June
I couldn't believe my own foolishness. I ran to the bathroom, locked myself in, and ugly-cried with my hands tightly over my mouth, making sure no one would hear me.
He had a girlfriend. Of course. I should've known. He hadn't been laughing with me because I made him happy — it was her. He hadn't been away so often because of losing the hearing and preparing for the appeal — it was her.
Charlotte. Beautiful girl with a British accent, no doubt really kind and intelligent and everything I wished for him. Still, there had been some part of me that had hoped that maybe, maybe in some time, he could, maybe, see me the way he was seeing her.
Fuck. I breathed in deeply, erasing the tear tracks on my cheeks with a piece of toilet paper. I was a total wreck. Young girl with red-rimmed eyes, in an old, plain T-shirt, pants too big for her, lips shaking. What had I gotten myself into? Me and my irrational fantasies... Wake up, June!
There was a lump in my throat, so I drank some water and splashed some in my eyes. Better.
I couldn't be upset about this. I had no right. We were only friends, nothing more — he could do whatever the hell he wanted.
Except sleep with my cousin.
Or bring home gorgeous girls without even warning me.
I'd never had more confusing feelings about a person than I had about Charlotte. She was kind, and she had a funny laugh, and she was easily shocked by the things you said. She was interested in me, even though she didn't seem to know how to go about talking to me, like I was some sort of alien from another world. Nonetheless, she did her best.
But she kept Nathan from me. I didn't know what was worse: knowing they were having sex in her dorm or entering the kitchen in the morning to catch her kissing him.
I was spending more and more time in Mr. Redstone's office, not to work on my book, but to bury myself in my homework. Focusing on algebra and English and all was the only thing that could keep my mind off the fact that she existed, and that he was in love with her.
One day, a few weeks after she had come into my life, I was sitting in the kitchen, staring at nothing in particular, when she took a place next to me. She was nervous: her eyes didn't know on which part of me to concentrate, and she was playing with the rings on her fingers. "So, err, June..." she started to say, in that too charming accent of hers. "I was wondering... I'd really love to get to know you a bit better... So, I thought, maybe you'd like to go shopping with me." She bit her lip, then quickly added: "My treat, of course."
I looked at her, because I knew it'd make her uneasy. She definitely had never known what life was without money, and I wondered if grandma Redstone would've liked her as much as she would've liked me. Obviously not. "Yeah, seems fun. I don't think we like the same brands, though."
She smiled in relief, creating those annoyingly cute dimples in her cheeks. "That's alright. You can pick the shops."
Later, when we sat in her car, sharing an awkward silence, I realized something else. She probably pitied the way I looked, my old shirts and pants, some way too big. I couldn't blame her for it, because I'd been increasingly ashamed of my appearance myself. Most of my jeans sagged, some of them showed way too much of my ankles; there were holes in some of my shirts, my bras were too small, and I was still wearing the same underwear as two years ago. Was it weird to be taking her money? Be in debt with her? Well, she had enough of it, she wouldn't miss it. If I had to endure Nathan having a girlfriend, I might as well make use of it.
"So, where do you usually buy clothes?" I asked, deciding to try and make an effort. If Nathan liked her, I could like her as well.
"Oh, err, you know, the usual," she said, "but I don't think it'd be for you. And I thought it'd be nice to go to a regular mall."
That was at least something I could hate about her without being in the wrong: her idea that living like regular people was somehow one big adventure. Please, woman, have a chat with my parents. You don't want to live like regular people. Regular people didn't want to live like regular people.
In the mall, I got greedy very fast. Once I'd tried on jeans that actually fit, I knew I would do everything in my power to never ever have to wear third-hand clothes again. Baffled, I looked at myself in the mirror of the changing room.
I looked like Valentina.
I felt like Valentina.
But my own version of it. Like myself.
If I held my hand like that, you couldn't even discern my disability. Suddenly, I felt the need to share it, and I didn't care that it wasn't Vale standing there waiting for me.
I opened the curtain of the dressing room, unable to keep the large grin off my face. Charlotte was waiting for me, piles of clothes in her arms. When she spotted me smiling brightly, she smiled right back. "Oh, June! You look... stunning!" she said, and I could tell it was sincere. "I had no idea you were hiding all that under those baggy pants!"
"What, my ass?" I said, posing for her, so my ass poked out. "I know, it's one of my greatest assets."
She blushed, trying not to laugh by biting her lip. "We are absolutely buying you those jeans, in three different colors. Here, try this top, I think it suits your figure..."
Before I knew it, the awkwardness between us was dissolving a little, and I found myself genuinely enjoying her company. Even though it took her a while to adjust to the fact that yes, you were allowed to take the clothes off the racks yourself, and that yes, a shirt was really 'only' fifteen dollars, she had a real gift for picking out things that looked good on me.
"Why ever would you want to wear a shirt like this?" she asked me, holding up a tiny crop top that said hoe.
I giggled. Valentina would've wanted it. "Well, maybe if you're in the prostitution business and you want to be a walking business card?" I took it from her, putting it against her body, that was currently clad in a neat, dark blue dress. "We should both buy one and not tell Nathan. See how he reacts."
She burst out laughing, but she wasn't as fun as to try it. Instead, she hung it back and selected a blouse. "What about this? The green goes well with your eyes."
"Nah, it has buttons."
"And... you don't like buttons?"
"Yeah, it's personal. We never get along."
I think she was trying to figure out if I was joking or not. Patiently, I showed her my hands, fingers never really relaxing. "Can't open and close them."
Her gaze traveled down to the button on my pants. "But... how?"
"Stretch," I said, "and well, most of my current pants are just too big." I shrugged, turning my attention back to the racks. She was staring at me; I was sure she felt sorry for me. Some people never learned to just treat me normally. Was she going to talk this over with Nathan tonight? Oh, that poor girl! I could hear her say it.
"I'm going to try this on," I said, not pointing out anything in particular. I needed to get away from that painful silence.
We'd decided to take a break. I was already wearing my new jeans, combined with an olive green crop top, fake leather jacket, and brand-new sneakers. I'd never realized I had a style: most of the time when I went shopping with mom or Vale, I could only buy one or two things, and then I'd always be influenced by them. Charlotte, though, made me decide for myself, something I was more thankful for than I wanted to be. The one minute, I felt bad for using her, the other, I remembered she was probably spending less on me than that whole dress of hers had cost.
We'd sat down at a table in a cafe, all of the bags spread around us. I couldn't believe all of it was mine. Only mine. Never someone else's. We had returned to polite small talk, about Stanford, about the clothes we'd bought, about England and the two tacky girls that had been bitch fighting by the cash register.
The waitress came, a girl of about Charlotte's age, with a bouncing ponytail and a smile too wide to be real. "So, what can I get for you two girls?" she asked Charlotte, winking at me, and I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
"I'd like a cafe mocha, please."
And yes, this was the moment the waitress was supposed to turn to me, but instead: "And for her?"
Sigh. I hated this. I really did. "I can talk, thank you very much," I said, leaving the waitress confused. "Mint tea, please. No honey."
The waitress rushed away, not even repeating our orders first. Would it be too cruel not to tip her? It wasn't like her reaction had been rare.
Charlotte wasn't looking at me, playing with the rings on her finger. She'd also proposed buying me some jewelry, but I wasn't a necklace, ring kind of girl. They'd only get in the way. I did get myself a nice bottle of perfume, though. Chanel. Seventy-five dollars. Monster prizes. Charlotte had seemed to think it was too cheap to be true.
"It happens," I said. "No need to think about suing them, you'd be suing half the US in the end."
My joke had worked. "I might go to Stanford, but I'm still British. We don't sue restaurants because we tripped over the threshold."
"Good to know. My life would be getting really busy all of a sudden if I made a court case out of every time I tripped."
She laughed, a sincere laugh, shaking her shiny, pale blonde hair. She was nothing like me. Nothing like Lena either. Absolutely nothing like Lena. Charlotte was simple, poised, stable. She was probably good for him. "I can see why Nathan likes you," I said, deciding that if this was what made him happy, at least for now, I could go with it.
She bit her lip again, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You think he likes me?" It was such a weird thing to ask that I just stared at her. She was his girlfriend, for god's sake! "I don't know, I can never tell with him. He's so... different."
Yes. He was. And she had realized it. Maybe she really was what he needed. "He likes you, alright. A lot. He just has his reasons for taking it slow, and I think those are good ones." It took me so much effort to get the words out. Underneath the table, I dug my nails into the palm of my hand, hoping that the physical pain would outweigh the mental agony. "Besides, he let you take me out shopping. That should be a sign. He doesn't just share me with anyone, you know."
Another beautiful laugh. "Yes, he seems very fond of you. He told me you're like a little sister to him."
Stab my heart, won't you? I didn't know if I could talk without betraying how much that had hurt, so I was grateful that ignorant waiter #231 brought us our drinks, and she was distracted again.
For the first time in very long, I wished I could go back to New York and forget about the Redstone family.