Unveiling The Sky Read online

  I sat at home that night and thought about how awkward the rest of the meal had been. I knew what Derek meant, and I knew he was doing what he thought was best. But Naomi had to come to the realization that Caleb and her had run out of time on her own. When they first started dating, they had so much in common, but for the past year or so, the things they had in common seemed to drift away. Naomi stopped being charmed by Caleb’s video game habits. Caleb’s dedication to his pre-med degree left little time for the debates he and Naomi always used to have. They grew up, but they grew in different directions.

  Naomi insisted there needed to be a concrete reason for a breakup. “We hardly fight, Alara. There’s no reason to break up,” she’d always said. And I got it. Caleb was there for the worst moments of her life; she felt like she owed it to him. But what she couldn’t see was Caleb felt the same way. They both held on to the past far too much, and neither was willing to be the one to end what looked like a perfect high school sweetheart-type relationship.

  This year, both their studies had been more intense, and we’d all kind of hoped that meant they’d finally see their relationship for what it was. But Derek’s meddling was not the way to go about it. Because Naomi would kick, claw, bitch slap, bite, and pretty much everything else if she thought any of us were interfering. Unfortunately, this was something they’d have to come to on their own, even if—

  The door slammed, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “God, he’s such an asshole!” Naomi yelled as she stormed into our apartment and threw her purse on the counter.

  “Caleb?”

  She frowned before grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass. “No, Derek.”

  “It wasn’t that bad, Naomi.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “The side of sanity,” I said as I flipped through my textbook.

  She pursed her lips before forgoing the glass and drinking straight from the bottle. “Well… could you not? Logic is really going to mess with the tantrum I’m trying to have right now.”

  I chuckled as I threw my textbook to the ground. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat before yelling, “THAT BASTARD!”

  “Much better. Thank you.” Naomi bowed before flopping onto the opposite end of the couch.

  I held out my hand for the bottle. “Are you and Caleb okay?”

  “Yeah. He wasn’t all that mad. He said he just wasn’t in the mood for Derek’s crap.”

  “He never really seems mad about anything anymore…”

  She rolled her eyes and took the bottle back after I’d had a sip. “Not you, too,” she moaned. “How could him not getting angry possibly indicate something bad?”

  I hesitated, because didn’t I just say interfering would yield nothing good? But if she outright asked, it wasn’t interfering, right? Right. “Well, typically, one gets mad because they care. If you don’t care, you’re indifferent. Kind of like you said he’s been lately.”

  She paused before adamantly shaking her head. “No, that’s just because we’ve been together so long. We know what’s worth getting angry over.”

  “Okay, then when’s the last time either of you got angry?” I challenged with a raised brow.

  “Stop asking so many hard questions. I’m drunk.” As if to punctuate that statement, she guzzled some more wine.

  “You’ve only had about two glasses. You’re not drunk. But I’ll give you a pass.” I bent to retrieve my textbook and notebook, making sure to keep my face impassive.

  “You and those goddamn passes,” she mumbled as she walked into her room. Moments later, I heard rap music pounding out of her room, effectively eliminating the reappearance of a sober Naomi tonight.

  …

  A couple nights later, Naomi was still in a funk. School had started this week, and we were enjoying the last bit of relaxation before we were consumed with classes and homework. Sherry had texted me just as I was leaving my last class for the day.

  Sherry: EMERGENCY! We need some pizza…and more wine. Stat!

  Me: More wine? We had four bottles…

  Sherry: and now you don’t…

  Sherry: c’mon, it’s a Friday night… whatcha expect?

  Me: It’s Friday afternoon, and it’s only 4:30…

  Sherry: …

  Me: Right.

  Sherry: See you soon :)

  After making two quick stops, I was pulling up in front of the apartment forty-five minutes later. I’d barely finished pushing open the door before I started talking. “You will never guess who I bumped into while picking up the…” I trailed off as my words became muffled by the loud noise inside. The door remained ajar as I stood in the entryway, still clutching the knob while balancing two pizza boxes and a bottle of wine, taking in the scene before me.

  The coffee table had been pushed against the wall opposite the door, and in its place was Naomi’s Rock Band set. A cursory glance showed Naomi, Sherry, and Gabe performing “Livin’ on a Prayer.” My eyes instantly landed on Sherry, who was posed on the edge of the love seat farthest from me as she pounded the drum set in front of her. She played without any finesse, merely flailing her arms while head banging and bouncing on the seat.

  My gaze then slid to Gabe on the other love seat, who was, less enthusiastically but with considerably more skill than Sherry, playing the guitar. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that showcased his forearm muscles as he played. I couldn’t stop the smile on my face as I watched him, his eyes completely focused on the screen as a little bit of his tongue stuck out in thoughtful concentration. My presence still unknown to the trio, my eyes lingered on Gabe until a shrieking forced my line of sight to Naomi. Her back was to me, but I got her profile every couple of seconds as she all but maimed one of the greatest songs to exist.

  The song was coming to an end when Sherry came to a premature stop and immediately noticed me in the doorway. She gave me a wide smile and quick wink before lifting her loose tank top up to wipe the sweat off her face, flashing her neon-orange sports bra in the process. But hey, if I had abs like hers, I’d probably walk around shirtless all damn day.

  I shifted my attention back to Gabe just as he lowered the guitar to his lap. When I met his eyes, I found him already staring at me with a small smile gracing his lips. He opened his mouth to say something when Naomi suddenly turned around, dropped the microphone, and rushed to me.

  “Alara!” she yelled as she threw herself at me and wrapped me in a hug.

  “Uhh…” I glanced up to see Sherry wearing a shit-eating grin and Gabe covering up a laugh behind his hand before Naomi’s voice brought my eyes back down to her.

  “We’re celebrating!” Naomi hiccupped before cackling loudly and falling to the floor around my feet.

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “Our friendship with Gabe. Duh. It’s been like a week, and that’s some serious shit. That’s like… like a fourth of the life of a housefly.”

  “Riiiight,” I said as I glanced at Sherry and Gabe with raised eyebrows.

  “Seriously. Gabe is the best. He’s just so freaking nice. And would you look at the face?” She got up and stumbled over to him until she had his face scrunched between her hands. “We’re gonna be best friends, right?”

  “Of course.” Gabe nodded sincerely as he tried to remove her hands. She sighed happily as she let go and smiled at me.

  “Psst,” she tried to whisper to me. “You should totally date him.” My cheeks flamed as Sherry and Gabe laughed. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Do what?” I tried to force a casual tone into my voice as my face began to cool.

  “Not have sex. Or get off at all.” Aaand just like that, I was red again. “I mean, unless you’re really quiet when you masturbate. Sex is great, Alara. I mean, seriously, it’s probably even better than cheesecake.” She paused before bursting out laughing. “Oh, what the hell am I saying? Nothing is better than cheesecake. Unless of course I’m eating cheesecake while I’m having sex. Or what if�
�”

  “Okay.” I cut her off as I raised my shoulders as an alternative to lifting up my hands, which were still full. “We get it.”

  “Just think about it,” she whisper-yelled before slumping all the way to the floor.

  Sherry was still laughing as she grabbed her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Thankfully, Gabe pretended the last two minutes hadn’t happened as he set his instrument against the back of the couch and stood.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” he offered while walking toward me.

  My arms had become a little numb from the pizza boxes while the wine bottle’s neck had grown slick with the sweat from my palm.

  “It’s no problem. I’ve got it.” I tried to duck around him and avoid his eyes, but he cut me off and shook his head before plucking the pizzas out of my hand and tipping his head toward the bottle of wine I was clutching. Once I handed it over, he gave me a reassuring smile and swiftly turned the corner toward the kitchen before returning empty-handed several seconds later.

  “Sherry, we agreed,” I said sternly as I came to a stop a few feet in front of her.

  “I know, I know. But he didn’t believe me.” Sherry pointed an accusing finger at Gabe.

  “Well, I hope now that you’ve seen the spectacle, you will never put us through this again,” I said to Gabe.

  “I didn’t know anyone could sound that bad and still think they sound good,” Gabe said softly, almost like he was talking to himself.

  Sherry snorted. “Please, she could make our ears bleed while watching dogs cringe while breaking glass and still think she deserves a Grammy.”

  “Hey, assholes!” Naomi shouted. “I can still hear you assholes, and I’m excellent. You assholes just don’t understand.” She frowned and turned her pitiful, drunk gaze on me. “Right, Alara?”

  Without missing a beat, I turned and gave her a huge smile. “Of course, sweetie.”

  Momentarily placated, Naomi lay back down with a smile on her face as she sang a few verses of Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.” I turned around to find Sherry mock glaring at me.

  “That”—she paused as she pointed her finger at our very inebriated friend—“is not helping. And for the record, I don’t feel guilty at all.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You never feel guilty for anything,” I hollered as I headed into the kitchen.

  Stepping inside our kitchen was always like being transported back to the 1950s. Naomi begged me to let her decorate, and after going through many options, I agreed to her I Love Lucy inspired design. We had the requisite turquoise 1950s-style range and fridge, as well as vintage utensils, and striped papered walls. I felt the immediate need to throw on an apron and some pearls and get dinner ready in time for my “hard-working” husband to come home.

  Despite the depressing image of being stuck in a kitchen all day, it was still my favorite room in our apartment. It represented a time when women were repressed while paradoxically representing Naomi’s refusal to conform. It exemplified her refusal to have a “normal” anything, even in the face of people’s very vocal qualms. Mainly Derek’s and Caleb’s. This was probably the only thing they ever agreed on.

  I crossed the room to the only modern part of our kitchen, the area we housed anything and everything related to coffee and wine. In the far corner, we had a Keurig single-cup coffeemaker and dozens of different K-cups littering the counter, a four-bottle wine and glass holder mounted on the wall, and an open-faced box housing all the accompanying accessories.

  Okay, so this also might have been part of the reason why the kitchen was my favorite room. I liked my coffee and wine. Sue me.

  I’d just grabbed a wineglass and the corkscrew when an already familiar voice sounded behind me.

  “Lucy, I’m home.”

  Laughing, I turned around to find Gabe picking up the wine I bought and walking it over to me. He handed me the bottle before leaning against the opposite counter.

  “You know, I always think the same thing whenever I come in here.”

  “Where the hell did you guys even get these things?” he asked, motioning toward the range and fridge.

  “I have no clue. This was all Naomi’s doing.” And at a certain point, you stop asking questions, because they will always outnumber the answers.

  He nodded and continued his perusal of the kitchen as an awkward silence descended over us. Gabe didn’t seem to notice or care, further highlighting my awkwardness with the opposite sex. I played with the rings on my fingers for several seconds before I abruptly turned around and grabbed the corkscrew again. I quickly filled two glasses before handing one over to him.

  “Thanks,” he said as he took a sip. After a couple of silent minutes, he spoke again. “Naomi’s right, you know.”

  “About?” I asked right as I brought the glass up to my lips.

  “Sex is pretty great.” He smiled as he looked at me over his glass.

  I’d barely gotten the wine down before I started coughing. Gabe laughed as he stood closer and patted me on the back. As I felt my cheeks burn for the umpteenth time, I mentally started calculating all the money I’d save on blush if my body kept this up.

  “Are you okay?” I jumped when I felt his breath on my ear and his hand resting on my elbow.

  “Yep, I’m great,” I said as I stepped out of his grasp and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. I could feel his eyes on me, but I refused to look at him, which meant I practically inhaled the water. There were only a few sips left when he spoke again.

  “Was that too weird to say since we hardly know each other?” His voice was laced with insecurity and unease, and I immediately felt guilty. Despite the outcome, he was clearly just trying to alleviate my awkwardness with a joke.

  I cleared my throat and shrugged before pouring myself more wine.

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I was just joking. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I sleep around…” He trailed off and coughed awkwardly before starting again. “I’ve actually only ever had one girlfriend.”

  “Really?” After his solemn nod, I asked him what happened.

  “Life.” His jaw ticked as he took a sip. “We grew apart when…” Gabe shook his head as he trailed off, and even though I wanted to know what the when was, I knew I wouldn’t get an answer if I asked tonight. “We wanted different things. I ended up leaving for Europe a few days after we broke up, and when I was there, I hooked up a little. But it wasn’t what I thought it’d be. I guess after we broke up, I just wanted something different. I’d never been single before, and I didn’t want to worry about settling down. I just wanted to have fun and be normal. But that didn’t work out so well.” His eyes met mine, and he gave me a small smile.

  “What makes being in a relationship abnormal?” I asked, teetering on the edge between hope and fear.

  “Nothing. It was just all I’d ever known. At the time, I was going through something difficult, and I wanted to be someone different; I thought that was the way of going about it. But I guess that’s not how real life works.”

  We were quiet for a few minutes as we both thought his words over. But I already knew what I wanted to say. Because this kind of stuff I could talk about. Weird, deep, philosophical life crap I could go on about all damn day. It was the weather or the new movie coming out or that kind of “easy” stuff that I had trouble discussing.

  I took a deep breath and moved my body slightly toward him. “I think real life works however you want it to. I guess the only question is… what do you want?”

  “Oh, is that all?” he asked wryly, like figuring out what we wanted out of life was the hard part. He tried to make it a joke, but it fell flat along with his laugh.

  I didn’t say any more because I didn’t really agree.

  We knew what we wanted out of life; that was never the problem. People were the problem. People telling us we couldn’t. We shouldn’t. We’d fail. It’s wrong. It’s not normal.

  We knew what we wanted. We just didn’t know how t
o say what we wanted. And we knew who we were. We were just afraid to be who we were.

  My mother had always been big on communication, so I knew it would have killed her to know how little I’d interacted with Samantha since returning home. She never expected much from her husband, but she had always wanted Sam and me to be close. Which is why three days after the impromptu Rock Band night, I found myself staring at her contact in my phone.

  I stared for ten minutes, disgusted with myself for how hard it was, before making the call. Sam answered right away, almost like she had been sitting there waiting for it. I don’t know why I was nervous when I asked her to meet me for lunch; Sam was the nicest person I knew. She wouldn’t hold a grudge and she certainly wouldn’t turn me down out of spite or retribution. My sister had always been the type of person who saw the best in people, even if they didn’t deserve it. So I don’t know why I was surprised when she (enthusiastically) agreed to lunch, but I was.

  Even as I sat there in the half-crowded restaurant I found it hard to believe this was happening. I glanced toward the door, excitement and dread warring in the pit of my stomach. After not seeing her in six months and only briefly talking to her in that time, I was more than ready to see her again. But how would I feel when I did? Would the guilt crowd out everything else? Whenever I thought of my mother I only felt pain; I didn’t want that same feeling to follow me whenever I thought of my sister too. Maybe staying away had only made that worse.

  I had just turned back around when the waitress walked by for the third time. She glanced at the empty chair across from me and offered me a sad smile before walking away again. My sister was never late, but she was also never inconsiderate enough to blow someone off. But maybe that had changed since I last saw her, maybe—

  “Gabe?” The voice was a little tentative but a whole lot excited.

  I slowly stood up and turned around, and what I saw nearly knocked me on my ass. I was staring at my mother. She had the same shoulder-length brown hair that held a slight wave, the same deep brown eyes, and the same light-up-the-room smile. My chest pinched with a slight pain at the resemblance.