The Year of the Great Seventh (19 page)

BOOK: The Year of the Great Seventh
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It was true that the obelisks had been of great importance in Egyptian mythology, but I couldn’t understand what the big deal was in modern times.

“Sophie, come over quick!” Mom’s voice resonated from the kitchen, making my heart skip a beat. Why was she shouting so alarmingly?

I closed the book and rushed to the living room. Mom and Dad bounced in front of the TV. The news anchor introduced the clip from the previous night’s premiere.

“Last night was the premiere for the highly anticipated movie,
Operation Calypso
. A star-studded red carpet kicked off the evening with all the A-listers of the moment. However, the premiere was overshadowed by a shocking turn of events. The producers held an after party for the cast at the Onyx Bar on Sunset Boulevard.”

An aerial shot of Sunset Boulevard appeared on the screen.

“Around 1:00 a.m., the party was interrupted by a series of explosions that are being investigated by the LAPD. As of now, the police are considering the possibility of a terrorist attack, though no group has claimed responsibility. Three people were badly injured, and twelve others were taken to hospital with minor injuries. None of the injuries are considered life-threatening.”

“Sophie, that’s where you were! Are you okay? What happened?” Mom said, terrified.

I couldn’t look away from the TV. The news anchor’s voice resonated in the back of my mind. A clip showed Megan and Alex arriving at the red carpet.

“Earlier in the evening, at the theater, the stars of the film, Alex Giordani and Megan Bennett, didn’t disappoint their fans. Their glamorous entrance caused such a stir that the LAPD had to intervene to control the crowd. Rumor has it that Alex and Megan are more than costars. When asked, they said, of course, they’re just friends.

“The producers of
Operation Calypso
say their thoughts are with the injured…”

I interrupted the television. “I’m as shocked as you are. I left before this happened.” My eyes were wide open.

“Have you spoken to your friends?” Mom said in panic.

“No, but they left right before I did,” I uttered absentmindedly. “Would you excuse me a moment?” I rushed up the stairs, leaving Mom and Dad staring stunned at the TV.

There were three people severely injured. What if one of those was Nate? I couldn’t live like this anymore. I had to know where he was.

I turned on my laptop and looked for Nate’s home phone number. He would have to forgive me for getting his parents involved. I knew he would understand. At least they could tell me whether he’d slept at home.

I inhaled, counted down to one, and told myself I could do this. Sitting on the bed, I grabbed the phone and dialed. It rang several times, but no answer.

When I was about to hang up, I heard, “Hello, Werner residence. Evelyn speaking.”

My heart was about to jump out of my chest. I didn’t know what to say, as I wasn’t expecting Nate’s mom at the other end of the line.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Nate’s mom repeated.

“Hi, Evelyn. This is Sophie, Nate’s friend,” I said, rushing through each word.

I paused, expecting her to say something, but she was waiting for me to speak. “Is he there? Can I speak with him?”

“He’s not available at the moment, but I’ll let him know you called. Thanks for call…”

“Wait! Wait!” I interrupted.

“Excuse me?” she said, seemingly offended by my tone.

I knew I had to tell her what happened if I wanted her to cooperate and help me find Nate. “I was with Nate last night. I left him behind at that bar where the attack—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ll have to wait and talk to him.” She cut me off as though she was talking to a telemarketer trying to sell her a magazine subscription.

I knew this conversation was going nowhere. I went straight to the point. “Did Nate sleep at home last night? It’s really important.”

“Uh, I don’t know… Uh… I don’t think so.” Nate’s mom’s voice quavered as a liar’s might.

“You need to find out where he is. Maybe something happened to him,” I demanded.

A heavy silence filled the line. Nate’s mom didn’t seem to like being questioned about her son’s whereabouts. “I don’t really have time to deal with this right now. I’m actually expecting a call. Can you just call his cell?” she asked unpleasantly.

I couldn’t believe Nate’s mom said she didn’t have time to deal with “this,” when she was referring to her son. We weren’t discussing the neighbor’s new affair, for God’s sake! I was telling her that her son had gone missing!

I’d never seen Nate’s mom, but I could clearly picture her in my mind. The typical Beverly Hills over-refined snob: blond, pearl necklace, one size too small two-piece Chanel suit, and a perpetually surprised look as a result of the excess of Botox.

At this point, I was delusional. I didn’t care what his mom thought about me. Her disrespect toward Nate brought the worst out of me. “Did Nate come home last night or not? I don’t have all day.”

“He didn’t come home, but I wouldn’t worry. He’s disappeared for weeks at a time before. He’s probably staying with a friend or something,” she calmly explained, trying to make it sound like I was overreacting.

“He’s not staying with any friends,” I repeated, raising my voice as if she had hearing problems. That was my only logical explanation for her passive attitude. “I’m telling you that he was at that bar where—”

“I really have to go. I’m actually more worried about who he has hurt this time.”

Each of those words felt like a stab in my heart. I couldn’t hold my anger anymore. I shouted, stressing each word. “What kind of mother doesn’t call the police if her son gets caught in the middle of a terrorist attack the night before and he’s been missing since? Are you out of your—”

A loud beep filled the line before I could finish the sentence.

Nate had apparently disappeared into thin air. I couldn’t hold it anymore. Something happened to him. He didn’t go home last night. Where was he? I threw myself on the bed and, burying my face in the pillow, I burst into tears.

The cruel way in which Nate’s parents ignored him was unspeakable. How could she be so selfish? This was her only son she was talking about. Now I understood Nate’s resentment when he spoke about his parents. They punished him with their indifference, as if his condition had been a lifestyle choice. The worst part of the story was that I suspected even Nate thought all of this was his own fault.

*

I spent most of the day in bed. I couldn’t gather the energy to get up. As more hours drifted by, the chances that Nate had made it out of that bar safely decreased.

I lay in bed trying to think of a way to find out what happened to him. I thought of calling all the hospitals, but that was a stupid idea. Nate was a minor, and if he’d been taken to the hospital, they would’ve called his parents.

I needed to calm down to get my thoughts straight, but my mind kept drifting away. The image of beautiful Nate invaded my mind. His almond-shaped eyes, his curling eyelashes, his wide back. The perpetual expression of self-reproach engraved in his face.

The only way of consoling myself was to think that no matter what happened, no one could ever take from me the memories of the moments I spent with him. That was the only thing I could hold on to.

All of the sudden, an image flooded my mind. I knew where Nate could be. I sprang to my feet and changed into the first thing I grabbed from the pile of clothes on the floor—a short floral dress and a cotton jacket. I quickly washed my face and brushed my hair.

Rushing down the stairs, I said, without really expecting an answer, “Mom! Can I borrow your car? I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“We’re going out for dinner. You need to be back before we—”

I stormed out of the house, leaving Mom with the next word still in her mouth.

I sped through West Hollywood. Until that day, I’d never known Mom’s car could reach up to seventy-five miles per hour. It was already 5:00 p.m. I had to hurry.

When I got to the entrance of the Getty, I decided to park the car in the staff parking lot. It was much closer to the tram station. There was no time to waste. I could see a tram was about to depart the station. Without time to even lock the door, I ran through the parking lot like a maniac and managed to catch the tram.

There was only one other woman in the same tramcar. She sat opposite me, reading a book. Closing my eyes, I prayed to God that I wasn’t too late. I thought I was going to collapse. My knees were shaking uncontrollably.

I kept talking to myself. “Please, Nate. Don’t do it! Don’t do it!”

I opened my eyes to check if we had arrived and realized I’d scared the woman with my erratic behavior. She was now sitting at the other end.

The tram finally approached the station at a really slow speed. They were aiming the tram doors at the exit passages. Were they planning to take all day? As soon as the doors opened I sprinted up the marble stairs into the entrance hall, my face red from the exercise.

“Mary, have you seen my friend? The one…,” I shouted, rushing past the information desk.

“He got here around an hour ago. We’re already closed.” She was getting used to me ignoring her instructions.

I couldn’t waste a minute. I ran down the service stairs as fast as my dress and my cowboy boots allowed me. Maybe a pair of sneakers would’ve been a more sensible choice for this occasion. I pushed the heavy service doors open in the basement corridor, one after the other, until I got to the south promontory garden service gate. Then I hesitated in front of the last door. I again felt like the victim of media brainwashing. It was as if I was the contestant in a TV show and was about to open the door that would reveal the prize. Behind, either a beautiful prize or a tremendous defeat. A voice spoke in my head.
Will this door reveal the car? Or will our contestant go home empty-handed? What’s it going to be, Sophie? All or nothing.

Wishing with all my heart this was the right choice, I pushed the gate open.

“Nate, please, don’t do it!” I shouted, running along the verge of the garden to the south promontory, ignoring that there was a fifty-foot drop on the other side.

Nate was standing right at the edge. He hadn’t turned after I shouted his name. He was going to do it.

“Nate, please!” I shouted again.

I came to a halt just a few yards behind him. All I could see was his back. I knew if I tried to get any closer, he was going to jump. He wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Nate, you need to listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. Things like that happen. You can’t blame yourself for everything that happens around you.” I begged.

I wasn’t sure if Nate was listening at all. His back was like a block of wood. There was not one sign my words were having any effect.

“You had no control over what happened. It’s not your fault, I promise. No one was really hurt,” I lied, rushing through each word.

Nate was still wearing the black suit pants and shirt from yesterday. The white shirt was now wrinkled and unbuttoned. It hung over his trousers. His hair was messy.

“I hurt innocent people,” he finally said without turning to look at me.

“But you didn’t. You didn’t do anything. You can’t blame yourself for what you didn’t do. That’s what you’ve been doing all your life. You’ve let your parents make you believe this is your fault.”

“I could’ve killed you.” He finally turned to look at me over his shoulder. The grimace on his face made my heart sink. His eyes were red and swollen.

“But you didn’t hurt me. It was my choice to be there,” I explained with a trembling voice.

He glanced back again, but this time he stared in panic at my bruised wrist. How could I be this stupid? Why did I let him see it?

He turned slightly away, staring down at the edge of the promontory. “Sophie, you don’t understand how close I was. What I did to you was nothing compared to what could’ve happened. When I lost it at the party, in the parking lot, last night… It’s never been like that before. It’s much stronger. I completely lost it. It’s only happened when I’ve been with you. Sophie, I don’t know how to say this, but when it takes hold, it’s not like I’m trying to protect you; it’s like my rage is directed at you.”

Shivers ran down my spine. He couldn’t be telling the truth. Why would his anger be directed at me?

“Please stop saying that,” I begged.

“I’m so sorry, but it’s the truth.” Nate lapsed into silence as he stared down at the L.A. skyline.

The moment I got a glimpse of Nate’s face, the thought of losing him turned me inside out. Even with his scruffy hair, he was too beautiful to lose. The sparkling city lights reflected into his piercing dark eyes. His jaw was strong and angular. The perfect angles of his face, his solid muscular body made me tremble.

He ran his fingers through his hair from the neck up, making his hair even wilder. “I don’t know how I made those tanks blow. I don’t understand what happened. I’m a freak. I don’t want to live like that.” Nate stepped slightly closer to the edge, his legs shaking. He was going to do it. He was going to jump.

This was the moment of truth. There would be no second chances. I had to be brave. “It was my necklace. Someone ripped the necklace off my neck. That’s what triggered your episode.”

Nate turned to face me. He was still right at the edge. I couldn’t blow it. I had to make him believe my words. I continued without wasting a second. “Do you remember the word I mentioned the last time you came to the Getty?
Ammateus
? Last night you said it again, and this time, I heard it clearly.

“Like the prophecy said. That word was used in Ancient Egypt to refer to some sort of night spirit. I did some more research and the sacred stone the prophecy refers to is called Syenite. The two obelisks were known as Cleopatra’s Needles and were placed in front of a temple called the Caesareum. For some reason, Cleopatra believed that two specific obelisks, made from Syenite, could protect her from Ammateus. She believed that the Syenite stone had divine powers.”

BOOK: The Year of the Great Seventh
7.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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