by Alex Flinn
“I know,” I said, remembering what Will said about her feelings. I’d been thinking for an hour about her feelings, about how maybe she actually cared about her horrible father the same way, damn it—I hated admitting this—I’d cared about mine. “I hope…” I stopped, thinking about it, then decided Will was right. “I hope you’ll come out sometime because…” I couldn’t choke the next words out.
“Because what?”
I caught sight of my reflection in the glass of one of the framed pictures in the hallway, and I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t. “Nothing.”
An hour later, dinner was ready. Magda had made a wonderful-smelling arroz con pollo. At my request, she knocked on Linda’s door carrying a tray.
“I don’t want any dinner,” came Linda’s answer. “Are you kidding?”
“I have brought you a tray,” Magda asked. “You eat in there?”
A pause. Then: “Yes. Yes, please. That would be fine. Thank you.”
I ate dinner, as always, with Magda and Will. After dinner, I said, “I’m going to bed.” I gave Will a look that said, I did everything you said, and it didn’t work.
Even though he couldn’t see it, he said, “Patience.”
But I couldn’t sleep, knowing she was two floors above me, feeling her hatred coming through the vents of the air conditioner, the walls, the floors. This was not what I’d wanted. It would never work. I was a beast, and I would die a beast.
6
“I thought of something helpful,” Will had said the day after she came.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Silence. If you leave her alone, perhaps she’ll come around.”
“This may be why you’re not actually surrounded by girls.”
“Talking to her didn’t work, did it?”
I had to admit, he was right, so I decided to do what he said. What scared me was she hadn’t seen me yet. What would she say when she did?
In the next days, I was silent. Lindy stayed in her room. I watched her in the mirror. The only things she liked were the books and the roses. I read every book she read. I stayed up late into the night reading, to keep up with her. I didn’t even try to talk to her again. And every night, when I got so tired the book fell from my hand, I lay in bed, feeling her hatred like a phantom walking the night hallways. Maybe this was a bad idea. But what other hope did I have?
“I underestimated her,” I told Will.
“Yes, you did.”
I looked at him, surprised. “You think so too?”
“I always thought so. But tell me, Adrian, why do you think so?”
“I thought she’d be impressed with the stuff I bought her, the beautiful furniture, and the clothes. She’s poor, and I thought that if I bought her jewelry and pretty things, she’d give me a chance. But she doesn’t want any of it.”
Will smiled. “No, she doesn’t. She just wants her freedom. Don’t you?”
“Yes.” I thought of Tuttle, of the dance, of what I’d said to Trey about how the school dance was legalized prostitution. It seemed so long ago. “I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t be bought. It makes me sort of like her.”
“I wish that understanding that was enough to break the curse. I’m proud of you for it.”
Proud of you. No one had ever said that to me, and for a second, I wished I could hug Will, just to feel the touch of another human being. But that would be very strange.
That night, I lay awake later than usual, hearing the sounds of the old house. “Settling,” some people would call it. But I thought I heard footsteps upstairs. Were they her footsteps? Impossible, through two floors. But still I couldn’t sleep.
Finally, I got up and went to the second-floor living room, turned on ESPN real soft, so it wouldn’t bug her. I put on jeans and a shirt to do this, which in the past I’d have done in my boxers. Even though she’d pledged to stay in her room forever, I didn’t want to take a chance of her seeing more of me than my face. My face was bad enough.
I’d almost bored myself to sleep when I heard a door open. Could it be her? In the hall? Probably only Magda, or even Pilot, wandering. Yet it sounded like it was on the next floor, Lindy’s floor. I willed myself not to look, to keep my eyes glued to the television so she wouldn’t be frightened by my face in the darkness. I waited.
It was her. I heard her in the kitchen, rattling a plate and fork, rinsing them and putting them into the dishwasher. I wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do it, that Magda did that, that we pay her to. But I stayed quiet. But when I heard her footsteps in the living room, so close she had to see me, I couldn’t stop myself.
“I’m sitting here.” I said it soft. “I want you to know so you won’t freak.”
She didn’t answer, but her eyes darted toward me. The light in the room was dim, coming only from the television. Still, I wanted to pull a pillow over my face, to cover myself. I didn’t. She’d have to see me sometime. Kendra had made that clear.
“You’ve come downstairs,” I said.
She faced me, and I saw her eyes go toward me, then away, then back. “You are a beast. My father…he said…I thought it was a trip he was on. He says crazy things a lot. I thought…But you really are. Oh, my God.” She looked away. “Oh, my God.”
“Please. I won’t hurt you,” I said. “I know I look this way, but I’m not…please. I won’t hurt you, Lindy.”
“I just didn’t think. I thought you were some guy, some pervert who’d…and then when you didn’t break down the door or anything…But how could you be—”
“I’m glad you’ve come down, Lindy.” I tried to keep my voice even. “I’d worried so much about when we’d meet. Now it’s over, and maybe you’ll get used to me. I was worried you wouldn’t come out, maybe ever.”
“I had to.” She took a deep breath, then exhaled. “I’ve been walking at night. I couldn’t stay in those rooms. I felt like an animal.” She stopped herself. “Oh, God.”
I ignored her nervousness. Maybe by acting human, I could show her that I was. I said, “The picadillo Magda made for dinner. It was good, wasn’t it?” I didn’t look at her. Maybe she’d be less afraid if she couldn’t see my face.
“Yes, it was fine. Wonderful.” She didn’t thank me. I didn’t expect her to. I knew better now.
“Magda’s a great cook,” I said, wanting to keep the conversation going, now that we’d started, even if I had to talk about nothing. “When I used to live with my father, he never wanted her to make Latin dishes. She just made regular stuff then, meat and potatoes. But when he left us here, I didn’t really much care what I ate, so she started making this stuff. I guess it’s easier for her, and it’s better.” I stopped babbling, trying to think of something else to babble about.
But she spoke. “What do you mean he left you here? Where’s your father now?”
“I live with Magda and Will,” I said, still looking away. “Will’s my tutor. He can tutor you too, if you want.”
“Tutor?”
“Teacher, really, I guess. Since I can’t go to school because…Anyway, he homeschools me.”
“School? But then, you’re…how old are you?”
“Sixteen. Same as you.”
I could see from her face that this surprised her, that she was thinking all along that I was some old perv. Finally, she said, “Sixteen. Then where are your parents?”
Where are yours? We were in the same boat, sort of, being abandoned by our dear old dads. But I didn’t say it. “Silence,” Will had said. Instead, I said, “My mother left a long time ago. And my father…well, he couldn’t handle that I looked like this. He’s into normalcy.”
She nodded, and there was pity in her eyes. I didn’t want pity. If she pitied me, she might think that I was some pathetic creature who was going to try to drag her off and force her to be mine, like the Phantom of the Opera. Still, pity was better than hatred.
“Do you miss him?” she asked. “Your father?”
I told the truth. “I
try not to. I mean, you shouldn’t miss people who don’t miss you, right?”
She nodded. “When things started getting really bad with my dad, my sisters moved out to live with their boyfriends. I was really mad because they didn’t stay and, you know, help me with him. But I still missed them.”
“I’m sorry.” The subject of her father was getting too risky. “Would you like Will to teach you? He tutors me every day. You’re probably smarter than me. I’m not a very good student, but I bet you’re used to having some kids who aren’t as smart in regular school, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer, and I said, “He could just tutor you, separately from me, if you want. I know you’re mad. You have every right to be.”
“Yes, I do.”
“It’s just that I have something I’d love to show you.”
“Show me?” I could hear the wariness in her voice, like a curtain going down.
Quickly, I said, “No! Not that. You don’t understand. It’s a greenhouse. I built it myself from plans I bought. And all the plants in it are roses. Do you like roses?” I knew she did. “Will turned me on to them. I guess he thought I could use a hobby. My favorites are the floribunda—climbing roses. They aren’t as detailed as the hybrid tea roses. I mean, they have fewer layers of petals. But they can grow so high—sometimes ten feet if they’re supported right. And I make sure they’re supported right.”
I stopped. I sounded like those nerdy kids at school, the ones who spouted baseball stats or knew Lord of the Rings like Frodo, the Hobbit, was a long-lost cousin.
“The roses in my room,” she said. “They’re from you? You grew them?”
“Yes.” In the days she’d been there, I’d had Magda remove the yellow roses as they’d died and replace them with white ones, symbolizing purity. I hoped to replace them someday with red ones, which stood for romance. “I liked having you see my roses. I had no one to give them to before except Magda. But I have dozens more. If you want to come down to see them—or for tutoring—I can have Will or Magda there the whole time, so you wouldn’t worry I’ll hurt you.”
I didn’t point out the obvious, that she was alone with me now, that she’d been with me for days, guarded only by a blind man, an old woman, and a flimsy door, and I hadn’t done anything to her. But I hoped she’d noticed.
“And this is really how you look?” she said finally. “It’s not a mask you’re using to hide your face? Like kidnappers do?” A nervous laugh.
“I wish it was. I’ll come around the sofa, so you can see for yourself.” I did, cringing to have her examine me. I was glad I was covered up as much as possible, but I squinted in the glare. I thought of Esmeralda, unable to look at Quasimodo. I was a monster. A monster.
“You can touch it—my face—if you’d like to make sure,” I said.
She shook her head. “I believe you.” Now that I was closer, her eyes traveled up and down my body, taking in my clawed hands. Finally, she nodded, and I knew from her eyes she felt sorry for me. “I think I would like for Will to tutor me. We could try him tutoring us together, to save his time. But if you’re too stupid to keep up, we’d have to make a change. I’m used to honors classes.”
I could see she was joking, but also a little serious. I wanted to ask about the greenhouse again, and if she’d come down early to have breakfast with Will, Magda, and me. But I didn’t want to freak her out, so I said, “We study in my rooms, by the rose garden. It’s on the first floor. We usually get started at nine. We’re reading Shakespeare’s sonnets.”
“Sonnets?”
“Yes.” I searched my mind for a stanza to recite. I’d memorized pages and pages of poetry during this solitary confinement. This was my chance to impress her. But the silence of my stupidity was deafening. Finally, I broke it. “Shakespeare’s great.”
Duh. Shakespeare’s cool, man.
But she smiled. “Yes. I love his plays and his poetry.” Another nervous smile, and I wondered if she was as relieved at our first meeting as I was. “I should get to bed, then, to be ready.”
“Yeah.”
She turned and went upstairs. I watched her as she walked to the stairs, then up, then listened as her footsteps reached the next floor landing.
Only when I heard her bedroom door open and close did I give in to my beast instincts and do a wild animal dance around the room.
7
I woke before sunrise, to remove the dead leaves from the roses, sweep the greenhouse floor, and water the plants. I wanted to do this well before our tutoring session, so everything would have a chance to dry. I didn’t want mud. I even rinsed the wrought-iron furniture in the greenhouse, though it was already clean and it was also probably too warm to sit out there. I wanted all options open.
By six, everything was perfect. I’d even rearranged some of the vines to climb higher, like they were trying to escape. Then I woke Will by knocking loudly on his door.
“She’s coming,” I told him.
“Whoshe?” Will’s voice was still groggy with sleep.
“Shh,” I whispered. “She’ll hear you. Lindy’s coming to our tutoring session.”
“Terrific,” Will said. “That’s in—what—five hours?”
“Three. I told her nine o’clock. I couldn’t wait any longer. But I need your help before that.”
“Help with what, Adrian?”
“You have to teach me everything ahead of time.”
“What…and why would I do that instead of sleeping?”
I knocked on the door again. “Will you open up? I can’t stand out here and have this conversation with you. She might hear.”
“Then go back to bed. There’s an idea.”
“Please, Will,” I stage-whispered. “It’s important.”
Finally, I heard him moving around the room. In a moment, he appeared at the door. “What’s so important?”
Behind him, Pilot hid his head in his paws.
“I need you to teach me now.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you hear me? She’s coming to our tutoring session.”
“Yes. At nine. She’s probably still asleep now.”
“But I don’t want her to think I’m stupid—besides being ugly. You need to teach me everything ahead of time so I can be smart in front of her.”
“Adrian, be yourself. It will be fine.”
“Be myself? Maybe you’ve forgotten that myself is a beast?” The word beast came out a frantic roar, though I was trying to stay calm. “This is the first time she’ll be seeing me in daylight. It’s taken her over a week. I want to at least be smart.”
“You are smart. But she’s smart too. You want to be able to talk to her, not just repeat what I’ve told you.”
“But she was an honors student at Tuttle. She was on scholarship. I was just a screwup with Daddy’s money.”
“You’ve changed since then, Adrian. I’ll throw you some soft pitches if it seems like you need them, but I doubt you will. You’re a smart kid.”
“You just want to go back to bed.”
“I do want to go back to bed. But I don’t just want to go back to bed.” He started to close the door.
“You know, the witch said she’d give you back your sight if I broke this curse.”
He stopped. “You asked her for that?”
“Yeah. I wanted to do something for you, since you’ve been really nice to me.”
“Thank you.”
“So you can see how it’s really important that I do well. So can you give me something, some hint? She says that if I turn out to be stupid, she’ll want to study separately. That would be double the work for you.”
He must have thought about that because he said, “Okay, check out Sonnet Fifty-four. I think you’ll like it.”
“Thanks.”
“But, Adrian, sometimes it’s nice to let her be smart too.”
He closed the door.
I’d parked my chair in front of the French doors of the rose garden for her arr
ival. It took me a while to decide whether I looked better against the beauty of the roses, or if they just called attention to my ugliness. But finally, I decided something in the room should be beautiful, and it definitely wasn’t me. Even though it was July, I wore a long-sleeved blue Ralph Lauren button-down, jeans, and sneakers with socks. Prep Beast. I held a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets in my hand and read Sonnet 54 for about the twentieth time. Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons played in the background.
The whole thing was shattered when she knocked. Will wasn’t there yet, so I had to stand, ruining my picturesque (or—let’s be honest here—slightly less repellant) arrangement. But I couldn’t leave her standing out there, so I hurried to the door and opened it. Real slow. So as not to shock her.
In the morning light, more than the night before, I could feel her not looking at me. Was it because I was too hideous to take up space in her eyes, like a crime scene photo? Or was she just trying to be polite and not stare? I believed she’d gotten past her hatred of me, turning to pity instead. But how could I make that into love?
“Thank you for coming,” I said, motioning her into the room, but not touching her. “I set up next to the greenhouse.” I’d moved a dark wood table next to the French door that led out. I pulled out a chair for her to sit in. In my former life, I’d never have done that for a girl.
But she was already at the door. “Oh! It’s so beautiful. May I go out?”
“Yes.” I was behind her already, reaching for the lock. “Please. I’ve never had a visitor before, never shared my garden with anyone but Will and Magda. I hoped…”
I stopped. She had already stepped outside. The sound of Vivaldi’s strings swelled around her, playing the part called “Spring” just as she stepped out among all the flowers.
“It’s glorious! Just smell it—to have such riches in your home!”
“It’s your home too. Please come anytime.”
“I love gardens. I used to go to Strawberry Fields in Central Park after school. I would sit there for hours, reading. I didn’t like to go home.”
“I understand. I wish I could go to that garden. I’ve seen pictures of it online.” And passed it a thousand times in my past life. I’d barely looked. Now I yearned to go and I couldn’t.
