“A way of life is still a choice,” Colleen went on, forcing a reasonableness to her tone that only incensed Madeline further. “Sometimes in order to do the things we want, we must first do the things we need.”
“None of you understand. I’m not clamoring to get to protests so I can feel good about myself, or to have something to talk about to the sewing circle. I’m not checking a box, Colleen. I want to be in the world helping people for the rest of my life, because I must, because if I don’t, I’ll go insane!”
Colleen’s hand stretched out and slapped her. No sooner than she had, her face filled with dark regret. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Madeline clutched her stinging face. Tears poured into the hot skin. “You know what would be nice? To have an older sister I could talk to. Who at least tried to understand me, and maybe even comfort me from time to time.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you… I didn’t mean…” Colleen’s own face flushed red and she looked confused, and Madeline could see, and feel, that her sister did regret the action, but it didn’t matter now. None of it mattered.
“What is it about me you hate so much? Are you afraid of me, because I’m so in tune with my emotions while you’re afraid of yours? Is that it?” Madeline looked around for her schoolbag, which she’d dropped on the way in. She didn’t care about the textbooks, but she needed her diary. “You’ve always been more of a sister to Evangeline, hell, even Lizzy. You’ve never stood by my side.”
“If standing by your side means watching you throw your life away, I will never,” Colleen said, seemingly recovered from her brief violence. “Look around you, Maddy! Our whole family is in the middle of a crisis. Elizabeth can’t stop predicting the deaths of her poor classmates and their families. Charles is a ticking time bomb, and it’s a matter of when, not if, he will go off. Augustus just hides his head in the sand like he’s not even a part of this family, like none of it matters, and you’re trying to run off to dangerous protests when you haven’t even finished school! You can be mad at me, but I’m only trying to keep this family together.”
Madeline laughed through her tears. “That’s Mom’s job… you know that, right?”
Colleen squared herself. “As long as Charles, Maureen, and you make it hard for Mama, then I’ll do what I can to help her. She’s doing this all alone, Maddy. She has no one.”
“Alone? That makes two of us,” Madeline cried and shoved her sister out of the way, bookbag in hand, bolting up the stairs. She smashed into Elizabeth on the way, who gave her a look so curious that Madeline stopped altogether.
“What is it?” she snapped, the venom in her voice leftover from her fight with Colleen.
Elizabeth started to say something, then dropped her eyes and returned to her room.
Four
A Night to Remember
Colleen wiped away the dark smears and paused before commencing her fourth attempt at eye makeup. She didn’t know how to apply it properly on an average day, but her tears threw up a barrier greater than her lack of skill.
Agreeing to Rory’s prom invitation was foolish and short-sighted. She was in no mood to put on a smiling face and surrender to whatever teenage antics awaited at the Roosevelt Hotel.
She folded into a heap on her vanity seat and buried her tear-stained face in her hands. This was hopeless. How could she even attempt joy, after how deep her rift with Madeline had grown? She never meant it to get that far. After the sting of her hand connecting with her sister’s face, Colleen had never in her life wished more that she could rewind time by even a second.
And now even Maureen had joined in with the silent treatment. Maureen, who had never gotten along with Madeline, found alliance with her sister on their shared belief Colleen was a terrible sister. Augustus would always side with Madeline; she was his single weakness, unless you marked him down for being too serious. But Colleen was the same, so she did not.
Charles had always loathed her, and even he now took a stance on the matter of Colleen vs. Madeline, when he had never cared before. She suspected he was latching on to the opportunity to draw attention away from himself and capitalizing on a feud that had taken over the entire household.
None of them understood. Children were inherently selfish, even if not in any malicious way, and only Colleen could apparently see how their mother struggled to corral seven headstrong individuals and turn them into responsible adults with promising futures. Charles dismissed all of this, because he saw his position as Deschanel heir as a get-out-of-anything-free card. Colleen’s sisters had also never known true consequence, for first August, and then, with hesitation, Irish Colleen, had sheltered them from what the world might bring to their door should they misstep too far. Irish Colleen was perpetually torn between protecting her children from anything too terrible and trying to teach them that those too terrible things could easily happen without the right measure of caution and prevention.
Colleen felt a kinship toward her long-suffering mother, and she didn’t know if she was born with such maturity and seriousness, or if she had slowly grown into it because of her work on the Deschanel Magi Collective Council. She believed it would eventually pay off, that her life would be solid and safe because she chose to follow the path of rightness. But if this was true, why was she always so unhappy? So alone?
Deep in her soul, Colleen knew, had always known, that it would be her and not her two older brothers who stepped forward to lead this family one day. Charles would settle into his comfortable life as heir, August would bury his head in business, and Colleen would be left carrying the weight of her family on her shoulders. And if she failed, or chose not to step up to this challenge? Who else would do it? Surely not flighty, unmoored Madeline, or tempestuous Maureen. Evangeline might rise to the occasion, but her chaotic mind would never focus the way it needed in order to lead and inspire. Evangeline might stand at Colleen’s side and be her anchor, but she herself would never be anchored for long. And poor, sweet Elizabeth would be tormented the rest of her life with seeing the inevitable sadness in her future.
No, it must be Colleen. And only she understood, and had the foresight to know, her actions today would inform the future. While her siblings were wrapped up in their own life, Colleen prepared her own for one of service to them, and everyone else sharing their blood. Most days, she embraced this. But with most of her family having turned on her, the bitterness boiled over until it escaped as unstoppable tears.
Hands rolled over her shoulders. Colleen raised her head and Evangeline smiled behind her in her reflection.
“Crying doesn’t pair well with that red dress,” Evangeline teased. She re-arranged pieces of Colleen’s curls. “Can you calm down long enough for me to apply some eyeliner?”
Colleen laughed and sniffled. “Don’t you have homework?”
Evangeline’s eyes rolled. “I’m being skipped ahead a grade because I’m so far behind.”
“Right.” Colleen pulled a tissue from a box on the vanity and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m thinking maybe I won’t go now.”
Evangeline’s shocked expression gaped back at her. “I can give you a dozen reasons, all based on logic, on why you should attend this developmental rite of passage, but even I can’t pretend to care about the logic around sweaty, horny teenagers dancing and fawning over each other for several hours to nonsensical decorative choices, so here’s something else. Rory is your friend, and he’s going to be here any minute, with some shitty flower to pin on your boob, and a crazy wide smile because he got his crush to say yes to his proposition of sweaty, horny dancing.”
“Why pursue a career in science with that command of language?”
Evangeline shrugged, missing the sarcasm. This was the thing about her genius sister. Her brilliant mind had no room for nuance. “It’s only a few hours, Leena. Rory will be happy as a clam, you’ll feel good about yourself, and there are strong odds you’ll even be glad you went for your own reasons. But in either case, it’s too late to
back out now, so let’s embrace one more social convention and get your makeup straight.”
“It’s hard to want to have fun, Evie, when your whole world is off-kilter.”
“That’s dramatic, Leena, and not your style,” Evangeline pointed out, with a wry grin. “I know who you are. One day, they will, too. I could wax on about the psychological principles on the evolving nature of parent-child relationships, but you have a prom to attend.”
Colleen wiped away the last of her tears. The redness in her eyes would fade, hopefully before Rory arrived, as Evangeline had said, with his crazy wide smile. “I don’t like how this feels, Evie. But I can’t change who I am. I can’t stop wanting the best for everyone I love.”
Evangeline ran a lighter over the charcoal pen. She lifted it to eye level, squinted, and then blew on the cooling tip. “Tonight isn’t about them, Leena.”
Colleen closed her eyes as the first of the warm coal swept over her lids. She steadied herself with measured breaths. In. Hold. Out. Slow. Her chest trembled as she released the sorrow.
“It’s about you,” Evangeline continued. She leaned back to examine her work. “This is your night. You can stress about those punks in the morning.”
* * *
Colleen could not stop adjusting her dress. She thought chiffon would be safe, but the designer had used too much and Colleen had the perpetual sensation her underwear was on display for all her classmates. Rory caught her shuffling and yanking and finally, amused, agreed to be her lookout for any sign of an impending wardrobe disaster.
This wasn’t a tough assignment for him. He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, stop staring at her. Either as she sipped her punch from the plastic cup, or when he thought she was people watching. Colleen had always been very aware of her surroundings and she didn’t need to see Rory to feel his eyes on her.
The dynamic of her relationship with Rory Sullivan had evolved over the years. Their families were close. Charles’ best friend was Rory’s older brother, Colin. Their younger brother, Patrick, dated Madeline for a short time, and the youngest, Chelsea, was a sometimes friend of Maureen, when they weren’t embroiled in some dramatic fight or another. August Deschanel once said he trusted the Sullivans more than his own blood. Their law firm was so deeply enmeshed in the Deschanel business that without that trust, they would be exposed in significant ways.
Colleen was more comfortable with Rory than many of her peers. It wasn’t only that she’d grown up with him, or that he was a Sullivan. Like her, he took his studies seriously, for the most part, but he was one of the few people who didn’t think Colleen’s solemnity was foolish, or unimportant. He might tease her from time to time about having fun, but Rory understood her studies, her family, these were intrinsic, essential pieces of who she was. He often showed up with a snack from their favorite donut shop on St. Charles, and his school satchel, and they would spend their Saturday mornings studying for their respective classes in comfortable silence.
When Carolina was around, it was all about the fun and adventure, but when it was only Colleen and Rory, there was a quiet understanding that passed between them, where she felt both safe and understood.
But she did not at all know how to feel about the way he looked at her tonight.
Rory took the plastic glass she’d been coddling in her hands like a security blanket, and pulled her by the hand to the dance floor. Some Beatles song played, which she knew she should recognize but didn’t. Madeline would. Hell, all her siblings would, even Augustus. Colleen was an utter failure as a teenager.
He had one of her hands folded in his, and the other at the small of her back. She was startled at the surge of intimacy this produced. It was only her back, after all. Colleen shivered and pressed her face closer in, so he could not see her scandalized expression.
The musky, cloying scent of English Leather consumed her. She recognized it as the cologne Charles doused on his clothes before a date, and she supposed women must go wild for it, but the very mature cloud hanging over the moment left her confused. Had he worn it for her? She couldn’t recall any specific scents reminding her of Rory, except the occasional hint of his deodorant, or the sweat clinging to his uniform after a lacrosse game.
“You look really beautiful tonight, Colleen,” Rory said. His breath caught after the words were out. She felt his pulse through his hand.
“I feel silly,” she replied and then chided herself. She was terrible with compliments, and this wasn’t the time for that. “But thank you.”
“Yeah, of course, this whole thing is silly,” Rory said quickly. He followed his rushed words with a clipped laugh. “Lame central.”
Colleen’s own pulse was beyond her control. She wanted to tell him he looked handsome. And oh, he did. All Sullivan men were traditionally beautiful, with their dark hair and Irish green eyes bearing that look of loyal determination. But Rory possessed a softness that belied a special kindness. If he were a Deschanel, she would have thought he was an empath, for how connected he was to how others were feeling. All this he radiated to his exterior self, like an aura. Whoever married Rory Sullivan would be a fortunate woman. Probably Carolina, who undoubtedly would’ve been his date tonight if she were a senior.
“If…” Colleen swallowed her better sense, which told her any unguarded words would lead to regret. “If I was going to do anything lame with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”
Rory pressed his cheek to hers. She felt his smile as his soft skin stretched.
When the song ended, she tried to return to the seats behind the punch table, but Rory laced his hand in hers and led her farther into the floor. The slow song had changed to a fast one, something rock and roll, and Rory began to gyrate into some sort of dancing. Colleen at first thought he was being playful, but then the rest of her classmates launched into similar moves, and she realized she was the ridiculous one. The outsider. The one who didn’t know how to be cool, or interesting.
Rory sensed her hesitation and pulled her into his arms, spinning her, dipping her. He took both her hands in his and his eyes said to trust him, to follow his lead. Colleen nearly tripped over her two left feet. She was clumsy and untested in social situations. She’d make a fool of them both.
But then her feet were moving, really moving, and she matched his strange bobbing and weaving in time. The rush that passed through her as she realized she was actually doing this propelled her faster and into a rhythm of even more precision and frenzy.
Colleen, you fool, you’re dancing. And you’re not that shabby, either.
Rory reached inside his jacket pocket and produced a shimmering silver vial. Colleen’s eyes widened. It was a flask.
He unscrewed the lid and, with a wary glance to check for chaperones, tilted the flask back and let the clear liquid flow into his mouth.
Rory started to replace the lid and then looked at her. “I already know the answer, but…”
In exhilarated response, caught in the thrill of who she was then, not who she wanted to be, or who she was in the real world, she ripped the silver container from his hand and tossed back a swig of vodka.
As Colleen wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Rory leaned in and kissed her. Her first kiss. Her first anything, with any boy. She looped her arm around his neck and abandoned herself to the moment, to Rory, to the night, to whatever it might bring next.
* * *
Her fingers struggled with the button on his pants. Who invented such buttons? How had he ever gotten the pants on to begin with?
Rory’s kisses at her neck were too much. She needed more, and the burning between her legs was new, so new she didn’t know any other way to satisfy it except ripping his pants from his body.
One strap of her dress lay down the middle of her arm. The zipper in the back was half-down, probably Rory’s doing, but why was it not all the way down… why was it still on, when she wanted him so bad, and he wanted her, and…
Colleen’s head spun. She stopped fumbling with his button
and sat back on the bed to right herself.
Rory leaned forward and asked if she was okay, and after she assured him she was, of course she was, she was Colleen Deschanel and she was always okay, he kissed the rest of her rambling words right out of her mouth. She looked down to see his pants at his ankles and was relieved someone else had dealt with the troubling situation of Rory Sullivan’s stubborn button.
Colleen snaked her arms behind her, but her hand grasped at skin or dress, but not zipper. It was pulled too far down for her to find it, and she groaned in desperation. She closed her eyes as the room spun again, the chair and table appearing on the ceiling, and the bed a world away.
Rory’s arms came around her. He buried his face in her neck and she felt a significant release as her dress no longer held her in. It fell around her waist and then the room moved again as Colleen fell on her back and Rory came over her. His tie hung down his bare chest.
“I’ve been so, so very good,” Colleen cooed. She didn’t know where the words came from, or the next that she whispered as she tugged him down by his tie. “Why have you let me be so, so good, Rory?”
“Because you are perfect in my eyes, Colleen,” Rory said. A crisp moment of sobriety passed between them, as he looked so intensely into her eyes, and as she heard his words not as a drunken senior, but as a woman embroiled in a very serious moment.
Colleen wrapped her legs around his waist, and Rory’s eyes rolled back in his head. He moaned and fell atop her, ravishing her neck, chin, chest with kisses. He ripped at her bra and a sharp chill hit her as her nipple rolled between his lips. She wished he would bite it, bite her, consume her.
Something hard pushed at her panties. She knew the word. Knew what it was, and if she was to have it, she couldn’t be afraid to say it. Cock. She let the word travel around her mind. Cock. Rory’s cock. It was real, and this was real, and everything now was real, real, real…
The Seven Boxed Set Page 6
