Anna K Read online

  “Anna, you know you’re only seventeen, right?” Steven said, finally deciding his sister needed the tough love advice she always extended to him. “If you like Vronsky, and yes, it’s obvious you guys are stupid for each other, then go for it. Dump the OG and be a normal teenage girl and date boys, go to parties, cut loose. We have our whole lives to get married and be perfect society couples, so why start now? For god’s sake, you met Alexander when you were fourteen, which I personally have always found more than a little suspect on his part. What sixteen-year-old dude macks on a fourteen-year-old girl?”

  “Two of the girls in my quartet were his age so he just assumed I was—”

  “So he says, but whatever. I don’t give a fuck about him,” he replied. “All I’m sayin’ is why not act your age and see how you like it? Look, I don’t know what to make of this Vronsky fellow, because he’s a straight-up hound dog, but I know you can handle yourself around bad boys. Dealing with me all the time must be good for something. I see how Vronsky looks at you, and it’s not the typical hit-it-and-quit-it look. I know these things.”

  “Steven!” Anna squealed. “Please stop.”

  “You know what I’m trying to say,” he replied.

  Anna nodded, because she knew exactly what he was saying. She had had the very same thoughts. In the beginning, she did think Vronsky was only interested in her because he wanted to sleep with her. But now that they’d spent more time together, Anna believed Vronsky’s feelings were far deeper than a passing fancy fueled by base desire.

  “The ice cream’s melting,” Steven said and stood up. Anna took her brother’s hand and got back on her feet. Together they exited the pantry and were back in the dark kitchen.

  “Is the party still going on?” she asked. She looked at the kitchen clock and saw that it was past two in the morning.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I gotta tell you, this Bea chick is giving my host-with-the-most rep a run for my money. I may have to step my game up next New Year’s. I’m gonna go back out to the tent, want to join me?”

  “I do.” Anna wasn’t sleepy at all, so why let Alexander ruin her good time? “Thank you, Steven. You’re a great big brother.” She stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m going to keep hugging until you hug me back!” she warned, grinning.

  Steven wrapped his arms around his sister and kissed her on the top of her head, something he had watched his father do to her a million times. It used to make him a little jealous when he was younger, if he was being honest with himself, how much his father adored Anna, but he’d learned to let it go and not let it get under his skin too much. Anna really worked to be the best person she could be. If anyone was the best of Greenwich, it was his sister, and not her blowhard boyfriend.

  Steven’s eyes grew misty, as sibling affection overwhelmed him. He knew he was lucky to have a sister like Anna, and all he wanted was for her to be happy. At dinner, Anna had glowed with joy like he had never seen. And if it was Vronsky who made her this happy, then so be it. Besides, he was confident he could give Vronsky a proper beatdown if he ever dared to hurt his little sister.

  XXIX

  When Vronsky and Murf had returned to the party after seeing Alexander and Eleanor drive off, Anna was nowhere to be found. Vronsky went back to the main house to look for her and had even knocked on her bedroom door, but when he opened the door, the room was empty. Luckily, the Tahoe Alien Indica he’d smoked with Murf helped him stay calm about her unfindability, a word he decided was an actual word even though it wasn’t. He was really fucking stoned. What he needed to do was grab a couch in the tent, rest his eyes, and wait for her. Since meeting Anna, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her face. She was haunting him, but Murf was right that it was time for him to go big or go home as there would be no peace of mind for him until they were together. When he heard Anna’s voice calling his name, floating above him, he assumed he was dreaming. He smiled at the heavenly sound, enraptured to hear his name on the lips of his love.

  “He’s not asleep because he’s grinning like a twonk.” Beatrice’s voice rang out. “A beautiful blond twonk. Wake up, V!”

  He opened his eyes and saw Anna standing above him, staring down at him. She was truly the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

  “Alexia, we have to finish our dance,” she said in a quiet voice. “Our last one got interrupted.”

  He sat up immediately and rubbed his eyes to make sure he was indeed awake. Anna held out her hand to him, and he took it quickly. They walked back to the dance floor, hand in hand, oblivious to everyone watching them. When they started dancing, the floor only had a few people on it. Rallying around Anna and Vronsky in a show of support, every member from the party still able to stand joined them on the dance floor.

  Like a dormant volcano erupting without warning, the party came alive again in a matter of seconds. A mighty second wind blew through the tent whether they were ready for it or not. The dance party went on for many songs, but at 3 A.M. the DJ packed up and went home happy with his five large, plus the eight ball Beatrice slipped into his jeans pocket for a tip, and soon there was only one couple left on the dance floor, holding each other close.

  In Vronsky’s arms, Anna felt like she could stay up forever. She was so focused on him—his breath, his hands, his smell—that when she finally looked around she was surprised to find they were alone dancing to the songs from a playlist he had secretly compiled in her honor. She honestly didn’t even remember the DJ leaving or when Vronsky had placed his iPhone into a large glass, which served as an amplifier so they could continue dancing.

  Only when a big gust of wind blew in at 4 A.M. did Anna shiver a little, which made Vronsky stop dancing, though what they had been doing was more like two people clutching each other desperately as they swayed back and forth.

  When they opened the tent flap door, they saw the ground was covered in two inches of snow. Anna had cast aside her heels hours ago and was barefoot, so Vronsky picked her up and carried her across the yard, one pair of footprints in the snow displaying their newfound union.

  He carried her all the way through the dark house without running into a single person though the vast place was littered with others also wide awake behind closed doors. Lolly had woken up, thrown up, and brushed her teeth, and, upon opening her door to go find Steven, she found him on his way in holding a bottle of vintage Cristal he’d pilfered from the wine fridge. They were now having the romantic night she had wanted to have with Steven since Valentine’s Day.

  Beatrice had grown bored of Rooster’s dumb jock antics and now had one of the bartenders, Dahlia, a former student of the French clown school Ecole Phillipe Gaulier, in her bed. Meanwhile, the DJ, who everyone thought had gone home, was actually blowing lines with Adaka off an antique mirror that cost more than a car. One of the Livis was painting Rooster’s toenails Russian Navy, her signature color nail polish, while composing a new pop song in her head. Murf had scored big-time, sharing a king bed with Daler and Rowney. Clement and DandyZ were hosting a small dance party in their seventies disco bedroom. They had shared their stash of Ecstasy with Ben and Addison and the second Livi, and the five of them were dancing to Hot Chocolate’s “You Sexy Thing” like their parents once had at the Limelight. Brayton had discovered the ballroom on the far side of the house, turned on the chandeliers, and was performing a private ballet for a few party stragglers who couldn’t go home because they hadn’t yet returned from their trip to shroomland.

  In this one glorious moment in time, every teenager in the house was happy making memories they would never forget, but no one more so than Vronsky. When he opened the door to Anna’s room, he paused for a moment at the threshold, giving her an opportunity to turn him away. Instead Anna burrowed her face into his neck, and he crossed the threshold into her room, kicking the door closed behind him.

  He didn’t want to let her go, but he put her down gently on the bed.

  Anna was now the one who felt as though she was waking up from a
beautiful dream. Worry flashed on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her gently.

  “I don’t want this night to be over. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to fall asleep because I don’t want to wake up to tomorrow.” Where she once had control over her words in his presence, this was no longer the case. Anna felt compelled to tell him everything, how me made her feel, how he excited her and frightened her at the same time.

  “Anna,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “My Anna, the night’s not over, and I’m not going anywhere.” She looked at him, her dark eyes sparkling with hope, like he was the only boy in the world who could nourish her back from the brink of starvation. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he couldn’t be patient, or slow, or careful, one moment longer. It was he who was the one who was starving, and it was she who could save him.

  Vronsky kissed her soft lips, gentle and slow at first. But she responded immediately to him, and soon the two of them were kissing hungrily, the truth now finally clear: this, them, here, now, was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered.

  Anna broke away, her heart pounding in her chest, her eyes wild with want. She hadn’t even realized they were lying in each other’s arms on the bed.

  “We have to stop,” she gasped, sitting up. “It can’t be like this. It’s not right. I want you, but you’re not mine to have.”

  “That’s not true,” Vronsky said quickly, sitting up and kissing her again. “I’m all yours.”

  “No,” Anna said, and pulled away, now standing up and straightening her dress. “I can’t think straight, I meant I’m not yours to have. We can’t do this now. It’s not fair to him. I’ll feel terrible tomorrow.” She looked out the window. The sun would be coming up soon and tomorrow would be upon them.

  “Don’t make me leave,” Vronsky said in a husky voice. “I can’t. I won’t. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  Anna knew it would be impossible to watch him walk out the door without running after him. “I know it’s up to me now,” she said. “I need to do the right thing. Give me some time to handle things properly, okay?” When Vronsky didn’t answer right away, she went to him and kissed him. She wanted to prove she was telling him the truth and to remind herself why she wanted him so bad. Vronsky nodded, resigning himself to obey her every word. He had hope now, hope that they would soon be together, as she tucked him in on the window seat cushion under the pink bedspread. She wasn’t sure she would be able to fall asleep with Alexia lying ten feet away, but eventually she did.

  She awoke with a start, totally disoriented, to someone banging on the door. It opened and Beatrice entered wrapped only in a bedsheet, looking a little groggy herself. Beatrice sized up the situation immediately, seeing Anna still in her dress from the night before, and Vronsky, kilt-clad, on the window seat running his fingers through his hair.

  “I’m sorry to wake you like this,” Beatrice said, her face a somber mask. “Your mom just phoned the house because you weren’t answering your cell. It’s Alexander. There’s been an accident.”

  Part Three

  I

  Life’s not a bitch, it’s actually a dick.

  You’ve got to go out and kick it in the balls.

  These were Kimmie’s thoughts when she woke up in the morning. It was a revision of a longer quote by Maya Angelou, “I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life’s a bitch. You’ve got to go out and kick ass,” which was printed and framed above Kimmie’s bed in her private room at the Desert Vista Wellness Center. She shortened it and added the expletive to give it some oomph when she wrote it on a pink Post-it and stuck it to her bathroom mirror. She stared at the Post-it every morning while she brushed her teeth. It was supposed to be inspiring, and it was: it inspired her to keep the fires of her man-hating anger burning brightly.

  When Kimmie arrived at the Desert Vista Wellness Center in Arizona with her mom three weeks ago, she thought the place was a spa where they would be getting beauty treatments and lounging in the sun by the pool. What she soon learned was that while the wellness center did have a pool, there were no beauty treatments to be had. This spa was more for the mind than the body.

  Kimmie did not object or even cry when she learned her mother had brought her there under false pretenses, but instead found it validating. Something had to be wrong with her for her mom to do something so drastic. What she didn’t know, and what her mother didn’t tell her, was that the weeks after the party when Kimmie was depressed and refused to go to school had set off some red flags at Spence. The only way for her to get back the semester’s tuition was if Kimmie was put on medical leave and enrolled in a program. Danielle worried the school might think Kimmie had gotten into drugs or alcohol, but Dr. Becker and the new therapist, whom she had visited at Dr. Becker’s suggestion, alerted the school that Kimmie’s issues were emotional, not behavioral. Kimmie had exhibited all the classic signs of depression: crying, loss of appetite, sleeping her days away. There was talk of putting her on medication right away, but Kimmie’s father refused and demanded to hear other options.

  The wellness center’s program was nothing so intense as drug rehab. She wasn’t locked in a ward at night because her enrollment was voluntary. But she was part of the inpatient clinic, which meant a much steeper price tag than the teenagers who only came a few times a week to participate in the local outpatient program the facility offered as well. Kimmie’s days were packed with private counseling, group therapy, art therapy, and exercise. Kimmie felt numb at first, just going through the motions of her daily activity schedule that was printed on a little card and slipped under her door. But there was something about the anonymity of the place that appealed to her. No one knew her, and she didn’t know anyone else. Also, she was happy to be almost twenty-five-hundred miles away from New York City.

  They had taken away her phone, which she was fine with, not wanting any reminders of whatever was going on with the girls from school, or even with her sister. The last pictures she had seen were on Lolly’s Instagram at the airport on the morning before she and her mother left. She had received the invitation to Beatrice’s costume party via Anna, but there was no way she would have ever gone, certain that Vronsky would be there. Lolly knew better than to post any picture with him in it, but there were plenty of pictures of Lolly, Steven, and Anna all dressed up in costumes and having what looked like a glorious time with a lot of other beautiful teenagers, a few of whom Kimmie recognized from TV and magazines.

  She kept flipping through the pics over and over in the airport, but they started to stress her out, so she turned off her phone and put it in her purse. She decided right then and there she was going to delete all her social media accounts. She wasn’t particularly active on social media, mostly because she’d never had the time when she was training, and when she moved back home after her knee injury she never really wanted to post pictures of her boring shut-in life of physical therapy. Once she started school, though, she became obsessed like everyone else and was soon following hundreds of people: girls at school, celebrities, even her old friends from the ice dancing world, but eventually staring at other people’s posts started to make her feel weird. She kept wondering if everyone was really having as much fun as they seemed to be. #YOLO #FOMO #JOMO #IDON’TCARE-O

  Having to turn her phone in at the wellness center was her first clue that her mother had deceived her. Her second clue was when they got to their room there was only one single bed in it. That was when Kimmie’s mother confessed everything, having been too chicken to do it earlier on the plane like she had planned. She was enormously relieved when Kimmie walked over to the little framed quote over the bed, read it, and said, “It’s okay, Mom. I like this room.” Her mother started to cry and hugged her daughter, telling her that everything was going to be better soon. Danielle explained she was staying at a nearby hotel and would be coming to visit every day, even sitting in on the first few therapy sessions to
make sure Kimmie liked her new therapists before heading to Canyon Ranch to meet some of her friends.

  “You need to know you’re not a prisoner here, Kimmie,” her mother explained. “If you want to go see a movie or eat at a restaurant you can just take an Uber and go. You’ll just need to sign out and be back before your curfew.” She pulled out the booklet about the Desert Vista Wellness Center and left it for Kimmie to peruse at her leisure. “Dr. Becker said this is a wonderful program, and the patients he’s sent here always came back rested and ready to tackle life again.” Kimmie nodded and reassured her mother once again she wanted to feel better and was ready to work toward that goal. The last week at home, she had been feeling so low she had even googled “cutting.” The videos she saw online were very upsetting, and what disturbed her even more was that when she read the blog posts of girls who were cutters, a lot of them said they did it to stop feeling pain, as opposed to inflicting it. When Kimmie thought about how she was feeling, it wasn’t pain exactly, but more a fuzzy numbness, like she was underwater, or trapped behind thick glass.

  “Does Lolly know I’m going to be here for a month?” Kimmie asked. Her mother said she hadn’t yet told her sister anything but would explain everything to her once she returned home. Kimmie’s only request was that she tell Lolly not to update her on gossip from home. Her mother agreed that Kimmie needed a total break.

  During her first week of therapy Kimmie learned she had most likely been suffering from low-grade depression ever since returning home after her career-ending injury, and that the first time she felt any sense of joy was when Vronsky kissed her at Steven’s party, which she latched onto like a drowning person to a life preserver. Desperate to keep the good feelings coming, she had become wrongly convinced that he was the sole reason for her happiness. If this were true, then what she had thought was love wasn’t love at all. Her brain was just trying to find a way to make her feel better.