THE HIDDEN TRUTH

Laurel came awake slowly, somehow almost luxuriating in the gloom.  Before she had gone to bed, she pulled down the heavy drapes and it was nearly pitch black in her room.  It mattered little.  It set the general tone of her mood.  Laurel rose from her bed and pulled open the drapes.  She realized that if she didn't, her mother would barge in and demand that she get up.  A blinding ray of sunlight immediately pierced her eyes.  She backed away from it, creating a shield with her hand, and then stepped back to her bed.  Laurel didn't feel like getting dressed, but her father insisted on having formal meals three times a day.  The family had to 'dress' for everything.  It was a pain, especially in the morning, and an even bigger pain when the boys weren't away at school like now.  She still had some time before breakfast and her eyes fell on the small diary she had been given as a child.  She reached for it and opened it to a new page.  Normally reserved for her birthday, she had the greatest urge to write in it, to record what had happened to her two nights ago.  She carried the diary over to her desk and splayed it open.  Grabbing a fountain pen, she began to write.  That night was the worst night of my life.  What was to be my nineteenth birthday party turned out to be a sea of suitors.  I wasn't interested in any of them, but my father wants me attached to a man he called Reginald Portafoy.  The first time I saw him, I knew something wasn't right about him.  Father threw us together and insisted we dance.  Mr. Portafoy touched me and I didn't like it.  I so wanted to speak to my father about it, but I don't think he would believe me.  He holds the man in such high regard.  I do not wish to be his wife.  I'd rather die instead.  Laurel closed the diary and suddenly had the urge to hide it.  She had never felt such a way before.  No one was interested in her inner thoughts.  Despite that, she slipped it into a small drawer at the bottom of her desk.

When her task was accomplished, she glanced at the clock and realized that she needed to dress or she would be late for breakfast [something else her father frowned upon].  Fifteen minutes later, Laurel descended the stairs and could immediately hear the voices of her other family members.  Her brothers were arguing as usual, and as usual, her mother was screaming at them as they were being served their piping hot food and fruit.  Tarita and Tehotu looked up at the same time.  Both noticed the look on Laurel's face.  Tarita knew exactly what was going on in her daughter's mind; her father thought he knew.  Quietly, Laurel sat down at her accustomed place and stared down at her food.  She had no appetite.  She knew she had been acting like a spoiled brat for the past couple of days, but she couldn't help it.  What she wanted in life wasn't what her father wanted for her.  Of course, she couldn't exclude her mother in the deal, because she hadn't spoken one word in Laurel's defense.  As the other family members attacked their meal with gusto, Laurel simply pushed hers around the plate with her utensils. 

"Laurel, I haven't seen much of you in two days.  You never told me if you enjoyed your party," Tehotu said suddenly.

She looked up at her father.  In her nineteen years, she had never lied to the man.  Today would mark the first of many lies to come.  "Of course, Father, it was very nice.  Thank you both for giving me such a wonderful party."  If you want the truth, Father, I hated every second of it, but what can I say or do?  You won't listen to me anyway.  Before either parent could comment about her lack of eating, she picked up her glass of freshly squeezed juice and sipped it tentatively. 

"I'm glad to hear that," Tehotu began, "Reginald asked if he could call on you tonight and I gave him permission.  He will be here this evening."

Suddenly, the thought of eating had become even more sickening.  He has basically given that cretin permission to manhandle you all evening.  You realize that, don't you?  Laurel said nothing.  It wouldn't matter if she did.  As the family finished their breakfast, Laurel continued to pick at hers.  She didn't see it, but every now and then, Tarita would gaze over at her, hoping that she would look up.  Perhaps later, she would speak to her daughter one-on-one.  She didn't like Reginald Portafoy either.  When her father finished his breakfast, he didn't hesitate to leave the table.  He was forever in a hurry to get out and away.  He didn't care.  He had a life outside this stupid house.  Laurel pushed away from the table and trudged upstairs.  She could already hear her brothers arguing over something.  The thought of running away entered her mind, but it was a stupid thought.  She was of age, what would she be running from?  Nineteen-year-old women didn't have to run away.  The thought was absurd.  However, other girls her age didn't live in the same type of family.

Laurel was a very sheltered girl, she knew little, if anything, about the ways of the world.  She took to her bed, completely unaware of this fact, and grumbled and fussed under her breath.  Tonight, she was being sent out with an octopus.  Her father valued purity and chastity in a woman.  With a man like Reginald Portafoy, those qualities might last five minutes.  How could she get out of it?  Her monthly?  She shook her head.  No.  That wouldn't work.  Father didn't care about such matters.  Headache?  Stomachache?  There is no escape, Laurel.  Face it.  Sighing, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.  She couldn't lie here all day.  Laurel glanced at her door when she heard a knock.  She had no energy to walk that way, but before she could call out, the door came open.  Mother.  Laurel said nothing as her mother approached and sat beside her.  Immediately, Laurel knew what was coming.

Tarita took Laurel's hand in hers and smiled at her.  "My little Sesha has grown up," she said with a little sigh [Please, Mother, I don't want to hear this].  "It's obvious in your eyes that you do not like the idea of becoming Mrs. Reginald Portafoy.  This family has very strict roles for men and women.  The women, of course, are expected to marry and have children.  It's simply your turn now.  When the boys become men, they will take his business, find wives, and have children of their own."  Laurel was about to protest, to speak out, but her mother squeezed her hand.  "My darling daughter, I do not like Reginald Portafoy.  I do not think he is the right one for you."

"Then why, Mother," she cried, "Why must I?"

"I have given you the only answer I can.  I don't know what else to say."  Without further word, she stood and left the room.

Laurel couldn't believe that her mother had just given her the 'it's your lot in life' speech.  She had heard this many times from some of her school friends.  They had received similar speeches.  It wasn't fair or just or right.  She felt childish, but there was nothing she could do.  Throwing a fit wouldn't help.  She dug her diary from its hiding place and turned to a blank page.  Here I am again.  Another place.  Another time.  Same dilemma.  My father wants Reginald Portafoy to court me.  I'm not very excited, of course, because he had his hands all over me during a dance.  What will he do with me alone?  He makes me sick.  So, I hope that I return tonight to report a fairly boring, sedate evening.  I think that is naïve of me to say the least.  She closed the diary and squirreled it back into her hiding place.  It was time to think about her evening.  If Reginald Portafoy intended to court her, she would give him something to remember.

That evening, Reginald Portafoy arrived promptly at his designated time.  He followed Tehotu into his study and the two men drank brandy and discussed the dark stranger who came in and demanded the odd amulet.  They stayed in the study for a few minutes before entering the living room.  The bottom of the staircase could be seen from the living room sofa, so Tehotu stationed Reginald there.  Tehotu began tapping his foot impatiently.  He had no idea what was keeping his daughter.  He decided to give her five more minutes and then he would retrieve her.  It was completely impolite of her to make Reginald wait.  Of course, Reginald didn't mind the wait.  He remembered how lovely Laurel was, how her buttocks felt beneath his hands.  He would do anything necessary to keep in the good graces of Tehotu Aciquilla.  Reginald looked up the moment he heard a clacking noise coming from the direction of the stairs.  Finally, the morsel arrives.  At her birthday party, her dress had been the only hideous thing about her.  However, tonight, he had trouble finding anything appealing.  She wore some type of dress that was shapeless and dark.  The hair he had longed to touch appeared to be braided and pinned behind her head.  There was no rouge on her cheeks or color to her beautiful lips.  There was nothing.  She looked like a school marm twice her age.  Beside him, Tehotu was shocked as well.  He had never seen Laurel this way.  What was she thinking?  What was she doing?  If you ruin this for us, Laurel, so help me…

When Laurel approached, Reginald took her hand and planted a kiss upon it.  Even her lovely hands had little appeal.  They felt harsh and dry to the touch, as if she had dusted them with talc.  "You look lovely," he lied.  "I have an evening planned for us that I hope you will like."

Laurel immediately noticed a complete lack of lechery about the man tonight.  Of course, her father stood in very close proximity.  From the periphery of her vision, she could see the shocked look on his face.  When she came home tonight, he would likely scream at her.  It didn't matter.  If Reginald wanted a demure baby maker, she would ensure that he received one.  "I'm sure I'll enjoy it.  Shall we go?"

Reginald nodded her way and took her hand.  Her father followed them out until they were outside.  When Laurel saw the car Reginald had secured, she wanted to gasp aloud.  It was what she thought of as a wedding car.  However, her father called them limousines.  She had seen them before, of course, but her parents weren't fond of using them.  The driver held the door open for her and she climbed inside.  Reginald climbed in after her, and before she knew it, they were on their way.  She was amused to note that her escort for the evening hadn't spoken more than a dozen words to her.  Perhaps now, he will change his mind.  The rest of the night was a blur.  She barely remembered dinner, didn't remember the show they had attended afterwards.  All she was aware of was his obvious disappointment in her appearance.  If she had dressed anything like she had at her party, she didn't doubt that he would have attacked her by now.  She had never felt safer in her life.  However, it was a false sense of well-being.

Once they were in the car, Reginald immediately attached himself to the far side of the car.  After a moment, he focused his eyes on her and smiled.  "Laurel, don't you think I know what you've done tonight?"  Confused, she focused her eyes on his face.  His smile grew wider.  She looked like an animal caught in a trap.  "It doesn't matter one iota to me, Ms. Aciquilla."

Before she knew which end was up, he was across the seat and on her.  He crushed his mouth down onto hers and she pushed futilely at his chest, but he wasn't one to give up very easily.  She felt his probing tongue, and to her, it felt like a warm piece of meat.  It was repulsive and she didn't want it inside her mouth.  Yet, he managed to force her lips apart.  Then and there, she almost vomited.  He tasted like recycled brandy and salmon.  She beat at him again and he finally released her.  She thought he might back away when the kiss was broken, but he didn't.  She had shrunk against the door in fear and wasn't sure what he had in mind next.  After a few moments, she felt his hand drift onto the top of her thigh.  It made a slow progression up and up until it was completely under her skirt.  At that crucial moment, she balled her hand into a fist and brought it down hard onto his.  It hurt her, but she didn't care.  His hand immediately slipped out and he backed away.  He held his hurt hand, but continued to smile at her.  This is not over, Ms. Aciquilla.  This is only the beginning.

When the car stopped in front of the house, she didn't wait for Reginald to escort her to the door.  She couldn't wait to get away from him.  Her saving grace tonight was that the front door was open.  However, the human octopus had no desire to follow her to the door.  She hoped that no one would be up and about.  However, the first person she saw was her father.  Tarita had tried to talk Tehotu out of waiting up for Laurel, but he wouldn't listen.  Laurel immediately noticed the look on her father's face.  He was very, very upset with her.  She expected this to happen.  Although she knew a war was about to begin, she tried to move past her father and continue on upstairs.

"Do not disrespect me like that again," Tehotu said severely.  "Reginald is a dear, dear friend and a trusted business associate.  He will one day run my company until the boys are old enough to take over.  He will be your husband and you are to respect him as such, do you understand?  What you did…how you look isn't your true self.  Both of us know this."

Angry, Laurel wanted to tell her father what Reginald had done to her, but she bit the words back.  He would never believe her.  "Father, I do not want to marry this man.  I wish you would respect my wishes."

The next few moments became a blur, just like her night with Reginald.  She thought she saw her father's hand coming up, thought she felt it connect with her cheek, and thought she felt intense pain where he had hit her.  Surely she had dreamed this?  Her father had never slapped her before.  Shocked, she placed her hand upon her hurt cheek and stared at her father.  At that point, her mother came into the room to find out what was going on.  When Tarita saw Laurel's cheek, she immediately told her daughter to go to her room [as much as she had done when Laurel was a child].  She was completely too stunned to disobey. 

Up in her room, she heard her mother and father arguing.  Normally when this happened, she closed the door and shut them out, but not tonight.  Later, she would wonder why she had decided to listen in on her parents.  It was as if she had some type of precognitive powers.  At first, their argument focused on the slap.  They went on and on about that for several minutes.  She buried her face in her hands and moaned.  Why hadn't she just dressed up?  Why hadn't she acted like her old self?  It was her fault her parents were at each other's throats.  She began to pay attention to their words when she heard her mother harshly whisper 'keep your voice down.'

"I will not," Tehotu roared.  "This is my house and I can damn well scream if I wish.  She is a woman, Tarita.  Do you understand?  She is nothing to my business or me.  You want to keep her here forever, but she cannot stay in my house.  You only want her to linger because she reminds you of him.  I will not have it, Tarita.  She will marry and marry whomever I wish."

Laurel's brow furrowed.  What had her father meant?  Who was this 'him?'  After her father's screaming fit had died down, Laurel heard the thumping of feet.  It was her mother.  When she saw Laurel's door wide open, her face paled.  Had she heard anything?  Dear God.  What had Tehotu done now?  As much as her daughter, Tarita wanted to slip past the room and pretend that absolutely nothing had happened. 

"Mother?"

Tarita stopped in her tracks.  She had never heard her daughter's voice sound so meek in her life.  "Sesha, I think we should all go to bed and start out fresh in the morning.  Your father will calm down."

"No," she said.  "What did he mean?  I remind you of who?"

She had never thought she would be having this conversation with her daughter.  It wasn't a new story.  Various women had told it at various times across the world.  "Tehotu is not your father.  You were very young when I met him, but he consented to marry me anyway.  I met your father twenty years ago in Egypt.  He was an American with Arabic ties.  His name was Bartholomew and he was a professor studying the culture during a sabbatical.  My parents were street vendors and they sold whatever fruits and vegetables were in season.  Of course, I worked the stand as well and that's how I met him.  Like you, he was tall and had long curly hair.  You have his eyes.  You have almost everything.  What else can I say?  We fell in love and you were a result of that.  He never found out about you because we moved to England.  Tehotu was a family friend and when you were born, he consented to marry me.  I recently read an article about Bartholomew and he retired in Egypt."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about this," she asked quietly.  "Why did you wait until now?  Father [not Father] wants to get rid of me because of this?  Why didn't you tell him about me?"

"He was married and had a family."  She tried reaching for her child, "Laurel?"

She backed away from her mother.  "No.  I wish to be alone."

Sighing sadly, Tarita stood and left the room, closing the door behind her.  Bringing herself up to her feet, Laurel had every intention of stripping down and crawling under the covers, staying there until the world ended.  Laurel Sesha Aciquilla was at an age when most girls are considered adult women.  Yet, she was ignorant to the ways of the world.  Again, the poor girl was naïve, naïve, but with the best intentions floating through her mind.  If her father [not her father] didn't want her to stay here, she could simply remove herself.  What was it her mother said?  Her father [in her mind, she had already romanticized the man…she whispered 'Bartholomew' under her breath] had retired in Egypt.  She could book passage to Egypt, could she not?  For years, Tehotu [she would never think of him as 'Father' again] had been doling out an allowance, and she had squirreled half of it away as much as she had hidden her diary in the same fashion.  She turned and went to her closet.  Digging around, she found the old burlap bag her mother had given her years ago.  Tarita's voice drifted into her mind:  This belonged to a dear, dear friend of mine, love, and I thought I would give it to you.  I know it's an ugly old thing, but it has its uses.  Was this bag something her father had once owned?  Without a thought, she began grabbing any article of clothing her hand fell on.  Just before she was finished, she dug her diary out of its hiding place and threw it in.  Some of her girlfriends had married and become mothers.  Others had been allowed to see the world.  She wouldn't see the whole world, but at least she could see a corner of it, and perhaps, just perhaps, she could find her father while she was at it.  Laurel didn't care what fate awaited her.  Anything was better than the thought of marrying Reginald Portafoy.  She screwed up her face in disgust.  Even his name turned her off.  Egypt.  She would go to Egypt.  Once there, she would lose herself forever.

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To be continued…