Shower of Lies Read online

  SHOWER OF LIES

  DS Whitaker

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious and satirical manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Certain long-standing institutions, agencies, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the authors.

  Copyright © 2020 by DS Whitaker

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, with permission in writing from the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-7342595-5-1 (TP)

  ISBN: 978-1-7342595-6-8 (EB)

  Back photo by Diana Lang

  Cover Design by DS Whitaker

  Cover Image from DepositPhotos.com, Free Attribution AllaSerebrina

  To my coworker Jenna for Inspiration

  To Tim for his love and support

  To my Beta Readers with much gratitude

  Chapter 1

  Jenna’s phone rang, reverberating off the white builders-grade floor tile. Raven never called this early. She hit ‘accept’, wiping spittle from her face with a wad of tissue. “Rae, is everything all right?”

  “You won’t believe it!”

  There was joy in Raven’s voice. Yet Jenna froze. Her stomach churned with a pronounced gurgle. “Can you hold?” She shoved the phone away, twisted her body, and heaved into the toilet. Then inspected her work. Definite progress. Fewer chunks. Still green.

  Rising from the floor, she picked up the phone and placed it on the toilet tank lid. “Hold on.” She rinsed her mouth in the sink. In the mirror, she noticed the pock marks around her eyes. Like the time she and Rae did the Zombie Walk at the Jersey Shore. But now her normally olive complexion was paler, more convincing than Halloween makeup.

  Jenna picked up the phone and sat on the closed toilet seat lid. “What happened?”

  “I’m getting married! Jack proposed last night!”

  Jenna searched her feelings. Just numbness, like the deep chill in her muscles. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps jealousy? “That’s great.”

  In a low, teasing voice, Rae said, “Jenna, it’s crazy. Engagement sex is the best. I’m sore in places you wouldn’t believe.”

  “That’s nice.” The chill in her bones made her shiver. Jenna wrapped a bath towel around her bare arms. Were the hostilities over? Could she attempt returning to the warmth of her bed?

  “But that’s not why I’m calling so early. I don’t have much time. I need your help.” Raven’s voice was flat, serious.

  “What do you mean?” She ran her fingers through her bangs; a clump of dried tomato broke off onto the floor.

  “I’ve been awake for hours, excited, you know? I need you to plan my bridal shower for the fourth.”

  Then it dawned on her. Yesterday was Valentines. Which explained the mid-week proposal. Instead of being with Marcelo, Jenna went to her mom’s for dinner. “You shouldn’t be alone in your ratty apartment,” Mom had said. Not that her 500-square-foot apartment was technically full of rats. But it wasn’t Instagram-ready by any stretch of the imagination. In hindsight, she should have known better. But mom sounded so lucid on the phone, so happy. Fooled again.

  Apparently, normal people, like Raven, had boyfriends in the same area code and got engaged on romantic holidays. And other people, with boyfriends living four hours away, received only a cute text.

  Jenna shook her head. “Fourth of what?”

  “March.”

  She worked out the math in her drowsy brain. February had 28 days? Two and a half weeks? “Wait, why so soon?”

  There was a pause.

  Jenna took a chance. “Rae, are you…pregnant?”

  There was a bite in her tone, “No, I’m not pregnant.” After a pause, Raven sighed. “Um, I don’t want people to know. I’m having surgery soon. It’s critically important it goes well. But I’m worried. Remember my cousin? She was close to my age when she died.”

  Jenna remembered. With early stage throat cancer, her cousin’s prognosis was initially good, and the surgery was routine. Did Raven have cancer? When Raven was ten, her pediatrician diagnosed her with a heart murmur, saying she might need corrective surgery by her mid-twenties. At twenty-three, that would fit. But a few years later, another doctor told her she was fine. No murmur. Or did Rae tell a white lie so she wouldn’t worry?

  Jenna held her breath. “Rae, oh my God, do you have cancer? Is it your heart?” She wanted to reach through the phone and hug her.

  “I’d rather not go into it. I’m trying to keep it private… only sharing with Jack and a couple of other people. You won’t say anything, right?” Rae’s voice quaked, sounding unlike her usually confident self.

  Jenna understood people felt protective about their health information, but could Raven die? It would explain the urgency for the party and perhaps the engagement as well.

  “Are you going to be all right? What can I do to help? Do you want me with you at the hospital?” Jenna let out a burp.

  Her breath tasted like the rotten, left-over veggie casserole her mom pushed on her last night. The brown spot in the middle was a red flag. But mom, sloshed again, just scooped it out and said the rest was fine. Pushback would have led to arguing, and possibly an all-out battle. Yet, here she was, freezing, exhausted from hours of food poisoning. When would she ever learn?

  Raven sighed. “Thanks, J-Bear. All I care about right now is having all my friends around me for an amazing bridal shower. It will put my mind at ease before the wedding. You would literally be saving my life by planning it. The doctor said I need to reduce my stress.”

  Jenna had no idea how to plan a bridal shower. But it was just a party. Maybe a dozen or twenty people? Eating cake and opening presents didn’t seem that difficult. “Sure, whatever you need.”

  “Thanks, I knew I could count on you!”

  “You just worry about getting better.”

  In a gleeful voice, Raven said, “I’ll send you details. Chao, sweetie!”

  Her phone beeped, signaling the end of the call.

  Jenna flushed the toilet and steadied herself. Her gaze fixated on her bedroom visible through the crack in the door. A little sleep and she would be all right, she concluded. Any position outside of the bathroom floor would be a genuine victory.

  Thumper was on her bed, stretched out like a king. She grabbed her cat around his bulbous middle and dumped him outside, shutting the door. The clock on her bedside table showed six-thirty. She texted Grant, her boss, saying she wouldn’t be in. Hugging a pillow, she shut her lids tight, her thoughts chiding her to sleep.

  She missed Marcelo. It had been two weeks since their last weekend together. Driving the eight-hour round-trip to Syracuse was wearing on her. Trying to ease her mind, she envisioned him beside her, stroking her hair, becoming lost in his eyes, and other blissful thoughts conducive to sleep. But found herself wondering when he would ditch her for someone sexier, less nerdy, and more geographically available.

  When sleep came, she dreamed Marcelo was with her; they were holding hands. Next, he was wearing a mailman uniform, and he yelled at her. Something about incorrect postage. He called Thumper a menace and insisted he be ‘put down’, his eyes seething with anger and disgust.

  She woke, her heart racing.

  A scratching noise at her door. Thumper was mewing and destroying her bedroom door again. Yes, Thumper was a menace. But she loved him anyway. The clock read seven. She place
d a pillow over her head to muffle the sound. Her comforter felt so warm…

  The psychotic thumping began. Her cat was repeatedly throwing its considerable weight against her door. Wham. Wham. Wham. Jenna threw off the covers and stomped over, yanking open the door. “Stop!” With a deep grunt, she succumbed to defeat. Her cat didn’t understand the concept of ‘stop’ or ‘no’. The torments would continue until he achieved his goal.

  After feeding the cat, she took a shower. The water revived her somewhat; coffee would do the rest. She towel-dried her long hair absent-mindedly, wondering what kind of illness or cancer Raven could have. Raven’s grandfather died from a bad heart, the same grandfather that left Raven a small fortune in a trust for when she turned twenty-four, about five months from now.

  Raven was always cagey about the details of her inheritance. From hints Rae gave in past conversations, it had to be at least a million dollars. Had the value of her trust fund increased past ten million? Her inheritance was a hodgepodge of stocks. Raven stopped following the numbers years ago, acting like it didn’t matter.

  As Jenna pulled her legs into clean pajamas, her phone dinged. Raven sent a series of texts containing a long list of party requirements.

  She scanned the list. “What?” she said aloud.

  A hundred and twenty people. She shook her head. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely, she meant just twenty. Wait. The party had to occur near Altoona, close to her alma mater, Penn State.

  Jenna lived in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Altoona was four hours away. A small town. How many venues existed to host a party so large and with such short notice?

  The text’s kept coming. Raven explained Jack’s great aunt, Sister Mary Rose, a Maryknoll nun, was visiting from South America and wanted to give a benediction at the shower. Plus, the many food restrictions. Most of her friends were vegan and gluten-free.

  Last, to Jenna’s relief, Rae texted that Jack’s mother, Blanche, would pay for everything. “Could you work directly with her?”

  It was nice of her future mother-in-law to foot the bill. Jenna knew almost nothing about Jack’s relatives. In fact, she’d only met Jack once. He had spoken little. She remembered he had thick, dark hair and a face like a young Brad Pitt. But there was something about him that irked her. Maybe it was the way he glowered all the time? Like resting bitch-face, but sadder? The general aura of apathy he exuded?

  She called Raven. “Rae, why Altoona?”

  “Do you remember the annual cancer Walk-a-Thon I organized for the sorority? It’s happening this year on Sunday, the fifth. The girls begged me to come and walk with them. All seventy-seven of them plan to come to the shower, so it made sense to hold the party in Altoona because I’ll be there anyway. With everything else going on, it’s the only weekend I have free before my surgery on the 8th. It would be great if you could stay over and walk with us.”

  Jenna digested this information. It made sense. The Walk-a-Thon would be an activity close to Raven’s heart if, in fact, she had cancer. Jenna knew the sorority was large. But the sheer number made her head swim.

  The sorority had increased its membership several-fold during the years Raven attended, explaining why Raven’s social calendar had been so full. After the first semester of freshman year, Jenna gave up asking Raven to come home to New Jersey to spend weekends together. And the one time she visited Raven at Penn State was educational, learning quickly the sorority was not her kind of place. Too much drinking.

  Jenna cleared her throat. “I suppose that would be more convenient, but why don’t you ask someone in your sorority to plan the shower? They know the area.”

  “Oh, J-Bear, I love them, I really do, but organization is not their strong point. There’s a reason I took over as event planner and treasurer. The first year of the cancer walk, the committee forgot to buy water and set up aid stations. It was a disaster. And they misprinted the t-shirts. I told Blanche, Jack’s mom, you have systems for everything. You’re the most organized person I know…other than myself.”

  Raven had a point. Growing up, Rae always teased her about her color-coded folders for homework.

  Jenna said, “I appreciate the vote of confidence. I’ll do my best. Um… can you send me the invite list?”

  “Right away. Thanks, J-Bear. I’ve got to go. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Raven hung up.

  A few minutes later, she got an email:

  “Get the list for Jack’s side from his mom. She’ll call you. Invite all our old girlfriends from the neighborhood, my coworkers and my sorority sisters.”

  This was not remotely close to a list. Where were the names? Addresses? Now she had to be a mind-reader? Surely, this was a sick joke. Where was the old Raven that created lists for everything?

  Was this just another bad dream? She ate some dry toast and headed back to bed. Food poisoning was bad, but not as bad as cancer. Why couldn’t Rae tell her about her health issues?

  Raven had always been the brave one. In second grade, a bully named Mikey called Jenna names and stole her lunchbox. Rae pummeled Mikey during recess, behind the slide, until he apologized. But then she kept on him until he offered his own cupcake to make amends. No one messed with her or Rae for the rest of grade school.

  But she looked out for Raven also, Raven’s mom died of an aneurysm during Rae’s freshman year. After the sudden loss, Rae clung to her. Jenna and Rae had a standing sleepover every weekend for a year, alternating between their homes. Rae’s dad sought solitude to grieve alone, not helping the healing process. The first year was hard. But Rae came through her sorrow changed. Somehow stronger. Willing to live each moment to the fullest, without hesitation or concern for others' criticism.

  It wouldn’t be out of character for Rae to hide an illness or setback with outward confidence and a smile. Like when Joe stood her up at prom. Rae went anyway and was the life of the party, dancing with both boys and girls. Jenna knew the truth; it devastated Rae. She’d talked of nothing else for months and was crazy about Joe. But that was Rae, resilient and fearless.

  Perhaps Rae would confide in her later, after a little time to emotionally process her diagnosis. She could be patient.

  Jenna drifted to sleep, wondering what it would be like to have Rae’s combination of beauty, self-assurance, and drive. But no, she realized, very few people were bestowed these gifts.

  And she was not one of them.

  ***

  The next morning, Jenna arrived to work at seven. The square brick building with its neon sign—Veloma Office Solutions—had a blandness that mirrored her work life. After graduating college, she interviewed with Grant. He explained the company manufactured both commercial and home printers, copiers, modems and monitors, and that he led the Product Support Office of the Printer Division.

  Despite her mechanical engineering degree, her position seemed administrative, entailing writing and revising product user manuals and generating monthly reports. Making matters worse, as a rite-of-passage, new hires had to work on the Customer Support Hotline two days a week for at least a year. Her days were Tuesdays and Thursdays.

  Not challenging work, but looming student loans had forced her to be practical. Plus, the headquarters was located close to home. Still, walking in the building, she wondered how life would be different, perhaps better, if she had moved to Syracuse instead to be with Marcelo.

  As she hung her gray wool coat on the hook at her cube, Mindy bounced into view. Mindy was the Energizer Bunny of her division. In her mid-30’s and still single, she had a hole on the side of her nose from an old piercing and short spiky ash blond hair. Mindy never conformed to normal office attire, but management looked the other way.

  Today, Mindy resembled a Goth hippie pirate: a black bandana covered her hair, and she had one gold hoop earring. She wore canvas bell-bottom pants, chunky black boots, and a body-hugging yellow turtleneck sweater.

  Jenna was more conservative. Or maybe a better word was boring. Black dre
ss pants, a white cotton button-down shirt, black ballet flats; no jewelry except for the small aquamarine ring Marcelo gave her, no makeup, with her hair in a low ponytail. They were a study in contrasts.

  Mindy said, “Hey, Jenna, how are you feeling?”

  “My stomach is better. But I found out my best friend is getting married.”

  Mindy leaned on the faded gray partition. “You don’t sound happy.”

  “I’m supposed to plan her gigantic bridal shower.” She scratched her head. “I’ve never been to one. What do people do at those?”

  “I haven’t been to one in a long time. Sorry. But I bet you could Google some of the activities. I remember folks making dresses out of toilet paper. Super lame.”

  Jenna gave Mindy the rest of the details.

  Mindy burst out laughing. “Are you fricking kidding? Two weeks? What kind of friend is this? It’s impossible. Simply impossible. Just tell her you can’t do it. Or postpone it three months. Minimum.”

  “I already said I would. And she has a health issue. Raven wouldn’t tell me the details. Something involving surgery. She sounded scared, like she might die.”

  “Jenna, sometimes I think you’re too nice. If I were that sick, I’d just focus on my health. The last thing I’d worry about is a stupid party. I would have told her to fuck off.” Mindy made an unveiled hand gesture, then turned serious. “Well, you said money isn’t an issue, right?”

  “Not sure. But I assume so.”

  Mindy cocked her head, tapping a finger across her cheek. “You need a wedding planner.”

  “A what?”

  “Someone who plans weddings. A professional.”

  “But it’s a bridal shower, not a wedding.”

  Mindy stared at her and shook her head. “They plan any kind of party, silly.”

  Her cheeks felt hot. How was she supposed to know? It was true she didn’t know much about parties. But Mindy didn’t need to rub it in.

  “Do they cost a lot?”