One Last Lie (15 page)

She shook her head, suddenly perturbed by the fact that June was so frail and such a dullard. If only she was pretty and had a halfway decent personality, Angela could set her up with Tommy and kill two birds with one stone. But that wasn’t going to be, and she silently cursed June who sat on the other end of the phone waiting to be told she could speak. The facts were clear: Tommy was a nut and June was close to being a nonexistent entity, which meant Angela would have to take the bull by the horns and cut her ties separately with each of them.
Shit!

“You there, June?” Angela asked.

There was no response and Angela quickly realized she’d made a mistake by calling June. She would get no words of advice, no support. June didn’t have it in her; she was a lost soul who couldn’t help herself, let alone anyone else. After a few more seconds of quiet, Angie let out a sigh.

“June?”

“I’m sorry, Angie.” June finally spoke. “It’s just that I miss you. So tell me, what’s going on there and why do you need support? Are there problems?”

The wind picked up and Angela buried her face into her sweater’s extra-large sleeves. “Actually, things are okay. I’m just trying to handle a lot of shit at once and it’s tough.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’m really calling because it looks like next weekend will be the weekend. So keep Saturday open.”

“Oh, my God!” June shouted, her first ray of life since she answered the phone. “I can’t believe it! This is great! And I get to meet Philip and Jonathan…
finally
.”

“Yeah, great, but remember, this isn’t a ‘June meets the Boys’ party. No hors d'oeuvres or fancy dinners. You’re coming out here to help me get pregnant. That’s it.”

A few seconds of silence. “I’ve got it, Angie. You’ve said it a million times. I’m just excited. Can’t I just be excited for you?”

Angela picked at the paint chips bending upward on the step below. She caught one under her nail, peeled it up, examined it and then flicked it into the grass. “Yes, you can be excited. I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m just overwhelmed with all this shit.”

“What do you need me to bring? Anything from the hospital? Syringes? Cervical cup? Saline? What about tubing, it’s always a good idea to…”

Angela tightened her lips to keep the verbal venom from escaping her mouth. “June, stop. Please.” She took a deep breath. “I have everything under control and I have everything I need. I work in a hospital, too, remember? I don’t need you to do a thing.”

“Sure,” said June, the melancholy dripping from her voice. “I just thought I could help. But if you don’t want me to bring anything and you don’t need me to do a thing, why do you want me there at all?”

June’s question made Angela realize her impatience was jeopardizing her relationship with one of the only people she could trust. She shook her head at her own stupidity. She’d come this far and couldn’t allow her personality flaws to destroy her future.

If the years of obesity had taught her one thing, it was how to keep true feelings hidden deep beneath the surface. Back then, it was easy to hide fear and anxiety beneath layers of fat and cellulite. Now, there was no place to hide her emotions other than beneath the cold, steel drum that guarded the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry… again, June. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s probably the Clomid. I started it a few days ago so I’d have a better chance of getting pregnant. The hormones are raging through me like shards of ice.”

“Oh, Clomid can definitely do that to you. I worked in a fertility clinic for a few months when I started nursing. There were women on Clomid and some of the other fertility meds who would actually scream and yell at the television while waiting to see the specialist! It was like a loony bin in there sometimes.”

Angela forced a smile. “Well, at least I know it’s not just me. And by the way, I want you to know that I want you there as a friend, you know, moral support. Someone to be with me while I’m inseminating and afterwards. Sometimes I get a little scared thinking I’m going through this alone.”

“You’re not alone, Angie. Remember that. I’m always here for you no matter what.” The tone of her voice became softer and Angela heard June bring the phone closer to her mouth. “Do you need me to come there now? I have a late shift, but I can switch with Rosa. She’s always looking to work nights.”

An SUV slowly rolled past the house, the first sign of life Angela had seen since coming outside. A small girl, about three years old pushed herself against her car seat trying to get closer to the window. She waved frantically at Angela until it was obvious her gestures would not be reciprocated. The movement of her hand slowed and an expression of bewilderment enveloped her face.

Angela rolled her eyes. “Kids,” she whispered.

“What?” asked June. “Are there kids there?”

“No,” Angela said. “No kids. Just talking to myself.” She paused. “Look, I gotta go. There’s no need to come out now. I’ll call you mid-week and we’ll set up plans for Saturday.” She jumped up, not allowing herself to shiver. “Thanks again. Say ‘hi’ to everyone at the hospital. Bye.”

Angela pressed the “END CALL” button before June had the chance to reply. She scurried into the house, found the legal document, and flipped to the last page. Grabbing a pen from her pocketbook, she leaned the papers against her thigh and signed her name. As she clicked the pen closed, she heard the Beemer pull into the driveway. She threw the pen back into her pocketbook, turned the last page over, and placed the document neatly onto the dining room table.

“Done!” Angela whispered.

The heat inside the house had turned her chills to perspiration. She fixed her hair into a pony tail, unwrapped her sweater, and through the dining room window watched the men carry the pizza up the front porch.

“Come in!” She shouted before Jonathan had a chance to ring the doorbell. “And don’t even think about using that bell again,” she said as she grabbed a pizza box from Philip’s hand. “Mi casa, es su casa!”

12

Oversized Euonymus hedges lined with miniature lanterns blocked the view on both sides of the graveled driveway, reminding June of the elegant Georgia landscape she loved as a child. The only sounds she heard were the rock crunching beneath the tires and her own breath, quickening in anticipation of what was to come.

When the headlights swept along the last few inches of hedge, June gasped as she tried to take in the entire face of the house. The lush evergreen plantings, still green despite impending winter, graced the foreground of the home with raw beauty. Natural wood shingles surrounded by wheat-colored trim brought the immensity of the house down to a comfortable size, making June feel more welcome than overwhelmed. In the dusk, the yellow hue of inside lights reminded June of her mother’s Georgian home and the intensity with which she missed it. Ironically, the warmth made her shiver and she held in her breath for a moment, blinking back sudden tears.“Oh, my God, Angie, this house is gorgeous!” June covered her mouth with her gloved hand, muffling her voice. “It’s like a palace. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Angela shifted the Land Cruiser into Park and cut the engine and headlights. “I know.” She leaned back in the seat and crossed her arms. “It really is a perfect house. And if you think the front is nice, you’ve
got
to see the backyard.”

June felt a slight twinge in her stomach. She’d spent the entire train ride to Westport wondering what Angela’s mood would be like. And so far, so good. Angela seemed relaxed and happy.

“I can’t wait!” June said, now peering out the side window. “I’ve been wondering for so long what their house looks like,”

“June,” Angela huffed, “Please remember this isn’t a museum tour. You’re here to help me get pregnant.”

June closed her eyes and nodded. She turned to Angela and waited for a return gaze. “You don’t have to remind me. I know why we’re here.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “I’m here to help you. Period. If you’re going to be a bitch about it, take me to the station and I’ll go back to the city right now.”

June’s heart was pounding. She’d never stood up to Angela before and had no idea why she was doing it now. But whatever the reason, this felt good and she wasn’t going to let go. She hung onto her resistance like an overboard passenger to a lifeboat, even when Angela’s eyes widened, her nostrils flared, and she started peeling off her gloves. June stared into the darkness of Angela’s eyes, shaking inside, preparing to be swallowed by the two black holes.

Angela threw her gloves onto the dashboard. “Of all the times you decide to get angry and slap me back, you choose
tonight
?” She shook her head. “One of the most important nights of my life and you decide to turn mean? I can’t…” Angela covered her eyes with her hands. “I just don’t believe this.”

June squinted with confusion and tried to get a better glimpse of Angela through the harsh shadows of dusk. Other than anger, she’d never seen Angela display emotion. “Angie?” June whispered into her own hand. There was silence. A sniff. More silence. “Angie? Are you crying?”

Angela turned and June caught the glint of a tear on her cheek. She almost gasped, the drama so foreign to her. In all the years she’d known Angela, not once had she witnessed softness. The realization that Angela was human created a sense of buoyancy within her.

“I’m sorry!” She stroked Angela’s arm. “I didn’t mean to get you upset. I know you’re on edge because of…”

She stopped talking when the front door opened and Philip, known to her only by photographs, waved for them to come in.

“Shit!” Angela wiped her face and grabbed her gloves. As she pulled the handle to open the door, she tossed June a grimace. “Just know, June, if you fuck this up, you’ll not only stop getting your meds, but I’ll make sure your new boss knows enough shit about you to fire you on the spot.”

Angela opened the door, grabbed her bag of supplies, and ran toward Philip’s open arms, leaving June to fend for herself. June couldn’t move, paralyzed by Angela’s words and erratic behavior. She looked at Philip hugging Angela, his face so pure, his hand apparently waving for June to join them.
He seems so nice,
she thought, swallowing hard to push down the lump in her throat.
Why would he want her to have their child? Doesn’t he know what she is?

“Come inside,” Philip shouted, both hands now in his pockets as he jumped up and down trying to keep warm. “It’s freezing out here!”

June forced half a smile and waved back.

“Come on, June!” Angela’s fake smile lit up the walkway. “We’re not going in without you!”

“I’m coming,” June said to herself. “I’m coming.”

*

June stopped in amazement at the threshold of each room. She’d never seen such exquisite style and architecture. From the lacquered dark maple floor to the deep tray ceilings and high crown molding in every room, she found it hard to take in everything. She took a deep breath, picturing herself inside Willy Wonka’s Candy Factory, a camera spinning around her as she whirled about.

But it wasn’t just the home’s beauty that struck her. Philip and Jonathan sealed the deal. She’d seen them in photographs and an occasional sneak peek as they climbed the stairs to Angela’s apartment, but now she understood why Angela was so enamored by these two men. Their handsome New England features and their kindness made her wish they’d throw Angela out the front door and let her be the mother of their child.

They led her from room to room, pointing out items that held special meaning: Max’s abstract painting of the two of them above the fireplace in the bedroom; the flawless glass bowl in the center of the dining room table — a gift from a friend they met on the island of Murano during their last Italy trip; the photo sitting atop Philip’s desk — a shot taken of Angela, Jonathan and Philip on the day she moved into her home.

When they returned to the livingroom, June could only shake her head.

“Beautiful, isn’t it, June?” Angela said, opening the stereo cabinet to search through the extensive CD collection.

June couldn’t bring herself to look at Angela and shatter the moment. Instead, she turned to Philip.

“You’ve done an awesome job here. Your home is exquisite.”

“Thanks.” Philip stuck his index finger into Jonathan’s ribs. “Mostly his doing. He’s the one who got
that
gene.” Philip laughed and held up his hands in defense.

“No need to protect yourself,” Jonathan said, grabbing Angela’s hand and walking her to the suede loveseat. “I won’t waste my time responding to that.” He smiled at June. “You don’t pay attention to him either, June. Come sit down.”

June walked to a second loveseat opposite Jonathan and Angela and sat down, rubbing her fingertips along the delicate suede fabric. She closed her eyes, absorbing the warmth of the sofa, the room, the music, the people. This was a world she’d only read about in books or home decorating magazines. She didn’t know when she’d be back and wanted to soak in every ounce of it.

“June, snap out of it.” Angela looked up at Jonathan and let her head fall on his shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse her, gentlemen. She doesn’t get out much.”

Hiding her irritation, June smiled along with Angela’s laughter. Angela was being Angela, she supposed, but now there was a subtle difference; a kindness to her actions and words, even the sarcasm. June noticed this difference from the moment they entered the house, and now she understood why Philip and Jonathan were so taken with Angela: she was funny, nice, affectionate and, yes, charming — characteristics she hadn’t seen Angela display in all the years they’d know one another. It seemed as though an imposter slipped into Angela’s body the moment she crossed the door jamb into the main foyer — the alter ego of the vicious, conniving person June struggled with on a daily basis.

Why were these intelligent men so easily fooled? Yet, as she watched Angela’s perpetual smile and constant stroking, physical and verbal, June realized the question was moot. Angela was good. She was very good. June’s instinct was to jump up and start screaming, “She’s a bitch! She’s crazy! She’s acting! Don’t believe her!” But if she dared utter a word against Angela,
she’d
appear crazy and would probably be escorted out the front door.