Suppliant

by Laura Tree

  Chapter 4

  The driveway is full when I pull up. Ava offered me a ride, but I decided to drive separately so I wouldn’t have to stay that long. I just wanted to put in an appearance.

  “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.” Ava takes my hand and pulls me inside. “What took you so long?”

  “I had to wait for my parents to leave; I didn’t want to talk to them.”

  Ava shrugs with understanding. I look around for Damien. I didn’t tell the girls that I had made plans to meet him here.

  “The hunky new guy isn’t here. I don’t know if anyone invited him.” Mads walks over and pours a beer. She offers me a cup and I pour a glass of lemonade. I’m not into underage drinking. I don’t want to get anything on my squeaky-clean record.

  “I think he likes you. Everyone was talking about how he was following you around all day like a lost puppy,” Mads says.

  “He was in all of my classes; it made sense that I would walk with him, and it’s not like he knows the campus.” I know the school is not very big, but it’s the only excuse that I have.

  I’m not going to admit that he’s starting to grow on me. They know that I’ve always been more focused on school work than on boys, and they would never let me live this down.

  The music is blasting which makes conversation hard to accomplish. The house is amazing. I knew that Derek’s parents were loaded, but I hadn’t been expecting this. It’s a mansion compared to my typical small suburban home.

  The decorations are tasteful, and the rooms spacious. There’s a pseudo dance floor in the middle of the living room with several students bopping up and down. I decide immediately to avoid the living room; dancing just isn’t my scene.

  The crowd dies down as Damien walks in. There’s a minute of whispers before the noise slowly returns.

  “Hey, Lay. What’s going on?” His smile is breathtaking as he approaches us huddled in the corner of the kitchen.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Mads is playing the role of hostess. You would think she had thrown the party, but I know that she’s just vying for Damien’s attention.

  “Thanks, I’ll get it. Do you need a refill?” Damien turns to me. I look around, confused for a minute before I notice my empty cup. I hand it to him with a tight smile. What’s the harm in letting him get me a drink?

  “Lemonade, please,” I say. Damien heads toward the refrigerator. The second he’s out of earshot, Ava explodes.

  “O-M-G! How did he know about the party?”

  “I can’t believe he’s here,” Mads chimes in.

  “I invited him. He wanted to hang out, and I wasn’t going to blow you guys off.” I hope they don’t think I invited him because I like him. I mean, it’s true that he’s starting to grow on me, but something about him still digs under my skin.

  The music is pumping when he returns. Mads and Ava make their way to the living room, to dance inappropriately I assume. They try to drag Damien along, but he gracefully bows out.

  Damien hands me my lemonade. “Did you . . . parents?”

  What was that? Damn music is so loud that I can’t hear him.

  “What?” I ask. He grabs my hand and leads me out the back door. I guess he’s having trouble hearing me too.

  It feels weird having his hand in mine. I look down at our joined hands as we walk. I’ve never held hands with a boy before, but I don’t think the amount of warmth spreading up my arm is normal.

  I decide to ignore it and focus on not tripping, since I’m extremely clumsy. I find bruises with unknown origins weekly. It’s pretty scary how often that happens.

  There’s a pool and a hot tub out back full of half--naked seniors. This is the party of the year, Mads told me while she convinced me to come. I guess everyone is excited about graduating.

  Beyond the pool is a lake with a dock. Damien walks toward the lake until the music is drowned out by the crickets. He releases my hand, and I slip my sandals off and dip my toes into the cool lake, watching the ripples in the moonlight. Damien follows suit.

  “Did you talk to your parents about the adoption?” Damien asks after a moment of silence. He must have a lot on his mind too.

  “Not yet. I still need to get it all straight in my head first. I don’t want to be emotional when I talk to them.” I watch the lake ripple in silence. I wonder how long I can avoid them before they confront me.

  “You know that they love you. I’m sure you will feel better after you talk to them.”

  I know that he’s right. I’m just not ready to talk yet. I need to get my thoughts straight. It’s kind of common sense that they love me. They raised me like I was their child, and I never wanted for anything. They always took care of me.

  “You must be close to your parents,” I say to Damien. Why else would he encourage me to talk to mine? He must have a great relationship with them, to understand how my parents are feeling and why they would wait so long to tell me.

  “I was. I had a very open and honest family. We could always share anything. It was nice.” I want to ask him why he’s using past tense, but I don’t want him to clam up. He has been very vague since I met him, and I know there has to be a reason. If he wants to share it with me, he will.

  “So are you going to be attending graduation on Saturday? I’m not sure how it works since you just enrolled today.” Does he have a cap and gown? We had to order them a few months ago.

  “Yes, I will be graduating. The school I went to before transferred all of my files, and I already passed the courses. The office was smart enough to have a few extra cap and gown sets ordered for last minute changes,” Damien says.

  “What are your plans after graduation?” I don’t really think it matters because I’m going off to college in the fall, but I don’t want to talk about my parents anymore.

  “I haven’t made any plans yet. I’m just taking it one day at a time.” I can tell there’s something he’s not sharing, but it isn’t really my place to ask.

  “What’s on your mind?” Damien asks, gazing out at the lake.

  “My future.” I pause, not sure how much I want to share with him.

  “I’m not sure how it’s going to turn out. Yesterday morning I thought I would graduate, work at the library all summer, and then head off to college in the fall, but now I’m not so sure. I want to find my birth parents. I want to meet them, and I don’t know how long the search will take.”

  Damien’s gaze catches my eyes. I see in their green depths understanding laced with a look of adventure to come. I feel comforted just looking at him; it’s like somehow he completely understands everything about me. It’s unnerving.

  We continue to talk about anything that comes to mind. Our conversations focus mostly on the future, the adoption, and getting to know each other. We discover that we both love lasagna, watching stand--up comedy and reading.

  “There you are Layla; you snuck off.” Ava and Mads step onto the dock, making me jump and scoot away from Damien.

  “I have to get home, I’m glad I got to see you.” Damien stands and puts his shoes back on. He’s leaving already? I glance at my watch to see it’s near midnight. Holy cow, we’ve been out here longer than I had thought. I should probably get going too.

  “Thanks for meeting me here,” I say looking down at the ground. I don’t want him to see my face until I get it under control.

  “Thanks for the invite. See ya tomorrow,” Damien says. He squeezes past Mads and Ava who are giggling like little girls.

  “Oh My Gosh, he is so hot. I can’t believe he was out here all night with you,” Mads says. As I turn toward the house I can see several students have been watching our every move.

  I zone out on our walk back to the house. I know that if I want to avoid all of the questions and stares, I better leave soon.

  When we reach the hot tub, I say my goodbyes and circle around the side of the house out of sight.

  …


  “Is that you, honey?” I hear my mom’s voice over the television.

  “Hey Mom and Dad, I thought you would be in bed by now. It’s getting late.”

  “We wanted to talk to you. It won’t take long; I know that you’re tired.” She sounds so hopeful.

  “I am really tired. Can this wait?” My being tired is not a lie. I just don’t really feel like talking about the adoption.

  “I just wanted to know how you are doing. You haven’t said anything since we told you,” Mom says.

  “I’m fine Mom, really. I’m just ready for bed. I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow. Good night.” I give her and Dad a kiss on their cheeks and head upstairs to my bedroom.

  “Just give her some time, honey. She’ll come around,” I hear Dad whisper as I climb the stairs.