Faith's POV
Scrubbing at an invisible streak on the vanity mirror, I rub and polish until the glass is shinier than Cinderella's slipper. Everything sparkles from top to bottom, delighting in the appearance of a brand-new apartment rather than the well-worn one we have rented for over two years. My three day cleaning spree has resulted in a spotless wonder which should make my cousin overjoyed. Instead, Tossie stares back at me through the reflection in the glass, waiting for me to admit defeat.
"I'm beginning to worry I gained a built-in housekeeper but lost a fun-loving cousin." Tossie's words are kind, told in the loving voice of someone who will always tell you the truth whether you want to hear it or not, but at least in a gentle manner. Ever since the tabloids blew up with pictures of the balcony encounter, I've isolated myself in the apartment, not wanting to face the judgmental stares of any lurkers who might still be staking out our place. It took me all of ten minutes of internet browsing to read everything from innocent speculation to wild embellishments of a scandalous nature. Stepping away from the world seemed like the best solution at the time; the only way to keep my mind from spinning out of control with 'what-ifs.'
Removing the spray bottle of Windex from my left hand, Tossie lays it on the dresser before placing both hands on my shoulders. I'm forced to look her in the eye as she gazes back at me with equal parts empathy and concern.
"I know how hard it is for you to be in the spotlight again, even if no one knows who the girl in the picture really is." Tossie squeezes my shoulders gently, a sad smile gracing her lips. "It's not Zade's fault that his life is lived under a microscope. Being friends with him, or more, means that you have to accept both the positive and the ugly."
My chin drops toward my chest as shame fills my heart. I'm an imposter, a fraud. I go through life pretending I am this stoic, independent woman when, in reality, I'm just a scared little girl missing her big sister. I thought moving to Nashville would bring me to the point of acceptance and maybe even closure. Instead, I'm standing at the edge of the world with only the sound of the wind to keep my misery company.
"I don't know if a relationship is worth the trouble," I whisper, hoping Tossie holds the golden key- an answer which makes sense. Lately I feel as if I am a living, breathing Magic 8 Ball-shake me up and wish for the best possible outcome but be prepared for the wrong answer to hit you square in the back, knocking you off balance and falling face first in the mud and grime of reality.
A beat of silence fills the tiny room, louder than if a party of 10 people were congregating in the space, before Tossie throws out her answer. "The better question to ask is this-is Zade worth the struggles and sacrifices you will have to make to be friends?"
"Answering me with a question; you are so helpful dear cousin." My statements lack any heat as I know she is only trying to be supportive. Tossie will never replace Hope but she does do a darn good job accepting the position of best friend.
Releasing her grip on my shoulders Tossie sits down on the neatly made bed, causing a slight indention in my perfectly symmetrical covers. "So they got a picture of the kiss, big deal. What I want to know is how was it kissing a bonafide superstar?"
I fall backwards onto the bed beside her, a small grin spilling out onto my lips. "None of your business good."
She chucks a throw pillow at my head, clearly unimpressed with my response. "Seriously, best kiss ever or mediocre and the media just hypes up his superpowers?"
I press my head back against a pillow and shake with suppressed laughter. "Oh my gosh Tossie, he's a human being just like every other male out there. The only superpower he possess is a bit of arrogance."
She nudges my side with her elbow, eyes sparking brighter than a fireworks display. "He may be a man but he looks like he could kiss the clothes right off a girl."
"Natasha! You are shameless." My exclamation falls on deaf ears as she twirls one long strand of pale blonde hair around her index finger, a dreamy expression overtakes her features.
"Those sharp cheekbones, that round ass, those abs made for licking chocolate sauce-" I cover her mouth with my hand before my poor ears are permanently defiled. Sure I've had those thoughts cross my own mind once or twice but hearing them straight out of my cousin's mouth is like tasting a sour warhead when hoping for a piece of Godiva chocolate. Nasty!
I remove my hand as I lean up on my elbow so that my body is facing her own. "I'm sure Andre would love to hear how his girlfriend of two-plus years is waxing poetic on some other man's defined features."
"Pff," she mutters, "Andre knows I love his bubble butt. Besides, I train your man three days a week. Kind of impossible not to notice what wonderful material I am working with." She winks at me twice, squishing her lips together in an attempt to create a 'kissy face.'
"That's a good look on you-puffer fish," I remark with a wink of my own. "And he's not my man," I insert, almost as an afterthought.
Another pillow hits me, this time directly on the forehead as I am woefully unprepared for the attack.
Natasha flips onto her side as well, all traces of mirth doused from her eyes. "Cut me some slack Cuz. This is the first time in almost five years I have seen you have any emotional attachment to a man. One day he's incorrigible; the next day he is off-limits but oh so tempting. Zade brings out your passionate side, the one you buried the moment that last shovel of dirt was laid out on Hope's grave."
My heart starts to pound against my chest and my hands grip the hunter green comforter in a wringing motion. My legs are suddenly restless with the urge to flee the room and Tossie's knowing gaze. Each breath I take hitches in my throat and sticks, thick as tar. While everyone else has moved on, I'm still carting my grief around like a ten-ton ball and chain attached to my ankle. Sunsets are dull in color now, the sound of children laughing on the playground grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard, and even my favorite meal-five cheese ziti-tastes like cardboard because it used to be Hope's speciality in the kitchen.
"He could turn out to be another Harrison." Admitting one of my fears allows a minuscule lessening of the pressure in my chest. "I'm not just going to 'get over it' as those two therapists told me to do. When Zade finds out I am damaged- defective even- he will bail on me just like Harrison did."
Tossie pounds the bed with a fist, sparks flying from her eyes. "Harrison was an A-class idiot. He knew nothing about sincerity, acceptance or love. When everything was going good he was happy to play the part of doting prince charming, but when the media speculation caused tongues to wag he ran like a scarred little rabbit."
My fingers twist the hem of my gold and cream Old Navy t-shirt. The fabric, though rough from years of wear and tear, is comforting to the touch. My eyes drift around the room until I am staring at the small picture of Hope, Tossie and I which sits atop my plain white dresser. At one point in time another picture would have sat next to that one. A picture showcasing a gorgeous blue-eyed boy with his arms around my waist, lips skimming my hair with a gentle caress. He was supposed to be my one. My only. My anchor.
"I gave him my seventeen year old heart Tossie but he just threw it away like day old garbage." Bile burns the back of my throat as I wipe away the tears with my sleeve, fully expecting Tossie to cringe from the emotional display. Instead, she wraps her arms around me, hugging me tightly until every tear has been poured out liberally.
"Zade isn't Harrison." Her quiet words sound at odds against the rumble of the television which had been left on a channel showing some horror flick.
"I don't know that." Saying the words aloud make me sound like a coward. Am I going to live my life afraid and alone?
The timer buzzes from the kitchen, breaking the suffocating silence. Tossie releases the hug and heads towards the hallway. "Why don't you join me for some of my famous quinoa chili and rainbow salad?" she suggests gently, "Nothing has to be figured out today and I know you skipped breakfast this morning."
"Are you sure?" I question ruefully, gesturing to my phone which is lying on the dresser; there are 27 text messages and 12 missed phone calls from Zade.
"Positive," she declares as she walks into the living room. "I might have talked with him on the phone an hour ago and smoothed things out."
At those words I dash down the hallway, skidding to a stop in the middle of the living room. "Is he ok or is he angrily stewing? Does he even want to see me again?" My questions ricochet across the room into the kitchen.
Tossie removes the lid form the pot and dips in the ladle, inhaling the fresh scents of cumin and onion powder. She dishes out two generous portions before answering my questions. "Yes, sort of, yes."
"Those aren't answers," I whine, frustrated with her ability to withhold pertinent information. A knock on our door stops me just as I pull out a chair to sit down.
Glancing through the peephole I am pleasantly surprised to see Mr. Thomas, our mailman. I open the door and peek around his shoulder quickly for any sign of nosy reporters.
"No one here but me dear," he reassures me in his gravely voice. In his upper fifties, he reminds me of a skinny Santa Claus with his long snow white beard, bushy eyebrows, and penchant for wearing red ties with his postal uniform.
My shoulders slump and I sag against the door frame in relief. Letting out a huge breath, I smile thinly at our kind visitor who is holding out a medium-size rectangular package.
"Thank you. I am expecting some mail from my mom, but did not anticipate its arrival until tomorrow." I clasp the envelope grateful for excellent service.
Mr. Thomas steps back, adjusting the strap on his blue messenger bag bulging with undelivered mail. "We do our best Ms. Faith. Give my girl Natasha a big hug for me." He departs quickly, headed toward our neighbor at the end of the halls, Mrs. Willis.
I step inside and carry my gift to my room. During her spring cleaning my mother found an old box of jewelry and promised to send it as soon as she made the hour trip back to town. Good old backcountry Ohio for you. Nothing but miles of trees, hills and stars twinkling bright on a clear night.
Sitting down on my bed, I eagerly tear off the brown paper to reveal a white box. Sliding a nail underneath the packing tape, I slowly release the sticky material. Reaching into the box I am startled to pull out not only my class ring, which I had believed long lost, but also several newspaper and magazine clippings. Tentatively, I lay out the multitude of papers, only to squeeze my eyes tightly as I gasp in shock, my skin sizzling from where I touched the repulsive ink. The malicious-sounding crinkles of the pages causes tingles of disgust to travel up my arms and legs.
Articles from several prominent news sources as well as some gossip rags are scattered out before me. Some have pictures of the kiss while others are just salacious in nature, word after sharp word cutting at already open wounds. Bold red letters are painted across each page.
Slut
Shameful hussy
Golddigger
Harlot
Although demeaning, the picture of Zade from his movie premiere holds the most horrifying message of all: Fame whore-just like Hope.
I jerk back off the bed, every part of my body shaking. My mind becomes cloudy as I walk, disoriented, toward my balcony for fresh air. There could be paps out there or even my gift-giver but I can't stay in my bedroom-I'm suffocating. Sliding down onto the cold floor, I wrap my arms around my legs as my chest heaves. Gulp after gulp of fresh air enters into my lungs as I attempt to think clearly.
I can't wrap my mind around the hate which resonates from inside. I feel it slither around my body, grasping at my arms and legs like the tentacles of an octopus. My whole body is chilled despite the 76-degree temperature. Silently I shake alone, determined not to let out the scream waiting to burst from deep within.
As I sink further back against the wall, I vow not to let Tossie become tainted by the faceless darkness which is taunting me. I failed Hope. I won't fail again.