The standard odor of coffee and pastries struck the air, feeling foreign as it meshed with the overriding atmosphere of tension growing in the little shop. There was nothing, not a smell or sound or inch that stood uncontaminated, not even the two women. It swirled about their shining heads and blanketed them until neither could draw breath without taking it in, but only one understood that they would suffocate in it. She watched Serena standing stationary over a spill at the coffee station, and she worried for the pieces of glass that had flown from the shattered pot but even more for her friend who had neither spoken nor moved since Darien Shields walked away. It had been a curious situation when he came in. Serena shot behind the counter, and Lita had been, obviously, out of the know. It was fortunate to some extent that she was able to deduce who he was before any irrevocable mistakes had been made, but to call them mistakes even, was playing at hindsight.
Lita furrowed her brow, trying once again to decode the cryptic actions of her friend. Serena had declared just hours ago that Darien Shields was the central target of her affections, but he had been here, flesh and bone. He had come and gone, and she let him go knowingly and willingly. There was no explanation, none feasible that she could think up, and Serena was now long overdue to shine her light into the dark. Enlightenment was, Lita thought, entirely necessary to the situation. She despised walking blind. Nothing was more ineffectual when it came to searching, to uncovering the truth, so she opened her mouth to start, deciding she would ask her friend for some clarification.
"Serena…" she began, holding her eyes on the silent head of her friend. Her voice trailed away as if hesitant, concerned her curiosity had intruded without welcome. She waited for a response. She waited, but Serena didn't move. "Do you want to talk about this?"
The blond shook her head, purposefully chewing her lip. She reached forward mechanically to brush back the hair that had fallen to obscure her vision. The ends were swimming flowingly in a pool of pungent coffee. "No," she murmured. She brought herself out of the stoop that her back had settled in and smiled gently, unconvincingly, "There's nothing to talk about." She ended it in a question, contesting herself openly.
"Why didn't you tell him who you were?" Lita asked.
Serena lifted her eyebrows. "Why didn't you?"
"Don't turn this around on me Serena."
She shook her head, shrugging in an abrupt change of mood. "It's really no big deal Lita. I mean: I just wasn't ready to face him today." She shrugged again, pushing away the gracelessness of her transition. Her voice had poorly placed her nonchalance, and instead, it put her on edge. She added, "Just drop it," and smiled. The muscles of her mouth formed their movements with a touch of ferocity, a natural subtlety.
Lita shut her mouth and nodded. The point was duly taken. Serena wasn't going to talk.
"All right," she sighed, defeated. "Maybe next time then."
Serena reinforced her. "Yeah," she said, "Maybe next time," but she stopped afterwards, not moving and hardly breathing. Her pause was pregnant with all the things she couldn't say. She wanted to speak. She was almost gagging on the words that were pressing for release from her confines, but the part of her-her locker set store for acceptance, wouldn't accept and the obstinate gates of her mouth wouldn't open.
She went back to her work, her hair falling into her face once again. Her mind tried to zero in on the simplicity of the task, moving the cleaning rag in neat circles to soak up the heady liquid, but she found a deal of trouble in doing that even. Her thoughts wandered taking her places she didn't want to be. Everything held the potential to transform into an image or sense that she could trace back to Darien—one way or another. It would have been easier to stray away from him, easier without Lita and the coffee shop. She shot a fleeting look towards the exit where he had left. The air outside, she imagined, would be fresh and free of the tension that polluted her lungs, and what she would give for a taste of it. One taste, one breath that she wouldn't have to count, a breath she wouldn't have to scrutinize and wonder-did he taste this too?
"It's for the best," she thought. Weak words of reassurance. Her wall of optimism was crumbling with its poor construction. She couldn't find anything overwhelmingly favorable in her situation. She had no control, no guarantees. It was another wave she would have to ride out. She would be, to watching eyes, perfectly content to dismiss him as a nightly joyride as he would do as well…eventually. That was what it meant to be strong, not to show the weaknesses that flourished within, but Lita, it seemed, had little clue to Serena's strength. The redhead had flitted from one foot to another, pacing restlessly, ill contented to leave things as they were.
She settled in a chair, frowning and calculating the value of breaching the topic again. Her gaze held steadily on Serena who worked diligently with her soiled rags grinding down the countertop with concentrated circles neither making it more or less clean, and decided. The silence threatened her sanity.
"What if there is no next time though?" Lita finally asked, shrinking into her seat cushion, "How do you know that he'll come back? What if he does come back and you keep going with this lie. What then?"
The blond straightened, her circles finding an end. "I guess I really don't know," She tried to smile, "Do I?"
"But you're in love with him," Lita murmured concernedly. Serena shook her head, and Lita responded similarly, silently counteracting her denial. Her friend was in love with Darien Shields; she knew it. She had heard it from her very own mouth-the words of a woman in love. The relentlessness of love could not be easily forgotten. She knew its potency. Serena's love, it was a thing of consequence, and yet, she knew that if the case was as she thought-then her friend would be falling apart, and there would be nothing for her to do.
So she expected Serena to turn to her then. Lita imagined the silvery blond ends of her hair flying as she would whirl around sobbing onto her shoulder. She waited, but Serena didn't budge. It was then that she took a turn on her path of reason. She braced herself for vehement denials of any feelings of love whatsoever on the part of her friend. The answer then, would be easy. She would tell her not to shut out her true feelings, and that everything would be ok. Everything happened for a reason, and what didn't kill her only made her stronger.
She'd spout motivational hypocrisy that would make even the most steadfast idealist proud, and at night, she would sleep easy because her friend would eventually heal, nourished by her worlds of comfort.
She waited—but nothing came. The blond ends didn't spin. Her lips didn't part. Lita doubted if she had even breathed at all.
"Serena?" she whispered.
Serena shook her head. "There's nothing to talk about Lita," she paused, "I think I need to go home." Her voice rang cheerfully empty to Lita's ears, but she hadn't missed the savage tone of her words. She was humming with her efforts to control herself, humming so that neither of them could have sat comfortably. The air had been contaminated so that there was only breath for one.
Lita eyed a large piece of glass on the ground. The store needed sweeping. "Sure," she sighed, looking Serena in the eye, "We'll talk later alright?" and she nodded, almost to herself. "Take care of you."
Serena gestured her consent as she loosened the strings of her apron. "Thanks Lita." She said it as she hit the door, almost afraid that if she had stopped anywhere before, she would never make it out. Lita flashed her a bright smile—last minute improvisation, but Serena had left the building without looking back, feeling the familiar pangs of guilt. She might have explained, just a little, might have put Lita at ease with just a few words and spoken to her. After all, she had tried so hard to help and with such good intentions.
"But there's nothing she can do for me," she rationalized. She didn't need words of comfort now nor did she need a simple fair-weathered friend. She needed—assistance, help from the only person who could give it.
She went to a payphone and called Andrew.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice received her on the other end of the line—his secretary. Serena waited, almost expecting to hear Andrew relieve her of this woman whose syrupy voice, no matter how sticky sweet, sounded condescending to no end. She lowered her voice carefully when the secretary greeted her again, trying to sound more adult—someone to be taken seriously, and she hoped that she didn't sound nearly as transparent as she felt.
The syrup dripped. She didn't realize a thing. "Do you have an appointment to see Mr. King?"
Serena tensed at those words, pulling the phone cord nervously through her fingers. She didn't have an appointment; she hadn't even thought that she would have to make one.
"N-no," she stammered, feeling disgustingly unprepared, "But I have to see Andrew tonight. Is he busy?" She blushed, suddenly aware of how childish she sounded.
"You've caught him at the right time," the secretary tapped sweetly, "Our office hours are until eight P.M."
Serena grimaced in spite of her luck. She could see her plastic smile through the phone all the while she made arrangements to see Andrew at six, and after provision had been made, she hailed a taxicab right away. Her anxious mind cringed at the thought of any wasted time. Though, she had hardly any idea as to what she was rushing off to. For all she knew, Darien and Andrew could both be sitting in his office anticipating her arrival-ready to announce their cruel joke. By the end, she had whittled away a good half of her transit rehearsing possible conversations in her mind until she settled on the one that seemed most favorable to her, but that was a fairy tale at best. Darien, of course, wasn't being detained by an evil villain. He hadn't gone to the coffee house that morning to see her one last time, and he wouldn't defy all odds in the name of their love, which may very well have existed only in her head. None of that would happen. Serena knew that, and whatever trace of romantic notions remained in her mind was dashed away the minute she set foot into Sheiki's offices.
Its illusion hit her hard and fast. Cleanly pressed workers buzzed busily over each floor that rose grandly above the last, creating a simple industrial majesty that left her stunned in her place. Everything seemed alive and bustling and droning-all at the same time. Once her initial reaction had worn off, the place struck her suddenly as monotonous. The crowds of crisp, black suits moved with purpose from one place to the next. Everyone knew what they were doing. Everyone fit into the norm-everyone but her. Serena glanced at her window reflection, which brought painful attention to the manner that she was dressed. Her torn jeans and simple sweater stood out agonizingly from the clean lines around her, and as she walked on, she fervently wished that she had given more thought to her appearance before stepping into the taxicab. Not a single person spoke to her, and several who walked by averted their eyes as if she displayed some alarming deformity. Some of the bolder ones shot her odd glances from the corners of their eyes either in annoyance or curiosity, but all the same, their carefully measured expressions told her with little room for interpretation-just how little she belonged.
Feeling monstrous, Serena boarded the elevator, squeezing her way to the back where she could shrink invisibly into the corners. Few people noticed except to wrinkle their noses at her pungent coffee perfume, but she didn't deem that a problem. She could wrinkle her own nose right alone with them.
It wasn't until she reached Andrew's syrupy secretary on the top level that Serena was made to feel truly uncomfortable. The woman wore horn-rimmed glasses on cheek bones that sat high and sharp on her face, giving her the stern, almost ridiculous look of how one might imagine a school teacher. Her gaze fixed disapprovingly down the end of her upturned nose as Serena approached as if she were some juvenile miscreant.
"I'm here to see Mr. King," Serena said, facing the mouth of the lion. She stood a little taller and made a show of fluffing up her flattened feathers. "I made an appointment with you earlier." She paused, glancing down at her watch, which read six. She tapped it twice, hoping it hadn't stopped. "I think I'm right on time." She flashed a friendly smile, hoping the woman would respond to her cordiality, but she didn't. Her big eyes narrowed to serpentine slits behind her glasses, making it clear that she held no qualms against showering Serena with all her disdain.
"Mr. King is a busy man," she said with a pretense of politeness, "He won't be able to meet with you." She grinned crookedly, despicably. "You should leave," and with that, she looked away, pointing her nose into the air as if to signal to end of her conversation.
"I made an appointment with him at six," Serena said unflinchingly, sounding braver than she felt. "You told me it would be fine."
The secretary stared, surprised at her pluck. "You'll find the exit to your right," she said gratingly, fighting to keep her own agitation within its confines. Decorum prohibited her from showing this girl out herself, but there was an urge. She was poorly mannered, poorly dressed, and without a question, poorly brought up. The secretary pitied herself for having to deal with people like her, and still! She showed no signs of leaving!
She tightened her thin red lips. "To your right," she repeated slowly and with more force, pointing this time as if she were directing a small child, "I can have someone show you out if you wish."
Serena snapped. "I know where the exit is. Thank you." She felt her blood boil at being treated like an invalid. Who did this woman think she was? She leaned in on the desk, preparing to make herself heard, but the secretary flinched back as if she had been burned.
"You stay away from me!" she warned, "or I'll call security."
Serena laughed at her easy submission, her eyes flashing lividly. She felt an anger building inside of her, eating away within and pounding at her chest in celebration. Empowering, she thought. It empowered her. She stood her ground and planted her feet firmly, knowing that just a year ago, she would have run, and her legs would have carried her far from the building by now, but her gaze held steadily on her adversary, glaring as ferociously as she dared. She was going to build up her wall until her bricks were gone.
"Andrew is a personal friend of mine," she said, stunned at her own audacity. "Now either you do your job and tell him that I'm here to see him, or I'll do it for you." She studied the secretary whose pallid complexion was growing redder by the minute. Her wide eyes were glowering steadily on Serena, filled to the brim with rage. Decorum was out the window.
She stood rapidly, almost pushing Serena back and off her balance. Her mind was reeling with absolutely nothing to say, but the anger made her skin itch and her fingertips burn. Taking her options into stock, the secretary flexed her hands, wondering openly how much this girl was worth and how much it would cost her…if she were to oblige the palm of her eager hand.
Her point was duly noted by Serena who gave a slight distance between her and the desk. The secretaries eyes shone dangerously with the sharp light of rage, and Serena returned her stare with apprehension. Neither woman spoke. It was a warring game of glares and estrogen, and to any spectator looking on, they sent out a widespread sign of caution-one that Andrew took great notice of.
He had been standing and watching the two since the time it seemed their conversation had turned south, and, with a great deal of patience, he waited for the right time to intervene.
"Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn," he reminded himself. He looked over both their positions, resolving to squelch the problem before it escalated any further.
He cleared his throat.
"Ladies," he nodded, keeping his cool, "There's not a problem here is there?" Andrew casually slipped his hands into his pockets, his own signal of neutrality, as the two snapped their heads at his direction in surprise. He knew, or at least assumed, that they were both harmless, but he took care to tread with a sensitive step.
"Janet," he said, addressing the secretary jauntily, "Is Serena here to see me?"
"Yes," she smiled, her disposition suddenly pleasant. Serena noted the sudden turn-around, almost impressed with the transition. "I told her you weren't in, but she was insolent. She insisted on seeing you." Her grin never fled her face, and the syrup flowed again-more notably poisoned than before. A jolt of fury shot between the two.
Andrew smiled amicably, completely unaware. "Well here I am and free of any pressing engagements." He motioned to Serena with one hand, and waved goodbye to secretary Janet with the other, killing two birds with one stone.
"A job well done," he thought happily. With his fingers splayed on the small of her back, he led Serena to his office where she followed without a word until the powerful doors were shut.
"Your secretary's a real bitch," she muttered unapologetically.
Andrew chuckled sympathetically, cocking his head to the side, "She has her moments."
"Then hire another one," Serena said.
He laughed. "If only things were so simple! But I wouldn't. She's proficient and a friend of the family. I guess that's what counts."
Serena nodded absentmindedly in agreement and ran a finger over the smooth leather of his chair, almost as if to make sure it was there. Everything seemed to blend into its own silhouette, and the darkness made her uneasy.
She asked if there was a light they could turn on, and Andrew mechanically rotated the switch of his desk lamp, enhancing the shadows. Serena shuddered involuntarily.
"Darien went looking for you this morning," he said suddenly, and it came out sounding like instrumental words-out of place-as if he had been searching for the right time to let them go and it never quite came. He almost apologized, but for what? His bad timing? He felt her body tense, even from afar, but it was a topic that needed to be broached.
"I know," she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she sank into his chair.
"And…?" He dug deeper, hoping she would confess to more than what he had heard from Darien.
"And nothing," she said, feeling like a small child being interrogated for a crime. "I wasn't there. He didn't find me." She shook her head, emphasizing her lie.
Andrew sighed. "You don't need to lie to me Serena."
She froze and smiled mechanically without glancing in his direction. "But I'm not lying."
How did he know? Her mind raced frantically. Had Darien figured it out, or had he just deduced from the clues…Were the both of them in on her secret? But how? Lita could have taken on someone new. There were hundreds of possibilities and no evidence that could pinpoint her.
He arched his eyebrows expectantly as her eye finally met his. "Why didn't you tell him who you were Serena?"
She opened her mouth, partially in defense and partially in shock, but nothing surfaced. This was far from what she had rehearsed in the cab. Did he have her trapped, or was he bluffing? Serena looked him directly in the eye, searching for a hint or two, waiting for anything to give way so she could jump from her chair and call his bluff. She didn't find a thing.
"I would have," she sighed, sounding thoroughly unconvincing, "I would have if I was there, but I wasn't."
"Serena, you and I both know…"
She laughed abruptly, throwing her hands in the air to signal surrender. "You and I both know what? That Darien came looking for me and I shot off my lying mouth and told him I was someone else? Suddenly I'm the bad guy."
"Serena," Andrew sighed, "Don't do this. I just want to know what happened."
Serena looked down, focusing on her thumbs before closing her eyes, and she could still imagine the room through her lids. She had never been good at shutting out the world. It always came knocking.
"How did you know?"
"Lita came to see me," he said, "She was here just before you-the reason for my delay. Neither of you knew the other was coming…"
"and she was surprised," he added, "when she heard I was late for my meeting with you."
Serena's mouth rounded, forming a soft 'oh' as she felt her body fill to the brim with guilt. She sighed sheepishly, "Did she say anything?"
"She rushed off in a hurry—the store was unattended."
Serena felt another fresh wave of remorse pass over her. Lita hated to leave the store alone.
"What about…Darien?" she asked haltingly.
"What about Darien?" Andrew repeated.
She pushed the hair off her forehead and looked him in the eye with earnestness. "Did you tell him?"
He shook his head, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Not yet Serena, but I will if you don't. He deserves to know."
Serena nodded, "I know."
Andrew continued. "Darien's a bed 'em and leave 'em kind of guy."
She winced at his use of words but nodded, knowing very well where he was trying to take the conversation.
"So am I supposed to be jumping for joy that Darien didn't screw me and throw me out the next morning. Does that make me something special?
"I don't understand Andrew…He came looking for me, and he found…me, but he didn't know it. I was standing right in front of him, and I'll allow that he gave me a fair share of odd looks and he seemed puzzled enough, but—" She shook her head sadly, "He should have recognized me Andrew…so tell me—whose injustice is it now? I lied…but he still threw me out."
"He does care about you though, and you-"
"Forget about me," she said, waving her hand as if she were trying to erase herself. "I don't count. Whatever I said, whatever I felt, it was just the remnants of one good night, and him—he cares for whoever he saw then. He doesn't even know me!" Serena paused, fighting to stave off the tears that stung her eyes, fighting to think them back into nonexistence. It wasn't going to be as easy to forget as she thought it would be.
"If he walked in here right now, and he saw me with you. Do you think he'd make the connection? He'd look at me and think, 'There's Sarah, the waitress from the coffee shop,' or 'There's Sarah, the sad, frumpy girl I met this morning.'"
"You don't know that," Andrew interrupted, "It's your injustice if you're going to underestimate him like this. Darien's a sharp guy, and this morning was a momentary lapse of judgment. Are you willing to throw all this away—to condemn him for ten minutes of idiocy?"
"Not me," she whispered, her voice quavering with bitterness. "I think he made up his mind the minute he saw me this morning. Look at me Andrew. Would you have made the same mistake?"
He shook his head. "I'm different. You can't equate me with Darien. I knew you before last night, but you can't honestly tell me that there wasn't a difference in the way you looked. I saw it, and you saw it, but Darien—he didn't know."
"That's no excuse."
"Why not?" he demanded, "Why are you so bent on making this an impossible situation when it doesn't have to be. Give him a goddamn chance Serena!"
She paused, breaking the constancy of her responses.
"I don't…want to be a disappointment," she said softly.
"You won't…You wouldn't. How could you possibly be a disappointment?"
She closed her eyes, reliving the morning. "You and I—we don't walk together. You know? It's like two puzzle pieces that don't seem like they would fit. I'm glad…really glad that they do, but still…I don't belong with a man like Darien."
"Who's to say that?" he said.
"Darien—he recognized me at first. I heard him say my name, not like he was asking me where Serena was, but he was calling me…and I told him 'no, my name is Sarah.'" She shook her head, "You can't know unless you saw the look in his eyes. When I told him, something that was there just—went away," she stopped, adjusting to the growing lump in her throat. "It was like he was suddenly relieved of this huge amount of tension, and I thought: he doesn't want someone like me. If he did happen to fall in love with someone, it wasn't who you're looking at now. You know? Last night was just…this grand illusion, like a dream, and it still is—except I'm not in it anymore…"
"What are you so afraid of Serena? Just tell him the truth. What's the worst that could happen? I know—you're afraid that he won't take you as you are, but I know him." He tried to laugh. "He'll think you're his Cinderella story come true. Why not take the chance?"
Serena swallowed, weighing the options, but Andrew was an optimist. How could Darien love her? She looked at herself, looked at her scuffed shoes. She was nothing, and he deserved better than her. What could she give him other than some grand illusion? And even then, her veil was gone by now.
She shut her eyes, feeling the cold grip of rejection take hold of her body, and goose bumps raised themselves on her arms, standing her hair on end. He was gone, even if she climbed back into that dress and did herself back up. She wouldn't live the lie.
"But what if I can't live the truth?" she murmured. The words were trapped low in her throat, and she knew instinctively that someone had said them ahead of her, that she had heard them before. A wave of familiarity washed gratingly over her body, forcing its taste on her—salty sour at the back of her mouth.
Her mind flashed:
He looked at her with such disgust that she backed away, frightened. She heard him call her a liar, a cheat, a bitch, a whore. She winced every time, closing her eyes and biting her lip to keep from crying out, and then he struck her once. Hard. And again. She fell to the ground, weeping.
Serena fell back suddenly out of her reverie as if the jolt had hit her physically. She felt detached from her body. It was almost like watching herself cry and feeling her crumpled body shake from the outside, and then all at once, Andrew's arms were around her, pushing her back in.
"Serena?" she heard him say, "What Serena? What's the matter?" His arms held her body in their strong grip, but still, they were unable to stop her weeping and trembling. What had happened? This was a turn of tides he hadn't expected, and the abruptness of her fit left him frightened. Had he said something? He had just been waiting, waiting for her to speak, but she hadn't let out a word. The look of her eyes had grown more despondent by the second, but he couldn't have known, couldn't have prepared for her outbreak.
"I can't," she sobbed. She shook her head vigorously in between erratically timed gulps of air, and she brought her knees to her chest as Andrew released her, rocking gently back and forth. "You don't understand Andrew. I can't tell him anything. He'll hate me." She sheltered her head in her knees, her words becoming muffled.
Andrew stood back, not understanding and not saying a word. He watched her repeat herself over and over with his confused eyes. With all the urgency of love, he never imagined she would break like this. Her tiny frame shook so violently with the force of her sobs that he feared she would be torn apart. "Serena—" he started, placing a tentative hand on her quivering shoulder, "It'll be alright."
"No!" she exploded. Her body shot from the chair forcefully, almost colliding into his office desk. "It won't be alright." Her voice shook with every syllable, "You didn't see her face, and she didn't look at you when she got up on that chair." Serena stood on the chair herself, her visage glistening with tears. Her eyes shone almost madly. Andrew froze, afraid of what she might do, but she wasn't looking at him. She had forgotten about him.
Her stare fixed intensely on the ceiling, and the hanging lights became a noose. She breathed, and her lungs were filled with the stale air of garages. The room around her was transformed, and she was four years old again, feeling too much for a girl of five years to feel.
"I asked her not to go," she wept, "but she was crying, and she told me that she would die if she stayed," her eyes shut, "I didn't want her to die, but I didn't think—" A choked sob forced itself from her throat, leading a chain that Andrew thought would never end. She opened her eyes and sank into the chair. She rolled her head back and nodded to the erratic rising and falling of her chest.
Andrew watched fearfully, realizing that they were far past Darien by now.
"I thought he loved her," Serena said, her voice finally sobering. Tears fell silently from her eyes now with the exception of her occasional hiccoughs, poorly timed efforts to control her beasts, "and she was so happy all night."
"Who?" Andrew asked urgently.
Her eyes fell on his, hauntingly sad, and her hands, which had been tightly tangled in her hair, dropped limply into her lap, defeated. "My mother," she whispered. How long had it been since she remembered? Since she broached the topic without veering sharply away? It wasn't something that kept her up at nights. It wasn't something she cried about, and to anyone who asked, her mother had died of natural causes. Diseases varied from time to time. Sometimes, she was sick with cancer. Other times, tuberculosis. Her death was tragic and beautiful perhaps even heroic…Hadn't she once died saving a child from a burning building?
"What happened?" Andrew pressed. He kept his voice soft, afraid anything louder would rupture her period of calm.
"My mother died," she said succinctly, surprising Andrew with her composure, "and I was put into foster care."
"About every two months," came her bitter voice, "I was put into foster care. They all seemed to know something that I didn't, and after a month or so, I would be back at the orphanage." She nodded. "I snuck into the office once to read my file, and they all said the same thing: Serena has a burden that we're not prepared to handle, but we enjoyed having her." She paused, her mouth set grimly in a thin line.
"I was seven," she said, "and being passed around like some hot lump of coal, and it finally got to the point where I stopped caring because routine is routine and mindlessness is comforting. You know? It was so confusing, like I was lost in this huge labyrinth of tunnels and doors, and every time I was sent away from a foster home, it was like I had gone through the wrong door. I was right back where I started. I spent nine years going through wrong doors and looking for the end of those tunnels until finally—I was content enough just as I was. Because after a while…foster families stopped knocking, and I was the oldest girl at the orphanage at sixteen. I didn't have to talk to anybody, and nobody talked to me. It was like the hard questions just stopped coming, and I could forget about it all…but then my aunt found me and adopted me because I was her…obligation." She spat out her last word. It tasted sour on her tongue.
"Why did it take her so long to find you?" Andrew asked.
"Her husband was in the air force. They hardly stood still for more than a month at a time. It wasn't until he retired that she actually started looking," she shook her head, "I almost wish she hadn't…because…I never really—understood what happened that night, or even, who my mother really was. I mean. I remembered the men and the late nights and the alcohol, but I never pieced it together, you know? It wasn't until Aunt Celine told me—" She paused to chuckle dryly, or perhaps, just to gather her thoughts. Her eyelids closed over the dim light, sliding smoothly, consciously. She was preparing him, maybe even preparing herself…
"My mother was an escort Andrew," she spat, bitterly. She pursed her lips almost as if she were trying to contain herself—to keep from expressing the disgust that burst like a berry in her mouth. She was filled with it.
"My mother…was a glorified prostitute who did the unthinkable. She fell in love with a man. His name was Dylan, and he had no clue, the poor bastard. So she played pretend, keeping up her practice because he worked the night shift at the corner store, and couldn't be with her even if he wanted to, but then, she slipped up with one of her clients. I don't know how, but she did, and she told Dylan that I was his kid.
"He was so in love that he didn't even question her. He couldn't see the web of lies she was spinning." Serena clenched her hands, feeling her anger invade her veins, heating her blood every inch that it flowed. He could have been smarter. Her mother could have been better, braver, and none of it would have happened, but it did. She was here after all…because they had been so stupid.
"That man was walking blind for four damn years until my mom finally decided to come clean," she said behind gritted teeth. "Dylan was like my dad. I thought he was for the longest time, and I just couldn't understand why…he'd just walk away like that." She felt her voice break, swallowing deeply. She was digging up old skeletons, none of which she wished to be reacquainted with. Another layer of the onion was being peeled away. She could feel it on her skin.
"He took us out to the fair that had just come to town for my fifth birthday, and at dinner—over corn dogs and soda, he brought out this tiny little ring from his pocket. He didn't show it to us right away, but we kept pushing him until finally he took out his box, and my mom—she grabbed me so hard that it hurt. She was so happy. She kept showing me the ring he put on her finger, and I compared it to my little cheap plastic one, saying that mine was bigger."
"Everyone laughed, and she didn't even reprimand me like I thought she would. She just—smiled and kissed me, and then, she kissed Dylan." Serena sighed heavily. "I remember thinking that her ring was probably the most powerful thing in the universe because it just made her so happy…I'd never seen her so happy. I could tell, even after I went inside. Watching from the window, there was this glow around her, and I thought that it had to be the ring making her glow like that…"
"And I didn't know," she whispered, her face blanching, "when she started crying, and he started yelling. I didn't know what was going on, but she stopped glowing…I thought she had taken her ring off, and it was just so confusing to me because I couldn't understand why. I just couldn't understand why he was so angry, but he hit her once…and again, until she fell. I was so scared with my face pressed up against the window…watching."
"She was on her knees begging, and I didn't know why. Dylan was walking away, and I didn't know why. And I didn't know why he pushed her when she tried to follow. I didn't know why she went to the garage, and…I don't know why I went out there with her."
"I remember that…I kept asking why she wasn't smiling anymore…why she wasn't happy about her ring…" Serena sniffed heavily, not pausing even to wipe her tears away. "I kept asking her…even while she was tying the ropes and setting up her chair. I mean…my mind just couldn't figure out what was going on. I still thought it was about the ring. I didn't know…"
She shook her head, "I was telling her to just put her ring back on, but she didn't even look at me, not until she climbed up there, and her eyes-they were shining so brightly. She stared at me so hard with her eyes, so hard and so deep that I think I knew then…that nothing would ever be the same. She looked at me, and she said that…the lies hadn't been enough, and the truth wasn't enough, and that…she didn't have anything else. Nothing else she could give."
"I almost didn't recognize her. You know; I almost forgot who she was because she sounded so different, and she felt like a stranger…What can you do? When you don't know your own mother? I wanted her to stop looking at me with her eyes glowing like that. They scared me so much, and when she wouldn't stop-I ran out to find Dylan. I called for him, and I called, and I called because something was so…wrong." She sobbed, remembering. Her voice shook with every word.
"I went back when he didn't come, and she was still there in the garage. Dylan was gone, but she was still there except her chair was knocked over, but she was still up there, just hanging and swinging…I couldn't move because I still couldn't really understand what was happening. The lights went out in the garage, but I didn't move. I could hear her swaying in the dark, the stress on the ropes, but…I couldn't see anything-anything but her eyes shining…just like two little beetles in the dark…but I still didn't know…" she cried, "She just wouldn't come down, no matter how hard I pulled at her feet. Not even when I righted the chair and climbed up beside her…she just wouldn't…"
Serena's voice broke into a final, fractured sob, concluding with a quivering breath, and so her skeletons were out, dragging her back to her dungeons.
She looked at Andrew whose face had paled, and he turned his constant eye away from hers as soon as they met, a simple deviation to avoid the detection of anything that might be deemed inappropriate. How does one respond to these stories? He didn't know, and it frightened him to even look at her. He was afraid his eyes would offend. His nose would offend. His tears would offend. Misfortune was of a nature that drew in everything it could touch. It was something they both understood. Serena sat, poignantly silent, noting the dew that shone fresh at the lip of his eye and was reminded of her own tears, falling wild in her stillness. She imagined the paths they carved into her cheeks. They were trails well traveled, truly traversed for the first time during her mother's last. It was such tragedy. Such irony. Such beauty. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to sit and feel her blood run heavy in her veins as if she'd never feel it again, and her body almost felt itself hanging. Her hands and feet weighted down. They seemed to fall and swing—like she used to imagine they would if she had been up there…hanging with her mother, and she might as well have been—while her mouth filled with the acrid taste of stale air and car exhaust. She was spinning her own web of lies, playing another game of deceit, and what if—what if she lost her footing and couldn't find her way back out? The apple never fell far from the tree, and she was tying her noose already.
She let her head roll back and closed her eyes, carefully following the pattern that was left for her to trace.
"I'm in the same place," she whispered, "Don't you see…everything I'm doing, everything she did. It's all happening again…"
And she had been so happy…