Simplicity
Chapter
One: "Five Years Is Too Much"
Val
Lanier tore open the cream-colored envelope with her name on it and drew the
matching sheet of paper out from inside, unfolding it and skimming the neat
cursive lettering.
You are cordially invited to attend
the five-year reunion of Kingsport High in Kingsport, California on April 25,
2007. The reunion will consist of a formal occasion held in the gymnasium at
seven. Please attend and notify us if you cannot make it…
It went
on to explain the dress code, what would happen, and why the alumni should
come. Val skimmed it and placed it on the counter, restraining herself from
tearing it down the middle.
"Hey,
Val, I'm home!" Her roommate Melissa came through the door with a backpack that
looked somewhat unprofessional for a junior psychiatrist. "I was thinking maybe
we could go out to dinner tonight, because I'm not cooking and I personally
think it's dangerous to my health to eat your food."
"Yeah,
sure, whatever," Val said gloomily. Melissa's gray eyes narrowed accusingly.
"Val,
what happened? Did your aunt die or something?" She shook her layers of brown
hair out of the rubber band. "'Cause, I mean, the only time you're this sad is
when he calls. Oh. Did he call?"
Val shook her head with a smile.
"No." She held out the invitation, which Melissa took with short,
purple-painted nails and read. Val watched Melissa's fingers with amusement:
she had been going through a nail painting phase recently. Val's blue eyes fell
to Melissa's toes, which were alternating red, orange, and yellow, with
Japanese symbols for peace and life in dark blue that a friend of theirs, Kei
Tosuka, had done.
"Well,"
said Melissa, "the only bad thing is that Tyler will be there." She handed the
letter back to Val and studied her face. "So, are you going?"
"I don't
know," Val sighed, pacing. "I mean, I don't really want to see Tyler,
because—well, because—because then I'm going to fall in love with him all over
again and then he'll leave again and then my heart will break again and I might
never get over it again!"
"You mean
to say you're not still in love with him?" asked Melissa wisely. Val turned
slightly red. "And I think you underestimate him."
"Oh,
good, now I underestimate the guy who dumped me in the first place," Val moaned. "What's wrong with
me?" She marched into her room, followed closely by Melissa.
"Nothing's
wrong with you," Melissa said. "I think the problem is just that you're
unsure of your feelings and resent him for that, though at the same time are in
love with him because of your reasonable confusion." Val's eyes narrowed.
"Don't
pull your psychology crap on me," she warned, sitting on her bed. "I've been
your roommate since Alpha Chi."
"Okay,
fine," said Melissa, giving in all too easily for the person Val knew, "you
don't have to listen to me."
"I love
him—but he dumped me. So he obviously can't like me anymore. Unless he changed
his mind. Did he change his mind?" Val ran her fingers (nails painted light
blue, courtesy of Melissa's phase) through her hair absently and looked at
Melissa like a lost puppy trying to find her way home.
"All I
know," Melissa told her, taking a magazine from the outside pocket of her
forest green backpack and flipping to the last page, "is that this article was
in Time." She took her backpack off and sat down in the wheeled chair next to
Val's desk. "'There were famed movie stars and directors at the Academy Awards,
but we never expected to see a cellular phone tycoon. On the arm of ISABELLE LERINI, TYLER
CONNELL mingled
with the nominees on the red carpet and with the winners at the winners' circle
after Lerini won Best Supporting Actress. The couple insist they've been family
friends since elementary school before Lerini moved to Illinois and they
reconnected while Connell was going to U of I. Apparently they're telling the
truth, because Hank Beecham, a medical student at UCLA who has been best
friends with Connell since second grade, says that Tyler is, even after a hard
breakup, infatuated with—"
"Stop!"
screamed Val, interrupting Melissa in the middle of her sentence. "I don't want
to know and I don't want to hear! He's over me! Fine! I'll give up! Who really
cares?" Val leaned back into the headboard of her bed, tears running silently
down her face. I'm crying, thought Val blankly, I haven't cried in—since Tyler
called last, she realized. Which was a week and a half ago—Tyler called
ritually every month, but Val avoided the phone on those days like it was the
plague.
"Fine,"
agreed Melissa softly, picking up her bag and walking out of the room, wishing
that Val had listened to the next two words: Valerie Lanier.
I never saw how blue the sky was
How perfect the moon was
How bright the sun shone
Until they had disappeared from my life
Val sat
up in bed and yawned. She had been up late last night with insomnia, not being
able to sleep with Tyler and his girlfriend, whoever it was, heavy on her
brain.
And even
before she tried to sleep, Melissa had been needling her with the much hated
question: "So, are you going or not?" Val had tried, but she couldn't really
answer. Right now she desperately wanted to not have to go, but she wanted to
see all the other people, all her other friends, and that meant she had to go.
Or did it? So far she was answering Melissa with "No, shut up," but Melissa
wouldn't take that for long.
Val
pulled herself out of confused, tired reflections and plodded her way to the
bathroom to get a drink of water.
Stumbling
in, she took one glance at the mirror and groaned. Her darling roommate had
taped the picture from the article to the mirror and now Val was left staring
at Tyler and Isabelle Lerini. She had seen Tyler recently, of course, because
there was that time when she had been watching the Oscars and not known he was
escorting Isabelle and she had seen him as he got out of the limo, but…
If it was
so hard to see him in a magazine article or on TV, how would she react when she
saw him in real life? If she saw him in real life, that was, and that might not
happen unless Melissa got her way. Val had no idea when she'd see him again if
she didn't go, and she did want to see him, if only to assure herself she could
move on with her life.
Studying
the picture in front of her, Val decided she was going to make amends with
Tyler and be friends again. It wouldn't be the same as being a couple, but it
guaranteed a lot less heartbreak. Fine. She'd go.
"Okay,
Melissa, I'll go already!" she yelled out the door, removing the picture from
the mirror and looking at Tyler's face and Isabelle's strapless currant-colored
satin gown. Val fixed it in her mind, just to be safe, and then let it fall
into the trash can.
Friends,
she thought sadly. We'll be friends.
Five years is really far too much
I miss your smell, I miss your touch
I miss the way you hold me, kiss me
And I miss the way you miss me, miss me
"It's not
your color," repeated Melissa, watching Val model dresses for the reunion. The
current one was dark red with slender straps that rested precariously on her
shoulders. "And it doesn't look good with your figure."
"My
figure?" echoed Val, turning towards the three-way mirror. "What dress looks
good with my figure? And what's my color?"
"I like
this one," said Melissa, pulling one off of a rack nearby. "I think it's your
size. And it's not red. Why are you trying on so many red dresses?"
Val
mumbled something like "Iksabelweresedesses" and took the dress from Melissa,
escaping into the changing room. Unfortunately, Melissa was good at deciphering
Val's mumbles and, taking the red dress Val slung over the door, she
translated.
"Isabelle
wears red dresses?" she asked. "Oh. I get it. But how do you know Tyler even
likes red? I bet he likes blue better."
"This is
not about Tyler's favorite color," Val said firmly, pulling the dress over her
head, "this is about my dress that I'm wearing to my reunion."
"Okay,
calm down, I was just asking."
Val
emerged from the dressing room and spun in front of the mirror. Melissa
clapped.
"You like
it?" Val asked, angling her head to see the back. Her roommate nodded.
"It looks
fantastic."
It did,
actually. The dark blue brought out Val's eyes and hair. The cut fell beautifully
on her body to her ankles, with a slit on the right side running up to the
knee. The straps, though still slender, didn't look as if they were about to
fall off, crossing her back in two low X's.
Val
shifted feet before saying, "It's pretty cheap, too." She looked in the mirror
again to reassure herself this was what she wanted. "Sixty three dollars."
"See? The
red one was a hundred and twelve. And it didn't look half as good."
Val
nodded agreement. "Yeah. I'll buy it." She went back into the changing room and
emerged minutes later with the dress on her arm. "I can't help loving him," she
told Melissa out of the blue. "It's just that I fell in love with him and now I
can't fall out of it."
Melissa
nodded. "I might not be the most impartial judge, seeing how I'm pretty much in
love right now, but there are people in the world who fall in love with each
other and it lasts forever. You and Tyler are two of those people and now you
have one night to see him again, to fall in love all over again, to make up for
five years. I'd be happy if I were you."
"No,"
said Val, shaking her head, "because now we have to be friends."
"Why?"
Melissa was very puzzled now. For five years Val was in love with him, and
Melissa was sure—and it was proved by Hank and then the article—that he was in
love with her, so why couldn't they just get together at the reunion again?
"You read
the article," Val said, "he likes someone else. And besides, I don't want my
heart broken again."
"But—"
"Could
you put it in a bag, please?" Val requested of the salesclerk, handing her
credit card over and ignoring Melissa.
"Yes.
Here you go, have a nice day." The salesclerk finished folding the dress and
put it in a bag while pulling the receipt from the machine. Val took the
receipt and smiled.
"Thank
you."
The two
girls walked out of La Closerie into the daylight.
"Fine,
Val, you can be friends with him if you want. But I think you're throwing away
the only chance you may ever get," said Melissa. "But, sure. If you want to be
friends, whatever. It's your life."
Val
nodded mutely, clutching the bag so as not to start crying, because if she
cried, Melissa would be right, and friendship would be the makings of an idiot.
I'm trying to stop sad
tears from falling
Trying to stop reality from calling
I'm not succeeding, I'm losing the bet
I still want to love you but can't admit that yet
She
pulled her blue Volkswagen Bug into the empty parking lot and hopped out of the
car.
"Weird,"
she said quietly to herself, looking up at the building with a hand over her
eyes to shield them from the sun. "I lived in Kingsport for eighteen years but
never came here."
The
Kingsport Hotel was eleven stories tall with three penthouses. It kind of
contradicted the point of a penthouse to have three, but the architectural
designer had loved penthouses, so three penthouses it was. The sun was blaring
hot on the pale building and it reflected off of the many cars—most belonging
to the reunion guests—to shine in Val's eyes.
"You
didn't?" asked a voice from behind her, making her jump ten feet into the air
before she turned.
"Don't
ever do that a—Jamie!" Val squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. The
shocked 24-year-old pried the blonde off of him.
"Thank
you for that enthusiastic greeting, Mrs. Person-I-Don't-Know" he said, shaking
her hand. "No, really, hey, Val. What's up? You and Tyler back together yet?"
The joke
was bad, and Jamie could tell it from the way Val's shoulders fell with
heartbreak and sadness. "No," she said. "No, we're not back together and I sort
of doubt we will be."
"Well,
hey, don't lose hope," said Jamie uncomfortably. "I mean, there's always a
chance." Val smiled sadly, like she didn't really think so.
"Yeah, a
chance," she agreed. "But Jamie, I thought you weren't allowed to come to the
reunion? I mean, you were a grade younger."
"It's
complicated," Jamie said, "but since I majored in French and skipped a year
because I had already taken three years, and then I called Carlson and
begged—it was painful, I actually begged—to be invited to the reunion
because, after all, all of my friends were going to be there and since
technically I had graduated from college, I was the same 'grade' as you guys,
and he agreed after I sent him a basket of chocolate."
"You
didn't," gasped Val. "You sent him chocolate? You begged? Okay, who are you and
where did you put Jamie?"
"I'm an
alien and Jamie is lying in a ditch on the side of a road," Jamie answered very
seriously. "No, actually, I was desperate. Desperate people do desperate things."
He shrugged. "Need help with your bags?"
"No, I'm
fine. See you later." Val opened her trunk and dragged out her suitcase. "See
you tonight at the banquet or dinner or dance or whatever it is. Are you going
to wear a tux?" she asked curiously, having only seen Jamie in formal dress
once, at another EMT's funeral. He had been someone nobody on their squad
really knew, but they had all gone out of respect. The kid had died because of
a drunk driver, and they were against drunk driving, so they went. And Jamie
had worn a tuxedo.
Jamie
grimaced. "Carlson was very exact about what I had to wear if I went." He
patted his bag. "It's in here."
"Okay,
then see you later."
"See
you."
As Jamie
walked off, Val smiled. It was nice to be able to talk to someone after all
these years. She hadn't lost contact with him (her best friend was still
Caitie, and Caitie's other best friend was still Jamie), but seeing him again
in person was nice. Getting a little distracted from Tyler was nice—she had
thought about him for the whole three hours coming up here.
I try to forget but I always remember
Haven't thought of anything else since that fateful
September
And I keep on thinking in another year I'll forget
But I haven't forgotten at all quite yet
Five years is really far too much
I miss your smell, I miss your touch
I miss the way you hold me, kiss me
And I miss the way you miss me, miss me
"Room
718, miss," said the concierge. "And a Caitie Roth asked to be roomed next door
to you, in 720. Is this all right with you? I'm afraid the rooms are adjoining,
but we can give you a different room if you want."
"No,
that's fantastic. Thank you for your help." Val took the electronic key and
picked up her suitcase, walking across the dark green carpet to the elevator.
The doors slid open with a ding. She stepped inside.
And as
the metal doors closed, Tyler Connell walked into the lobby.
*
"Caitie!"
shrieked Val, bounding into her best friend's room. "I haven't seen you in,
like, three months!"
The
brunette smiled. Val was overenthusiastic as ever. "Yeah, glad to see you too."
"How come
you and Jamie are never enthusiastic about seeing me?"
"Because
you're more than enthusiastic enough for the both of us," answered Caitie with
a smile. "I'm happy, I am. I'm just so tired. I was having a conference in New
York and I flew from there to here. Long flights were never my thing." She sat
down on her bed. "I thought we could make popcorn and get a movie on PPV
tonight. A girls' night out. After all, us early comers have to get the gummy
worm! So what do you say?"
"Good
idea," sighed Val. "I drove three hours and I'm about to fall asleep. I need a
hot bath, too. You need anything else?"
"I have
to go get a dress for tomorrow," Caitie admitted sheepishly. "So after my
sixteen-hour nap I have to hit the mall. Want to come?"
"Sixteen
hours, right?" Val asked with a laugh. Caitie nodded.
"At
least."
"Sure."
*
"Love is
not that easy," Val informed Caitie crossly, looking at the screen where
Richard Gere and Julia Roberts were kissing in Runaway Bride. Even eight years
old, it was one of Caitie's favorite movies—though Val was sworn to secrecy
that Caitie watched romantic comedy.
"That's
the point," said Caitie patiently, "Ike and Maggie are going to split later and
then they get back together."
That made
Val break down in bawling tears, burying her face in the pillow. Caitie winced
slightly. Apparently she had said the wrong thing.
"But we
won't get back together!" sobbed Val into the poor pillow, which was already
becoming quite wet with tears. Caitie sighed and scooted over.
"You will
if you want to," she said, patting Val's back gently. She was still cynical of
crying and "stuff like that" sometimes, but she knew when her best friend
needed her not to make smart comments. Besides, Caitie cried sometimes,
and she knew what it was like to have people make fun of you when you're
genuinely sad.
Val
didn't answer Caitie, but kept crying into her pillow. Caitie decided it was
best not to needle her, and just ran a comforting hand over her best friend's
back, watching the movie in silence.
Five years is really far too much
I'm losing contact, out of touch
I'm crying too hard thinking 'bout your kiss
There's just too much that I miss… miss… miss…
Five years is really far too much
I miss your smell, I miss your touch
I miss the way you hold me, kiss me
I miss the way you miss me, miss me
