a hotel.”

Donut stuck in my throat; I cough a little. “Right, right – exactly.”

*

“All you do is read for school. All you will be doing is reading for school, for four years! How can you possibly want to find something to read – for ‘fun’ – while on winter break?”

Entering Barnes And Noble, I try to ignore her. Peyton has never understood my love for reading, my love for storytelling. She’s a #NetflixAndChill kind of person. All throughout high school, it was ‘is there a movie of this’ and if there wasn’t ‘is there an audio book’ and if there wasn’t ‘f**k it, I’ll just Google the summary’. I’ve tried almost our whole lives to get her on board with me but about a year ago I realized I would never win.

“I want to read something fun! Don’t get me wrong, some lines from The Things They Carried got to me, and some cases from So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed were really interesting… but, I could really use something mindless.”

She nudges me with her elbow, “TV can be pretty mindless. You can be watching TV and be scrolling on your phone! Hard to do that with a book, huh?”

I think back to my sleeplessness. “Reading is better for you in the middle of the night.” Going down the fiction aisle, I turn to her and walk backwards. “Com’on, this is me we’re talking about, I’m basically in a relationship with literature.”

“I’m just saying… your to-read pile is huge. Why not pick one of those?”

I shrug and face the shelves, “I’m not in the mood for any of those.”

“What are you in the mood for, then?”

Romance. “Maybe a classic.” Self-help? “Maybe something to motivate me.”

Peyton’s hand is light on my arm. “Hey, what’s going on?”

I shrug. “Quarter-life crisis?” I try to chuckle. “I don’t know… maybe it’s just college – maybe this is how all Freshman feel. But… it’s like, okay! Finally made it to college! Something I’ve been working towards my whole life and I’m finally doing The Thing.”

Rubbing my face, I shake my head. “Don’t get me wrong, school has been such a positive experience. Having something to constantly work on, work towards, manage, and be successful at has really helped. Being proactive, being productive, being efficient – all the good stuff.”

“But?”

“But… okay, now I know what the next four years are going to look like. Or six, or however long. And… is this it?”

Her brows are together, “Is what it?”

“The routine I had in school. Is that it? And then have holidays off with nothing to do.”

Looking sincerely worried, she asks “What else would you want? What else would make you feel better?”

A relationship. To care for someone. To have someone who I talk to or see regularly that I like and makes me happy. To belong to someone. To belong with someone. “I don’t know.”

“What about a job? Maybe… maybe you could work at the campus bookstore! You’d get to talk to people all the time.”

Even though I say, “That would make sense…,” it’s not quite the solution. Because this is a different kind of loneliness. This is the kind of loneliness where it’s so crippling, all I can do is turn to literature – turn to fictional characters… live their lives, live their love stories.

“And… and! When we get a place together? We can get more plants and a cat! Unconditional love from a fur baby is always a wise choice.”

I do smile at this. “That’s true. I have missed Mary while we’ve been gone.”

Triumphant, she pats me on the arm. “Well! There you go! Next year, when we can get an apartment, we’ll get a cat.”

Letting her have her moment, I just hug her. “Sounds great.”

*

“Luke! We didn’t know you would be here,” Misses Pullman comments as soon as she comes in the back door.

“Those orders must have been easy to move, then, huh?” her husband asks.

“Actually, he gave me the day off.”

Peyton pulls another pizza slice from the box on the counter, “We did a little shopping, instead.”

“Now, Peyton! You know you’re not supposed to buy anything this close to Christmas.”

“I know, Ma, that’s why I got presents for you guys.”

Her step-dad finally gets his boots off and coat up, “You didn’t have to. We know things are tight now that you’re in college.”

Mouth full, she waves her hand. After a moment, then she can say, “I budgeted it out when I got financial aid. I can’t not get you guys gifts.”

Misses P gives her daughter a one-armed hug but looks at me across the counter. “What about you, Luke? Get something for your folks?”

Pretty excited, I nod quickly. “Yeah! We stopped into an antique shop and I found this book called The Furniture Doctor by George Grotz from nineteen-sixty-two. The first page has the breakdown of all these styles of furniture, describing, like, Tudor or Elizabethan or Colonial United States or French Renaissance – all over the place. When I looked at the chapters, there were things about restoration and repairs, how to stain different woods from different eras, ways to spot faked aging for fake antiques. He’s going to love it!”

“And for your mom?”

“I picked up an updated travel guide to Italy and an Italian to English dictionary.”

“Oh! That’s right,” Misses P looks to her husband. “They’re going back to Florence for their twenty-fifth anniversary.”

Mister P looks between Peyton and me as he pours himself a glass of Coke. “Are you two still planning that trip?”

At the table, Peyton curls her legs under herself. “What? To England?”

“To the U.K.,” I correct.

“Eh. It seemed like such a cool idea for when we graduated high school….”

In response, her parents look to me; they know I am my parents’ son.

This had been one of the very few fights Peyton and I had ever had. I want to travel – everywhere I possibly can, but she’s such a homebody. She treats Chicago like a small town and has no drive to go anywhere else. And then, with a whole college full of people, I still couldn’t find anyone to go with me. Everyone was so focused on getting a new phone or car or taking trips to places like Las Vegas. It’s like everyone either wants to party or go somewhere i********:-able.

I side-step the Peyton issue, “I’m thinking a month, one of these summers…. Going to take time to save up and plan.”

The awkwardness seems to be getting to Mister Pullman because his voice is booming and fast, “So, Luke, you staying for dinner? Jackie should be here soon; we could play some board games!”

*

Blockbuster ‘parking lot’ board in the middle of the table, there are two cards up with one card left for Mister and Misses Pullman and Joey’s team, one card up with one card failed and one card left for my team with Peyton and Jackie. Once the buzzer sounds, Joey stops charades and yells “Com’on!”

His parents look at him, his father saying, “What? What was it?”

“Carrie! The end of Carrie!” He does the same couple steps towards the table, waving his hand, then mimics the blood falling on her head. “See? And I’ve never even seen that movie.”

Peyton, laughing, points a finger. “That was good though! I totally got it.”

Joey flops down into his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Okay, your turn.”

It had been my turn for the Head-To-Head, so I have to do the last card – The Lion King – that I placed in the Quote It slot. Thinking about the ‘everything the light touches’ line, I scoot my chair back so that both Peyton and Jackie can see me. “Alright, here we go.” Misses P starts the timer. After two clicks, I realize an easier quote to know. “‘Hakuna matata’!”

Peyton gives me a look. “… The Lion King?”

“Yep!” and I flip the card over.

Jackie starts laughing, “That felt like such a trick question.”

Peyton smiles, “Right?”

We collect our cards and discard those we didn’t win. Next will be Jackie and her mom for the Head-To-Head. Mister P is ready to start the buzzer and I pick the prompt. I look to everyone, “Ready?” They nod. I read: “Movies that start with w.”

“Wall Street,” from Misses P.

“Wolf Of Wall Street.”

“War Of the Worlds.”

Jackie throws her hand forward. “Willy Wonka!”

“Uh… Who Framed Roger Rabbit.”

“Mm.. oh! Oh! Wall-E.”

“When Harry Met Sally!”

And the buzzer sounds. “Damn!” but Jackie’s smiling.

While Misses P picks the six cards and divides them, three easiest for her team, three hardest for ours, I lean towards Peyton, “You did really good!”

She giggles. “If this was a book trivia game, I’d do much better.”

Our eyes meet and gaze holds, I smile softly, “Me, too.”

“Hey babe,” Peyton calls pointedly from the kitchen. It takes me a moment to register, but then I look. “Do you want some more Sprite?”

I shake my head even though I am thirsty. “No, no. I’m good.”

She comes back, scoots her chair up against mine, and places her hand on my knee. Looking across the table, she asks, “So, which ones are you guys doing? Quote It, Act It, or One Word?”

*

Tugging at her sweatshirt sleeves, Peyton moves across her room to her bed. I’ll never understand the girl thing of a sweatshirt with shorts, but to each their own. Back in the computer chair, I twist back and forth. “So… tonight went well.”

“It was bearable.”

If I hadn’t known any better, I would have said she was getting on with her sister. Something reminiscent of their childhood, when they were rather inseparable, actually. With the laughing and being able to hold a conversation… the whole thing had humanized Jackie, and I thought, softened Peyton.

“It would have been better,” she continued, “if we’d been on opposite teams. That way I could have beaten her.” She slips the hairband past the edge of her hair then starts massaging her scalp. “I think it’s working though; she seems to be slipping off that high horse.”

Leaning against her mountain of pillows she smiles, “Every time she looks at us, she totally seems upset. It’s perfect!”

I go side-to-side a few times before slowly asking, “Did you really have to kiss me, though? I thought we said we weren’t going to go over the top.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches for her nail file, “It was just a peck, com’on. Remember that kiss when we were in Drama? Now that was over the top,” she laughs.

I study Peyton from across the room. It’s funny that she would bring up that particular instance because that was another time she was trying to make someone jealous. She was using our Romeo and Juliet scene to try and make her crush at the time notice her, all the while she was pretending she didn’t even like him. So, what now? Is she doing all this stuff to make her sister feel bad, all the while pretending she doesn’t want there to be a relationship between them?

Her father wasn’t the only one that picked another family, so had Jackie. And even though that brings out such anger in Peyton, it brings out hurt, too…. Hurt that she wasn’t picked, hurt that she was abandoned. She wouldn’t say it so clearly, but Peyton wishes she hadn’t lost her sister just as much as she wishes she hadn’t lost her father. Had she been jealous all these years? Is that why she’s trying so hard to make Jackie jealous now?

“Maybe….” But I don’t even know how to say it.

“Maybe what?”

Maybe she isn’t so bad. Maybe you want to hate her because that’s easier than being sad or feeling betrayed. Maybe if you just spent time with her, or better yet, talked to her, you guys could work this out. Sure, it’s been almost ten years, but you’re still sisters. You’re both really cool people. “It’s getting kind of late…. Maybe I should head home.”