by Tempest Phan
I didn’t look back, and she called my name out, fear tinging her soft soprano.
“It’s ok, sweetheart. I got this,” I whispered, but I didn’t know if she’d heard me.
***
Bella
They’d done it. It hadn’t been his fault at all, and they were going to jail him for it. Motherfuckers. I watched as they took Damien out in handcuffs to the patrol car. Handcuffs! Not knowing what to do, I called my dad.
One of his assistants responded, letting me know that my father was, of fucking course, too busy to speak with me.
“No, Julie. This is important. Now. Please.”
A minute later, my dad picked up. “Mira, make it quick.”
“Daddy, the police came and arrested Damien and—”
“I told you to stay away from that boy.”
“Daddy, you don’t understand,” I shouted in frustration. “He didn’t do anything! It was all Jon. Damien only protected me from Jon.”
There was silence on the other end. Finally, my dad said, “You will stay out of this. You will cut off all contact with this boy. And then perhaps no charges will be filed.”
The horrifying realization hit me. My dad was in on this. He was just like them.
“I can’t believe that you would knowingly let this happen, Daddy. I hate you.” And then I hung up on him.
I rushed to the police station. They wouldn’t let me speak to Damien. I sat there for half the day, waiting for news, until one of the officers took pity on me.
“You’ve been waiting here all morning, hun. Who are you waiting for?” She had a broad, kind face.
“I need to speak to Damien Mortensen. Please. I need to see him. He didn’t do anything.”
“Hun, you can’t see him right now.”
“Please . . .”
She sighed and got up before disappearing into the hallway. Finally, she reappeared. “Follow me, hun. I’ve found your boyfriend.”
“He’s not—” I started to say but thought better of it and clamped my mouth shut. She took me to a visitation room. Someone brought him around. Upon seeing me, his face lit up, only to as quickly close down.
“Bella. What are you doing here?” He frowned. “You shouldn’t be here. It isn’t safe.”
“I’ll get you out, I promise. I’ll figure it out. When is your bail hearing?”
“Tomorrow,” he replied. “Baby. You shouldn’t be here.”
“It’s all my fault. I’ll fix it. I promise.”
“It’s not, baby girl. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
The kind officer finally said, “All right, hun. We have to go now.”
I nodded at her and then stood up. “Damien,” I called out.
He had gotten up to be led away from me. He looked over.
“I’ll make this right. I’m not letting them do this to you.”
He just smiled his crooked smile at me and walked away.
I drove to my dad’s office in a fury. I stomped to the elevator and took it to the very top of the tower where he worked. When the elevator doors opened into the bright suite with views of the water, the receptionist looked up and greeted me. Lynda was just walking by the front desk when she saw me as well.
“Mira? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“I need to speak to my dad.”
“He’s in his office but he’s rather bu—hey! Mira!” she yelled out as I stalked toward my dad’s office.
I threw the frosted glass doors open. He was at his desk and raised his head in annoyance at the sound. A look of surprise and anger quickly flashed across his face, before his cold, lawyerly instincts took over and he became impassive again, leaning back in his executive chair.
“Mirabella. Why are you not in school?”
I walked toward his desk and, placing my hands on its gleaming surface, I leaned in and said in a low, angry voice, “You know full well why. You need to call this off.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back against his chair. “Why do you continue to be involved with this . . . this boy when I’ve forbidden you to be near him?”
“It isn’t about that, Daddy. And you need to understand that if it weren’t for him, Jon would have raped me. If you don’t believe me, ask Lynda! Dame beat the shit out of that asshole because he fucking deserved it. I was trying to beat the shit out of that asshole.” I pushed away from his desk and crossed my arms over my chest, staring at him with as much defiance as I could muster. “Let me repeat it more slowly. He was fucking trying to rape me! What is wrong with you that you’d always take their side, their word over anything I might have to say to you?”
He paled.
“Is trying to keep me away from Damien worth the damage you’re doing here, Daddy? He’s a good boy, regardless of what you think. He’d never dream of touching me.” And then I muttered, “At least not without my consent.” I took a deep breath and said more loudly, more confidently, “And yet he prevented that asshole from hurting me. You need to tell them to back off. Now.”
He put his palm over his face. Silence reigned as minutes ticked by.
“I will call them off if you stop whatever it is that you’re doing with him,” he finally said.
“What do you think I’m doing, Daddy?”
“A $2,000 bill at Snoqualmie Lodge, for a Mr. and Mrs. Davenport. A $35,000 guitar. What do I think you’re doing with that piece of white trash? You tell me, you little—argh!” he roared as he stood up, slamming his fists down on his desk.
It was my turn to pale. He’d been a heartbeat away from saying the unforgivable. His ragged breathing told me so, that devastated look on his face told me so. And so I mustered all the courage I had left as he collapsed back onto his chair, a hand over his face. “You can think what you want, Daddy. Nothing happened. He’s a good boy. We are just friends. You more than anyone should understand this. More than anyone!” I finally cried out, frustration and anger exploding in a torrent of words. I wanted him to dive deep inside the once-full recesses of his heart and remember what it had felt like to be forbidden from seeing my mom.
But he said nothing.
He just jutted his chin, waiting for my next move.
“Daddy, please. Please help him.” And I grabbed my head in my hands, frustrated at the unfairness of it all. A boy with Damien’s heart was where he was because he lacked the connections and wealth that an asshole like Jon enjoyed in spades. “I love you, Daddy. More than you’ll ever know. But if you go through with this, then you aren’t the man I thought you were.”
His nostrils flared.
I continued, “Please help him. That’s the least you can do. He saved me. If I am as loved as you said I am, you wouldn’t punish him for this.”
He looked at me for a long time. And then, softly, “Ok. Ok, Mirabella, you win.” But ever the lawyer, he added, “But only under one condition.” He jabbed a finger in my direction. “You take that Stanford offer. They’re holding it for you. Yes, I’ve checked.” He ran a hand over his face. “You take the Stanford offer, and come summer, you leave all of this behind.” He paused, watching me intently. When I didn’t respond, he added, “You commit to this, and I’ll get him out.”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Only this?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
A reprieve.
He was extending us a small reprieve.
If I’d actually had the time to sit and think about what he was offering, I would have realized that it was a poisoned apple.
We were safe. But only for now.
In a few months, we wouldn’t even be in the same town. The same state. He’d made damn sure of it. And things would become exponentially harder. But I had no room to bargain further. Damien’s well-being was at stake. And so I nodded, as my bravado gave way to a measure of relief that he would help Damien. That would have to be enough, for now. I’d worry about tomorrow, well, tomorrow.
&nb
sp; “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered.
***
Damien
I’d spent a sleepless night locked up. I felt numb, like nothing really mattered anymore. I thought back to Bella. That wasn’t true. She still mattered. My sweet, brave Bella. Confronting her father’s likely anger to stop by the station. That kind policewoman had told me all about it. How she’d sat there and waited for hours on end until they’d let her see me. Yeah, wealth was great, but you couldn’t buy that kind of loyalty, and I was a lucky fucker. The cell door suddenly opened on an impeccably-dressed man in his mid-twenties, although I couldn’t tell his age, really. But he seemed young, and had a direct, honest stare. And he looked very expensive.
“I’m André Devilliers, an attorney from Davenport & Ellis representing you at Mr. Davenport’s request,” my new lawyer said, a faint accent seasoning his regal tenor. He closed the distance between us, a slight limp marring his confident gait. His intelligent green eyes swept over me as I stood up to shake his hand. “I’m here to let you know that there’s been a mistake and that you’re a free man. The Huntings have dropped all charges. This should be the last you hear of this.”
I looked at him, completely bemused. And then I smiled. Bella. I raked my hand through my dirty hair, and then followed him out. However long it took for them to process me when I came in, the inverse happened here. I suppose having a lawyer from a prestigious firm to push for you probably helped. After thanking him, I walked out into the sun.
A white BMW sped into the parking lot. And suddenly, my Bella was running to me. I wrapped her in my arms.
“Thank you, baby girl. For whatever you did.”
“It is my fault any of this happened in the first place, Dame.”
I grabbed her chin with gentle hands. “Do not ever blame yourself for any of this. There is only one to blame, and that is Jon.” And I added under my breath, “And me.”
I pressed my forehead against hers, closing my eyes lest too much of my heart was reflected in them.
Bella drove me home. It was early afternoon, and my mom was still sleeping, likely unaware of everything that had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. Best to leave it that way. I hugged Bella goodbye.
She pulled away with reluctance before saying softly, “I’ll meet you at Pine Lake tonight and tell you everything. That is, if you’re up for company.”
I kissed her forehead. As if she had to ask.
Bella
We were speeding through the rest of the school year, most of which turned out to be calamity free. Apparently, it wasn’t as uneventful for Jon, Lynda told me as she drove us to Bouchette to meet my dad for my birthday dinner. According to the gossip swirling around town, Jon’s prospective university, my dad’s alma mater, had rescinded their offer of admission. To add insult to injury, his father’s once successful architectural firm was losing bid after bid. This, of course, reminded me there was no hiding from Michael Davenport’s cold and efficient fury.
The Davenports owned this town.
Or rather, my dad owned this town.
He owned everything.
And I’d best stay in line.
I pushed away that thought as I regarded the large orange box he presented me with after dinner. I opened it and unveiled a new crocodile Hermès Birkin from the turn of the century, a bag that I would never use. I thanked him anyway.
“Orange H. The classic color!” Lynda laughed and clapped.
My dad smiled. “Your mom bought this for you when you were born. She wanted you to have it on your eighteenth birthday. Said all true ladies had to have one.” His slashing lips turned up slightly. “She had no way of knowing you’d grow up to be pro animal rights.”
His eyes took on that faraway look he adopted whenever he spoke of my mom. Those moments were rare, but the glassiness and devastation in his eyes told me that it was because he still loved and missed her beyond words. It was like a festering wound that bled and would never heal.
Was Michael Davenport the cautionary tale of what happened when we lost our one true love? Did we then become shells of our former selves? Ghosts who were neither here nor there, who simply existed, having long lost the meaning of what it felt like to really be alive?
Had my dad always been like this? I couldn’t remember any more than I could remember my mother, beyond the sepia-colored memories of a time when affection and laughter filled every single corner of my now cold home.
Lynda had known both my parents, had been the one to introduce them to each other. I had asked her for the full story, once, as my father would never talk about it, or about my mom.
“Your mom was so beautiful and kind, Mirabella. In fact, you are just like her. She was my best friend. I knew your father because he had gone to both prep school and Stanford with my brother. He came over with him one day, after their graduation. And Mei Ying was there. It was love at first sight. Of course. Your grandparents were not happy. They had some bland debutante in mind for him. But nothing could keep them apart. And the rest, of course, is history. And here you are. She’d be so proud of you, Mirabella.”
It was hard for me to imagine my father feeling any sort of tender emotions. But in all of the pictures at home, in all of our photo albums, he was always looking at her with eyes full of wonder and love, eyes that seemed to say how did I ever get so lucky? It was the same look he had now, except that he quickly ran his hand over his face to rub any trace of it away.
“Thank you, Daddy!”
He looked at me.
I placed a gentle hand on top of his. “Thank you and Mama.”
He gave me a weak smile before clearing his throat and looking away as he quickly motioned for the waiter.
The next day, Damien came to pick me up in the late afternoon. We were still hanging out. My father’s demands had not included that I stop seeing him. Not this time. But I knew that the clock was ticking, and that payment would be due soon on the bargain we’d struck.
I rushed out as Dame got out of the driver’s side to open up the passenger door for me. I threw myself in his arms, and received a great big birthday bear hug that lifted me off the ground.
As we drove toward the surprise he’d planned for me, I sighed. “Can you believe it? Only two more months before we graduate. This is it.”
I was devastated. With time and distance between us, I feared, and my father had banked on, that this would spell the end of Dame and me, if there ever truly had been an “us.” In fact, Dame and I had come to an unspoken truce. Neither of us had brought up what had happened at the lake again, opting to instead safely default back to how things were before that fateful night.
Tiptoeing, pretending we hadn’t crossed the line at all, even though my soul couldn’t let him go. Sometimes, it crushed my heart to think about it too much, and so I chose to instead tuck it all away, trying to focus on the present moment. But with the end of school nearing, this was becoming harder and harder to do.
Perhaps in time, my heart whispered. I had said that I’d wait, hadn’t I? In time. But time was quickly running out, slipping like sand through my fingers. The pain escaped from my eyes.
Dame’s voice of shadows broke through my dark thoughts. “Yes, it is coming up.”
“I’ll miss seeing you every day,” I said, and then, hoping against hope, added, “Dame. Why don’t you come to Cali with me?”
He laughed, ran nervous fingers through his hair. “You know I can’t do that. I need to stay here. What would I do there?”
“You could be with me,” I ventured. It wasn’t breaking my promise to my dad. I’d only promised I’d move, right?
“Baby, I can’t be a burden on you. I need to figure things out for myself first. And I can’t leave my mom just yet. Not until I’ve figured things out for her, too.”
I had known it would be futile.
He took a turn, and suddenly, we found ourselves at our favorite spot at the lake, although now, I could no longer be there without remembering his lips o
n mine, his strong arms holding me against him, his touch burning my skin. I wondered if it was the same for him, too, but I couldn’t bear to ask.
Tiptoeing.
As he parked, he whispered, “It isn’t a resort getaway, but I hope you’ll like it.”
I glanced at him, hoping he didn’t truly mean it. It was hard to tell.
“Dame,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you know I don’t care about things like that, right?”
“Oh, I know, baby girl. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have them. All the things.” His voice was soft, as it always was, and it made me want to drape it over me and never leave its safety.
It was a pleasant April evening, not too chilly. He got out and grabbed a hamper from his trunk before swinging back to grab my hand. He gave me a brilliant lopsided smile before leading us to our secluded spot. As we got to the clearing near the dock, I was greeted by a garland of fairy lights, white balloons tied to the branches of a small tree nearby, and a red and white gingham blanket was spread on the ground.
My heart flip flopped in my chest at the thought of the trouble he’d gone through to set this up. And he knew me so well. This was my heart’s desire, not a party with dozens of people. Just me and the person I adored most in this world.
I threw my arms around his neck. “Oh Dame, I love it!”
He smiled his gorgeous, crooked smile. “I’m glad.”
He led me to the blanket and sat down, tugging me down to him.
“Happy eighteenth, baby doll.”
“It is the happiest, Dame, because it’s with you.”
He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “So, present or grub first?”
“You mean there’s more?”
“Of course. So, present?”
I laughed. “You know me so well. Yes!”
He opened the hamper and took out a slim box. I opened it to find a sheaf of papers, rolled up and tied with a pink bow. Hands trembling, I unknotted the bow to find sheets of music filled in by hand with notes and words, the title at the top reading For You. He’d written me a song. The thought and care behind his gift touched me to my very core, broke my heart wide open.
