Broken Read online

  This morning was wrong for such a thing. My eyes fluttered in the sun’s rays peeking through my partially drawn curtains. My mind was still cloudy. Noel, I held him in my mind as tightly as I clung to my mom the first day of preschool. I was beginning to think I was holding on too tight. Then the flutter in my heart chimed in. I was so unmistakably loyal to the moments of him and me.

  The first day we knew was always dancing on the outskirts of my mind. I was 14. He was 15. We were play-fighting in my room on the floor after an intense game of Monopoly. He kept collecting my properties. Next thing I knew, I was in bankruptcy. “You get mean when you play,” I signed.

  “I do not, Milan,” he signed.

  “Well, you could give me a break,” I signed.

  “I will next time. I promise. I could never hurt you,” he signed.

  “Whatever. You just beat me for like the third time this week,” I signed.

  “Everyone is good at some things. We just have to find a game you’re good at,” he signed. He was so cute. He had almond-shaped eyes, long lashes, a nice nose, a low-cut Caesar. He had dimples that only appeared when he pressed his lips. He was wearing a tattered gray college T-shirt that was his father’s. It was the only thing he had of his father’s. Noel’s father left him and his mother when he was just three. He wasn’t bitter about it. He wasn’t upset about it.

  My hair was tied back in my still-favorite side ponytail. My pink velour sweatsuit was actually in style at the time. I couldn’t remember why, but he started tickling me. I tried to grab hold of his arms. Then we started to wrestle. He leaned into me. My heart jumped, for he had never done that before. My eyes stretched as far as they would go. I remember wondering what he was going to do. He closed his eyes. Then I knew what was coming. I had seen it in movies. I closed my eyes too. He began to kiss my lips. Then he slowly started kissing me with his lips apart. His tongue touched mine, and I turned away. I was so scared. Later on, I found out he had never kissed a girl before me. And I never kissed a boy before him. We were perfect.

  He turned my face to his. “I’m sorry,” he signed.

  “It’s okay,” I smiled.

  “We shouldn’t … I shouldn’t do that again,” he signed.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s try again.” Then we did. We kissed for what seemed to be 10 minutes. In reality, it was probably like 60 seconds before he pulled back. “What happened?” He looked at the door. Just then, Dimitri walked into my room. I remember turning to the window. As I looked out onto Park Avenue that day, I promised myself I would never forget that kiss.

  Why couldn’t I go back there? I certainly didn’t understand why things were so complicated. I guess I could blame Daddy. I was in SH and Noel was somewhere else. That was that. Out of my window I saw Daddy walking into the garage with Grandpapa. Things were still sort of foggy. I jumped out of bed: 8 a.m. was certainly early for Saturday. I ran down the stairs. I sure wasn’t Daddy’s No. 1 fan at the moment. I really wanted to roll my eyes and slam the door at what I saw last night. I knew he saw me at the party. I sprinted across the foyer and out the door. I marched up to the garage. I was going to trade in my birthday present and birthday lunch for a favor. He owed me this, at least. I knew who I was dealing with, but I didn’t care.

  He hadn’t even looked me in the eyes last time I spoke to him. What made me think he would do me a favor?

  I saw Grandpapa walking toward me. “Good morning,” I signed. I watched Dad back the Maserati out of the garage. Then he shifted into Drive. That was his golfing ride. Part of me froze. In my mind, I thought I had guts. I didn’t know if that’s how I was in real life. I was slightly scared of my Dad. The one time he had slapped me still haunted me. I shouldn’t have said that Mama loved me more than he did. I should have said she would never have treated me the way he did. But it still seemed so true.

  Laced with pre-determined disappointment, I jogged down the driveway. I tapped on the trunk. My eyes met his disconcerted look in the driver’s side mirror. The car stopped. He ducked his head out of the driver’s side window. “Milan?” he said. I lost my breath for a moment. He almost never spoke to me. He always signed. I apprehensively walked up to him. I glanced into my father’s dark eyes. Light, fine lines surrounded his eyes. His curly hair was sprinkled with gray hairs. He used to dye it until someone told him it caused cancer—at least that’s what his assistant told me one time when we were all riding home together.

  “Dad, I need you to come with me to the father-daughter luncheon today at the club.” He glanced at his Tag Heuer watch that Dimitri bought him for his birthday last year. It had made him the most popular senior boy, so I guess he thought it would do the same for Dad. He swore he was his favorite.

  “Today? Are you serious? You can’t be this selfish, Milan.”

  “I never ask for anything,” I said.

  “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

  “When? The last time I saw you was last week! Oh, and at the party yesterday. That didn’t seem to be the appropriate time!” He winced. I shrugged. It wasn’t the first time.

  “Maybe. No promises.” His lip curled on the left side when he was angry.

  “Twelve-thirty in the Grand Ballroom,” I said.

  “Four hours from now!” I caught a glimpse of Grandpapa waving a paper out of the front door like he was surrendering. He started walking toward the car. This wasn’t going to help at all.

  “Please try, Daddy.” I was a little afraid to look into his eyes. I almost knew from the curl in his lip that he wasn’t going to show. But I was going anyway. The fact that I was trying anyway made me angry and sorry all at once.

  “No promises,” he signed. Then he drove off. Wasn’t that how it always was? The gates opened, and his car drove off. I turned to find myself face to face with Grandpapa.

  “Your friend, Cara, called,” he signed and said.

  “Thanks, Grandpapa.” I took the note from his hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek. At least he still cared about me. I used to be a Daddy’s girl a long time ago.

  I walked into the Grand Ballroom. I found myself shaking my head. I knew better than relying on Daddy for anything. Why had I even told Cara I would go?

  “I love your Chanel suit,” Cara said.

  “I admire your Betsey as well,” I said.

  “Such an icon, baby doll.” Then she put her hand on my shoulder, like she was older than me, or smarter, or whatever. I realized then that I was sick of her already. Did I have to prove to her that I could keep up? The jury was still out. I cracked a smile, though inside I wanted to just fall to the ground and complain about my Dad. I turned my attention to my all-black Chanel suit. It was lovely. Lisa helped me pick it out last summer. We had an industry brunch to go to, and I was Chanel-less. Lisa seemed to be taken aback by the thought of me wearing anything else but “Coco’s handmade designs.” As annoyingly ridiculous as her satire was, I had to respect the Chanel. After all, Mama wore Chanel No. 5 for most of her life.

  Cara’s father was running a little late. He was talking to a clerk at the bar on the other side of the club. I watched him hurry through the door. They sort of looked alike. Cara waved him over. “There’s lil’ old Daddy,” she said. Wow, two condescending statements in one breath. No wonder she and Dimitri hit it off.

  “So you like hanging out with Dimitri.”

  “Oh … hope you don’t mind. Your brother is a new buddy of mine.” She was playing with fire. I started to tell her so, but decided against it.

  “Hi, Cara.” Her father gave her a pat on the back. “I’m Mr. Billings,” he shook my hand. “Now, Cara, Leslie is going to meet us for a round of golf at 2,” Mr. Billings said.

  “I guess she is,” Cara raised an eyebrow. Hmmm. Wonder what that was about? “Where’s your Dad?” she asked.

  “Ummm, I don’t know. I texted him when I arrived. He said he would try.”

  “He’s probably on his way,” Mr. Bi
llings said. I kind of wished he was. The thing about Dad was that he was never late for an appointment. So if I told him 12:30 p.m., if he was going to come he would arrive at 12:15 p.m. At 12:32 p.m., the emcee stood on the stage. I got up abruptly.

  “Be right back,” I said.

  I could feel my pulse racing. I marched through the back part of the lobby. I walked out onto the golf course. I promised myself I wasn’t going to get upset. My three-inch red stiletto slingbacks were killing me. I had on sparkling red pumps and sparkling red crystal earrings. If only, like Dorothy, I could click my heels and go home. Back home to a place where Mama and Noel would be waiting. In less than a minute, I spotted my Dad. I didn’t know what hole he was at—I just knew he was like a football field away with Mr. Bailey, his fly-fishing buddy.

  “I can see you,” I texted. I watched my father’s caddy hand him his cell phone. He searched the golf course. I took a step forward. The moment he looked into my eyes, I turned away with disgust. He knew. He knew he was supposed to be there for me at the brunch.

  And even though I knew how he was, that didn’t stop me from being sad. “I can still come,” he texted. I hiked my way back up to the club. “I just have two more holes.”

  “The priority is clear.” I didn’t know what came over me. I was sad, but I knew that was a bit rude. I ran to the bathroom in the lobby. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was completely red.

  I couldn’t go back to the luncheon without my dad. I took a deep breath. I sauntered out of the bathroom and did what I did best—smile. I walked into the dining hall. I walked up to Cara and her father. “It was lovely to see you today,” I gave Cara a double kiss. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Billings.”

  “Okay. Take care,” he said.

  “Where’s your Dad?” Cara asked.

  “He’s not coming.”

  When Mama died, I went to a therapist for almost two years. My therapist would say, “Fake it until you make it.” She said that if I smiled my way through things, it would start to feel real. I was waiting for that moment. She said that when I smiled I would realize things weren’t half as bad as they seemed. This only made me feel bad for feeling bad. Half the time I walked around feeling guilty for feeling sorry for myself.

  I was on my way out the club. A few feet out the door and en route to the parking lot, I ran into Cece. Literally, she was tapping away on her Android and she almost ran into me. “Where are you headed?” Cece asked.

  “Home,” I said.

  “Oh, I thought you were going to that dreadful father-daughter thing.”

  “That didn’t work out.”

  “I don’t blame you. Last year, my Dad harassed me about going. It was so boring. It was all day. They say lunch, but the whole thing didn’t wrap up until 6 p.m. I don’t like getting all dressed up if I can help it. I’m a one-piece kind of girl,” she said.

  “So I guess your uniform is sewn together. Shirt and skirt. You can just throw it on.”

  “I wish!” I adored her simple teal romper and flip-flops. “I didn’t know your hair is curly. So is mine!”

  “Oh, I get tired of the blow dry. I’m hoping to play a little tennis and swim.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Nothing, I guess,” I said.

  “Really? Do you want to play with me and my cousin?” she asked.

  “Okay, cool.”

  We took the elevator upstairs in silence. Cece checked her Android. I checked my iPhone. What was in a phone? My old bestie, Winter, had an Android. If Cece was anything like her, she’d maybe be just the breath of fresh air the A-list needed.

  “My cousin isn’t coming,” Cece shook her head.

  “Why?” I asked. She had seemed so disappointed.

  “It’s summer. I was ditched for a boy. What other reason could it be?” she said. We walked to the surprisingly empty women’s lounge on the second floor. The whole place was wall-to-wall gray slate.

  “You ever imagine what it would be like without them?” I said.

  “Nope. Even when they are not around, somehow they find a way to permeate in. My cousin, for instance, she goes to an all-girls high school. She’s got a good head on her shoulders—at least, that’s what my mother says. But, just like any of us, boys still intrigue and confuse her.”

  “I think it’s because of the magic. Sometimes, with a guy, you have something so special that when it’s gone you just want it back.” Cece looked at me with relief in her eyes. Melissa burst through the doors. I had a way of positioning myself in a room where I could always keep an eye on the entrance and exit. I’d had one too many surprises in high school because I had my back to the door.

  “Milan. Hey! I didn’t expect to see you here. What up, baby?” Melissa walked over to me. I was standing in front of my locker, taking off my suit. Cece’s locker was way down at the other end. Lockers weren’t really available. They were vintage rentals. This had been my mother’s locker for, like, 10 years. Cece was using her mother’s locker too. Melissa gave me two air kisses. We weren’t really close friends. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cece slip on a pair of sunglasses and walk to the toilets. Wow, was it like that? “So, what you up to?” Melissa asked.

  “Going to play tennis with … some friends. What are you up to?” I asked.

  “Gosh, a little sunbathing. Listen, Morgan is having a fire pit thing tonight around 8. You know, she’s with Bobby now so all the cute basketball players will be there. You should come with. I’m going, Henrietta’s going, and Trinity is going,” Melissa said.

  “I … I don’t know. I may need to phone a friend first.” I didn’t know how to say no sometimes. Melissa looked at me as if I had just dropped dead in front of her. She exhaled deeply. The acting classes were certainly paying off. Today, a cheerleader; tomorrow, Guiding Light.

  She leaned in to me closely. Then she covered one side of her mouth. “You are not referring to Cece, are you? She cannot come with,” Melissa said.

  “Why is that?” I was much more annoyed than curious at this point.

  “Duh, we can’t have a case of the ex on our hands, can we? Listen, the twins or Cara are totally fine—just not H girl’s arch nemesis. I’m way too smart to start it up.” My phone was vibrating in my bag.

  “Deuces,” Cece texted.

  “Thanks for the heads up. I don’t know, though. If not, we’ll catch up for lunch or something.” I double-kissed Melissa. Cece bolted out the door.

  “What’s going on?” I texted.

  “Meet me at the courts,” Cece texted.

  “Give me 10,” I texted.

  I got dressed. I kept wondering what I should do. I had just met Cece like a day ago. I couldn’t blame her for leaving at the mention of her ex. Anyone would, right? Who was her ex? The thought of anyone knowing about Noel and how I missed him made me want to crawl under a rock. It was like having someone else rip off your Band-Aid. I’d prefer to rip it off myself so at least I knew when the pain was coming. That was it. I decided to go play tennis and not make mention of this.

  After the game, we sat on the side of the courts. “You’re really good,” I said.

  “Whatever. Not really. I used to play with my father. Then he moved,” Cece said.

  “I’ve never played tennis with my Dad.”

  “Parents. My mom says sometimes it takes parents a little while to get it right. They’re human too.” She smiled. I was quiet for a moment.

  “Do you want to sleep over my house tonight?”

  “Okay. Let me ask my mom.” Cece texted her mother. “Thanks for not asking.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t have to know about it. If you don’t want to tell, that’s fine.”

  “It was a while ago …” Cece paused for a moment. She started staring at her fingers. Her right eye began to twitch. It was a little weird.

  I put my head on her shoulder. “Let’s grab a bite. Maybe you can show me your backhand slice later,” I said.

&
nbsp; “How is the lunch going?” Merek texted.

  “I skipped it.”

  “Are you free for dinner?” he asked.

  “No.” I wasn’t sure what to do with him. Soon the answer would be kissing him.

  We never talked about Melissa’s comments again.

  Chapter 6 SH Lisa’s House

  “Ladies, lunch is served!” Lisa’s chef, Cook, said. I had to ask him like three times if that was his real last name. He was very handsome. I don’t know, he was like 30 or so. Definitely older than 25. He showed me a picture of his wife and two kids, a girl and a boy. They all lived on 96th Street on the West side. He was an all-natural celebrity chef. He couldn’t stop smiling when I asked him how old his kids were and what they wanted to be when they grew up. He seemed like the kind of dad every dad should be like.

  “What are you thinking about after school? Staying in New York or going to Paris?” Lisa asked.

  “It depends on what good colleges are in Paris,” I said.

  Lisa laughed. “You could be making $3 million a year. Why slow things with college? We have to strike while the iron’s hot.”

  “Beauty and brains are a lethal pair,” I smiled. Inside, though, I wanted to wince at the sight of her throwing her head back in hysterics.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Lisa said.

  “How about shopping this afternoon? I received an invite to the new MIX IT boutique premiere. There’s an after-party,” I said.

  “Oh, you know Stew loves Hamptons events. I’m partied out for this weekend. But we can do something next weekend.”

  “Want to get a bite?” Cara texted.

  “Can’t,” I texted.

  “Later?” Cara texted

  “Not sure of plans yet?” I texted

  “LOL. Sounds like a Merek run. Does he taste as good as he looks?” Cara texted.

  Gross! No wonder Frenchy and Cara got along so well. Both hot tamales.

  “You’re just like Demini, texting at the table. Chipmunk, your mahi mahi is getting cold!” Lisa said.