All of This Is True Page 4
Blahbidy blah shading. Blah, blah, blah, vine charcoal, blah. Blah, blah compressed charcoal. Ms. Vargas swiped slides on the SMART Board. Sunny slid her sketchpad onto her lap and started sketching, so Brady sat back and relaxed a bit. Blah, blah, blah, contouring . . .
Ten seconds before the bell, Sunny ripped the sketch from her book and slid it on the table toward Brady. It was a “smiley face” except it was sad. There was charcoal shading smudged all around. Lettering followed along the perimeter of the circle. Brady turned the drawing, following the words as they curved upside down: DON’T BE SO GLUM, BRADY! TURN THAT FROWN UPSIDE DOWN! When turned upside down, the image of the frown turned into a happy face.
“See ya later. Have a good first day!” Sunny said as the bell rang.
Brady grunted in response. The problem with playing “opposite day” was that it was impossible to keep up. The game never lasted for more than a couple hours. Brady remembered this when he accidentally looked up as Sunny swung her book bag over her back. Her smile was as cute as he’d dreaded it would be.
Miri
Fatima was twenty-three. Did you find it odd at all that she invited you over and wanted to be friends with you?
What are you trying to say? That I should’ve known better? That I was some naïve, unsuspecting target who was lured into her den?
I didn’t say any of that. It’s just that Fatima was very successful and very busy. She must’ve had places to be and people to see.
Well, I’ll have you know that yes, I did wonder why Fatima Ro would want to be friends with us. But the people at her housewarming were all different ages. Some were our age, and others were in their seventies or even eighties—Fatima’s former professors at Columbia. If you had seen her crowd, you would’ve come to the same conclusion that I did.
Which was?
That Fatima liked to keep interesting company. Simple as that. And for your information, Soleil, Jonah, Penny, and I turned out to be the most mature people at the party. Right after dark, Fatima told half of her guests to leave because they were acting idiotic, as in let’s-find-out-if-these-lawn-chairs-will-float-in-the-pool level of idiotic.
Those rowdy retired professors.
The other half.
Just kidding.
[sighs] Listen. The media has manufactured a salacious story. Whatever sells, goes. That’s how these things work, I understand. But it’s ironic, isn’t it, that the news is trying to portray Fatima as unethical while they’re spinning their own brand of fiction? It’s disgusting what people are saying about her targeting us for her own selfish needs. I want you to know for the record: [leans forward] [looks straight into the camera] Fatima Ro did not prey on us. We made an authentic human connection with her. It’s called friendship. Look it up. She invited us into her world because she had an open heart, an open mind, and an appreciation for multiple perspectives, not because she was bent. She wasn’t some fifty-year-old dude in a trench coat circling the playground at recess. [sits back] So, don’t even try to twist this into something sick, because it wasn’t.
Noted.
Are you patronizing me?
NEW YORK CITY MAGAZINE
FOUR-PART SERIES
* * *
Stranger Than Fiction
The True Story Behind the Controversial Novel
The Absolution of Brady Stevenson
SOLEIL JOHNSTON’S STORY, PART 1 (continued)
* * *
Journal Entry
OMGGGGG!!! I cannot believe what I just found right here in the living room under a pile of towels and bed linens!
DRUM ROLLLLL . . . . . . . . . . . !
A BOX LABELED: UNDERTOW!!!!!!!
I’m actually dying.
Dying . . .
Dead.
Photo op!
Penny
It was sorta scary when Fatima kicked those people out of her party.
Why?
Uh, well, she strolled right out to the pool, turned off the music, and said, “You guys need to get the eff out. I’m sorry I invited you. Don’t expect to be asked back. Good-bye.” She was so calm, and she didn’t care at all about losing friends over it. After everybody left, she told us that she was done with those superficial relationships she was trying to hold on to from the city. It was scary to see that Fatima could cut people out of her life like that. I mean, some of those people were her friends from college.
Huh.
She said that kicking those friends out of her new house was symbolic for her. It was, like, the “final transition” to her new life or something. She called it a, um . . . I can’t remember the term. Anyways, those people didn’t understand honest human connections. She put her soul into Undertow, it was her reaching out to them, but her friends barely acknowledged the book. It disappointed her to live inside/out but get nothing back.
That’s kind of sad.
I could relate to it, I guess.
How so?
Because. [sighs] Me and my friends held parties at my house, right? The Graham kids loved it, and my parents liked having guests. And they were happy that I was, like, networking and learning planning and organizing skills.
Okay . . .
The thing was, though, that even on regular days, half the school still came over to play basketball or swim or watch TV. But how many of them even knew me? Two? Sometimes I stayed in my room all day and no one even wondered where I was.
Aw . . .
Fatima’s friends didn’t get the meaning of one beating heart opening up to another beating heart. But she said she could tell from the night in the courtyard that the four of us were open to honesty and to living transparently. She felt it in her bones that we could be open with one another. I wanted all of us to be transparent, too. I wanted my friends to take me seriously. And also, I was afraid to get kicked out of her life, you know?
I understand.
A “tabula rasa”! That’s what she called it. Is that right?
Yes. A clean slate.
That was it. Her new beginning. Fatima said she’d been waiting a long time for friends like us. She was an open book with us. [pause] That was stupid. I didn’t mean “open book,” like, as a pun. Sorry. You can delete that.
[laughs]
Wait. You can delete stuff, can’t you? I mean, you’ll edit out all the dumb things I say, right? ’Cause I for real say dumb things a lot.
We’ll see.
Oh, god. [sighs] [drinks from a water glass]
So, Fatima was an open book?
[laughs] Uh-huh. Soleil found a box labeled Undertow.
Whoa. Did she open it?
Fatima did. Soleil and I were whispering about it, and finally, Fatima said, “Just ask me to open the damn thing, why don’t you?” [laughs] She sat in the middle of her living room and went through it with us.
What was inside?
Lots of stuff, like her marble notebooks and spiral memo pads and family photos, and there were printed-out copies of Undertow at different stages marked up with colored pens and Post-its. Soleil was like, “It’s the manuscript she weighed in the doctor’s office!” She was really excited. But the biggest deal was Fatima’s paper towel roll.
Paper towel roll?
Fatima had this brown paper towel roll. You know, the kind that’s from the machine in a public restroom?
Okay . . .
It was one of those. When she unrolled it, it was the timeline of Undertow from one end to the other, written in marker. It unraveled all the way to the front door.
Wow.
Uh-huh. But it wasn’t a timeline of the plot; she called it an emotional timeline, like what the characters were feeling in their souls through the entire book, along with what she was feeling while she was writing it.
Oh, that’s fascinating.
Everyone went crazy over it. For me, though, I thought the photos were more interesting. Fatima’s mom was really young, or she looked really young. But for some reason, the timeline was, like, major, so I didn’
t say anything. I didn’t want to insult anyone. You know, Fatima stole the paper towel roll from an Olive Garden.
Really?
Yeah. She literally unscrewed the machine thingy with her bare hands and pulled the roll out.
Ha! How funny.
Isn’t it crazy? I mean, I never thought that Fatima Ro would eat at an Olive Garden.
The Absolution of Brady Stevenson
BY FATIMA RO
(excerpt)
That night, Sunny Vaughn pulled out her laptop and searched the name “Brady Stevenson” online. He hadn’t told her his last name, but she caught a glimpse of it on his class schedule, which he had placed upside down on their table.
Her Brady wasn’t on Facebook or Instagram or Twitter. The only Brady Stevensons Sunny found were either out of state or in-region but seventy-one years old. Seventy-one-year-old Brady Stevenson was on Facebook. His page was dedicated to classic cars, two of which appeared to be stored in his own garage—a red Jaguar and a little black MG. But this was the wrong Brady Stevenson, so Sunny wasn’t interested in investigating further into the old man’s car collection.
Miri
Even Jonah was impressed by the timeline, and that’s the truth. He took a picture of it like the rest of us did. That timeline alone is proof of how sensitive Fatima is as a person and as a novelist. She lives and writes from an emotional place. When emotions are released in a creative way, you can’t harness it, and you certainly can’t censor it.
Are you referring to The Absolution of Brady Stevenson?
Yes, I am. She had every right to write it. This is the United States of America. You can’t dictate the subjects for an artist. Inspiration can come from anywhere. And just because Fatima was inspired by us doesn’t mean our relationship wasn’t genuine. People write songs about their girlfriends and husbands and mistresses all the time. How is that any different?
Good point.
Tell me. Where’s the New York City magazine exposé calling Taylor Swift a predator?
NEW YORK CITY MAGAZINE
FOUR-PART SERIES
* * *
Stranger Than Fiction
The True Story Behind the Controversial Novel
The Absolution of Brady Stevenson
SOLEIL JOHNSTON’S STORY, PART 1 (continued)
* * *
Journal Entry
Pics of Fatima’s emotional timeline—she’s teary-eyed as we unravel it. “If I’d had the theory of human connections before my mom died, things would have been different.”
* * *
ME: Still have not showered. Still do not care. Unwashed, uncombed. Unfed. I can’t be filled. I’ll never be filled, never, ever be filled.
Chapter 15
LARA: If she leaves, the emptiness will be too wide and too deep to fill. I will not know how to fill it. I will never be able to fill it. It will never be filled, never be filled, never be filled, never, ever be filled.
ME: Panicked in the middle of the night. No one to call. Who can I call? Staring at my phone. I want to call, call, call, call her. I didn’t do it when I could have. I. DID. NOT. CALL. HER. Why didn’t I call her? What am I left with now? A voicemail I am too afraid to dial because I will hear her voice and then not hear her voice. This phone—it laughs at me, Hello hello hello hello hello hello . . .
Chapter 17
LARA: I’m clutching on to him, digging my fingers into his back, pressing myself closer to the edge. I need him, I need anything to fill me, to make me feel reckless and young. In darkness, I will sneak back home where she will yell and yell because I am a careless, careless child. She will sound strong in voice and stand tall in body, and she will know better than to die, for I am only a careless, careless child who needs her. Here. Now. This is how to stop time. Here is where to touch me. Here and here and here.
* * *
How perfectly heartbreaking.
Penny
I overheard Fatima and Soleil talking in the bedroom while she was teaching Soleil how to do a topknot.
What were they talking about?
Um . . . [pause] They were talking about Jonah. [silence]
Go on.
[nods] Fatima was curious about him because he was so quiet and standoffish: Was he okay? Was he upset? Was it something she’d said? That sort of thing. Soleil explained that that was just Jonah being Jonah. But Fatima wouldn’t let it go. [shakes head] She should’ve just let it go.
What do you mean?
Uh . . . I don’t really want to talk about this.
I think you know that it’s important, Penny. Otherwise you wouldn’t have brought it up.
Okay, okay. Um . . . [pauses] Fatima thought he was, like, obviously troubled. She said that since Jonah was having difficulty making an honest human connection, we should all make an extra effort to find out about him. That way we could help him with whatever he was going through. Soleil said that she didn’t want to pry; she was afraid that might push him away. I heard her say that she’d tried to search him online when they first met, but nothing came up. Fatima asked Soleil to find a way to get close to him. Transparency would be for Jonah’s own good. And then . . . [pauses]
Tell me.
Fatima said, “You read Undertow. You’ve seen my notes. I’ve shared everything with you. This is what it means to be transparent. I’m sure you can get him to open up to you. It’s the only way we can truly be authentic friends.” Soleil idolized Fatima, you know? She would’ve done anything she asked, so of course she did.
She was Fatima Ro.
She was.
The Absolution of Brady Stevenson
BY FATIMA RO
(excerpt)
Three towns away, at the exact same moment that Sunny closed out of her search bar and clicked over to watch Arrow, Brady Stevenson searched online for “Sunny Vaughn.”
There she was on Facebook, for all to see. Brady poked around, hoping to gain some insight:
Sunny Vaughn
CURRENT CITY AND HOMETOWN: Long Island, NY
MUSIC: Imagine Dragons, Ariana Grande, Charlie Puth, Bruno Mars
TELEVISION: Freeform, Bravo, Stranger Things, The CW
BOOKS: The Drowning
OTHER: Dylan O’Brien, Kate Winslet, Marc Jacobs, Sephora, Sugar Factory
FAVORITE QUOTES: “You have every right to a beautiful life.” —Selena Gomez
ABOUT SUNNY: former hula-hoop champ, current procrastinator, future something to do with words or art or film or food or all of these at once
RELATIONSHP STATUS: single
Sunny’s Instagram featured a series of photos documenting the progress of a #MixedMedia #VargasStudioArt project on a theme: doors. The first few photos were of Sunny’s materials, including a large piece of plywood, dollhouse doors, photographs of doors, illustrations of doors, paintings of doors, magazine cutouts of doors. In the next few photos, Sunny had painted the plywood black and mounted the mismatched doors onto it. The effect was that of an eerie apartment building with mysterious residents. Sunny meant what she said. The girl was really down with #DoorsAsAMetaphor.
Brady opened up a new tab. He Googled “The Drowning” and found a book by Thora Temple. “Thank you, Amazon books,” he said aloud.
After an abortion and expulsion from her Catholic school for cutting classes, seventeen-year-old Jules Grady is forced to accompany her mother on a tour of the castles of Ireland. Convinced that the tour is nothing but a ploy to keep her from her boyfriend and set her on a straight and narrow path, Jules packs little more than a bad attitude. But when Jules learns that her mother is ill and this trip is likely her last, Jules tries to reconnect with her before it’s too late.
Brady liked to read, but he was more of a nonfiction guy. He liked stories about the Vietnam War and obscure medical history in particular. When Brady allowed himself to aim high, he thought he might want to be a surgeon. He used to put model jet fighters and battleships together without looking at the instructions, so he felt that focus and precision wer
e his strong points. He also liked the idea of concentrating so hard on a task that all other thoughts and cares would fall away. Saving lives would also be nice. He wanted to contribute something positive to society. He wanted that more than anything.
Although The Drowning was nothing Brady would normally read, he dropped the book into his Amazon cart just in case. In case of what? Brady didn’t have a clue.
Miri
You should ask Penny about Fatima’s key to her sliding door.
Fatima gave her a key?
You’re surprised? Ask her. In fact, while you’re at it, ask Penny if she ever gave it back. Fatima may not live there anymore, but I will bet you my sweet sixteen money and my car that Penny still has that key on her little Kate Spade ice-cream-cone key ring.
How are you so sure of that?
Because no matter what weepy-eyed story Penny may tell you about Fatima manipulating her, don’t buy into it. It was special to be a part of Fatima’s life, and Penny knows it.
NEW YORK CITY MAGAZINE
FOUR-PART SERIES
* * *
Stranger Than Fiction
The True Story Behind the Controversial Novel
The Absolution of Brady Stevenson
SOLEIL JOHNSTON’S STORY, PART 1 (continued)
* * *
Journal Entry
Fatima gave me her email address after all: fatima.ro.author@gmail.com!!! Thus doing a silent happy dance inside my soul! What does this mean? It means we’re BFF and we’re going to do each other’s nails while we sing the Frozen soundtrack! No. Not quite. But it does mean that she wants to get to know more about me and the girls and Jonah (if I ever get him to talk to me, that is). I’ll keep trying.