Page 3 of Pretend for Me

I didn’t have a mom growing up, so I missed out on moments like this one.

Then I thought of all the “important life lessons” Audrey tried to instill in me.

Like finding the best deals in department stores even though I wanted to go to Goodwill instead. Or haggling with the vendor at the bodega down the street. She even made me get drunk on my twenty-first birthday, stating it was a rite of passage while she poured tequila down my throat.

Audrey boasted, “Have I ever steered you wrong?” She grabbed her bag and stood in the doorway of the small walk-up apartment, waiting for me to get my things so she could lock up.

“Well … there was the time you told me to take a few puffs of your joint!” I cringed, remembering that adventure all too well.

Audrey locked the door, and we headed down the stairs. “Oh stop. Like I was supposed to know you would hallucinate so badly I’d have to take you to the emergency room!” Audrey reasoned, laughing.

Truth was, Audrey had become everything I was missing in the first eighteen years of my life. She was sometimes a mother figure, sometimes a sister, but always a friend. I never really had a friend before besideshim. Especially not one like Audrey. Someone who stood up for what she believed in. Who had unwavering loyalty. Who taught me to be strong. She always taught me the importance of choices. I knew all too well how with one wrong move, the entire trajectory of life could change, so it was best to choose wisely.

Of course, I still struggled with believing in myself.

Despite our closeness, both Audrey and I battled with opening up about our pasts. It was as though the beginning of our friendship was a new start on life, not just for me, but for Audrey, too.

Being older than me might have offered a certain sense of wisdom and maturity, but when it came down to her core, Audrey swore she was just as broken as me. That was the thing about scars—they weren’t always skin deep. No, sometimes the most painful ones were the invisible ones that we carried each day, pretending that they weren’t leaving us in a permanent chokehold, unable to move on with our lives.

2

MATTHEW

Buzz. Buzz.

“Mr. Adams,” a voice beckoned from the speaker, so I went over to the intercom in the kitchen and pressed the button.

“Yes, Louisa?” She was the concierge for my apartment complex.

“Mr. Adams, Miss Charlotte is here to see you. Can I send her up?”

“It’s Charlie!”I heard Charlotte arguing in the background.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. I wasn't expecting her, but Charlie always did the unexpected. “Yes, send her up,” I said, heading back into my room to continue getting ready.

I quickly walked into my closet and pulled the freshly pressed shirt off the hanger. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in only my white tee and boxers. As I took a deep breath, my arms caught my attention.

Arms that were once filled with scars. Now they were covered with swirls of ink. I traced the patterns with my fingertips, allowing myself a moment to relive the memories tied to the images and faint lines. Each one told a story of a chapter Iwished I could forget, but couldn’t. It was all a part of who I was and who I longed to be.

I had trained myself to resist the urge to cringe as I looked at the barely-there scars, but there was no denying that they were there. Every bit they faded, they became more ingrained into who I was. I felt the weight of them with every step I took. The invisible scars of life left a deeper cut than the superficial ones.

I let my hands fall to my side, snapping myself out of my daze. Charlie would come bursting through the door any minute, so I slipped on my dress shirt and pants. Walking over to the dresser, I grabbed my Rolex, a gift from my adoptive father, Wyatt, from ten years prior.

I flipped the watch over and scowled when I looked at the engraving.You are the creator of your own destiny.

If only ten years ago, I had grasped the severity of what accepting the watch truly entailed. Receiving the watch set all the chaos that had become my life in motion.

All I could do was observe. There was no stopping or getting off the train.

Life doesn’t allow for do-overs. No use pretending it did.

I shook my head, trying to clear my head of events from the past. No good could come of dwelling on things that couldn’t be undone.

I secured the watch on my wrist and glanced at the time. Holden was supposed to be meeting me in ten minutes, but I knew I had to make time for Charlie. If I didn’t, the sixteen-year-old would find some way to get into trouble. She was a danger magnet after all.

The elevator door opened and there stood Charlie, complete with nose piercing, crop top, and raccoon eyeliner. The embodiment of a rebel without a cause.

I rolled my eyes. “Hello, Charlotte.” I stressed her full name, making fun of her and her distaste for being called by it.

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