Chapter Eight: A Key Into the Past
Christian took me to his favorite Mexican restaurant for some take out for our dinner, which just so happened to be back down the street and around the corner from Parsons Gardens in Queen Anne. I had the best tacos in the world, yet I was relieved for the drive home, for Christian said he had to get me back early, because he was going to be busy planning another date for the following night. It was just what I needed, dating, at a time when the rest of my life was shattered in a thousand pieces, and yet it was comforting all the same, for Christian knew just what was going on, and how to handle things in an appropriate manner.
Christian kissed me goodnight affectionately and I headed back inside. I found I felt slightly sad without him, but nevertheless went to the living room after finding a note from my parents telling me that they'd be out late again. Theo joined me about a quarter of an hour after I got back, Tess much preferring his lap to mine. We turned on another animated show we adored, American Dad, finding humor in the lead character, Stan Smith's, forgetting his and his wife, Francine's, anniversary after a grand total of twenty years of marriage.
"Big date tomorrow?" Theo asked during a commercial.
"Apparently," I replied with a smile. "We just got Mexican tonight…and Christian took me to his secret place…"
Theo raised his eyebrows. "Took you to his apartment already?"
I lean over to smack his arm. "No! It was a garden."
Theo laughed at the notion of our evening together. "No wonder he won't commit and you won't do the deed," he chuckles.
My eyebrows knit together at that. "Tread very carefully as you attempt to tell me what you are really talking about," I tell him slowly.
"Christian probably wanted to tell you gently tonight," he says, pretending to be fully absorbed in Tess as he scratches her beneath her chin. "He probably wanted to let you know that you aren't his type and that he's gay."
I laugh aloud at that. "Theo, you know I'm as okay with gay people and with gay rights as you are, but come the hell on." I stretch out my legs and place them on the table, and deliberately don't look at him for the next tidbit of information I'm about to tell him. "As a matter of fact, he and I have already set a day."
Theo gasps in such a surprising noise of shock that it scares Tess, prompting her to run for cover in the kitchen. "What?!"
"The day has been set."
"Surely you're not going to…?!"
"Not going to…? What?"
"You're not going to marry the guy, are you?!"
I attempt to keep a straight face at the notion of marrying Christian. "Not marriage. That," I say, stressing doubly on the word.
"That…? Oh…" Theo raises his eyebrows knowingly.
I nod. "Yep. This Sunday."
"Ana, I really don't think…"
My gaze stops him. "We're both over twenty-one, and I am adhering to the five date rule," I say firmly to my twin. "Kate wrote an article al about it."
"They do have internet in New York, Ana."
I purse my lips. "Point taken," I reply. "The tea party will count as date number five. Tonight was date number three, and tomorrow date number four."
"So I take it Friday is time off for good behavior?" Theo asks.
I shake my head. "No. He'll probably have something planned for that night, too," I reply with a small shrug.
Theo shakes his head. "Just be careful."
"Why?" I ask. "He's no Ethan."
Theo grips the fabric of the couch cushion. "He'd better not be," he growls back. "I wouldn't want to personally pummel your new boyfriend."
I rolled my eyes at him and his protectiveness. "We haven't been proclaimed as boyfriend and girlfriend yet," I remind him.
"Well, he'd better proclaim you, and soon," he tells me as Tess sneaks back from the kitchen and returns to his lap. "Seriously. We're not in high school anymore, Ana. If you just say 'that guy I'm sleeping with' at functions, people are going to give you dirty looks. It's kind of frowned upon in professional society in this day and age."
I raise my eyebrows at the meaning behind it all. "Somebody sounds like they're speaking from some form of experience. What? Did someone get too hopped up on cocktails at some bar in Brooklyn and accidentally take home a man?"
"It was New York, New York, Ana," my twin replied, crossing his arms. "And I thought we discussed it as a one-time thing?" he growled.
"One-night stand thing?" I ask, giggling.
Theo sighed at me. "Just…behave," he says, getting to his feet, depositing Tess in my lap, and walking out.
. . .
I go upstairs about half an hour later and answer a few concerned emails for parents, to which I explain that I'm away for the week for my health and personal reasons, but I will return the following Monday. Thankful to Annette for sending over some daily reports of all the children, I make a note to send her a luxury or gourmet gift basket of some kind. I remember that she likes music, cheese, and crackers, and put a note in my planner to remember to Google some halfway- decent companies.
I shut off my computer at around eleven-thirty that evening, turning off my light and lying there in the darkness. I pick up my phone, smiling at a text from Christian, reporting that everything for the following night is ready. I reply, asking him what I should wear, and he tells me whatever I want is fine, which I am relieved and slightly worried about. Wondering what it could possibly be, I text him goodnight and fall asleep.
I awake the following morning around ten and get up out of bed, wrapping myself in my bathrobe and slippers and heading downstairs. Theo had texted me that he and Kate were going for a run and then breakfast, so I don't expect them back for a while. Mom had a wedding in Woodinville that day, so she'd left to finish the final preparations. I find Dad in his office just finishing a phone call when I step in.
"I'm glad that you're following through on your medication, Mrs. Jacobson," my father says to Colleen Jacobson, a kindly elderly woman in the neighborhood. "Yes, have your caretaker fill it if it's going well, without the negative side effects. All right, I'll see you next week for your in-home appointment. Oh, now, Mrs. Jacobson, you don't have to give me anything out of the ordinary. A glass of water or a cup of coffee will suffice just fine. Yes, I love your shortbread cookies, but I won't insist on them. Or your cherry pie, Mrs. Jacobson. I come to see you because it's my job. Of course I enjoy our conversations. All right, I suppose the shortbread cookies, but only if you insist on it. All right, see you next Thursday. Goodbye." He looks up at me and smiles as he hangs up the phone. "Hey, Annie."
"Hey, Dad," I say, kissing his forehead and perching on the edge of his desk. "I'm going out with Christian again tonight."
He smiles, and I could see then that he approved. "He seems like a wonderful young man—a nice breath of fresh air, just what you need."
"He is. He's excited for the informal family meeting on Sunday."
He nods at that, and I know he hasn't forgotten. "And we're just going to that because his mother and sister admire your mother, not because you're fully prepared for the whole family units to converge on one another?" he asks.
I nod; he doesn't need to know the rest of it—he was my dad, after all. "Of course. Tonight is only our fourth date."
"You think it'll turn into anything?"
I shrug. "Who can say?"
"Are you falling in love with him?" he asks.
I chuckle slightly. "Dad…"
"Sorry, I don't mean to overstep," he says, getting to his feet and walking towards me with a smile, resting his hands briefly on my shoulders. "I just find myself remembering when you were a little girl. It all seems like it was all just yesterday…"
I smile up at him. "I understand."
"Good." He leans down and kisses my forehead. "I'm heading up to Shoreline to see Charlotte Beeker and then to Everett to see Kyle Townsend. I guess I'll see you when I come back, unless another patient calls."
I nod. "Sounds good," I reply. "Annette is coming by around three to drop off some reading tests from the kids. Then I have to get ready to go out with Christian, so I'll be here until around six-thirty."
My father smiles, kissing me on the forehead again before putting his bag together. I follow him to the kitchen where he goes into the fridge to retrieve the sandwich that my mother made for him, which he puts into a paper bag. He fills his thermos with iced tea and puts a cookie in there as well, and rolls his eyes in a sarcastic manner when I put celery sticks and a bit of peanut butter inside his lunch bag as well. He blows me a final kiss as he heads to the garage to take off to go to work.
I go upstairs to jump in the shower. I allow the hot water to cover me completely, savoring the pressure on my neck, shoulders, and back. I check the time after I get out, and my clock announces it as eleven-thirty. I put on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt with the heartthrob Robert Downey, Jr. on it, not caring about his conservative face on my front. I get onto my laptop and answer a few more emails, and giggle at the text from Christian that morning, which informs me to be ready at six-thirty sharp.
I find myself mulling over his text message and it is then that I feel it is his turn to squirm in this relationship, and decide to do it as best I can. I ask him if I should wear something naughty under my outfit that evening to deliberately torment him, to which he replies that, if I misbehave, he will take me in the back of his car. I tell him that I understand and will make sure that my outfit is strictly PG-13 for the evening and not NC-17. He thanks me, although I know that he'd wish I could be R-rated, and I wished we could reach a compromise to that effect.
I shut my eyes and find that I am dozing, and it's not until two-thirty that I hear a powerful knock on my door. Opening my eyes and straightening immediately, I tell whoever it is that they can come in. Looking up, I see Theo, who in turn looks around my room, almost as if he's wondering if I'm keeping Christian hidden.
"He's not here," I reply, getting off the bed and stretching. "Back from your date with Kate already?"
"It's been almost five hours," Theo replies, slightly evasive when it comes down to things like that. "Anyhow, Annette's downstairs waiting for you."
"You've met Annette?" I ask, dashing to the bathroom and hastily brushing my teeth. "She's cool, right?"
"Yeah, she's a real sweetheart if I've ever seen one," my brother replies, rolling my eyes as I hastily pull my brush through my hair. "She said something about an appointment she has in like an hour, so…"
"Okay, calm down, Mr. Fussy-Britches. I'm coming." I switch off the light in my bathroom and gently push Theo from my bedroom in the direction of his own bedroom. I pull my own door shut and walk along the hallway and down the stairs, towards the living room where I see Annette with Tess in her lap. "Hey," I say, smiling as she gently puts Tess aside, gets to her feet and hugs me.
"My girlfriend loves cats," Annette says brightly.
"Your girlfriend...? Oh!" I say, smiling at her as I pull back. "I see."
She looks slightly unsure. "That's not a problem, is it?"
Immediately, I shake my head at her question with a smile. "Of course not, Annette! Not a problem whatsoever."
"Well, you will not believe how worried I've been," she says, sitting back down on the couch and making sure I'm comfortable as I sit down beside her. "That night, I was just minding my own business when Dean Rodriguez suddenly called and said that I was taking your place for a week…"
I smile and take one of her ebony hands in comfort, the alabaster contrast of my hands looking incredible next to her dark ones. "I'm sorry, Annette, really. I know I probably should have spoken to you directly, but Dean Rodriguez said he'd handle everything for your teaching the class."
She sighs. "I know. I understand, Ana, really. What I don't understand is the explanation given for your absence. I mean—health reasons? Please. I've seen you come to school more than once with a cold, not to mention the flu. Plus, you only went to the hospital afterwards because you didn't want to infect the kids. You never get sick, girl, even I know that," she says, shaking her head. "Please, Ana, as your friend—we are friends, aren't we?—I think I have a right to know what's really going on here."
I sigh. "I was sexually assaulted, Annette," I reply.
One of Annette's hands flies to her mouth in shock, her eyes instantly filling with sympathy for me. "What?!" she cries. "Oh, my god, Ana...! What...?"
I nod. "It was last Friday, after work," I say softly. "I left early so that you could do the last lesson, going to Barnes & Noble at the mall to pick up something for Theo's welcome home party," I said quietly.
"You were so excited about that..."
I nodded at her. "I know. I was—really excited," I reply. "After Barnes & Noble, I went back to the condo I share with Kate, where I showered and changed, and then Kate and I went to her brother's restaurant, The Electric Violin, for dinner. We met Theo there, and Ethan, and Kate's older sister, Gia, and her fiancé, Scott... You know how I've mentioned that Ethan tended to put himself closer to me?"
Annette nods at that, recalling everything. "Yeah. I remember you told me about the Christmas party when you were eighteen and he tried to kiss you under the mistletoe. And then when you were twenty-one on New Year's he kissed you at midnight, before he began to drunkenly feel you up..."
"He was drunk both times," I add quietly, for clarification purposes. "Anyhow, Kate and Theo went home together, which was a problem because Kate had driven us to the celebration," I tell her quietly. "I was annoyed because Ethan had kissed me again on the dance floor, and I went to the back to get a drink of water before finding Kate—who I thought was still there—and asking her if we could go home. However, Ethan followed me back there, and…"
"You don't have to tell me," Annette replies, not unkindly, but for my sake of comfort in the situation.
I sigh. "No, it's okay, really." I take another deep breath then, not wanting to alarm her, but also wanting to calm myself. "Ethan then proceeded to promptly slam me up against the wall and then he…fondled me…and kissed me… and then he covered my mouth so I wouldn't scream and that's when he…assaulted me," I say softly, indicating with a hovering hand what had been done to me.
"You proved it, right?" she asks, her voice firm, knowing that sufficient evidence was due in this situation.
I sighed, knowing just how right she was. "Well, I went to the doctor the next day and she examined me. She's been my doctor for about five years now so it wasn't a big deal. She found that my tissue was torn away and…"
"What?"
I shiver outwardly at her question; I'd never had to discuss this so openly before, but I knew I would have to do so later, so… "One of Ethan's fingernails was found inside me. Kate grudgingly gave a DNA sample the other day, so we'll find out maybe today or tomorrow if there's a common factor…"
Annette sighs. "We don't have to talk about it anymore."
I nod. "Thank you."
"So, the literature tests went well, I think," Annette says, pulling out a stack of papers from her purse and handing them over to me. "The kids seemed confident about the whole thing, and, from my brief skimming of all the answers they gave, more than seventy-five percent of the class will pass."
"Wonderful," I say, clapping my hands. I skim over the grades and responses given by the students and, satisfied, hand them back to her.
"And," Annette says, reaching into her bag and drawing out a massive piece of butcher paper with wonderful things—sparkles, sequins, googly eyes, feathers, stickers, pipe cleaners, tissue paper, and many other childhood art supplies used in a classroom—stared back at me. In the children's definition of the middle, the drawing said, "Come back and get well soon, Miss Steele" all done up in neon-colored paint, so that it looked like one of those big show marquees on Broadway in New York. It brought tears to my eyes and I shook my head, hardly believing that this beautiful thing was for me.
"I don't know what to say," I whisper.
"Just as you always tell the kids to say," Annette replies. "Just say thank you, and I'll tell them for you."
I smile. "Please, tell them for me," I reply, taking the drawing carefully from her and setting it down on the coffee table to admire it. "Please, thank them all for me."
. . .
I said goodbye to Annette and found a text from my father, saying he'd gone to Woodinville with Mom to check out some wineries for an upcoming event she had to take care of—another wedding. I told him that I had some paperwork to do, and asked if I could use his office. He replied that he didn't mind, so I took my laptop and hooked it up to the plug-in station and spread out my copies of the literature papers in front of me, as well as a copy of Charlotte's Web to adhere to for notes at any time.
My phone also charged beside me, and would buzz periodically with a note or two from none other than Christian, who quickly informed me that he was getting restless for the evening ahead, and I knew precisely what he wanted, but we'd agreed to wait, and I couldn't thank him enough for his agreement. I told him to have patience, and that Sunday would come eventually. I worked for another hour and forty-five minutes on my grading, and even managed to go through almost all the papers, with another dozen or so to go. At five-forty-five, I forced myself to stop my progress so as I could ready myself for that evening.
I washed my hair this time in the shower, and did a quick once over on my body, just to make sure I was clean enough for the evening ahead. I was ever thankful that the bruises were almost all completely yellow now, and crossed my fingers that they would all be obliterated completely by Sunday. Something told me that Christian probably wouldn't be able to make love to me if they remained.
I blow dried my hair and put my curlers in it so by the time twenty minutes were up, it would be in dazzling, thick loops around my face, past my shoulders, and down my back. I stepped back into my bedroom and opened up my wardrobe, surveying the various pieces of clothing I could wear that night. I chose a black dress, knee-length, with an oval bodice with long, bell-shaped sleeves that came down to my wrists. I did the horrible process of putting on black pantyhose and some suitable black heels, which were patent leather as opposed to the matte ones I'd worn in my meetings with Elena, and then wriggled into the dress as Theo tapped on my door.
"Come in," I said, and he opened the door.
"You look pretty," he replied.
I laughed. "I have hair curlers in my hair," I replied with a smirk, turning around. "Could you zip me up, please?"
"No problem," he replies, stepping forward and zipping up the back of my dress and turning me around. "You and Christian, you're not...?"
I shake my head. "Not tonight."
He nods. "Okay…"
I check my phone which says it's almost six-fifteen, and bit my lip in anticipation. "Oh…"
"What?" he asked.
"I don't have much longer…"
"When is he coming to get you?"
"Fifteen minutes, if he's on time," I reply.
"Do you and Christian have plans to…?"
I smirked at him, allowing a giggle to escape my lips. "I don't know if you really want to be privy to that information," I reply coyly, returning to the bathroom and carefully removing my hair curlers. My hair falls in perfect, thick curls down my back, and I smile to myself. I brush my teeth again and then go into a top drawer in the bathroom sinks' counter before grabbing my makeup bag. Lipstick, blush, mascara, eye shadow… I apply all of them in stages so as not to mess up the rhythm.
"It's really going to happen on Sunday, isn't it?" he asks.
I raise my eyebrows. "How did you know?"
Theo points to the side of his forehead with his right index finger and then points it out into the world. "I heard you," he replies, lowering his right hand, yet another thing that doesn't make us completely identical.
I roll my eyes, puckering my lips in the mirror. I step out of the bathroom, switching off the light and walking back towards my bed. I check out my shoes again, and decide to keep them on, and look at my phone. It is almost six-thirty, and I know that Christian will be here any moment. I unplug my cell phone and slip it into one of my small, black, evening purses. I turn to Theo, who playfully rolls his eyes back at me and offers me a black wrap, which had been draped upon my bedroom chair, before taking my arm as I switch off the light. He walks me down the stairs and raises his eyebrows as the doorbell rings.
He gently lowers my arm before going to open it, so when Christian steps in, I am hesitating by the base of the stairs. He shakes Christian's hand and claps him on the shoulder, to which Christian does the same. Christian turns to look at me, his eyes widening before he steps forward and kisses my cheek. Taking my arm, he turns to Theo.
"I solemnly swear not to have her back too late."
"See that you don't," Theo replies, shutting the door behind us.
"Tomorrow, I don't have to go into the office," Christian tells me, and I feel myself responding to him automatically. "That way, we'll have more time. Tonight will be a low-key affair, while tomorrow will be the night that I strive to impress you."
I smile at him. "You've already impressed me," I reply as he lets me into his car. I buckle myself in and wait for him to go around and let himself in. I am surprised when he doesn't drive south, towards Downtown, and instead goes north, where we find ourselves on Aurora Avenue briefly, before going towards the 5 freeway.
We chat about my meeting with Annette that day, and I tell him about the pretty piece of art that the class made for me. He is amused and then tells me that he and Elena got in touch with the footage company, but unfortunately the servers were wiped clean. He then tells me that the DNA analysis came in, and hands over an official manila envelope to me.
Even though I know what the results will be, I quickly rip it open. My eyes go over the pages, when suddenly I stop. It reads that, while Kate's and Ethan's DNA is undoubtedly similar, that there were only a few similar cells within it. I drop the analysis on my lap, shaking my head in utter shock and disbelief at the findings. Seeing my distress, Christian pulls off from Banner Way and speeds ahead, pulling over and parking. He takes the paperwork from me and reads it as thoroughly as I did, shaking his head.
"I've seen this before," he tells me.
"What does it mean?" I ask.
Christian hesitates for a moment before speaking. "Looks to me that Kate and Ethan were only half-siblings," he replies, shaking his head at the information provided. He digs deeper, reading over some official notes from the physician, and nods to himself. "Ethan, according to this, was Gwendolyn's son, but he was not Eamon's son. Says here that they bear similar maternal signs of DNA but paternal is completely different."
"Eamon remarried after he and Gwendolyn got divorced," I reply. "Eamon married a woman called Catherine and they moved to Colorado, after he finished his work for that French company he'd been working for, before Kate came to live with us..."
"Did he have children with Catherine?" Christian asks.
I nodded. "Last I heard, they had triplet daughters, Elizabeth, Mary, and Anne…"
"Didn't you tell me that Gwendolyn got remarried?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yes, she did. She's since passed away, of course, but she lived in Virginia. Her two sons, Benjamin and Edward, still live there…"
Christian grins at me, remaining silent for a moment, almost as if he is attempting to grasp at his thoughts. "Eureka!" he cries, throwing the analysis papers up in the air in a moment of joy. "Do you know what this means?!"
I nodded then, hardly believing it, had I not seen such a thing for myself. "Of course I get it, Christian, of course! It means that biologically Eamon doesn't have the proper chromosomes to make boy children! He's had five girls, and not one sign of a boy!"
"Too bad we can't show this on Maury," Christian says, chuckling as he shakes his head. "The man hates it when the husband or boyfriend or whatever admits to being unable to making boy children…"
I laugh at the reference and shake my head. "I don't think Ethan knows," I tell him. "Eamon always acted like Ethan was his child. I don't think Ethan would continue to act so happy around him, and call him 'Dad'…"
"What year was Ethan born?" Christian asks.
I blink, trying to remember. "1986," I reply.
Christian shakes his head at me then before pulling out a second manila envelope from his glove compartment and promptly hands it over to me. "I had one of my guys investigate Ethan," he replies as I open it. "Not only has he stolen money from his own company, but he's actually born in 1985."
I shake my head at him then. "But that's...impossible. That's the year before Gwendolyn and Eamon were married," I say. "They always said they were so happy with their little family; they had monograms all up around the house. Ethan first in 1986. Then Gia in 1988, and then Kate in 1989. I don't…"
"It seems as though Ethan was the product of an affair," he says quietly. "I wasn't allowed the information, because, as my guy told me, it was a man in a high position of power, and the information, if ever revealed to the public eye, could be catastrophic."
"Well, respecting people's privacy is important," I reply. Suddenly, it hits me, and I myself throw the papers in front of me in the air. "Eureka!" I cry out, turning to Christian, my eyes widening with a new understanding. "Ethan knew! He knew the whole time!"
Christian looks shocked. "How do you figure?" he asks.
I grin at him. "Think about what happened with Soph."
Christian considers it. "You don't think that Gwendolyn…?"
"Was raped? I'd bet on it," I replied, nodding. "Gwendolyn was a strict Catholic, and firmly instilled in her children not to have sex before marriage. She would never have had sex with anyone, even if she was in love with them, before getting married."
"But the divorce," Christian said, confused.
I nodded. "Eamon filed," I said, clicking my tongue with disdain for my best friend's father, who had essentially abandoned the family.
Christian raised his eyebrows. "Eamon filed?"
I grinned. "Precisely. Eamon filed after he started an affair with his secretary, Catherine, who went with him to France."
Christian rolled his eyes. "Typical playboy wanting the homewrecker..."
I scoffed. "Damn right. Eamon and Catherine moved away, to France before ultimately settling in Chicago, Gwendolyn was devastated, left alone, and given custody of the kids. Ethan was a senior, Gia a sophomore, and Kate, Theo, and I were in the middle of the eighth grade when it all went down. After Ethan graduated, Gwendolyn met Allister Harbrook, a physician from Virginia, who was here for a conference that my father was giving down at the hospital. Dad encouraged Gwendolyn to go there with my mother, and that's where she met Allister, who was giving a speech about the new polyclinic he was in charge of."
"And what happened then?" Christian asked.
"They all went out on a double date," I replied. "Allister was considering moving here for a time, and lived here for three and a half years, while he was made a temporary partner at the hospital as an ambassador of sorts. By the time he had to get back to Virginia, he'd asked Gwendolyn to marry him. She said yes, and had abandoned her Catholic faith by that point, because Benjamin was two at that time. They moved, and soon after, Gwendolyn had Edward. Ethan was in college by then, and got on pretty well with Allister, but Gia and Kate loved him—they even said they loved him more than their biological father, and even called him 'Dad'."
"So Gwendolyn just up and left Gia and Kate here?"
"Well, Gia had already graduated, too, and was in college. You can't really force a nineteen-year-old to move across the country if they really don't want to. And she'd already met Scott by that point…"
"And Kate? How old were you two then?"
"We were seventeen, and about to graduate," I replied. "My parents were fine with Kate staying with us. Kate went on to college, majoring in journalism and literature and then graduated. She then got the job at The Seattle Times and quickly got the condo, because her mother left her some money after passing away. She was also attempting to give my parents a form of restitution for caring for her for nearly four years, but they refused to take any money."
"So Kate stayed here?"
I nod, remembering her face and the day when she had made her choice to remain in Seattle with us all. "Yes. Part of her regrets it, because after Edward was born, she wanted to be with the babies. But, when she planned to fly out there for Christmas as a surprise, Allister refused to let her come."
"Why?" asked Christian.
"Because Gwendolyn had cancer, and it was so bad, that he didn't want to share her with anyone but the boys. Her strength was failing, and he didn't want any interruptions from Kate, or Gia, or Ethan."
His lips became a hard line. "So that's why Kate reacted so strongly when you admitted that Ethan had assaulted you," Christian said softly.
I turn, surprised, to face him. I had no idea what he was talking about, and I found that it scared me. "What?"
Christian hesitated for a moment. "Ethan was the last male influence she had in her life, right? I mean, Eamon had effectively abandoned her, and Allister prevented her from saying a final goodbye to her mother. And what about their grandparents?"
"Eamon's parents only made time for the triplets," I explained. "And Gwendolyn's parents were ashamed of Ethan…now I know why."
"And Gia and Kate?"
I sigh. "They believed girls were unnecessary…"
Christian nods. "Everyone except Ethan had virtually deserted her—well, every male influence in her life. She saw Ethan as a last chance for familial love from a man, and that was probably the most devastating thing, knowing that her best friend was probably going to successfully get her last male link in her family taken from her."
"Oh, my god, you're right," I say, shaking my head at my stupidity. "God, and I was so rude to her. I essentially told her to stay the hell out of my life. Man…I really need to apologize to her as soon as possible…"
Christian takes my hand then, and my heart begins to pound erratically. "Do you want to apologize right now? We could head down to the condo…"
I shake my head at him. "I'll text her for now. She's in a late-night meeting now, and she knows I'm with you. She'd never forgive me for blowing you off."
Christian leans in and kisses my forehead. "All right, if that's what you want." He turns the key and flips a U-turn and heads back down the street and towards the freeway. We manage to slip ahead of a line of all the backed-up cars and easily slip into the carpool lane. We drive past the Northgate Mall, and soon pass a sign which states we are entering the small city directly north of Seattle, called Shoreline.
I say nothing as we pass by signs advertising exits for Lynnwood and Edmonds, and raise my eyes in surprise when we get off at Edmonds. We then turn east and keep going, eventually ending up in Mountlake Terrace. I remain silent as we drive into a parking lot, arriving at a place called Cinebarre, a twenty-one and over dinner movie theater. Christian gets out of the car and goes around to open up my door, taking my arm and leading me up to the ticket booth. We flash our I.D.'s and Christian asks for two tickets to the romantic comedy showing that night, and we head inside.
I notice that things look pretty deserted, with the exception of employees, and I immediately wonder why that is. Immediately I think that we are late to a show, or that they're closed for some reason, but Christian seems to know a distinguished looking gentleman dressed in a suit coming our way. He introduces him to me as Travis Woods and Travis states that everything is ready for us.
We are led into the theater and told to sit, and soon the lights dim and a set of previews begin. I accept my drink of sparkling cider and watch as Christian takes a glass of champagne as the previews seem to fly by. The movie begins and hors d'oeuvres are served—mozzarella sticks and calamari. A Caesar salad for me arrives a few minutes later and a wedge with bleu cheese and bacon comes for Christian as well. I find comfort in all of this and soon the main courses arrive—a steak for Christian and chicken parmesan for me.
The film soon lights up the screen; it is the 2011 Best Picture Winner, The Artist, is a silent film, all done up in lush black and white photography, about an attractive man who is the darling of silent screen Hollywood. However, talking pictures slowly become the norm, and a vivacious young woman slowly becomes Hollywood's queen. The pair later become friends and, even later in the movie, fall in love after the man's wife orders him to leave. It ends happily and, though I've seen it, my eyes are awash with tears at the end, and I clap, getting to my feet as the impressive curtains close.
"You like black and white films?" Christian asks.
"Oh, yes," I reply. "After Christmas shopping with Dad, Theo and I would come home to find Mom having baked chocolate chip cookies. Then we'd all crowd into the living room to watch It's a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve."
He raises his eyebrows at that. "Your dad would Christmas shop on Christmas Eve?" Christian wants to know.
I laugh. "Sometimes. It was before Amazon was very popular."
"I thought families would have people to do the shopping…"
I shrug. "My parents loved doing the shopping, for all of us, and I suppose I inherited that love from them," I say quietly.
Christian stands up and puts his arms around my waist, holding me to him, and I gasp ever so slightly at his closeness to me. "I think I understand why you've got so many people around you who love you."
I peek up at him. "Really?" I ask.
He nods. "Yes. I'm beginning to experience first-hand what they're feeling for you, Anastasia Steele."
I blush and lower my eyes. "I'm glad I'm not the only one," I say back.
He reaches out and gently pulls my chin up. "You're not the only one," he replies, leaning down to kiss me.
