Loving Liberty

by Belinda Boring

  “You may go. Make sure you talk with your mother. We have a party to go to tonight and I’m sure she’ll have instructions for you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Disappointed, I said goodbye and left the study. This meeting was the same as all the previous ones and I chided myself for hoping it would be different. Some things were just set in stone and this was one of them.

  Searching through the house, my mother was giving instructions to the cook in the kitchen. She wasn’t always the most understanding and caring mother, but no one could fault her for the way she ran her home. Everything operated like clockwork and was kept immaculately clean. I grabbed an apple while I waited for her to finish up and took a seat on one of the counter stools.

  “Are you wanting to talk with me, Liberty?” she asked, when she noticed me.

  “Dad said I needed to come see you about tonight?”

  “Oh yes, we were invited to a function with the Jamesons. Why anyone would wait until the last moment to let guests know is beyond me; but it is what it is. We’ll be leaving the house at six thirty and I have Martha laying out the clothes I’ve chosen for you.” She paused, her focus zeroing in on my impromptu snack. “Must you eat that like a horse? Use a knife and cut it into bite-size portions.”

  I slid off the stool to follow through with her orders. “Sorry.”

  “Also, you’ll be happy to know Andrew will be there. He called and he specifically asked if you’d be attending. Play your cards right and you’ll be married within the next few months.” She took on a wistful tone, smiling at whatever image was playing in her head. “The first of my daughters, married.”

  Suddenly the chunk of apple I was chewing on tasted like saw dust and I had a hard time swallowing it. I ignored her disapproving look as I tossed it half-eaten into the trash. My stomach churned. Another night with Andrew and his arrogant comments was the last thing I wanted.

  “I’ll go see what you prepared for me,” I murmured, hiding my discouragement. Time was running out for me. I’d told Oliver I wasn’t ready to stand up to my parents, but events were rapidly spiraling out of my control. If I didn’t do something quickly, it would be too late. The idea of being tied to Andrew for the rest of my life was horrifying.

  All the way back to my room, I warred within myself. There was no denying a decision would need to be made, and soon. I still didn’t feel strong enough for the battle that would come when I announced my need for independence. My parents were experts in manipulation and they had a well-honed arsenal at their disposal. All I had was my inexperience. The odds were definitely against me.

  I gazed around my bedroom after closing the door for privacy.

  More like false privacy, I snorted. It was simply an illusion, like everything else in my life. There was nothing here that was truly mine. The room was a reflection of my mother’s tastes and what she thought I should have.

  Kneeling beside my bed, I reached under and toward the headboard for my secret box. I’d started my small collection of treasures many years ago, routinely moving locations to keep it secure. Opening it, the first thing I saw was the rubber puppet from the afternoon at the Pier with Oliver.

  “What am I going to do, Fred?” I asked, slipping it onto my index finger. Staring at the cute novelty toy, I wiggled it about and sighed. “You sound just like Oliver, but it’s not that simple. You don’t know what they’d do to stop me.” Fred offered me a kind look, a smile plastered on his face. “But if I don’t do something, I’m going to be completely trapped and miserable.”

  The remaining contents now beckoned my attention and, after thanking my small plastic friend for listening, I slowly pulled each out each of the items, one by one. There was the hot pink ribbon I’d traded with a girl in high school. It was bright and bold, everything my mother detested, making it the perfect accessory. Her eyes had bulged when I’d come down to breakfast, one morning, wearing it in my hair. She’d all but ripped it from me and thrown it out. A sympathetic servant had saved it and hidden it under my pillow for me to find. It represented that first, brief moment of freedom and I cherished it.

  Next was a travel brochure of Europe. The pages were worn and dog-eared from the many times I’d studied the detailed locations. It showed beautiful color photos of sightseeing destinations with small handwritten notes in the margins. I wanted to visit each and every place, explore all they had to offer. It was this secret desire that kept me sane many nights when my parents were super insensitive and controlling.

  My heart still ached when I pulled out the small birthday invitation. I’d been eight and one of the girls in class was having a party. Everyone had been invited, pretty dresses bought, and it was all everyone talked about for weeks. Clarissa had boasted there would be clowns and ponies to ride, cakes of every kind and a root beer fountain. Unfortunately, her father and my father were in the middle of a messy lawsuit and I was forbidden to go. I didn’t realize it then, but it marked the start of my loneliness. It was hard to keep friends when I was never allowed to spend time with them. Eventually, anyone brave enough to approach me gave up.

  I didn’t open the next item. I didn’t need to. I had every word memorized.

  When I was five, my mother enrolled me in dance classes. She loved showcasing her talented daughters among her friends and dressing us up in ridiculous outfits. That year’s recital was featured in the newspaper and the photo accompanying the story was of me, twirling in my frilly tutu at the front of the stage. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but I’d kept the newspaper clipping because of the unique angle the photographer had captured. There, in the front seats, were my parents; and the camera had recorded my father. His face was softer than usual and he was wearing a genuine smile. He didn’t look stern and scary. He appeared like every other proud man at the recital, watching his daughter shine. For years afterward, I would use this photo as a reminder I didn’t always disappoint him. It gave me comfort.

  Sitting on the floor now, my treasure box failed me for the first time. Instead of easing my restlessness, it stirred it up. I didn’t want to settle for mementos. What I wanted, more than anything, was to live a life where I had real memories and mementos that I didn’t have to hide and guard.

  Ignoring the rest of my keepsakes, I returned it to where it was originally concealed and lay back on the floor. I was agitated, feeling helpless, my world spinning out of control.

  “What are you doing on the floor, Liberty? Why aren’t you getting ready?” my mother demanded, staring down her nose at me.

  Her anger confused me until I glanced at the clock. I’d been so caught up in feeling sorry for myself that I hadn’t noticed a few hours had passed. Struggling for a believable excuse, I gave up. I was tired of having to justify every little thing and action.

  “I don’t feel good. Would it be okay if I didn’t go tonight?” It wasn’t the full truth, but it was close.

  “You look fine to me. Go take a shower and get dressed.” Her comment made me wonder if my parents ever truly listened to me.

  “Please, Mom. I’d hate to get sick while we’re there.” I pushed the subject, not willing to let it go so easily. “I’d hate to pass out or throw up in front of everyone. It would be embarrassing.” It was code for it would also be humiliating for the family.

  I finally had her attention, although she kept her distance. “Are you that sick? Andrew is looking forward to seeing you. Maybe taking something for it will help.”

  “I don’t want to risk it. Andrew’s a busy man. He can’t afford to be sick. I’m sure he’d be grateful I was considerate.”

  This pleased her. “You’re right, and it’ll endear you to him more. Okay, you can stay home, tonight. Make sure you keep to your room and rest. Call one of the servants if you need anything.” Her lack of motherly concern didn’t hurt this time.

  Left alone again, and with the night to myself, I decided to run a bath and relax. I’d gotten out of seeing Andrew.

  It may have been a small victory, but it was a s
tart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I was lightly dozing when my phone buzzed.

  The screen showed Oliver had sent me a picture message and there was a sharp pang of longing when I opened it. There he was, his sexy dimples showing, as he smiled with a small group of people. They were crowded together at a booth, the background dark.

  Thinking of you. Wish you were here.

  I felt the same way. It was a Friday night and I was hiding at home because the only alternative I had was completely undesirable. I studied the photo, looking at each face individually. It was obvious they were all close friends and wherever it was taken, they were having fun.

  Fun. It was such a foreign concept to me. The times with Oliver were some of the rare times I’d experienced the feeling and I desperately wanted it again. Another wave of exhaustion swept over me, this one more emotional and mental than physical. There was no reason why I shouldn’t be in this picture, grinning with everyone and looking carefree. The image of my treasure box under my bed entered my mind and something inside me faltered. The time to make another decision was here.

  Where are you?

  At work. I start in a few minutes but I wanted to message you first.

  What’s the address? I’ll catch a taxi there.

  Are you serious?

  Yes. I’m tired of being the good girl.

  There was a brief pause before Oliver’s text came through.

  What about your parents? I don’t want you getting into trouble.

  I’m already in trouble. Trust me. I want to come see you.

  My hands shook as I replied. I was willfully defying my parents by going somewhere I knew they’d disapprove of; to see a boy I knew they’d be against.

  Oliver quickly responded with the address. I’d never heard of Inferno, but knew where Bell Street was. After telling him I’d see him soon, I rushed over to my closet to get dressed.

  Ten minutes later, I was on the verge of tears. Even though my wardrobe was one any girl would envy, there was nothing in it to wear. Everything suited functions, dinner parties, and the lifestyle my mother kept trying to force on me. Each item had been carefully chosen for the sole purpose of displaying our breeding and social position within the community. Every one of them made me appear older than twenty-one and more like a housewife-in-training than a young woman out on the town with her friends.

  I was slowly losing my nerve, not wanting to show up and be laughed at. I wanted to fit in. After fingering the countless sweater sets that were hanging, I realized that all I’d do was stand out. The negative voice in my head got louder; warning me it was safer to stay home.

  Pick something, anything. Oliver won’t mind. Hurry up!

  Grabbing the first thing in front of me, I quickly dressed and called a cab. I refused to think of the consequences and instead focused on the one thing that had my stomach fluttering.

  Freedom.

  The moment I stepped out of the taxi and onto the curb, the pulsing music hit me. The beat energized me, zapping my nerves with a healthy dose of excitement. This was by far the most daring I’d ever been and, after paying the driver, I stared up at the bright red, neon sign.

  Inferno was busy, a long line already forming. Some people were chatting together in groups, patiently waiting, while others walked up and down the street in search of a good time. It was amazing to watch a whole new world unfold around me—one I never realized could be this alive and vibrant. It was overwhelming and intriguing at the same time.

  “Liberty!” someone yelled over the crowd and busy traffic, shocking me. A cute red-haired girl pushed past the club’s security, a wide smile on her face as she moved toward me. “Liberty, right?”

  I nodded, not sure who she was until I recalled Oliver’s photo. “Hi!” I said, shyly.

  She threw her arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Oliver’s told us so much about you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered. Letting her go, I got a closer look at Oliver’s friend. Her hair was a riot of tamed curls that fell below her shoulder blades, a small clip securing some of the strands to the side of her face. There was a smattering of freckles across her nose and her green eyes shined with excitement. One look at her outfit confirmed my fashion faux pas.

  Her tight designer jeans and glittered spaghetti strapped top were perfect for a nightclub. I suddenly felt like my mother.

  “Oh, I’m such a ditz. I’m Molly, Blake’s girlfriend.” When she saw me frown, she added, “Blake is Oliver’s best friend. It’s okay, we won’t bite!” Molly chatted. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it first before dragging me toward the club’s entrance. “Come on, I want to see Oliver’s face when he sees you!”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious. The culture shock hit the second we entered and the loud thrum from the speakers momentarily took my breath away. Everywhere I turned, there was color in the form of flashing lights, neon bar signs, and strobes hanging over the dance floor. The layout was well thought out, different sections allowing people to intimately chat, socialize in larger groups or dance. The dance floor was in front of the stage, where I assumed the DJ worked. A brief glance there told me Oliver wasn’t up there.

  “She’s here. I told you she’d turn up!” Molly announced to a small group, seated in one of the smaller booths. I felt a little like a deer in the headlights. There was so much to take in and now there were new people to meet.

  “You did it!” There was no time to take a deep breath before I was swept up into Oliver’s arms and swung around in a circle. I held on tight, laughing.

  “I said I was.”

  Oliver carefully placed me back on my feet. “You did, didn’t you?” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, grinning. “I’m proud of you.”

  I couldn’t stop staring at him. Every time I saw Oliver, I was struck by how good looking he was and how much his smile entranced me. Tonight he was dressed in tight black jeans with an equally tight black t-shirt. There was a cool design on the front in metallic silver—some kind of band and their logo that I wasn’t familiar with. His hair was styled where the top looked messy and stuck out in different directions. My mother would’ve disapproved but I thought it made him look sexy. I had to remind myself to blink.

  A chorus of coughs erupted followed by a round of laughter. “Do you think you can quit staring at her long enough to introduce us, Olly?” It was then I remembered we had an audience. It was also obvious that Oliver had been looking at me just as intently.

  This time, he blushed. “Sorry, everyone . . . this is Liberty. Liberty, this is Shawn, Jason, Blake, and you met Molly, already.” He gestured toward each and I waved at them in return.

  “Pleased to meet you. We have a lot to discuss. I want to know how you managed to get my boy so smitten.” Blake greeted, winking at me.

  “No, you don’t. No grilling Liberty for information. She’s here to have fun, not get interrogated.”

  I loved watching the way Oliver bantered with his friends, pointing his finger at them. “You tell me if they give you a hard time, okay?” He turned those eyes toward me again.

  It was overwhelming. My senses were on full overload between what was happening in front of me and the liveliness of the club. With the constant pounding from the music, all I could do was nod in rhythm to the beat.

  Oliver must have realized the affect it was having on me and pulled me in close. “I wasn’t sure you were really coming. I’m proud of you, sweetheart. What did your parents say when you left?” He was talking into my ear and his breath stirred at my hair.

  I didn’t have time to tell him they didn’t know. A big guy with the word SECURITY written across his shirt came over to us, telling Oliver he was needed.

  “Hold that thought, okay? I have to work but I’ll be done in a few hours and then you can give me all the brave details.” He cupped my face, brushing his thumb over my cheek before turning to his friends. “Take care of my girl, please. I wa
nt her in one piece when I get back.”

  He was answered with a variety of responses, some making me blush. It was Molly who stood and came to my side. “I’ve got it covered, Olly. Go be awesome.”

  Oliver gave me one last glance and smile before disappearing into the crowd.

  “Olly?” I asked.

  “Yeah, someone called him that a few years ago and it stuck. He uses it as his DJ moniker as well.” She pointed over to the stage, and sure enough there was a sign with his name on it.

  “So, Liberty, come sit over here by me.” Shawn grinned, patting the space next to him.

  “I don’t think so,” Molly snorted. “Liberty’s under my protection, tonight, and that includes from the likes of you, Shawn McAllister.”

  “Don’t be a hater, Molly!” Shawn whined, faking a wounded look. “Blake, you need to teach your girlfriend some respect.”

  “Hey, I’m not getting involved in this feud. Last time, I ended up sleeping on the couch. I chose her every time, bro.” Blake raised his hands in surrender before reaching out for Molly. She left my side quickly, lowering herself on Blake’s lap to give him his reward—a kiss that made me blush and Oliver’s friends hoot and cat call.

  “Get used to it, Liberty.” Jason chuckled. “Our Molly doesn’t have any shame when it comes to her boyfriend.”

  “I heard that,” she responded, breaking away from Blake and slapping Jason’s shoulder. “You’re just jealous you don’t get this kind of attention.”

  I watched on in awe. They were so comfortable with each other, just how I imagined real friends would be. It reminded me again, of how lonely I was and how desperately I wanted to fit in with them. If I had people like this in my life, being brave might be easier.

  “You’re scaring her!” Shawn added, redirecting the attention to me. “How about I get you a drink, Liberty. It might make handling Molly and her antics more manageable.”