The Last Darling (7 page)

The marriage occurred five months later and was one of the largest social events of the year. The senator used it to announce his retirement and to endorse John as his replacement. With the senator’s money and John’s skill, the senate seat remained in the family.

John pursued the obligations of his career vehemently. He traveled through his districts often, making lasting friendships with the local business owners. He found ways of cutting costs without cutting jobs and he remained on good terms with the labor unions. He spent nearly a third of the year, regrettably, away from his wife. During that time, he never once thought about cheating. His wife, however, could not claim the same. Within the first six months of marriage she had already had fourteen sexual encounters with three different partners. After a year she was pregnant and, knowing the child was not her husband’s, she immediately bought a ticket to D.C. and abruptly had sex with him on the large wooden desk in his office. Almost a month later, full of surprise and excitement, she would tell him she was pregnant.

The ex-senator, keeping tabs on his son-in-law, was surprised to learn that John had remained loyal. He decided, for the betterment of everyone involved, John needed to sleep with someone other than his wife, and so the ex-senator hired a discreet and sophisticated call girl (from an agency he was already very familiar with) to seduce his daughter’s husband.

The call girl, disguised as a reporter, found John, alone, in his hotel room. She began the encounter by asking legitimate questions and presenting problems which she had been pondering as a constituent for some time. John answered her questions completely and without reservations. She was compelled by his candidness and genuine interest in her opinion. When she kissed him and tried to reach her hand down his pants, he gently held her back and calmly explained that he was married and very much in love with his wife. She slid down her dress, revealing her black thong and naked breasts. She smiled and stepped closer to him. He shook his head and put his hand up to stop her. She pressed it against her breast. It was warm and he could feel her heart beat. He pulled his hand away, his eyes sad, and his jaw clenched. He picked up her dress and gave it to her. Again, and calmly, he explained how much he loved his wife and how he would never do anything to hurt her. Then he offered to call and pay for a taxi because she needed to leave. The call girl’s heart was pierced by his loyalty and kindness. She began to cry because she could not imagine a man loving her with such respect and devotion. She put her dress on and apologized. The mascara ran down her cheeks and got on her fingers as she tried to hide her face. She felt like he was the last and only good man she would ever meet. She told him the truth about his father-in-law and his wife, and what they wanted her to do.

He returned home two days early, and secretly. He discovered his wife in their marriage bed with another man. He collapsed, his heart giving out. The doctors said it was a mild heart attack, but none of the damage would be permanent with a proper diet, exercise, and relaxation.

The next day he confronted his wife about the affair. She openly admitted to everything and accused him of cheating just as much as her. He denied it, but she wouldn’t believe him. He went back to work because there was nothing else he could do. She continued to have affairs and he became very sad. He took some of his son’s hair and had a DNA test done. The results remained in a manila envelope, unopened. He slept in a separate bedroom and on sleepless nights he would stare at the envelope and wonder about its contents.

It was an election year and some rumors were beginning to spread about his crumbling marriage, almost all of them implicating him as the offending party. Either way, a scandal would ruin his career. He didn’t care until a tabloid threatened to publish a DNA test they had underhandedly acquired.

John, using a political technique he learned from his father-in-law, created a sensational problem where none existed and then secretly helped the media discover it. The problem was immigration, specifically Leo Vega. With a heated political subject the press would forget the unsubstantiated rumors of his personal life and focus on the fabricated, but very important issues of illegal immigration.

John had no intention of hurting anyone and, once re-elected, planned to redact any life-changing policies he claimed were necessary. He, unfortunately, would not get the chance.

When the media discovered Leo Vega’s true identity, they immediately fell in love with his story and his art. They pronounced him to be one of the greatest artists of the age and wanted desperately to keep him in America. The resentment toward John was unanimous. He lost the election by a landslide and, shortly after, his family troubles became public. The DNA test proved his son was not actually his son and the world knew it. He was devastated and divorced his wife. He would eventually move to California to work in the private sector as a personnel manager for a tech company. He would go on to have a series of relationships, some serious, but none lasting. He would not marry a second time, nor would he have children. When he had acquired enough money, he would buy one of Vega’s sculptures, setting it on the dining room table for all of his guests to see. He would die relatively happy, successful, and only somewhat alone. In his Will, he would leave the sculpture to the boy who, for a brief time, was his son.

The blind artist and Leo Darling would never learn of these events, nor would they see each other again in this life, for the new senator, keeping his promise, had the blind artist deported.

Leo Vega would return to Mexico both famous and rich. Demand for his art would be high and its value would quadruple and continue to increase. He would spend most of his fortune searching for Leo Darling in the hopes of bringing him to Mexico, but neither he, nor his money, would find him.

Leo Darling, waking in the hospital with a guard outside his door, realized something was terribly wrong. His stubborn and combative temper overtook him. He hit the guard with a bedpan and fled the hospital, returning home to gather a few of his belongings. When he entered, he saw a framed photograph on the counter. Next to the frame was a note that read:
To my son, who I love very much. Happy Birthday
.

The photograph was of Francis and Clover standing outside a cabin. Clover was pregnant and smiling. Leo Darling felt a sudden joy having, for the first time, seen an image of his mother. He took the photograph and placed it in his bag, as well as a second set of clothes and a little bit of food. He left the city without saying goodbye to anyone, not even the blind artist, who he wouldn’t have been able to find anyway.

He walked for a full day, never once looking back. When night came, he curled under a tree next to the highway. His body shook from the cold air and his stomach growled. His stubbornness helped him to suppress these things and he slept for a few hours before being shaken awake. The hand shaking him belonged to a young woman. She was worried and scared. She saw Leo Darling’s body as she drove past and, thinking he was dead or convulsing uncontrollable, she turned her car around to help him. As a young child she was instilled with the idea that helping someone, no matter the circumstances, was always the right thing to do. At the age of five she had given her life over to Christ and, with the encouragement of her family, she had adopted all of his teachings with incredible fidelity. She was twenty-five and, of all the Bible’s commandments, she had broken only one.

During her first year of college she had earned a reputation for being the designated driver since she refused to drink alcohol, and it was not unusual for strangers to call her late at night for a ride. The calls sometimes aggravated her, but she always agreed to help. Late one night she received a call and drove to a party looking for its owner. Normally, the drunken person, or persons, would be waiting in the front yard, stumbling or vomiting with amusement and a weary grin. On this particular evening, she had to exit her car and walk into the house. The party was still crowded and loud. She went room to room looking for the caller. While in an upstairs bedroom, two drunken men entered and blocked her exit. She tried to explain her purpose and, if possible, get their assistance. They laughed and pushed her onto the bed. She tried to get up, but they pushed her back down. One of the men pulled down his pants and underwear, revealing himself. Her face turned red and she looked away, which only made the men laugh louder. One man held her while the other penetrated her, convinced that she wanted it immediately and rough. She was, at first, too confused and disoriented to cry or even move. When it was over, she picked up her panties, calmly walked to her car, and left.

She would not cry about the event until two months later when she knew, for certain, that she was pregnant. She hadn’t, nor would she ever, tell her parents of the event. She could barely even mention it to God in her prayers.

She couldn’t stand the thought of having the child because she knew looking on it would remind her of the event and so, secretly and sadly, she went to a clinic and had it removed. Her guilt was overwhelming. Her parents saw a change in her, but they could not find its source. She left the church and her home, certain that God could not love her for what she had done.

She traveled across America, working menial jobs, leaving each city after only a few months had passed. Her loyalty to Christ never wavered and she continued to help people, even when it threatened her own wellbeing.

She didn’t think of heaven or prayer because she felt she was not good enough for either. Her spirit was strong, but had grown quiet over the years, and she spoke very little, if at all. After Leo Darling awoke, she took a blanket from her car, wrapped it around him, and kneeled down next to him while the warmth returned to his fingers and arms.

She walked to her car, waiting for him to follow her and get in. She set the heater to the highest setting and started driving. She didn’t speak, and if she had, he wouldn’t have heard for the motion of the car soothed him back to sleep.

He awoke a second time from her touch. It was late afternoon. She motioned for him to wait while she entered a building across the street. He didn’t know how long she had been driving or what path she had taken, but he found himself surrounded by old brick buildings and large skyscrapers. He had never seen such architecture except in books and, he was so mesmerized by their enormity and design, he left the car and began exploring the city. He did not realize his one item of food, a container of peanut butter, had fallen from his bag, for if he had, he most certainly would have reclaimed it. He wouldn’t notice its absence until many hours later when his hunger superseded his wonderment.

The woman would return to her car disappointed to discover the man gone, and surprised to find a container of peanut butter in his place. Upon seeing it, she would begin to cry uncontrollably, for during her pregnancy, the first and only food she craved was peanut butter, and since then, she had refused to eat it because of the memories it conjured. She would once again, and for the last time, think of the event and the child that never was. She would be so wrought with pain that suicide fastened itself to her heart. She would find an empty road, accelerate her car over 70mph until it collided with a tree. If her seatbelt had been working properly, she would have died painfully and slowly from the fire and smoke that consumed the vehicle; however, a small latch would snap in such a way that her body would be thrown through the windshield into a patch of brush and bushes. She would endure two cracked ribs, a broken arm, cuts, bruises, and a severe concussion, but she would survive. The doctors would restore her body in almost every way except for one. They would explain how the brain was a very complex organ and did not always adhere to a sensible and consistent set of rules. This would not explain or cure her amnesia, nor would it trouble her, for she would awaken with a sense of relief and joy that she could not explain. Her breathing would be difficult and her body would ache. It would be months before she would walk again on her own, but she felt happy. She would go on to marry a good man and have three children, living well and never once recognizing or remembering the details of her past.

Leo Darling would never learn of these events, nor would he think much about the woman, except to remember her kindness and the loss of his peanut butter.

The sky was dark when his stomach overtook his curiosity. He found a small restaurant, ordering a turkey sandwich and a glass of water. His wallet felt light and he knew he had enough cash to last only three days. Before worry could trouble his thoughts, his eyes captured the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was tall and thin with long black hair and tattoos covering her arms. He took what was left of his sandwich and followed her out the door and down the street. She walked for nearly two blocks then entered a tattoo parlor.

Leo Darling gazed at the drawings displayed in the front window. He took time to examine every one. He had never thought of a human body as a canvas, nor had he thought of a needle as a brush, but he was at once fascinated by the medium of a living body. He could see the woman through the window and his hand, reacting of its own accord, took a marker from his bag and began drawing her form on the window-glass of the door. He was so quick and skilled; he had finished half the drawing before anyone inside had noticed. He drew her naked and in a natural pose just as the blind artist had taught him. He added a few quick lines for shading before two stout and muscular employees grabbed him and threw him from the door. His elbow and cheek caught the cement and bled, but he didn’t feel any pain for his heart was preoccupied with the woman that he knew would be his wife. He looked past the two grim and grumpy faces that blocked his path, hoping to get just a glimpse of the woman’s reaction, but he could not see her. He sat down in the alley beside the shop, fearing that if he left, he might never find it or her again. He stayed there the whole night, warmed only by the fire in his heart and the thought of her in his mind. He could not know that his spontaneous act of affection had caused her to hide in fear, nor could he know the causes of her retreat.