The Opposite of Me (26 page)

“I think about her every day,” Bradley said.

He turned his head slightly, but not before I’d seen the tears glistening in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“Remember the time she gave you a half-birthday party?” I said. “She made you half a cake.”

“She sang ‘Happy half-birthday’ to me, too,” Bradley remembered, smiling.

“She was such a good mom,” I said. We’d spent a lot of time at Bradley’s house over the years, and she’d always made me feel welcome. “I miss her, too.”

We were quiet for a while, staring out into the night, then Bradley put his arm around me and pulled me close. He’d planned this moment, I suddenly realized: the ladder, the picnic with my favorite foods, the rooftop at dusk. He was wooing me. This was Bradley’s equivalent of a Hail Mary throw into the end zone in the final minutes of a game; it was his final, bold stand before we went our separate ways to college.

I closed my eyes right before his lips landed on mine. They were soft and gentle, but I didn’t feel anything. No delicious tickling in my belly, no desire to wrap my arms around him and pull him closer. Nothing. I could’ve been kissing my pillow for all the passion I felt.

After a moment, I pulled away. It seemed kinder to stop this quickly.

“I’m sorry,” I said gently. I did love him. But not in the way he wanted.

“I can’t—” I began.

“It’s fine,” Bradley said curtly. His cheeks flushed, and he turned away from me.

Oh, Bradley, I thought, staring at his thin back. I ached to hug him, but I knew that would only make everything worse. After a few minutes of sitting together in the heavy silence, he stood up and offered me a hand. Even though I’d hurt him badly, he was still a gentleman.

“It’s getting late,” he said. It was barely nine-thirty.

When we left the rooftop of our school, something had inexorably shifted between us, and we both knew it. I was too chatty on the drive home, trying to gloss over what had happened. If we acted normally, maybe we could turn the kiss on the roof into nothing more than a friendly peck between old
friends. We could forget it ever happened, and go back to the way we were.

But Bradley wouldn’t play along.

“See you later,” he said, still not looking at me, when he pulled up in front of my house. I could feel his pain; it was a physical force in the car between us, keeping us apart. Keeping me from reaching over and hugging him, like I usually did at the end of the night.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said. “Okay?”

“Sure,” he said.

I stood in the street staring into the darkness after him long after he’d driven away. Bradley was the best guy I’d ever known.

So why couldn’t I love him back?

Fifteen
 

 

WHEN I GOT HOME from the coffee shop to get ready for my night out with Bradley, the worst thing imaginable happened.

Alex was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a magazine. And she was wearing my bustier, the insanely flattering one with the black lace edging.

For one wild moment I panicked, thinking she’d uncovered my secret stash of clothes and makeup in the back of my closet. But of course, the bustier she was wearing was three sizes smaller than mine. I looked down at the plain gray suit and white silk blouse I’d changed into at May’s house before heading to the coffee shop, and inexplicably, a hot shot of anger fired through me.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Dad, who was foraging through a cabinet, jerked upright and cracked his head on the edge of the cabinet door.

Perhaps my tone had been a touch shrill.

“Nice to see you, too,” Alex said, sounding hurt.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just surprised to see you.”

I glanced at my watch. It was almost five-thirty, and Bradley
was coming by at eight. If Alex didn’t leave soon, I’d call Bradley and suggest we meet at a restaurant instead.

“I just wanted to see everyone,” Alex said. “And you ran out on me so quickly yesterday. What was up with that?”

“Forgot about a meeting,” I said, opening the refrigerator and burying my head inside. I didn’t want her to see my face. She’d know I was lying.

“Are you girls hungry?” Mom asked, coming into the kitchen. “I can make us some dinner.”

“No,” Alex and I shouted in unison.

“I was thinking I’d treat everyone to takeout,” Alex said. “Chinese or Indian sound good?”

I looked at her in surprise. A cozy night at home with her parents and sister? Was Alex really that hard up for entertainment? The last time the four of us had spent a quiet night together at home was . . . I wrinkled my nose, thinking back, and came up blank. Maybe Christmas two years ago, before we realized Mom had forgotten to turn on the oven when she’d put in the turkey and we ended up going out for pizza at a joint with a neon sign in the window and a sullen teenager who monopolized the pinball machine in the corner. Our holiday meal was punctuated by his shouted curses whenever a ball dropped into the gutter. He wasn’t very good, and he seemed to have an endless supply of quarters. All in all, it wasn’t the holiest way of celebrating the baby Jesus’ birth.

“That sounds lovely,” Mom said. “The whole family together for a nice dinner.”

“Where’s Gary tonight?” I asked.

“He’s taking the red-eye back from L.A.,” Alex said. “I’m picking him up at the airport tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t park next to any vans with dark windows,” Dad warned.

“He watched
Dr. Phil
today,” Mom confided. “It was about a woman who was kidnapped in a parking lot twelve years ago.”

Her voice dropped to an ominous whisper: “Disappeared without a trace.”

“I didn’t
watch
it,” Dad objected, but everyone ignored him.

“So Chinese or Indian?” Alex asked.

“Chinese,” Mom said, at the exact moment Dad said, “Indian.”

Tonight I could wear my new jeans and Marilyn boots with one of my classic sweaters—the white cashmere turtleneck would look nice, and its demureness would offset the fuck-me factor of my painted-on jeans—and maybe I’d even put on lipstick. I wanted to look pretty. I wanted Bradley to stare at me the way he used to.

“What are you thinking about?” Alex demanded. “Your special friend in New York?”

“You’ve got a special friend in New York?” Mom squealed.

“No, I do not,” I said, shooting Alex a death glare.

“Is something in your eye?” she asked me innocently. “It’s all squinty.”

“I’ll get some drops,” Dad said, rocketing off toward the bathroom. “Don’t touch it! Eyes are very susceptible to infection!”

I couldn’t help laughing, and Alex laughed along with me.

Then she leaned closer to me. “Did you pluck your eyebrows since the last time I saw you?”

“Just a little,” I admitted.

“They look good,” she said.

I think it may have been the first heartfelt compliment Alex had ever paid me. It felt odd. She must’ve realized it, too, because she immediately said, “The guys from
The Sopranos
were getting jealous.”

“Nice,” I told her. “Have your boobs gotten smaller?”

There, that felt better.

“Now, girls,” Mom said.

“We’re just kidding around,” Alex said. “Right, Linds?”

“Right,” I said. And in the same spirit of playfulness and fun, would it be wrong to hope that she dripped some moo shu sauce down the front of the bustier she’d all but stolen from me?

“Oh, Lindsey, I almost forgot,” Mom said. “Mrs. Williams wants to know if you’ll talk to her son about the SATs.”

“Talk about what?” I asked.

“Just tips on how to take the test,” Mom said vaguely. “I told her how you scored a nine hundred on the math part of the test, and she was really impressed.”

“Mom,” I said, “the test only goes up to eight hundred.”

Mom flapped her hand, as though physically squashing my point. “Will you be home for dinner tomorrow, honey?” she asked me. “I could ask them to come by after that.”

“Fine.” I sighed.

“Perfect,” Mom said. “I’ll bake cookies.”

Alex winked at me, and I couldn’t help smiling. I’d have to remember to pick up some cookies, just in case.

“I’m going to pick up dinner,” Alex said. “Want to come get it with me, Sis?”

I looked at her sprawled in the kitchen chair, one long leg hooked over the armrest. Sunlight was streaming in from the window behind her, turning her hair into a wild riot of reds and golds. As always, the gentle planes and graceful curves of her face were expertly made up to look completely natural and flawless. Or maybe she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all—it was hard to tell.

“Sure,” I said after a moment.

But I couldn’t help wondering why she’d asked. Alex had never been eager to spend time with me before. Even when I’d lived in New York, she’d only called when she happened to be
passing through. Sometimes we grabbed a quick drink or a cup of coffee, but more often than not I was out of town or too busy to see her. If either of us had made an effort—if she’d called me in advance, or if I’d rescheduled my meetings—we could’ve spent more time together. But neither of us had bothered.

So why was Alex trying now, when the space between us had grown so vast that it seemed almost impossible to traverse?

“Ready?” she asked, jingling her keys in her hand.

“I’ll meet you in your car,” I said. I glanced at my watch. I’d better call Bradley and suggest we meet somewhere near the theater, just in case. “I have to make a quick call.”

We were finishing up dinner (Chinese; by the time Mom was through with him, Dad was certain that it had been his preference all along and that she was doing him a favor) when the doorbell chimed.

“I’ll get it,” Alex said, hopping up.

I looked at my watch: almost seven-thirty. I was itching to get ready for my night out with Bradley. I’d left him a message saying I’d meet him at the coffee shop next to the theater at eight, which meant I’d need to pack up my clothes and go find a gas station where I could change. I didn’t want Alex to see me in my new clothes. I knew she’d circle me like a shark, then she’d make some crack, maybe something snide about me finally shopping in the twenty-first century. I’d feel silly under her scrutiny, and the magic of my new look would disappear.

Alex came back to the table just as I stood up, and I realized the worst thing imaginable hadn’t happened yet. It was happening now.

Bradley was two steps behind Alex.

“Oops,” Mom said, looking at me.

“Hey, everyone,” Bradley said.

I looked back at Mom.

“I forgot to tell you Bradley called while you and Alex were out getting dinner,” Mom said.

“No big deal,” Bradley told me. “I can hang out and wait if you’re not ready. I just happened to be doing a shoot nearby, so I came straight here after work.”

“No, this is great,” I said, forcing a smile as I looked down at my suit. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to start. Bradley was supposed to open his door and see me in my new boots and jeans, with my hair loose and pretty. The smile was supposed to slide away from his face, like it had all those years ago.

“Want a beer?” Alex offered.