All of This Is True Read online

  I see.

  I went to one of Penny’s parties. I could only afford one; I’m here on scholarship. It was pretty lavish. I assumed Penny was just as bold as the whole production. But after speaking with her, I saw how insecure she really was. It was surprising, but it helps me to understand how she would be influenced by someone like Fatima Ro. [pauses] In terms of Fatima’s theory and the exercise? I learned that both parties of a conversation have to respect the other person’s thoughts and feelings in order to achieve an authentic human connection. Penny and I were receptive to the exercise. It’s why we’re friends today. Tell her I said hi back.

  I will. Natalie, may I ask what your answer was to the open-ended question, “What do you want from this life?”

  Sure. I said that I wanted a fair chance. That was my answer: a fair chance in life. I think that’s all we can ask for, don’t you?

  EMMA IRVING

  Miri asked us what we wanted out of life and I said, “This! This is what I want—to live and breathe the theory of human connections—to be open and honest, to know people on a spiritual level and be a positive force in society.” At the first meeting, I made an authentic connection with a complete stranger within the span of five minutes. And I wasn’t even drunk! [laughs] I have to tell you with sincerity that I was inspired. I couldn’t wait to do more and to pay it forward. My head was spinning about young people squandering time and words and opportunities. I didn’t want to squander. I wanted to live inside/out and start a whole movement. I thought, how rich would our lives be if we related more deeply with the people we loved and spoke to strangers to feel that Fatima Ro simpatico? What could we achieve if we got to know our classmates, our neighbors, if we worked together and helped each other? [laughs] [shakes head] I can’t believe what a sucker I was for the whole scheme. I never would’ve guessed that Fatima was such a whack job. But isn’t that the way with a lot of these people? There’s that fine line between genius and batshit crazy. God. [shakes head] I was such a fan.

  QUINN DONNER

  Undertow was my favorite book. Hands down. Miri and Soleil turned me on to it. I’d never heard of Fatima Ro until the two of them started talking about her in AP English. They basically made Fatima famous at Graham with their class discussions and then the secret society. Our teacher, Ms. Grauss, was Fatima Ro–obsessed, too. Obsessed. And Ms. Grauss is très cool; she’s that teacher who lets us read on the lawn when it’s warm out. So, I was down for the whole Undertow thing. The meetings. The readings. All. Of. It. I even went to the book signing at Book Revue. I was third in line. Ms. Grauss gave me extra credit, not that I did it for that reason. Soleil and Miri wouldn’t take extra points; they said meeting Fatima was a reward in and of itself. I needed the boost, though. Sometimes you have to take advantage. Graham is crazy competitive. It’s like that survivor show Naked and Afraid except in uniforms. Look. I got a picture with her. [shows a selfie with Fatima Ro] She was so warm toward me. It’s lame that people are blaming Fatima for what happened to Jonah. No way was it her fault. I feel terrible for the guy and all, but not too terrible, if you know what I’m saying. And can you really fault Fatima for writing about him? Jonah came to her like a novel on a platter, practically. Fatima Ro is pretty much my idol. Her and Hillary Clinton. [pauses] Wait. Was the Naked and Afraid comment too much? Can you scratch that? I don’t want to disrespect my school.

  MARCUS DEAN

  Shit. That meeting? That was just a lot of hippie psychobabble mumbo jumbo. But Quinn was into it, so I went. I go where Quinn goes. I’m pussy-whipped.

  The Absolution of Brady Stevenson

  BY FATIMA RO

  (excerpt)

  “I see her!” Sunny bounced on her heels and slapped Brady on the arm.

  “Oh my god, she is so cute,” Marni whispered.

  Paloma lifted her phone above her head. “I think I can get a shot from here.”

  Brady peeked through the crowd. Secretly, he was just as excited as the girls were to catch a glimpse of Thora Temple. He had finished reading The Drowning and couldn’t stop thinking about Jules, Sam, Margaret, Irish castles, and forgiveness as a gift to others and to oneself. Like the character Jules, Brady knew firsthand what it felt like to be an embarrassment to his parents. Through The Drowning, Thora Temple seemed to read his mind like no one else had, including his therapist, Dr. Nihati.

  Brady spotted the author through the spinning rack of literary postcards and past a tall blonde in spiked boots. He immediately felt that Thora’s wisdom was too large for her body, and so it had no recourse but to spill out of her as words upon words upon words. He stared as Thora tossed her wild hair behind her shoulders and posed for a selfie with a fan. Her half smile matched her author photo—she was exactly who Brady had envisioned she’d be. “It is, of course!” he heard her say playfully, but didn’t catch the context.

  The line bunched up toward the front, blocking the author’s table and Brady’s view. He shuffled his feet. He’d have to wait his turn to see her again.

  “Oh, buck up. This isn’t so bad, is it?” Marni asked.

  “No. It’s fine. I like bookstores,” Brady said.

  “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.” Marni patted Brady on the back. “Save my spot.”

  “I’ll hold your book,” Sunny said.

  Brady looked down at The Drowning in his hands and laughed at himself—he now owned two copies. As he waited, he contemplated what to say to Thora. The novel hit so close to home that Brady couldn’t even admit that he’d read it. It’s funny, he thought, the reasons we don’t talk about something are because it’s either not important or because it’s too important. There was no way he could ask her the questions he’d written in his copy at home.

  He decided instead to tell Thora that writers are our most valuable artists. In these modern technological times, a book is the simplest, easiest, cheapest form of entertainment. Even with iPads and smartphones, the book is still indispensible. This would be Brady’s way of thanking Thora simply for being a writer. During a time when Brady couldn’t watch television or use the internet, books had kept him company. Words whiled away hours that he might’ve otherwise spent feeling down, feeling ashamed, feeling . . . just feeling.

  As he moved up the line, Brady’s affection for Thora deepened. He suddenly wanted her to know him inside and out, the way she knew her characters: Sam, an emotionally abusive older boyfriend; Jules, a selfish, unappreciative daughter; and Margaret, a rigid, controlling mother. All these people were hurt and flawed. They were ugly inside. But Thora gave them resilience and hope. Brady wanted Thora to know him as deeply as she knew them, because even in her least lovable characters, Thora found goodness.

  “I’m back.” Marni strained her neck to peek over the line. “Did I miss anything?”

  “No, nothing,” Brady said, but it felt like a lie.

  Miri

  My Undertow meeting was a major turning point in people’s lives. Quinn Donner, Emma Irving, they already loved the book. But after my meeting, they were fully committed to the theory of human connections. They made friends with Greg Tivoli and Minka Neeves that night, maybe lifelong soul mates, because of the theory.

  That’s great.

  No no no. You don’t understand. Greg Tivoli collects back-scratchers from amusement parks, and Minka Neeves gave a school presentation on taxidermy.

  [laughs] Not the most popular kids at Graham?

  They had no friends before this meeting. They weren’t even friends with each other! [laughs] That is the power of the theory of human connections. And that is why Emma and Quinn and I decided to start a movement.

  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 2 (continued)

  * * *

  In attendance:

  Miri, me (
Soleil), Jonah, Penny, Marissa June Weaver, Gaby Simpson, Miles Kelly, Elena Westcott, Yasmin Contreras, Yael Levy, Toby Levy, Ursula Houston, Mackenzie Ryan, Marcus Dean, Inés Rodriguez, Victoria Unger, Ava Balasteras, Greg Tivoli, Quinn Donner, Alexa Nagatsu, Emma Irving, Minka Neeves, Natalie Singh

  Penny

  Even though I was tired of Miri, I stayed the whole time because I was a loyal friend. I was trying to be a bigger person and not let my feelings about Miri spoil Fatima’s message. But do you know what happened then?

  No. What?

  I was telling Miri how good everything went. I was being nice, when Emma Irving and Quinn Donner swooped right in and pushed me aside. They were like, “Oh, Miri, that was the greatest passage ever in the history of all passages!” and “I never thought I could connect with someone as instantly as this. We’re, like, soul mates with Greg and Minka for life now.” They were being completely fake. As if they’d ever hang out with Greg or Minka. Taxidermy is so nasty. For real! Like, get a better hobby, Minka, maybe with alive animals.

  [laughs]

  But anyways, they were all, “Let’s start a movement. We can change the world through human connections, with Fatima’s guidance.” Ugh. It was so obvious; all they wanted was to meet Fatima, who was Miri’s BFF in the whole world. And I saw this look in Miri’s eyes that really creeped me out.

  What look?

  Like she was on a power trip or something. Emma and Quinn were kissing up to her so bad. And who was I? Nobody, as far as they were all concerned. God. I was the one with Fatima’s house key. I was the one who refilled Fatima’s refrigerator when she got low on milk and juice.

  You did?

  Yeah.

  Huh.

  Only a few times.

  Did she ask you to do that?

  The first time. After that I just did it to be nice.

  That was nice.

  Thank you. I thought so. [sighs] Oh, and I was the one who brought her fabric swatches for window treatments. They were really high quality, too. One was blue with a white geometric pattern. Another one was white with a blue geometric pattern.

  [sighs] After the meeting I was standing around the courtyard like an idiot. Miri had her new Undertow squad or whatever, and where were Soleil and Jonah? Nowhere. They left together. I guess something happened underneath that blanket. I wasn’t jealous. I just, like, never felt so alone before, not even the time I snuck upstairs during one of my own parties to take a nap.

  The Absolution of Brady Stevenson

  BY FATIMA RO

  (excerpt)

  Marni was reading a passage from The Drowning.

  Jules didn’t test the temperature with her toes or take time to warm her skin under the sun. She didn’t deserve a gradual, measured cooling. She ran head-on toward the water and dove straight into the ocean. It’s the only way to sneak up on the body: take it from dry brittle hair and cracked elbows and knees to wet at the roots and bone-chilled in an instant. Trick the body into believing it’s pure again, as clean as the day it was born. Submerge. Shock. Trick. It’s possible to deceive it, but only for as long as you can hold that one bitter-cold breath.

  Marni sat cross-legged on the table. Her intonations, the way she breathed and paused as she read, were familiar to her friends because she borrowed them from Thora Temple.

  When Brady read that same passage at home, he curled into the fetal position under his covers and held his breath to see if he could feel pure for that long. Tonight, Brady couldn’t connect with Thora’s words at all, not with these poseurs around him quoting passages from The Drowning as if they were Demi Lovato lyrics. They ruined the excerpt and the theory. Brady’s appreciation for The Drowning was quiet and internal, as it should be. Marni and her crew were turning this into a rock concert. What did anybody here have to feel impure about anyway—ruining expensive shoes on a muddy night? Thora’s words belonged to him alone, not to this goody-goody bunch of faux fans.

  The last thing Brady wanted was to connect with Talia Cohen, a girl wearing a headband with cat ears and carrying a purse she made from a cereal box; he most certainly didn’t want to lie on a lunch table with her under the stars. At the risk of being rude, Brady left his assigned place. He went over to Sunny’s table, tapped Gary Hodges on the shoulder, and, as politely as possible, asked Gary to get lost.

  Sunny turned her head. “What’s up?”

  “Hi.” Brady settled beside her.

  Sunny had a blanket over her legs. She spread it out to cover them both. At that moment, Marni’s reading faded into the background. As the space under the blanket warmed and Sunny’s knee fell against Brady’s leg, all Brady could think about was chapter twelve—the chapter that led up to Jules’s and her mother’s confrontation: Jules gets caught in her bedroom with her boyfriend, Sam. She’s half naked in his lap with her legs wrapped around his back.

  Marni continued, “‘Jules felt that childhood had slipped away so far and so fast that she could hardly recognize herself, and she didn’t like the person she had become . . .’” Instead of reflecting on his own fallen childhood, all the arousing scenes of The Drowning replayed in Brady’s mind—those passages Marni and Sunny referred to as the “sexy times.”

  Sunny had let Brady into her life without hesitation, and Brady had been lonely and reserved all these weeks, so he said, “Oh, screw it,” to himself and reached his hand out toward her. Sunny caught her breath as Brady’s hand slid inside her jacket and grazed her stomach. It took a moment for her to register that his touch wasn’t accidental; Brady wasn’t just stretching or joking around; he meant to touch her, he wanted to touch her, and so he was. It took another moment for Sunny to realize that he was touching her exactly the way Sam had touched Jules in The Drowning.

  Sunny and Brady locked eyes. Beneath the stars and the blanket, he trailed his fingers lightly in a circle around her belly button. Sunny wondered whether or not he knew that this move was how and why Jules became so physically attached to Sam to begin with.

  “Do you . . . know?” Sunny whispered.

  Brady wrinkled his brow.

  She shook her head. Brady hadn’t read The Drowning. He would’ve said so if he had. Maybe this was a regular move that all guys did? “Never mind.” Sunny closed her eyes and concentrated on Brady’s fingers. He traced back and forth, just inside the top of her jeans. And then he stopped. Sunny opened her eyes, wanting more. Brady’s face was inches from hers. He reached behind her neck and kissed her with his lips already parted because he’d held back his own needs for a long time. He felt far, far behind.

  “‘Jules could not understand why she wasn’t allowed to have this person without everything else falling apart.’” Marni’s impassioned voice floated in their direction. “‘Was this the only way the universe could find a balance? By taking so much away in order to grant her this one pleasure?’”

  Brady broke away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He rose and hurried toward the gate. “Dumb fuck,” he muttered to himself as he pounded the gate open.

  Sunny rushed after him, clutching her blanket. “Brady?” she called. The gate clanked behind her. Brady got into his car and slammed the door. Sunny followed after him. She opened the passenger door and got in. “What’s wrong?” She searched his face for a clue.

  “Nothing!” Brady yelled. He was angry at himself, not her, but it was hard to tell the difference. “Nothing,” he said, softer.

  Sunny’s phone buzzed.

  PALOMA

  WWB???

  SUNNY

  He’s not gay.

  “Brady, whatever was happening between us—it’s okay. I mean, I wanted to . . . I want to.”

  Brady stared out the window and weighed: my past weighs more than that rock; it’s heavier than that boulder; it’s heavier than this car . . .

  “What is it? I know you’ve been keeping something from me. I didn’t want to push, but it’s affecting you, so I really wish you’d tell me what it is.” Sunny felt she could deal
with anything; she liked Brady enough to handle it if there was another girl or if he was transferring schools and didn’t want to get too close or if his family was having problems. “You know what Thora says. It’ll be good for you to be inside/out. When we’re honest with each other we feel less alone. That’s what tonight is for, isn’t it? To be transparent? You can tell me, no matter what it is.”

  Brady gripped the steering wheel. He wasn’t going to tell anybody. Ever. The whole point of moving was to keep the past in the past. His parents and grandparents told him to start all over again. But they never told him how. Could he be a new person and keep a secret at the same time? Or did he have to reveal who he once was in order to become someone else? He didn’t know.

  You can’t hide who you really are. Look into her eyes and share your authentic self. Your true self always surfaces eventually. Every day Thora’s words needled him from the moment he woke in the morning until he closed his eyes at night. “I . . .” He pressed his forehead against his knuckles. “I don’t know how to start over.” He forced the words out.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Brady,” Sunny said gently. “Tell me what you mean.”

  “I used to wrestle . . .”

  “I remember. You mentioned it once.”

  Brady took a deep breath so that he could get through the rest. “I used to wrestle . . . for South Carlisle.”

  South Carlisle.

  Sunny knew the school for the same reason everyone on Long Island knew South Carlisle. The headlines were all over the news a year ago: WRESTLING TEAM ACCUSED OF ATTACKING SOPHOMORE IN HIS SLEEP; HIGH SCHOOL TEAM ACCUSED OF SEX CRIMES AT WRESTLING CAMP; HAZING SCANDAL DEVASTATES LONG ISLAND COMMUNITY.

  Sunny had thought she was prepared to hear anything. She wasn’t. Brady pulled his hood over his head and sniffled against the steering wheel.