This Much Is True (25 page)

We break Dr. Shimmer’s first rule when I slide into the driver’s seat to take Marla to the airport. I’m not supposed to be driving. Marla doesn’t say anything about it, and neither do I. I relish the simple fact that I am driving. It’s been almost a year since I got behind the wheel of a car.
I can do this. It feels weird.
A decidedly good weird. It’s somewhat freeing. And God knows I need to feel free.
Marla stows her luggage into the trunk, and we’re off.

After going a mere three blocks, she points out Rob’s building. I covertly glance up at his apartment window and note that it looks all closed up. Nobody’s home. I feel this twinge of panic.
I’m alone. Don’t I know it?

I shake off this unsettling feeling and contrive to smile for Marla, who studies me intently from the passenger seat. “You okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine. Just fine.” I smile wider as we make our way toward the tunnel and JFK.

“He’s probably working a double shift. It’s Thursday. Sometimes, he does that.”

“Sure. Truly, I don’t want to know the whys and wherefores of Rob Thorn. “I’m going to do fine on my own. Look at me
driving.
I’m fine,” I add for good measure and concentrate on the GPS.

On the first part of our JFK journey, Marla gets quieter. She studies the sights and lights of Manhattan, taking them all in as if this is the last she’ll see of them. Then she spends quite a bit of time on the phone, trading favors, getting her shifts covered at the Dahlia through next Friday. So, it’s now it’s more than a full week in San Francisco, more than a weekend, but I don’t say anything. No. I just navigate the traffic and manage to look cool, calm, and collected, as if I’m doing a Saturday afternoon performance. I suppose I am even though it’s Thursday. Yes, I willingly partake in this innocuous adventure that will take Marla back to Charlie and away from me.

Marla gets this motherly gaze as soon as I judiciously park in a designated, no-parking zone at JFK.
Was it really only eight months ago that we marched down the aisle arm-in-arm with our high school diplomas?
I feel about thirty now. Yes, I’m going on thirty.
Linc would be pleased.
Ensconced in a white lace maternity top and a chic denim skirt that Marla procured for me from some discount fashion boutique she discovered last summer, I probably do look about thirty. I laugh to myself and glance over at Marla, who just beams back at me.
Bottle up this happiness and give it to me.

“I’m going to surprise him,” Marla says softly.

I nod. My throat gets tight, and my eyes start to sting. “Good idea.” I miss her already, and she hasn’t even left. I’m consoled by the fact that I’m driving her car. She has to come back to New York if only to retrieve it These thoughts buoy me up. I affect nonchalance, while Marla redoes her lipstick in the car mirror and checks her hair one last time.

“Tell Charlie hi for me,” I say hugging her tight when she’s finished.

“Anything else?” Marla flashes a megawatt smile, unable to contain her excitement. It practically shimmers off of her now.

“No.” I wanly smile back. “If you happen to see my parents, although you probably won’t, just tell them I’m doing great and that everything is fine. That I’m busy with NYC Ballet.” My smile fades. “Yeah, just tell them that.”

“Don’t do
anything
while I’m gone. Just rest. Eat every day. Read a book. Relax.”

“I won’t do
anything
while you’re gone
.
I’ll eat. Promise.” I hold my breath and let it out. “Remember, you can’t say anything to Charlie about
this
.” I point to my stomach.

“Paranoid much, Tally? I won’t say anything. We’ve come this far and there’s only a little more time to go.”

“It’s not a Juno flick,” I say irritably. “Just don’t talk about me. That way, nothing gets shared that shouldn’t be.”

It’s easy looking at life from Marla’s end of the spectrum. She isn’t wafting around with a five-pound baby in her belly like I am. Paranoia sets in again. My ballet career may be in jeopardy. I can’t quite believe Sasha’s okay with everything, and I may get no more than a vacated spot in the Corps this spring. I’ll take anything and count myself lucky, but the fear of failure surges through me anyway.
Anything. I’ll take anything.
I’ve already told Sasha Belmont this, too.

Fears. I still have them. They still rule me.
For a few minutes, I’m caught up in a memory vortex of Lincoln Presley and the intimate revelations about ourselves with that particular discussion with him. My sudden anguish must show because Marla’s looking at me funny.

“You okay?” she asks again. I nod. “I left a message for Rob on his answering machine while you were changing. He said he should be able to check in on you this weekend. Don’t give me that look.
Somebody
needs to be on call for you. Rob will be happy to do it.”

“Okay. Great,” I murmur and breathe out slowly. “Marla. I’m sorry I’ve had to ask so much of you, and that I’ve taken so much from you.” I hang my head a little and then look up. “You’ve been the most awesome friend to me. The best. Thank you.”

“Don’t be silly. You haven’t been any trouble. My God, Tally, you’re having a baby. You’re the one who’s awesome.” She squeezes my hand. “Don’t forget we’re in this together. You and me. The way Holly would have wanted it.”

“Marla,” I say trying not to cry. “Would Holly have given her up? Tell me the truth. What do you think she would have done?”

She looks uncomfortable with the question. “Tally,” she finally says with a catch in her voice, “Holly was pregnant with Rob Thorn’s baby.”

“What?”

“They were going to get married.” She groans and closes her eyes for a moment. “I thought you
knew
. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything I just always thought you
knew
and just didn’t want to talk about it.” She looks heartsick. “But you didn’t know and now you do.”

“No. I didn’t know but now I do. Wow. That explains so much—why she was so sure of Rob. She was so sure of him.”
Breathe in and out. Just breathe.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay. Better hurry, catch your flight.” I force myself to smile. “You don’t want to miss it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m just surprised; that’s all. That she didn’t tell me. That she didn’t trust me.”

“It wasn’t like that. She didn’t want to disappoint you or your parents by being less than perfect. She’d been debating about what to do. That’s why she went and saw Rob that night. He wanted to get married from the very beginning, and she didn’t. She’d finally decided that was best and went there to tell him and then planned to tell you on the way back. They were making plans, and everything was going to work itself out.” Marla looks incredibly sad. “God, he was devastated about Holly, but he thought telling your parents that she was pregnant would just make things worse for them.” She scans my face. “I’m sorry I told you. I really thought you knew and just didn’t want to talk about it.
Her.
You
never
want to talk about her. And Rob thought you knew, too, and that you would eventually want to talk about it. But you didn’t know,” Marla whispers more to herself. “And I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m so sorry.”

I struggle to catch my breath and hide the ripples of despair that start to surface. “No. It’s okay.”
Breathe.
“Really. It’s okay,” I say slowly. “I don’t think we should tell my parents now. They’d be devastated. It would be like losing Holly all over again. No. We shouldn’t tell them. What’s the point?”

“Are you sure
you’re
okay?”

“I’m
fine
. Really. It’s a shock, yes, but Holly loved Rob. She was so sure of him.” I keep smiling, knowing Marla needs my reassurance in order to get out of the car. “I’m fine. Thanks for telling me.
It helps.
Knowing
. And it doesn’t change anything, does it? Now, go home and be with Charlie.”

She sighs and takes a deep breath and turns to me. “I love you, Tally Landon.”

“I love you, too, Marla Stone.” She nods, squeezes my hand, and then gracefully slides out of the passenger seat. Within a few minutes, she’s grabbed her luggage and is waving at me from the curb. I roll down the passenger window and lean over toward her. “Hey, do what you have to do when you get there. Just…be honest with Charlie about how you feel and what you want. Not that I’m the best one to give advice about being honest, right?” I shake my head side-to-side and she tries to laugh. “Don’t worry about me. Okay? I’ve got this. I’m fine. Look at me.” I force myself to smile even though it feels like I’m breaking up inside.

“Everything’s going to be fine. It
is
,” Marla says with enough certainty for both of us.

She gives me the thumbs-up as she leaves. All I can do is helplessly watch as the only lifeline I have gets swallowed up by the dark buzzing abyss that is JFK. I have to consciously fight the overwhelming devastation that washes over me as soon as Marla disappears inside.

I’m alone.

I do my best to ignore the underlying sensation that the very foundation of my life has just given way.
Again.

* * * *

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tally ~ Seeking normal

H
is cell  phone rings three times before he picks up. It’s six in the morning. I’ve been awake all night, waiting for what felt like enough time to pass, before I made this inevitable call. I’m holding my breath when he finally answers.

“Is it true?” I ask right away.

“Tally?” Rob sighs as he becomes fully awake with my early-morning phone call.

I ignore his greeting. “Sorry. It’s early. Is it true? Was Holly pregnant?” Somehow I just need to hear him say it in order to believe it.

“Yes,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Tally, I’m sorry. I thought she would have told you. She was scared but resolute about having the baby and us being together.”

I wince at hearing his defensiveness. I’ve been cruel and bitchy to this guy for far too long. I close my eyes for a few seconds suddenly distraught when I hear the distress in Rob’s voice. It wends its way towards me intent on colliding with all these mixed-up thoughts of my own about all of this.
This guy. Linc. Me. Pregnant. Holly. Geez. When did everything get this messed up?

There’s a muffled sound on Rob’s end of the phone. He must have covered up the receiver. Somehow, I know he’s breaking up on the other end of the line, and that he’s going to cry soon.

Next topic. Is there another?

“How have you been?” I wince at the simple words and cajole myself to keep it together for both of us, even though I’ve been shaking nonstop for hours now. These weird sounds burble up in my throat, and my whole body aches from head to toe.

“Where are you?” Rob asks.

“At the apartment. Marla flew to San Francisco to see Charlie late last night.” I pause and then sigh deep. “I just needed to know if it was true.”

“Who told you? Marla?”

“Yes. She thought I knew. I didn’t.” I laugh bitterly. “I was just Holly’s twin sister—the person who knew her best in the world; well, I thought so anyway. But
no
, Holly didn’t tell me.”

“She didn’t want to upset you. She was worried about you about how you felt…about her and me.
Me
, mostly.”

There’s another heavy weighted silence. I can hear him breathing. It’s a bit unsteady. “It’s not your fault,” I say grudgingly. “I blamed you but it was never your fault...what happened. Deep down, I knew that. I just went a little crazy, still am, I guess. I just want her back. I
need
her back.” I sigh, debating what to tell him. “I need her now because…I’m in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Rob asks warily.

“A lot of trouble. Look, I can’t do this right now. Thanks for telling me…the truth. I needed to hear it, I guess. I’m in a lot of trouble right now. I can’t think straight.”

“What kind of trouble are you in? Maybe I can help.”

“No. No. No.” I pause and close my eyes for a few seconds. “I’m in the same kind of trouble my sister was in,” I say without thinking.

“You’re pregnant? Jesus, Tally. Do your parents
know
? How are you getting along? Where are you right now?”

I can’t answer all of his questions. I go for the last one. “In bed. But I can’t sleep. I just…Marla’s gone and my life’s a mess. I only found out about you and Holly last night.”

“Why don’t I swing by and pick you up? I can be there in ten minutes. My car’s in the garage. We should talk this through.” I can hear Rob already going down the stairs. His feet pound along the steps at a fast pace. I feel this sense of relief. “I’m on my way. Keep talking.”

“You don’t have to do that.” There isn’t a lot of conviction in my tone. My breathing actually gets steadier in realizing that Rob is on his way to me. “Thank you,” I finally say.

“It’s not a problem. I’ve been meaning to call you. I wanted to say congratulations on the apprenticeship with NYC Ballet. It just never felt like enough time had gone by where you wouldn’t hate my guts quite so much.”

“I don’t. It’s not like that. It’s just my life is very complicated. It has been for the past…year.” I take a breath and slowly let it out. “Things just seem to be going so great with the internship after Holly and then there’s this—me, pregnant.”

“It’ll turn out. There are options. Lots of them.”

“Really? Because not that many are coming to mind. Believe me, right now? I’m just seeking to be normal again. Lead a normal life.”

“Normal is good.”

“My parents don’t know, and I don’t want them to find out. I can’t disappoint them like this.”

“Tally, I’m here,” he says gently. “I’m parked on the street in front of your building. Come on down. Grab a coat and come on down.”

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll figure something out.”

“Get your ass downstairs, Landon,” he says with a little laugh. “I’m here.”

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll be okay. I’m fine
really
.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Rob says. “We all do enough of that; don’t we? I keep telling everyone I’m fine, but I’m not. I miss her so much.” His voice breaks down. He sounds like he’s about to cry again.

I’m not sure I can take hearing it because I feel like crying, too. “It’s going to be okay, you know.” I say, wiping at my wet face with the back of my hand as I struggle into my long coat. “Someday.”

All I know for sure is that I have a little over two weeks before I have this baby. Surely, I can make it that far and figure out what to do next. Maybe, Rob can help me figure it all out. Maybe, Rob has all the answers.

Still looking for those, I spy a pearl-white Porsche, curbside, with its engine purring, as I exit the building. Rob Thorn leans against the car looking very unlike the guy I remember seeing more than eight months ago at Paly. I guess it starts with the sports car and his stylish clothes and the trendy haircut. He still wears it long, but it’s more styled now. I guess attending NYU and tending bar at the Dahlia on 5th and living in Manhattan has changed him by multiple degrees.

Okay. Exponential ones. He looks good.

He stands tall and sure of himself as he hangs up his cell phone call with me. He pushes away from the car and half-smiles as he comes towards me. I almost roll my eyes, remembering his unassuming demeanor from before well enough. It is still hard to understand what all my twin saw in this guy. He always seemed all wrong for her. He has an uncanny likeness to the character Sawyer in
Lost
. The comparison has me smiling. I always liked Sawyer so did Holly. We thought he was sexy—combined with equal parts of honesty and dishonesty that made him that way. Holly used to say, “Sawyer lied for all the right reasons.” Her analysis always made me laugh. Of course, I liked that idea because it gave me permission to be me. I catch my lip between my teeth as I move toward Rob.

Rather abruptly I’m brought back to the present, and a sobering early dawn where Holly is no longer here. I’m still pregnant in this reality and now mildly disturbed by Rob’s very presence as we meet up, here in Manhattan. All these competing thoughts have me awkwardly shaking his outstretched hand. Together, we go in for a loosely-based hug. He hastily steps back and smiles down at me in that smirky way of his. His long golden hair hangs in his face, and he flips it back with one hand. I stare at him hard as if he is a complex math problem that must be solved.

“God, you look just like her,” Rob says in the waning silence between us. “But then again, you’re different in every way.” He looks somber and apologetic at the same time.

I nod slowly. “She was amazing, beautiful, light, and airy. The opposite of me.” My breath swarms the air with every breath I take, and he watches me closely now. “We all loved her.”

A quick covert glance of his face reveals tears in Rob Thorn’s mesmerizing grey eyes, and I scrutinize him more closely.
What is it that my sister really saw in him? Will I figure it someday?

Up close, he still appears somewhat lost and out of sorts. He’s a wayward line that is non-linear in formation. I’ve resorted to geometry within five minutes of meeting up with him. The thoughts won’t stop. They continue to race through me at warp speed. He’s a knight in shining armor just missing the shine, the armor, and the horse. Or, he was. Now I wonder. Now he seems to be golden and lit up with light, he seems bigger than life, and he drives a Porsche in Manhattan, not a Volvo. These incongruent thoughts make me smile ever so slightly, and he returns it as if I’ve provided him with much-needed air. In those first few seconds, he somehow makes me feel malevolent and powerful and not in a good way. It’s as if I could wield it upon him, and he wouldn’t care, he wouldn’t fight me.
I can see that. I can feel it.

And, let’s face it, in the past half-hour; I haven’t exactly thought through this whole scenario. I glance down at my rather pregnant form and inwardly groan.
What was I thinking?

He holds the passenger door open for me. At first, I’m too surprised at his chivalry to actually respond and move forward. No. I just stand there looking at him uncertain and attempt to quell all these senseless calculations that my mind is busy making about him. My assumptions about him may be all wrong.
I don’t really know Rob Thorn. Do I?
I allow myself to accept that he’s chivalrous and appears to be a benevolent knight without a cause. Yet here he is my rescuer. Rob Thorn got in his car at six in the morning and drove over here in record time to help me out.

“Thank you for coming,” I say belatedly.

“I’m glad you called.”

And there it is again—that smirky smile—complete with a row of perfect white teeth that would work fine for a Hollywood toothpaste commercial. I note that he has this inexplicable way of pushing his hair back from his face at inopportune moments and that this gesture inadvertently captures my attention and causes me to stop and stare at him.

“How do you like New York?” I ask and half-laugh when he gets this
deer-in-the-headlights
look. I’m not the only one who hasn’t thought things through.

“Fine,” he says slowly and gets this apologetic look. “NYU. The Yankees,” he says with a shrug. “It’s not all bad.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re a baseball fan,” I say feeling a little deflated by his answers.

“Are you kidding? I’m all about baseball…as a fan. I don’t play or anything. I’m not Lincoln Presley if that’s what you mean.” He gives me a meaningful look.

He knows. How does he know?

“No, you’re not.” I catch my lower lip between my teeth and eventually nod. “And I’m okay with that.”

“I saw you at that party with him. When you left with him.”

All but accusing. No lies here.

“Oh. Yes,” I say dully as the ability to lie deserts me.

It’s strangely comforting to be honest with someone. How ironic that it would be with Rob Thorn—the guy I’ve blamed for Holly’s death for almost a year.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you with him.”

I gaze over at Rob and finally manage to shrug with faked nonchalance. “Not meant to be, I guess.” I study the sidewalk for a few seconds and then look up at him. “He said I was too young.”

“Asshole.”

I nod slowly and eventually laugh. He stares at me for a long while and then finally grins back. Still smirky. It’s fascinating just to get him to smile. I want to study it longer and figure it all out. I want to better understand just what all my sister saw in this guy.
Really
understand it, understand him. Somehow, I know if I can figure this thing out with Rob Thorn, then everything else will fall into place.

I’ve missed his question. He’s going on about something. His features have transformed, and he’s become more animated as he talks. He’s actually even more handsome and endearing. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he’s saying.

“I’m sorry.” I pause. “What did you ask me?”

“I asked when you were due.” Rob gets this little red flush it races up his neck and face.

“Soon. February 14th?” I glance down at my iPhone and avoid his quizzical gaze. I race through my calendar for the next two weeks and point the date Marla has highlighted on my phone. “February 14th. See? Valentine’s Day.” I swallow down the sadness. “But rehearsals will have already started at NYC Ballet by then. I hope to catch up by mid-March.”

“Valentine’s Day. Less than a month of recovery time, Tally? For ballet.” There’s judgment in his tone.

“Yes.”

He looks apologetic. “You’re really good. Holly always said you were amazing.”

“She said that?”

“She did.”

“I don’t know. Not so amazing anymore,” I say.

“You look fantastic. You really do. You hardly show even now. Your face glows. Holly’s did that, too. She wasn’t as far along as you but…” Rob looks sad for a moment and stares out at the passing cars without looking at me directly. His face is strangely illuminated but still shadowed by the overhead lights on the Parkway. New tears appear on his dark lashes.

“When was your baby with Holly due?”

“September 22nd. We were going to elope the first of May. We were working it all out that day.” He winces and then lets out a long breath. His voice gets weaker. “Come back and graduate. We had it all worked out. We were really excited about the baby and getting married.”

“In the spring. May Day,” I echo his words as more of a distraction than actually registering what he’s said.

“Holly thought that would be fun to get married when all the flowers were out. She wouldn’t be showing that much. She had it all worked out. I mean, who wouldn’t want to get married on the first day in May, right?”

“Of course. That would be fun.”

He gets this weird expectant look. It makes me feel uncomfortable—the penetrating way he looks at me as if I can be Holly if only he looks at me long enough.

“Holly would think that would be fun.” He looks taken aback at what I’ve said and shakes his head side-to-side as if to clear it. I reach out and touch his hand for a second, and then I lower myself into the passenger seat of his car.

He reaches in, slipping one arm behind my back to help me while his other arm grazes across the front of my chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.” He gets this sheepish look and bites at his lower lip.