The Last Darling (5 page)

They made love below the statue, allowing the grey dust to cover their hair and shoulders and backs. Their bodies stayed tangled until the sun warmed their skin the next morning. They put on their clothes and confronted the rich benefactor, telling him of their love. He was stunned and saddened by the news, but nodded and hugged them both. He offered them a small sum of money and his lasting friendship.

The mistress and the blind artist gathered their belongings, but before they could leave the estate, the rich man’s wife, overcome with jealousy and unaware of the morning’s events, drove her car into the mistress, pinning the poor girl’s body against a stone wall. The wife backed up and hit the mistress again and again, until more skin was attached to the car than the girl’s bones. The blind artist could not see these events, but he could smell the blood, feel the broken bones and torn muscles, hear the gurgling of her lungs filling with blood – and for seven minutes his exceptional senses were overwhelmed by the vision of the mistress, his love, dying in agony.

The wife was arrested and sentenced to death. The blind artist lost the will to eat, spending several weeks on a diet of crackers and rain water. He slept in the streets and cuddled with wild dogs to stay warm. He drank as often as he breathed and lost all sense of time.

The rich man, despite his wealth, could not find a cure for his friend. When he saw the marble statue he was overwhelmed by its beauty and realism – so much that he thought the mistress had returned as a ghost. He bought a plot of land at the center of the city and buried the mistress there, placing the statue above her for all to see. The radiance and intricacy of the statue’s expression drew crowds of people from all over Mexico. The name Leo Vega became famous once again and to a greater degree.

In a bout of loneliness, Vega went to the statue, allowing his hands and fingers to caress the soft stone that resembled skin, touch the lips that were once warm. He let his ear rest against her chest and pretended for a moment that a heart beat beneath it. The police, thinking a vagrant was defiling their prestigious statue, immediately arrested Vega, throwing him in jail without a second thought.

The rich benefactor found him there and took him home, nursing him back to health and sobriety. Vega’s fame and the popularity of the statue only reminded him of his missing love and the single shade of black that covered his heart. He left Mexico, traveling to a small American town where he could spend the rest of his lonely days in obscurity. Before he left, he asked the rich man for one favor. Every year on the anniversary of her death, the rich man was to cut a large slab of stone from the wall where she died and send it to Vega wherever he may be. The rich man agreed, knowing of no way to refuse his friend.

Vega used the stone and his obdurate memory to carve perfect replicas of the mistress. He scattered the statues around his home and shop. When loneliness overtook him, he held the cold stone hands, caressed the hard cheek, and kissed the unmoving lips. As time passed, he began speaking to the statues, carrying on for hours. Customers attributed the erroneous behavior to his blindness and not to his heart – until Clover Darling entered his shop in search of wood flooring.

She saw Vega speaking to the beautiful statue and, having almost no sense of social etiquette, she joined the conversation, speaking to the stone mistress as if she were a close friend. The blind artist was overcome by an emotion he could not describe. He felt as if a veil had been lifted from his heart and some of the love he felt for the mistress spilled out onto Clover Darling. For a moment, he thought of the young girl as his daughter – the thought lasted only an instant, but he could not relinquish it. He smiled.

Clover went on to explain the construction she and Francis were doing on the house, but before she could finish, she let out a painful scream and fell to the floor. Sharp pains stabbed at her stomach and legs. She cried out again and the blind artist could smell blood. He called an ambulance and held Clover’s hand. He could feel a warm and sticky substance on her legs and the floor. She squeezed his arm and cried into his shoulder. She pleaded for him to get Francis, but when he called, the line wouldn’t respond.

The ambulance took them both to the hospital, Vega never once letting go of her hand. He spoke soothing words to her, wiping the sweat from her brow and the tears from her cheeks. At the hospital he tried calling Francis once more, but again the line wouldn’t respond. He called the police, instructing them to bring Francis Darling to the hospital immediately.

The doctors moved quickly and fought valiantly. The baby was a boy and with special care he would survive. Clover Darling, however, would not. The blind artist knew this when her hand failed to squeeze his. Her death was drawn-out and full of pain, but her happiness had never been greater. For exactly one minute and twenty-five seconds she stared affectionately at her son. After that, the breath left her lungs and the warmth left her skin. Leo Vega still never left her side or released her hand.

It would be seven and a half hours before the police found and brought Francis Darling to the hospital. He did not know of the events that had taken place, nor did he know of his son’s birth. His excitement filled his stomach with butterflies and made his hands shake. He brought with him a bouquet of flowers and a small stuffed animal. When the nurses directed him to the morgue, he was confused but continued onward. An orderly tried to explain, but Francis, struck by a sudden wave of fear, pushed open the doors. Clover was lying on a metal slab, the blind artist standing next to her. Francis did not want to move, but his feet and doubt pulled him forward. It was her.

He held her until his chest and arms were as cold as hers. The blind artist explained the events as best he could. Francis nodded wearily and left Clover to find his son. The blind artist followed.

Upon seeing the small baby, Francis could not distinguish his melancholy from his joy and cried as much from happiness as from sorrow. He named his son Leo Vega Darling in honor of the blind artist’s kindness and appointed him godfather.

The following years could not be described as easy. Francis Darling loved his son unimaginably, but the sight of the small baby would sometimes and uncontrollably bring him to tears. He would sob for hours as he rocked his small son to sleep. Francis stayed awake for days at a time, napping briefly on the floor in front of his son’s crib. The blind artist and Thomas Stearns, knowing of no way to comfort their friend, slept in turns at the run-down mansion.

Francis tried every way imaginable to obstruct the memories of his wife from reaching his heart, but he could not and spent the rest of his life with an unrelenting ache at the center of his chest. He became obsessed with repairing the mansion. He bought Vega’s lumber yard and three other shops, using almost ninety percent of their products for his own purposes. He spent months designing and constructing rooms only to demolish them the following week. He planted trees and shrubs in the front yard, but forgot to include a watering system so all plant life remained brown and on the brink of death. He avoided working on practical projects like the roof or the plumbing. In raining weather the roof leaked to such a degree there was not enough pots and pans to contain the water. The one toilet that worked half of the time soon worked none of the time and an outhouse had to be dug and erected in the backyard. It was in this environment young Leo Darling spent his childhood.

It was at the age of six that the tiny Leo Darling began attending school. He was the youngest in his class and also the smallest in size – his courage, however, was unmatched. More than once he defended his classmates from the third grade bully – each time resulting in a timeout and a handful of bruises. His grades were in the worst percentile and his teacher began to suspect the poor boy was suffering from a disability. The truth was, young Leo Darling excelled at nothing due, not to stupidity or aliment, but a chronic case of boredom. The daily challenges of his peers seemed trivial and pointless. His teacher, of course, disagreed. He was detained after class and during recess almost every day, being forced to work and rework tests and homework.

His teacher, Miss June Watts, a relatively young and attractive woman, not only cared for young Leo Darling’s education, but felt especially invested in the boy’s wellbeing. Her dedication came, not from a sense of pride or commitment, but from guilt. As a child, she dreamed of one day becoming a famous movie star. Her younger sister, however, had inherited more beauty and charm than June could ever hope to achieve through training – she was reminded of it every time her parents doted on her younger sister. June’s jealousy and anger manifested in cruel ways and always in the direction of her sister. April, sobbing and wailing, would discover all her dolls decapitated or her dresses torn to pieces or her crayons thrown out a window. She could not explain these horrible things, but she never once suspected her big sister. April would run to her, crying into her lap until their mother scooped her up and scolded June by sending her to bed without dinner.

April loved her sister to the point of absurdity. She followed her like a puppy dog and mimicked her in every way possible. The loving affection only upset June more. One afternoon she used her sister’s devotion in the worst way by convincing her to drink the chemicals hidden under the sink. The effects were immediate. April convulsed on the floor, her eyes looking empty and away. June stood horrified that her sister so eagerly drank the poison. She was immediately afraid of being caught. Her arms shook and her knees felt weak. She took a ball and box of chalk, walking to her friend’s house, ready to deny everything.

Her mother returned home to find April unconscious and sweating profusely. She wrapped the little girl in a blanket and drove to the hospital. The fever worsened, lasting three days. On the fourth day, April awoke, and though her reactions were sluggish and sometimes inaccurate, she was responsive. The doctor explained how the pressure and poison had damaged her brain. The injury was irreparable and would have lasting effects – her reasoning and reflexes would be slower and only capable of simple activities. June felt a terrible knot twist in her chest. She wanted her parents to punish her, but they never once accused her or looked at her unlovingly.

June became increasingly protective of her sister, though she never had the strength to look her in the eyes. April entered high school, keeping her relatively happy and somewhat slow demeanor. Some of her beauty had faded and the medication caused her to gain weight, making it clear which sister was prettier. Watching her little sister’s splendor wane only made June feel worse. As the year went on, April developed a crush on the JV quarterback, hoping, with excited whispers, that he might take her to the homecoming dance.

June privately pleaded with him to take April and when he refused, she made him an offer. One evening with April would mean one night with June. He smiled, buying the tickets before school was out.

At the dance he was the epitome of gentlemanly romance, his arm resting sincerely around her waist, displaying her as the most envied of prizes. His friends of course knew that it was not April he was parading, but instead the promises of June. April was none the wiser and in fact, happier than she had ever been.

When the dance was over, the JV quarterback safely returned April to her parents, and then met June at a hotel. They silently undressed and slid under the sheets. He rolled on top of her, awkwardly and quickly. It was over before June could spread her legs. She could feel the rapid and hard thump of his heart against her chest. He stayed on top of her, too embarrassed to look at her face or move. She remained frozen, uncertain if he was done or had yet to get started. After two hours she pushed herself out from under him and put on her clothes, leaving in the dark just before midnight.

The next day, out of embarrassment and wounded pride, the JV quarterback bragged to as many people as he could find – the reason for his temporary deafness, he would explain, was because June had been moaning in his ear all night while they were having sex. The rumors spread quickly, reaching April before lunch. She was humiliated and cried so hard her whole body shook. As she sat in a stall of the bathroom, tears staining her shirt and cheeks, she made a sudden realization, connecting all the traumatic moments of her childhood – her secret tormentor had, and never ceased to be, her sister. She was filled with anger and, in a rare and brief moment of lucidity, she planned her revenge.

She bought four cupcakes from the cafeteria and snuck home. She took the poisonous chemicals from under the sink, mixed them with frosting, and spread them on top of the cupcakes. She put them neatly on a plate with a note that read, “For June.” Then, she hurried back to school and did her best to act normal.

June, filled with guilt and shame, ditched her last class and came home to escape the pitiless snickers and probing glances. She saw the cupcakes and the note, which only made her feel worse. She took the note, crumpled it, and threw it in the garbage. She went to her room, shutting the curtains, turning off the lights, and pulling her headphones snugly over her ears, planning to stay there until the world ended.

When April returned home, she saw the cupcakes and became excited, for in her eagerness to act innocent and happy, she had, in fact, returned to her normal state of mind and her plan had become nothing more than a half-remembered dream. All that remained was a biting sense of resentment toward her big sister and so, in an ill-timed act of spitefulness, she decided to eat all the cupcakes without sharing even one.

Their mother returned home from work to find April on the kitchen floor, cold, stiff, and pale. June, calmly lying on her bed with her music turned up loud, could not hear the shrieks and howls erupting from her mother, nor could she hear the ambulance sirens or the crowd of neighbors that rushed into the house. The funeral was three days later. June stood in front of the coffin, but could not cry because there was nothing left inside her except for a heavy numbness.