“Yeah, we’re studying.”
“At the library?”
“Yep,” I say quickly, cringing to myself. Two lies in under ten seconds.
“What are you working on this week?”
“I thought he could help me with some vocabulary words... going through that SAT book you got me, remember?”
“Good, that’s good. Tell me a word.”
“A word?” I ask, caught off guard by his question. My brain scans all the advanced words I’ve learned lately, but I blurt out the one that has stayed with me since I first heard it. “Libidinous.”
Jon coughs loudly behind me. I turn around and realize he had just taken a sip of water, and had now spit it all over the floor. He looks at me in disbelief.
“Libidinous?” my dad asks. “Well, that’s not one you hear every day.”
“Oh, um, maybe I said it wrong.” I pick up a clean paintbrush from the table and toss it at Jon.
“Is the latin root libido?” he asks.
“No, I’m sure I said it wrong. Definitely not the right word.”
“Well, my little girl’s learning words I don’t use,” he sighs. “Guess you really are growing up.” Jon’s arms snake around my waist from behind as he kisses the back of my neck.
“Yeah, I am, Daddy.”
“Alright, well, I don’t want to keep you. Your mother and I are taking Jackson to dinner with us. We don’t want to miss our reservations tonight.” Jon’s lips travel across my shoulders, his hands now grasping my hips.
“That sounds really romantic,” I tease him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, huh?”
“It’ll be fine,” he says. “Mom dressed him in a suit with a red bow tie. If we don’t leave that restaurant with thirty phone numbers for him, something is wrong with the world.” He laughs, and I hear my mother laugh in the background with him.
“Awww. I’m sorry I’m missing that,” I tell him with sincerity. Jon releases me, then takes my hand in his and squeezes tightly. He leans against the sill, watching me wrap up the call. “Will you take a picture?”
“Of course, Tessa. Enjoy your evening.”
“You, too, Dad. See you at nine.” Jon walks over to me and puts his hand around the phone, pulling it away from my ear slowly as I hear my dad continuing to talk.
“Alright, good bye. Oh, wait. Your mom wants to talk to you.”
“Jon!” I scold him. “They’re still on!”
“Hello?” he says sheepishly, listening intently. I watch him as his expression changes to one of concern and guilt. “Yes, ma’am, happy Valentine’s Day to you as well.” He laughs a little at whatever my mom says. “Well, the library is much less populated this afternoon. We almost have the whole place to ourselves. Yes, ma’am.”
He starts to give the phone back to me. “Yes, ma’am?” I mouth the words quietly. He shrugs and pushes the phone into my hand.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Your aunt had a cake sent over. It’s white cake with strawberries and buttercream icing. Since you two aren’t really celebrating the holiday tonight, I thought you might want to come back here for a little slice. Just something to do that’s not like every other week.”
I feel a twinge of guilt. “Yeah, I’ll see if we can wrap things up a little early. Thanks.”
“Have a good night, sweetie.”
“You, too, Mom.”
“Bye.” I hang the phone up and set it next to my easel.
“Sorry,” Jon says apologetically. “Did you like how I was trying to help you define libidinous for your dad?”
I laugh and slap him lightly on his shoulder. “I know what you were doing.” He pulls me closer and we kiss a few more times. I feel his hands hovering around the clasp of my bra, but feel certain he’ll leave it fastened for now. He does.
“How about a few vocab flash cards?” he asks as he walks toward my messenger bag.
“Really?”
“Just a few. Just so your excuses won’t be complete lies.”
“And then what? We go to a sandwich shop for dinner?”
“I saw a new one down the street. ‘Grand Opening,’ the sign said.”
“We’re getting it to go. And we’re coming back here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says as he starts to put his shirts back on. He tosses me my sweater. “The V goes in the front.”
“Yes, sir,” I tease him back, pulling it over my head.
We take the flash cards with us as we walk to the nearby café. He quizzes me along the way, rewarding me with a kiss every time I get a question right. We take a break to eat our dinner, but continue our studying on the way back, the streetlights providing light for Jon to read me the cards.
We don’t have much time when we get back to the loft, but we both find ourselves on the bed together, kissing slowly and getting more involved in our activities than either of us had planned. After a few minutes of trying to catch our breaths, we start packing up my things, leaving us with about thirty minutes for me to get home.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket on our way out, notifying me of a text message. My hands full, I can’t access it, so I ask Jon if he can set something down and get it. He gladly does, taking the opportunity to touch me inappropriately one last time. After he gets the phone out, he’s quiet behind me.
“Who’s it from?” I ask him.
“Your mom,” he says after swallowing audibly. I can hear apprehension in his voice, and I turn around to see his face, ghostly white.
“What’s it say?”
He holds up the phone to me as he recites the message aloud. “Bring the key to the loft with you after you lock up.”
I stare blankly out the passenger side window as Jon drives my car. He’d taken my keys from me when we left the loft, insisting I wasn’t in any shape to drive. I’d been freaking out since we read the text. My parents are going to kill me.
I only recognize my surroundings when he pulls up to my house. We were supposed to go by his apartment first. I was supposed to arrive home alone to face my mom and dad.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I try to convince Jon as he parks my car. “You can’t come in–”
“I’m coming in. This day was my idea, and I’m not letting you take all the blame.” We both sit in the car. I know he’s waiting for me to get out, but I’m paralyzed with fear.
“My dad just might kill you.”
“He will not. If he didn’t before, he won’t now. He’s never hurt a fly, you’ve told me this.”
“This might be the thing that puts him over the edge, though. Skipping school, going to the loft, lying about what we’re doing, making out–”
“They don’t need to know about the last one.”
“Well what do you think they think we did all day over there? If you say study, I’ll tell you right now, I don’t know enough vocabulary words to talk my way out of this.”
“You’re right,” he says with a sigh. “I thought you paid off the doormen.”
“I did! I don’t know how they know.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is they do know, and we need to go deal with it.”
“I need to go deal with it.”
“I’m not going home until I know what your consequences are.” Begrudgingly, I get out of the car, leaving all of my belongings behind except for my phone and the key. Jon gets out, too, and meets me on my side.
“If he swings, I just want you to run–”
“He’s not going to swing. And if he does, you come with me.”
I smile at the idea and nod. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he whispers and kisses me once at the front step. “Let’s go.”
Our hands tightly grasped, we walk in the front door, bracing for the worst.
“Hey, kids,” my dad says, his tone friendly, barely looking up from his computer. Trey is leaning on his arm, falling asleep.
“So you two decided to come for some cake after all, huh?” I look at my mom, dumbfounded.
“Cake?” Jon says
. I pull my phone out of my pocket and re-read the message, checking to see if we’d both misread it, even though I know we didn’t.
“Oh, Livvy, was it a surprise?” The way my mom’s glaring at me lets me know she’s trying to get me to play along.
“Yeah. Surprise,” I tell Jon, my statement completely underwhelming.
“I was going to have a piece with you guys, but I was just about to put Trey to bed. He wanted me to read him a story.”
“Poppet, I’ll take him,” my dad says. “I need a break from this spreadsheet, anyway.”
“You’re sure?” she asks him sweetly. I look over to Jon quickly, who’s glancing with uncertainty from one of my parents to the other.
“Of course.” He shuts his laptop and puts it on the coffee table. His movements rouse my brother, and Dad picks him up, carrying him to his room.
“You may want to close the door,” Mom suggests, “just in case we’re a little loud.” He nods and shuts the door behind them. She walks into the kitchen, motioning for us to follow her. She puts the cake on the kitchen island and takes out a large knife, setting it down with force next to the plates that were already out for us. She holds out her hand to me.
I stare at her, still in shock.
“I think she wants the key,” Jon says quietly.
“You’re damn right I want the key.” It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my mom this angry.
I dig it out of my front pocket, my hand shaking, and place it in her palm. Quickly, she grabs her keys from her purse and adds that key to the ring.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“That’s exactly my question for you two.” She picks the knife back up and starts to butcher the cake angrily, the pieces uneven and falling apart as she puts slices on two plates.
“We were just studying,” I lie to her. She narrows her eyes at me.
“You spent the afternoon at the loft, ‘just studying?’” she asks sarcastically. “How stupid do you think I am, Livvy?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Mom.”
“Let’s start from the beginning,” she says plainly.
Both Jon and myself are quiet. I don’t want to start from the beginning. I don’t want to admit to her all the bad decisions I’d made today, but based on what she just asked us, I’m thinking she doesn’t know that I skipped school.
“She picked me up like we’d planned,” Jon starts tentatively, waiting for my mother to correct him. I think about just telling her the truth before giving her the chance to call us both liars, but decide to keep my mouth shut. When she doesn’t discount his story, he continues. “She’d told me about the loft, and I suggested that we go study there today, where it would be quieter, and we’d have a little more privacy.” He looks away from her when he says the last word.
“Privacy for what?”
“It’s hard to study at the library with so much going on,” I finally speak up.
“Come on, Livvy. And you both better eat that cake before Jacks comes out here.” My dad doesn’t know. Jon and I exchange a quick–albeit relieved–glance as we pick up the forks and each take a bite.
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Jon said, “and, yes, we wanted a little time to ourselves. Nothing happened–”
“Just kissing, Mom, that’s it,” I add to his story. It doesn’t sound so bad when he says it. “I swear.”
“All afternoon?”
“No, I painted, and he drew, and we did study some.”
“What did you paint?”
“A scene from Central Park. I was enjoying the new vantage point.”
“Let me see the painting.”
“I didn’t bring it home, Mom. The paint was still wet.”
“So, what, you were going to go there another day to retrieve it?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Livvy, I thought I gave you explicit instructions, that you were not to go to the loft alone.”
“I didn’t!” I tell her impulsively.
“Do not tell me you misunderstood my meaning. You were not to go there without me or Granna or another adult.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“I’m really disappointed, Livvy. It was your dad’s suggestion to get the key, because he wasn’t as trusting as I was, but now I can see I was wrong to trust you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“And this is the last time I lie to Jacks for you two. I took vows to be honest, faithful, and loyal to him, and I don’t like lying to him. I’m not doing it anymore. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” we say in unison.
“And I can’t even punish you, because then I’ll have to tell him what you two did, which will admit to him that I was lying about having the key when I walked out of that building, knowing damn good and well you both were upstairs, doing God knows what–”
“Nothing happened!” I tell her too loudly. She shushes me, looking toward Trey’s bedroom.
She stares at me, considering her plan of action. “I’ll go pick your painting up tomorrow–”
“There’s a lot of paint and supplies there, Mom. I was hoping to paint there–”
“Not now, you’re not. I’ll bring the painting back–and Livvy, there better be a painting there, or else... or else.” She can’t think of a good enough threat, so I stop her.
“It’s there, Mom, don’t worry.”
“You’re not to go there again without me, Granna or Dad with you, do you understand?”
“I understand. You have the key now, anyway.”
We all hear Trey’s door creak open and see my dad emerge from the bedroom. We’re all quiet.
“Is it not any good?” my dad asks, eyeing the cake that we’ve barely touched.
“No, it’s wonderful,” I tell him enthusiastically, taking another bite.
“Best cake I’ve ever had,” Jon mumbles, likely still stunned by the fact that we’re not in more trouble. I know I am, anyway.
“I guess I wasn’t really hungry,” Mom says, shrugging her shoulders and smiling at Dad before she kisses him on the cheek as she walks out of the room.
“Fifteen more minutes, Livvy,” he tells me as he follows her. Jon and I eat the rest of our cake in silence. My heart is still pounding in my chest, my stomach uneasy. I can’t believe I just lied so much to my mom. More importantly, I can’t believe how easy it was.
CHAPTER 15
A few weeks later, on a Thursday at the Art Room, Jon shows up halfway through the class. It’s his birthday, and we had permission to go out for a late dinner after my class. He waves at me, but takes a seat in the back, reading a well-worn paperback book. Granna takes him a soda after a few minutes and talks to him briefly while I help the kids with some questions they have. At the end of the session, he helps us clean up, and Granna lets us leave together before all the parents have come. We have nearly two hours before my parents expect me home.
“Happy birthday,” I tell him, punctuating it with a kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you,” he says with a big smile.
“Why’d you come so early?”
“I couldn’t wait to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I start. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Come with me.” He takes a ball cap out of his bag and arranges it carefully on my head. He pulls out some sunglasses next and puts them on me.
“It’s kind of dark for these, isn’t it?”
“I think you’ll thank me later.” He takes my hand and we walk in the direction opposite of my house.
“Where are we going?” I ask him tentatively.
“We’re getting a cab to Midtown East. I’m taking you to a bar–”
“Nooo,” I protest. “I can’t go into a bar.”
“This one, you can. It’s pretty hidden, and you’re in disguise.”
“We can’t even get served.”
“My uncle’s the bartender, and he invited us.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.
”
“You will. I’m not going to get drunk. You won’t have to drink at all.”
“I don’t really want you to.”
“Liv,” he says, his voice slightly elevated. “We’re not just celebrating my birthday today.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“I got my Columbia acceptance letter this afternoon!” I’ve never seen his smile so large. “My uncle wants to buy me a celebratory drink. That’s it. I just want to celebrate this with you. So please? We can leave after the drink, I promise–”
“Wait, you got in?” I ask him happily.
“Yes!”
“Jon, oh my god! Congratulations!”
“Thanks!” He laughs, picking me up and twirling me around. He gives me a quick peck on the lips before setting me down. “Come with me?”
“Definitely!”
He waves down the first cab we see, and instructs the driver where to take us. We kiss a few times in the backseat as we drive across town. When we get out of the car, I pay the driver.
“It’s your birthday. I pay,” I tell him abruptly so he won’t argue. He simply grins and rolls his eyes, then takes my hand in his. His pace quickens until we get to the bar a few shops east. It’s extremely dark inside, the wooden walls stained a deep mahogany color.
“Jonny!” a man behind the bar calls out to him. He looks to be a few years younger than my uncle, Steven.
“Hey, Ray!” His uncle comes out from behind the bar to give Jon a hug.
“Happy birthday and congratulations! Ivy League, man! I can’t believe it. Your dad would have been so proud of you.”
“Yeah,” Jon says. “I think so.”
“I know so. He’s smiling down on you right now, and he’d be buying you this drink if he were here. Derrick, I need three tequila shots down here,” Ray says to a younger bartender. “The best we’ve got.”
“Okay, boss,” he answers.
“Uncle Ray, this is my girlfriend, Olivia.”
“It’s a little dark for sunglasses, honey,” he says with a warm smile.
“She lives in those, Ray. I just don’t argue anymore,” Jon speaks up for me.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell him.
“I need to check your IDs,” he says quietly. “Just for show, but in case someone’s watching.”