Page 37 of Promise Me Nothing
I assume she’ll be embarrassed that I’ve been watching her. But instead of blushing or stammering or any of the other reactions I’m expecting, that sadness flees from her face, and she gives me a smile. A brilliant smile that might be the first real one I’ve seen on her face.
She doesn’t seem like the type to smile very often. I’d argue that Botox eliminates laugh lines, like most of the women I know, but I don’t see a Botox bunny when I look at her. The reason I don’t think she smiles often is because she has that same hint of sadness in her eyes that I see when I look in the mirror.
The eyes of someone who has seen enough in this life.
Much more than any young person should.
So when she does turn and smile at me, I soak it in, because it’s important to acknowledge the gifts people give to us. And seeing her smile, I can tell, is a gift.
“I didn’t know you were out here,” she says, her long legs eating up the concrete pavers as she joins me at my table.
“You looked like you needed a minute to yourself. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
There’s the slight flush. Now that she’s closer, I can see the bit of embarrassment on her skin. Even though this patio area is a part of the yacht club, the only light is coming from a handful of tall heaters with flames glowing in the middle.
“Yeah, I’m not… really a people person,” she says, taking a seat in the chair across from mine. Then she freezes. “Oh. Is it okay if I sit? With you?”
I laugh. “Of course. I’ve been stalking you for the past day and a half, remember? You’re finally getting with the program.”
She smiles again, and I truly enjoy it.
There is something about her that I’m drawn to. Something pure. Almost raw. I know nothing about her, and yet I’d bet my life on the fact that each reaction I get out of her is genuine. It’s a breath of fresh air after spending time with so many fake, plastic people for most of my life.
“Thanks for spending time with my sister.”
But Pier Girl shakes her head. “I don’t need thanks for that. She’s pretty amazing.”
“She is. But not everyone realizes it.” Which is true. For some reason, the Hermosa Beach crowd doesn’t seem to want to welcome Ivy Calloway with open arms. She’s one of the richest residents, and has a heart the size of the entire fucking city, but being deaf? I guess it’s a non-negotiable for some people.
Those people are pricks, but whatever. I’ve learned that having money can’t buy class.
“Can I ask how it happened? I mean, was she born deaf or…?”
“She got a virus when she was a toddler. Crazy high fever. She was hospitalized for weeks while they tried to figure out what was going on.” I shrug. “She’s been deaf ever since.”
She nods. “My friend Melanie’s daughter had a similar situation. That’s how I learned to sign.”
“You’re really good at it. Ivy’s always telling me I need to get better, that sometimes the things I say don’t make sense.”
“Well if you need a tutor…” she trails off, giving me a playful smile.
There’s a pause when Pier Girl turns her head and looks out at the marina, and I use that brief moment to take in her profile. Her long, graceful neck, soft skin, button nose.
“How was it?” she asks, looking back at me. “Coming home after so long away?”
For a moment, I’m confused. But then I remember what I told her last night, at the pier.
I rub my chin, scratch at the bit of stubble that’s growing in that I refused to shave off even though my mother told me she wouldn’t let me attend tonight unless I did. I’d called her bluff, since she was the one who was obligating me to go in the first place.
“It was exactly what I expected it to be,” I say. “My sister was excited. My mother was a mess of emotions, some of which weren’t particularly genuine. My brother probably doesn’t know I’m in town yet. And my dad… well, we’re not on speaking terms, even though it was likely his idea for me to come tonight.”
She purses her lips. “I’m sorry it wasn’t the perfect homecoming. But at least your sister was excited. How long were you away before coming back?”
“Three years.”
Her brows raise. “That’s a long time. What were you doing?”
I sigh. “Is it cliché to say I was finding myself?”
