Daughter of Darkness (24 page)

Every teenage girl in that school behind me surely had done something in defiance of her parents, whether it was drinking alcohol, smoking pot, going places that were forbidden with other girls or boys who were forbidden, or merely staying out too late. There was probably a list of defiant acts that would fill a few shelves in the school library. No matter what act she committed, the first thing she had to have felt was fear. I wasn’t thinking of those girls who were so bad, so defiant, that they couldn’t care less if they were caught. The girls I was thinking of were more like me, girls who had made promises, who had been obedient and responsible, girls who were always trusted. In their hearts, they dreaded being discovered and seeing that look of deep disappointment on their parents’ faces. After all, these were the only people in the world who loved them more than they loved their own lives.

What bound a family together, especially one like ours, if it wasn’t trust and promises? You could betray your teachers, your school, and your friends, even your country, and it wouldn’t come close to the depth of
disappointment after you betrayed your own family. Every breath you took, every ounce of nourishment you consumed, was a family gift. Once you broke that tie, you truly drifted at the mercy of impish winds and capricious fate. Who cared if you were injured or hurt? Who suffered disappointments with you and helped you recover? Who was there to share your success with as much joy? Who was capable of being as proud of you?

Schoolgirls like myself would risk their parents’ anger and disappointment because deep in their hearts, they believed that no matter how deeply they had hurt their parents, there was always going to be a reservoir of forgiveness. I recalled a line in a poem we had read in English class last year, Robert Frost’s “The Death of the Hired Man.” In it he wrote, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”

Where else would such a thing be true?

For the girls like me who risked their parents’ wrath, there was always that thought, that hope to cushion the danger, and wasn’t it the danger itself, the excitement of defiance, that usually won out in the end and got them to light that joint, take that ride, be with that forbidden boy?

The great difference was that I had no cushion. For me, home was not someplace where I would have to be taken in. I was a trapeze artist without a net, a skydiver with no second parachute, a first-time swimmer with no nearby dock or shore, no lifeguard, no rope, nothing to save me from sinking into the dark depth awaiting with open arms and gleeful smile.

No
, I thought as I drove out of the parking lot,
I am
not simply another defiant teenager.
I wasn’t taking this risk to enjoy the accompanying rush of excitement and adrenaline. I wasn’t charging forward with a shield on which was inscribed “Life’s unfair. I resent all unreasonable restrictions and rules.”

And when I thought more deeply, questioned myself more closely, I also had to admit that I wasn’t doing this simply because I was attracted to a handsome, sincere young man. It was greater than him, greater than both of us. There was something in me that wasn’t in Brianna and Ava and Marla. It wasn’t something I could neatly wrap in the word
conscience
, either. Neither Daddy nor Mrs. Fennel ever had mentioned God in a positive way in our house. There was never any talk of prayer or its power. I couldn’t recall Daddy driving us past a church or a synagogue or even a mosque and not smiling disdainfully. If any of us mentioned anything whatsoever to do with any religion, Daddy would say, “Smoke and mirrors. More people are killed in the name of religion than anything else.”

“What do we believe in, then, Daddy?” I once asked. It was at holiday time, and all the other children were preparing for services and celebrations.

“Believe only in yourself,” Daddy replied. “Believe only in your own power.”

And although he didn’t come right out and say it, he clearly implied that we should believe in him because from him came our power.

No, neither conscience nor fear of punishments for doing something evil was what gave me the strength to make that phone call and drive off. Surely, my need
to find another kind of love was part of it, but what I couldn’t understand or identify yet was that part of me that now didn’t fear being different from Brianna and Ava and Marla. In fact, it was drawing me in stronger ways. If anything, this was the most frightening thing of all, because if I wasn’t truly my daddy’s daughter, then who was I?

And what would happen to me?

Somewhere out there lay the answer, I thought as I looked west toward the Pacific, where I could see the clouds moving up from the horizon. As on most afternoons in Los Angeles, the marine layer had burned off, and a soft blue sky ceiling joined forces with warm breezes to put more energy into the legs of the joggers, more light in the smiles of the tourists who were already bright with the excitement that accompanied something special and new, and even more hope in the faces of the homeless I saw camped out along Ocean Boulevard. It helped me relax a little, too.

I found a place to park and walked out to the pier. There was already a good-size crowd enjoying the Ferris wheel and games. I overheard a variety of languages from Chinese to Russian being spoken. Young children were charging forward in all directions, only to be pulled back by a parent’s words. They were like human yo-yos, because they’d start in a new direction almost immediately. It brought a smile to my face and then memories of Daddy bringing us here and to other fun parks. We were always well behaved and proud to walk with him, to be seen beside him, to share some of the admiration we saw in the faces of other people.

“It’s important that you are out here,” he said. “It’s important that you feel the ebb and flow of human emotions and energy, that you, like me, draw your own essence from it. It’s like dipping a cup into a cool stream and then, after you drink, feeling revived and alive and immortal.”

His words mesmerized us. We soaked in the glow of his smile and, like kittens, purred in his arms. Daddy could explain anything, could meet any challenge, and could keep us forever safe. Anyone looking at us could read the words on our lips.
We are his daughters. We are the Patios. Step away. Don’t touch. Just enjoy what you see.

“Hey,” I heard, and broke free of my reminiscences. Buddy was right behind me.

“I thought you might not find me easily in this crowd,” I said as he approached. He was wearing a light blue jacket, a darker blue shirt, and jeans, and he looked spry in his bone-white sneakers. I hadn’t noticed before, but his light brown hair was long and floated over his eyes. He swept it back.

“Are you kidding? You would stand out in any crowd,” he said. He looked around. “And it is kind of crowded here. Want to take a walk on the beach?”

“Okay,” I said. He reached for my hand, and we started off the pier.

“So, what made you decide to make this my lucky day?” he asked.

I nearly laughed aloud, thinking,
You have no idea how true that might be.
“How do you know it’s your lucky day?”

“Hey,” he said, leaning closer to lower his voice, “don’t you see those envious guys watching us?”

I looked around. Once I had dreamed of drawing attention the way Brianna and Ava did. Had my dream come true? They certainly never revealed being as self-conscious about it as I was as we stepped off the sidewalk and onto the sand. I paused to slip off my shoes, and he did the same. The sand was warm, but not so warm that we couldn’t walk barefoot, and as we drew closer to the water, it cooled.

“Where do you go to high school?” Buddy asked.

“It’s a private school in Bel Air.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“It is.”

“What do your parents do?”

“I have only my father,” I said. “My mother died when I was born.”

“Oh, sorry. What does he do?”

“He buys and sells very expensive things all over the world.”

“Jewelry?”

“Anything expensive.”

“Elsa is really your sister, then, right? This business about blood relation was just some nonsense.”

“Yes, she’s my sister.”

“Is there just you and Elsa?”

“No. I have a younger sister, too.”

“Oh, your father remarried?”

“No.”

“But how did you get a younger sister?”

“He didn’t marry her mother. She deserted him after my younger sister was born.”

“Oh. Sounds like your father’s had it rough.”

“Yes. That’s also why he’s so protective of us.”

“Sure. I understand. Well, you and Elsa don’t look that much alike, you know.” He leaned in toward me again to whisper, “You’re much better-looking.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere,” I said. I remembered that line from a movie I had watched with Marla.

“With you, I’ll settle for anywhere,” he replied. We walked quietly for a while, and then he took off his jacket and spread it on the sand. “My lady,” he said, offering it to sit on.

I did, and he sat beside me. We looked out at the waves. Two California brown pelicans were circling over the water to our right. Suddenly, one swooped down and came up with a small fish.

“Wow,” Buddy said. “See that?”

“Yes. Everything living feeds on something living,” I recited.

He looked at me. “Deep,” he said. “Tell me more about yourself. Are you guys originally from California?”

“You’ve told me nothing about yourself,” I countered.

He laughed and sprawled out, leaning on his left elbow to look up at me. “Not true. I told you I was born and raised in Long Beach, and my father’s a dentist. We’re almost even.”

“I was born in New York. We moved a few times. We lived in Nashville for a few years.”

“Can you sing country?”

“Hardly,” I said, smiling. “I play the piano, mostly classical pieces. Daddy loves classical music.”

He just stared up at me.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re so beautiful. I think I’d be content just lying here and looking up at you for the rest of my life.”

“Now you’re embarrassing me,” I said.

“I’d rather cut off my right hand than embarrass you.”

“So, what do you intend to do with your education?” I asked, trying to get him off the topic of me.

He laughed. “You mean, what do I want to be when I grow up?”

“Think you ever will?” I said, and he shrugged.

“Maybe. When I get around to it,” he said. He rolled onto his back. “I’m leaning toward medical research of some sort. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been fascinated by what we can’t see. There are worlds upon worlds swirling around inside us.” He turned back to me. “You weren’t far off when you said everything living feeds on something else living. There are bacteria living inside us, feeding off us. Even the bad guys feed off us.”

“Bad guys?” I held my breath. He couldn’t mean anything close to what I knew.

“Germs, viruses, you know.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. I imagine you’re a good student,” I said.

“Straight A’s. That was my nickname in high school, Straight-A Gilroy. And you?”

“I’ve always made the honor roll.”

“You’d always make mine,” he said. “Now, tell me really, what made you decide to call me? I gave up on the idea when you wouldn’t give me your phone number.”

“It’s not a big mystery, Buddy. We had a good time at Dante’s Inferno. I thought you were different from your friends, so I decided to see if I was right.”

“Any decision yet?”

“Too soon to tell.”

“Great. That means you’ll give me more time, which might mean you’ll give me your home phone number.”

“Let’s leave it the way it is for right now,” I said. I embraced my knees and looked down at the sand.

“Boy, why do I have the feeling there’s a ton you’re not telling me about yourself?”

“Can’t imagine,” I said, smiling.

“Your sister Elsa is, please pardon the expression, a piece of work.”

I was quiet a moment, and then I turned to him and said, “Her name is not Elsa.”

“I know,” he said.

“You know?”

“Yeah. I was just waiting to see how long you would keep up the lie.”

“How did you find out the truth?”

“I checked with someone in one of her classes. Her name is Ava Patio. I pretended to believe her, because I didn’t want to get her angry with me or something. I thought as long as she spoke to me, I had a chance of meeting you again. I searched the Internet to find your phone number. I called more than twenty Patios, but no one named Patio had a daughter named Ava.”

“That’s why you spend time talking to her and being with her at school?”

“That’s it, solely it,” he said. “Why, does she think otherwise?”

I smiled.

“What?”

“Let’s just say Ava has no cracks in her wall of self-confidence.”

He laughed. “Will you go out with me this weekend?”

“I don’t know our schedule yet.”

“Our schedule? What are you, a private jet pilot?”

“I’ll go out with you one night if you promise me one thing.”

“I’m ready to sign my name in blood,” he said, sitting up.

“I don’t want you talking to or having anything at all to do with Ava. If she asks you to go somewhere with her, say no, especially if she wants you to go out with her. Will you promise me that?”

“Sure, but what is this, some kind of sibling rivalry?”

I smiled. “You can call it that. Do I have your solemn promise?”

He raised his right hand. “I, Buddy Gilroy, do hereby swear not to have anything to do with Ava Patio. If she’s walking easterly, I’ll go westerly. If she’s within ten feet of me, I’ll immediately make it twenty feet. If she speaks to me, I’ll be deaf. If she looks at me, I’ll be invisible, and if she touches me, I’ll scream like I was burned and walk or run to the nearest exit.” He lowered his hand. “How’s that?”

“It’s fine if you really follow it,” I said. I looked at him with steely eyes. “And I’ll know almost immediately if you don’t.”

“Okay,” he said, losing his joking smile. He looked down the beach. “You want to walk a little more?”

“Yes,” I said, rising.

He picked up his jacket, and we walked silently on the darker, harder, cooler sand. The wind combed the waves and hit us with some spray, but it felt wonderful. We both laughed and trotted a little farther from the water. He took my hand again, and for a moment, we just looked at each other. Then, very slowly but smoothly, he brought his lips to mine. It wasn’t a quick, friendly peck on the mouth, either. His lips lingered as if he were a bee drawing nectar from mine. Neither of us spoke. We walked along, silent again, but somehow hearing each other’s voice, each other’s heartbeat.