Chapter 25

Justine

Ariel picked pieces of lettuce out of her salad, making a little pile on the side of the bowl. I pointed. “Don’t you like lettuce?”

She chewed, swallowed. “Not the stalks.” Her eyes scanned the restaurant, and she leaned back against her chair. “This is so nice. I never get to have lunch with another grown-up.” She pointed to her salad. “And this salad is delicious. Is something wrong with yours? You’ve barely touched it.”

I thought ahead to what I had planned for that night, thought of the dress I’d just bought: short, black, sexy. Knowing Tom was probably arriving at Myrtle Beach at that very moment made my stomach lurch. I couldn’t do much more than pick at my lunch. “No, it’s fine. I’m just not very hungry,” I said.

She pointed at my plate. “Then can I have your pita bread?” she asked, as if she was one of my daughters. The way she asked me for things, the way she hung on my words, the way I knew I was very important in her eyes. I liked it, but I also hated it. I wanted her to see the real me and still want to be with me. I doubted there was much chance of that happening. Like everyone, Ariel saw a product I had developed, packaged, and sold. Maybe Mark was right: I should go into sales.

I passed her the bread and glanced around the restaurant, thinking of how fortunate I was to be eating out, to be able to use such a beautiful condo whenever I wanted. If you didn’t know me better, you’d think I was wealthy. I guess I was, but it hadn’t always been that way, and sometimes the poor girl inside me woke up, looked around, and said, “How did we get here?”

“I was poor growing up,” I said, surprising myself with my outburst. But for some reason I felt I owed her something in return for providing my alibi, for trying to be my friend. “I don’t know why I said that!” I covered my mouth in embarrassment.

“That’s what girlfriend getaways are all about,” she said, a genuine smile crossing her face. “Getting to know each other better.” But I wasn’t into all this disclosure. “You can talk to me about anything, Justine.”

Little did she know that I, in fact, could definitely not talk to her. Especially not about why we were really in Myrtle Beach. But there was no harm in telling her my background, to appease her. “My mom had no way of earning money,” I found myself continuing. “We were so poor I went hungry a lot. I had three outfits to my name. We had to get government help, and even then it was hand to mouth. I remembered being scared all the time we were going to lose our house, which wasn’t much to begin with. Eventually we did. I was pretty insecure and a fashion nightmare back then. We ended up moving in with my aunt, who hated us being there. She always put my mom down for marrying my dad, for his leaving, as if it was my mom’s fault.”

In my mind’s eye I could see my aunt Susan, single and homely, yet prideful that she had the one thing we couldn’t seem to ever get and keep: money. My mom was the pretty sister, but my aunt Susan was quick to point out that beauty didn’t get you very far. She always looked at me when she said that, as if my mother’s beauty was a curse I had inherited instead of a blessing. She had nothing to worry about. Boys didn’t look at me with my thrift-store clothing, bad teeth, and acne.

“But now?” Ariel asked, her open expression making me want to tell her more. “I mean, your mom’s married, and your dad—or the guy I thought was your dad—is a dentist, right?”

“Yeah. She married him when I was fourteen. I was in middle school.” Before she could think I was some kind of pity case, I added, “I wasn’t picked on because we were poor or anything like that. I was just … kind of invisible. Eventually, after my mom married my stepdad, who had money, I was able to focus more on my appearance.” I gave her my most confident look even though thinking of this story was making me more uncomfortable than I expected. “Soon enough all the boys were asking me out. It was nice. I was visible.” I looked down at the table, pushed my salad around with my fork. I couldn’t meet her sympathetic gaze. “I pretty much vowed that I’d never be invisible again.” I squared my shoulders, smiled, and took a bite of a tomato.

Ariel picked up her fork. Her warmth almost irritated me. “Well, it worked. You’re the least invisible person I’ve ever met.” I laughed along with her. A moment later she took a bite of salad and followed it with a bite of my pita.

I forced myself to eat another small bite and chewed methodically, thinking of the only person who had ever really seen me. My cell phone in my pocket vibrated as if on cue. It was a text. He had arrived.