Time's Hostage: The dangers of love, loss, and lus (Time Series Book 1)

by Brenda Kuchinsky

  “Wine,” Lili answered.

  “Okay. We’re both all in black. I hope that doesn’t portend anything,” Sophia remarked, half-jokingly, half-anxiously.

  “I wouldn’t read anything into that because we both love black, Ma.”

  “You’re right, of course. I’m always overanalyzing. I need to get back into meditation, TM. It always made for a mental vacation.”

  I had a great mental vacation with Dirk, she thought. No thinking there.

  “What’s that smug smile all about, Ma?” Lili asked, searching her face.

  “Nothing. Just thinking of TM.”

  “Boy. TM must do a lot for you.”

  “It does,” Sophia said lamely.

  “Let me get your wine and a coffee refill. Sit. Sit,” she urged.”

  When Sophia returned with the drinks, Lili remarked, “Actually, you look tired. Bad night?” Lili asked.

  “Bad hallucination. Since I went to Clyde and changed meds, I’ve had a few. They’re debilitating.”

  “Do you want to talk about them?” Lili asked

  “No.” Sophia was emphatic. “We’re here to talk about you. And it’s long overdue. I grew up without grandparents. They were long gone into the maws of the German death machine by the time I was born. I was envious of my classmates who had relationships with their grandparent or grandparents. I couldn’t talk to my parents, your grandparents. And you couldn’t either. Feelings were taboo. Just soldier on. That was the message. Morton’s parents were all fucked up in their own right and living in London. The point I’m trying to make is that you should have been able to talk to me. But I guess I was unapproachable because of my own upbringing. I chose someone unapproachable. Morton was involved in his own drunken horror show. I’m just sorry he dragged you as well as me along for the ride.”

  “Well, you’re here now. Let me tell you twenty years ago was no picnic for a lesbian teen at Beach High. It was worse for the gay guys. Girls are always made lesser in the eyes of the world on every issue,” Lili began. “Actually, I started out thinking I was bisexual. I was attracted to guys too. I’d had a couple of boyfriends as well as girlfriends. I had only had sex with a girl, though.

  “Believe me, it was difficult keeping this all in at home. But like you said. You were preoccupied, unapproachable. And you had your own cross to bear with Morton. Tumultuous drama all the time. I learned to keep my own counsel. I had a few good friends. Twenty years ago, being bisexual or gay may have been tougher, but people will always sneer at outsiders. Especially teens. Ellen came out on TV in 1997. That had its trickle-down effects. But it was slow, like molasses.”

  “At Parsons, I met a boy who really turned me on, I thought. Curly black hair, knowing blue eyes, long, curly lashes, and an inviting red pouty mouth. A bit of the Morton rogue type. And you, of course, know how charming a ladies’ man can be. You imagine he really pays attention to women, cares about what they want instead of just wanting to get his dick wet and buried as often as he can, where he can.”

  Lili paused to take a long swallow of wine.

  Sophia watched her long beautiful throat working. What a precious woman, my daughter, and I squandered all those years lavishing all my attention on Morton.

  “I thought this was the perfect one to deflower me. Then I’d know. Did I want boys or girls? Or both?” Lili said.

  “How I wish you could have confided in me. I could have been a sympathetic ear. But, of course, that’s easy to say now. Lili, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I guess I wasn’t really there for me. It was all Morton, Morton, Morton. And then after he was gone, I was scrabbling to support us and I still wasn’t there for you.” Sophia said.

  “Don’t ever beat yourself up. What we have now is wonderful, and I’ll take it with a happy heart,” Lili said.

  “Okay. Back to the tale of the beautiful blue-eyed boy,” Sophia encouraged.

  “Back to the beautiful boy,” Lili said. “We were on our first real date. We’d had coffee a few times. Pete was his name. Peter Taylor Sinclair III. He had mesmerized me with his looks, his charm, his intellect, and his creativity. He wanted to be the next Ralph Lauren.”

  Lili took another swallow and let out a long low sigh, shuddering slightly. “It was our first real date. Drinks and dancing. I wore a silky, ruffled, semitransparent lilac-and-pink dress. So girly. I loved that dress. When we danced, we were pressing close to each other. He was exciting me. We had a few martinis. We were trying to be sophisticated.

  “He asked to come up to my apartment. My roommate had already moved out. I was leaving for Paris soon. We had the place to ourselves. I took a bottle of Stoli out of the freezer, and we started taking sips, passing the bottle back and forth. We were making out, and it felt good. Hot, long, vodka-infused kisses. Feeling each other’s bodies. Pressing closer and closer.”

  Lili stopped for a breather. “How about a refill, Ma? I’m parched.”

  Sophia, getting up from the armchair across from Lili, hurriedly refilled her glass, waiting to hear the rest of the story.

  “And then it didn’t feel good any more. He was moving on to the next stage on his own. Grabbing at my crotch, trying to rip my panties down, trying to get a finger in there, putting my hand on his bulging fly. I knew I wanted no part of it. It was as if someone had poured cold water over me, dousing the flames of desire. I was afraid. I didn’t want a penis. I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t like making love with another girl. His cock was a weapon.”

  Lili sat back on the couch cushions looking wild eyed, as if she were back in that room, re-experiencing fighting off a lover—a lover she had at first welcomed.

  “Well, his cock did become a weapon. As did his fists, his hands, his whole body. When he finally realized I was intent on stopping the whole thing, he kept the forward motion going without my cooperation. First he punched me, then he ripped my flimsy dress off, then he slapped me, then he pulled my panties down, then he rammed his enormous hard dick right into my virgin vagina, coming fast and hard as he bit into my shoulder. The searing, tearing pain took my breath away even though I was woozy from the beating and anesthetized by the alcohol. Before he left, he poured the remaining vodka on my burning vagina, spitting out, ‘That’s what you get for keeping Pete’s big peter from his prize. You stupid cunt.’ Then he lurched out the door, zipping his fly, and laughing hysterically on his way out. I remember thinking he must be a little bit mad. Funny, I never noticed that.”

  Sophia found her face wet with tears for the third time in two days. “Lili, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry you were so all alone in a world that had turned into such a cruel, cold place. Did you report him?”

  “Oh, yes. I did the right thing. I went through all the hell of reporting a date rape. The rape kit, the exam, the police questioning, the school administration, attorneys. But I never took it to court. It soon became clear that I was not taken seriously. I, with the black eye, marks on my arms, bite marks on my shoulder, Pete’s big peter’s semen in my vagina, tears in my vagina, bruises everywhere, was somehow not the victim. It was positively Kafkaesque. Everyone seemed to be blaming me. Or at least, not blaming Pete. I dropped it. The obscenely wealthy attorney to the politico father whisked his precious Pete off somewhere, never to be seen again. For all I know, he might have date-raped his way through half a dozen schools.

  “But the worst thing about the whole fiasco wasn’t the physical injury and pain. It was the recurring vivid memories. Something as innocuous as a glimpse of a light-blue polo shirt, like the one he was grinding into my face when he was grinding me, can set off flashbacks of the whole traumatic scene. Or seeing a bottle of Stoli brings the whole nightmare back for me to relive. Even those distinctive red lips on a man can do it.” Lili shook herself as if to free herself of the stubborn recollections. “Okay, enough for now. I’m spent. There’s more to the story. Chanel gets involved right after I meet her at Parsons Paris. Maybe later or tomorrow I’ll feel up to it.”

 
; “That’s certainly enough for now, Lili dear.”

  Sophia came over to the couch and sat next to Lili, embracing her in an enveloping bear hug. She held on for a long time. Finally, she let go and simply said, “Words cannot express. They’re inadequate.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Lili, saying she felt dirty after her story, had gone off to take a shower. Sophia, guilt ridden and remorseful, went to the kitchen to fetch some wine for herself. Coffee wasn’t strong enough to address her feelings. She felt helpless and inadequate.

  Chanel would be arriving any minute, and Sophia felt apprehensive about the meeting.

  Just as Lili swept down the stairs, the doorbell rang. Sophia opened the door to a beautiful woman in a simple emerald-green dress adorned only by a single strand of red beads but with red shoes to match. She gaped a bit because this woman could be Lili’s twin. They looked so much alike—build, coloring, haircuts, and height.

  Sophia recovered quickly and hustled Chanel in for a warm embrace, saying, “You must be Chanel. I’m so happy to meet you. You look so much like my daughter. It’s uncanny.”

  “I’m thrilled to meet you. Here’s a gift,” Chanel said after Sophia released her from her hug. She handed Sophia a bottle of champagne, adding, “Yes. Everyone remarks about the resemblance. I like to say we’re the evil twins,” she concluded, laughing.

  Lili went over to Chanel to kiss her hello, and they sat close together on the couch.

  “Wine, darling?” Lili asked.

  “Yes, my love,” Chanel replied.

  Sophia, feeling awkward around the easy, established intimacy between the two lovers, interjected, “I’ll get it. Red or white, Chanel?”

  “Red, s’il vous plaît,” Chanel chimed in her musical accent.

  “No vous for me, my dear. You are going to be, or you already are, a second daughter to me, so please tutoyer me. Use the familiar you, not the formal.”

  Chanel proceeded to endear herself to Sophia by addressing her as Maman. “So you speak French, Maman?” Chanel asked.

  “Hardly. Just some high-school and college memories. Very broken. I just remember my eccentric Irish bowlegged high-school French teacher. She always said ‘tu’ is for your relatives, close friends, and pet alligators. ‘Vous’ is for everyone else. All the while, she was obsessively yanking up her drooping bra straps, always poking out of her short sleeves as she murdered the accent. It was an all girls’ school, so I guess she thought it didn’t matter. About the bra that is, not the accent,” Sophia said.

  “What a charming memory,” Chanel said.

  “I see you are a happy person. That’s wonderful for Lili. She’s had a bit of a rough time of it. Some slings and arrows of misfortune.” She looked at Lili for approval as she said, “Lili has just been telling me a traumatic tale of her Parsons days. She didn’t finish the story.”

  “Boy, Ma, you plunge right in,” Lili exclaimed.

  “I guess it comes from being a therapist. We get right down to the nitty-gritty. No boring small talk.”

  “I just finished telling Ma about Pete’s big peter. I stopped before Paris,” Lili explained as Chanel leaned in and hugged her tightly.

  “I forgot all about the wine. I’ll be right back,” Sophia said.

  “Your maman, our maman, is so voluptuous, bien roulée. So youthful, so pretty, so kind,” Chanel enthused.

  “Yes, because she’s a fanatic. Yoga fanatic, exercise fanatic, vegetarian—well, pescatarian now—organic everything. And of course, it’s her genes. Her mother apparently was also youthful and voluptuous without being an exercise and food fanatic,” Lili said.

  Sophia returned with the wine and resumed the conversation. “Are you up to telling the rest of the story, darling?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes, the shower cleared my head, and now that Chanel is here, I feel stronger.”

  Chanel and Lili toasted each other, and then they both clinked glasses with Sophia.

  “I arrived in Paris about a month later. It was great to get away from the memories. Paris was a great anodyne. I wasn’t let down, like a lot of tourists expecting a fairy-tale Paris, a confection, not a real city. A Japanese psychiatrist practicing in Paris even invented the term ‘Paris Syndrome.’ He described tourists whose image of Paris did not gibe with the reality to the degree that they experienced depression, anxiety, and even hallucinations. I didn’t have the typical American complaints either. About arrogance, rudeness, and haughtiness. I just loved it. It was the antidote for what ailed me at the time.

  “And, I met Chanel almost immediately. She was assigned to me as a native helper. Whatever she could do to ease the transition. We had instant chemistry,” she said, pausing to kiss Chanel.

  “So at first I was relatively happy, trying to put the past behind me. The Paris program was good too. Everything was going my way when I started to suspect that I might be pregnant. I had been checked out for diseases and luckily was clean. For some stupid reason, it never dawned on me that I could get pregnant. When I missed my period, I attributed it to jet lag, culture shock, a disruption in my life. After three weeks, I knew. I started to feel a little different. No morning sickness. Just different.

  “I freaked and turned to Chanel. I told her everything, held my breath, and she was there. She helped with the exam, the abortion, everything. Without her, I probably would have come home. I don’t know,” she said, squeezing Chanel’s hand.

  The bell rang, interrupting the intense atmosphere of shared intimacy.

  “That must be Jack. Perfect timing because you’ve certainly said enough for one day, Lili,” Sophia said. “Now let’s enjoy our UnChristmas. That is, if enjoy is the right word for a Holocaust movie marathon.”

  Sophia flung the front door wide, took in Jack in his black jeans, white shirt, and red tie, and embraced him eagerly. “Jack, I have two extra guests for tonight. You know Lili. And this is her fiancée, Chanel.”

  “Lili, nice to see you. And Chanel, great to meet you.” Jack was inscrutable, showing no surprise at the unexpected news. He shook their hands, juggling a champagne bottle in his other hand.

  “Here’s an unpresent for you, Sophia,” he said, handing her the champagne bottle.

  “Come in, come in. Thank you, Jack. The champagne is piling up. Chanel brought a bottle also. Nothing to complain about,” Sophia said. “Everybody make yourselves comfortable. I’ve made some eggnog with Courvoisier. So help yourselves, and I’ll be back in no time,” Sophia said, bustling into the kitchen.

  Sophia was gratified to hear conversation and laughter. Lili’s openness had cleared the air and opened up the energy in the house. Sophia put the bottles and flutes on a large sturdy tray and added the Camembert, which caused her to vividly recall enjoying the cheese with Dirk. She forced these thoughts aside, adding crackers, hummus, and olives to the tray. She was strong, easily maneuvering the overflowing tray into the living room where her three guests were deep in conversation.

  Jack ran over to unburden Sophia.

  “Jack will do the honors pouring the bubbly. I’m going to order from Thai House. Lots of curries and appetizers. Brown and white rice. Beef for Jack, chicken for Lili, tofu for me, and pork for you, Chanel? Is that okay?” she asked.

  “Anything is fine for me. I eat everything. I’m French,” Chanel said.

  That drew a laugh from the group.

  After they had toasted Sophia with the eggnog and declared it delicious, they switched to champagne and sat back relaxing while they waited for the food to arrive.

  “Lili and Chanel are getting married in New York right after New Year’s, honeymooning in Paris, and then moving to Rouen to set up a designer business,” Sophia told Jack.

  “Congratulations. What’s Rouen like?” Jack asked.

  “It’s in Normandy, northwest of Paris on the Seine. A cozy medieval city brimming with Gothic architecture. Joan of Arc was executed there, and Monet painted their Notre Dame Cathedral repeatedly,” Chanel said.

 
; “It’s a prosperous area, but it won’t be like competing in Paris. I have an aunt there who’ll support our efforts. And it’s apple country. They make a great apple brandy, calvados, and apple cider. Apple desserts. Camembert too,” Chanel added enthusiastically, pointing to the cheese.

  “You make it sound enchanting. If Sophia visits, I’d love to tag along,” Jack said.

  “Maybe May would be good. I’m going to a mindfulness conference in London at the end of April,” Sophia said.

  “If you two want company, I could swing it,” Sophia said.

  “That would be great, Ma. You too, Jack,” Lili said. “Right, Chanel?”

  “Absolument,” Chanel chimed in.

  “Maybe I can take a little time off and meet you in Rouen,” Jack said.

  “Wonderful,” Sophia said. She was thinking about Dirk. Maybe she could meet him somewhere in Europe. Right in her hotel room in London would be good.

  Just then, the food arrived. Everyone tucked in eagerly. The champagne had whet appetites. The room filled with the savory fragrances of curries, red, green, and yellow.

  Sophia insisted on clearing away the plates. She wanted her guests to enjoy themselves. No one protested too vehemently because they were all enjoying a postprandial glow and continued sipping champagne.

  “Okay,” Sophia said. She cleaned up quickly and, once back in the living room, resumed sipping her champagne.

  “I think we’ll start the film festival with The Counterfeiters, a 2007 best foreign film Oscar winner. It’s German and about a counterfeiter who ends up in Sachsenhausen working on a special job for the Nazis. I won’t say any more. It speaks for itself,” Sophia said. “But first, a toast to my mother, Lili’s grandmother, a true survivor, who loved Christmas from the outside looking in, a taboo holiday.”

  Sophia stood and raised her glass. “To Ada.”

  “To Ada!” All three guests stood and clinked glasses with each other and with Sophia.