Contessa

by Lori L. Otto

  After we’re served dinner, something across the table catches my eye. Lexi is wearing a sparkling diamond on her left ring finger.

  “What’s that?” I ask her. Her smile comes easily, as if she had been waiting for someone to notice. She was never one to flaunt anything, but I could tell that this was something she was very proud of.

  “I got engaged last weekend!” she tells me, Clara and Camille. Clara and I squeal loudly, both getting up to shower her with hugs. The adults look over to see what the commotion is. My uncle, Steven, fills them in on his daughter’s news, explaining that they’re getting married next summer after they both graduate from Juilliard. Lexi and Kyle, her fiancé, had met in middle school, but they didn’t start dating until their freshman year of college. They were both exceptional singers and had always concentrated more on their schoolwork and performances than on one another. No one knew how serious their relationship was until two years ago, when Lexi was accepted into a special program that allowed her to study performance art and music abroad for a year. It was a prestigious honor, but she almost didn’t go because her boyfriend had not received a letter telling him that he, too, would be admitted into the program. Even though we all told her she’d be silly to pass up the opportunity, she was adamant that she wouldn’t leave him behind. Her parents were relieved when, two weeks later, Kyle found out that he had been accepted.

  “We’re getting married at a really old church in England,” she tells us. “We did a Christmas duet there when we were overseas. It just feels like the right place to exchange our vows.”

  “That’s so cool,” I gush, genuinely excited for her. Clara and I return to our seats, and Lexi asks us if we’ll be bridesmaids in her wedding. “Of course,” we answer in unison.

  “I’ve never been to England,” Clara says. “I can’t wait! Maybe I’ll meet a nice British boy,” she says with a glint in her eye. Clara has been boy-crazy for as long as I can remember. There’s always some new boy in her life. I can’t keep up with all of them, actually, and had internally hoped that I wouldn’t have a difficult time finding that one guy that I was supposed to be with. “Livvy, we’ll have to go find us some proper young men over there.”

  “I don’t know,” I hedge with a smile. “I kind of have a boyfriend.” Camille throws her arm around my shoulders, already aware of the news I’d delivered to her before our first period class today.

  “Nuh-uh,” Clara says. “How could you? You can’t date until your sixteen! And you just turned sixteen today!”

  “He’s a guy I’ve known from the Art Room for a few years.”

  “Is he a mentor?” Lexi asks.

  “No, he was a student,” I explain. “Until last year.”

  My cousins both look at me curiously. They both know that the foundation is for children of low-income families.

  “He’s poor?” Clara asks.

  “I don’t know,” I tell them, knowing that he is. “It doesn’t really matter.”

  “Really?” Clara follows up. “What does your dad think about that?”

  “He likes him.”

  “He’s not suspicious of his intentions at all?” Lexi asks. “I mean, I know your dad. He’s very careful that way.”

  “He doesn’t need to be suspicious. Jon loves me.”

  “His name’s Jon?” Lexi asks.

  “He loves you?” Clara adds. “Did he tell you that?”

  “Yeah,” I tell them with a blush. “He told me last night.”

  “Really?” Lexi asks, getting excited for me.

  “Yeah, he gave me this,” I tell them as I pull out the necklace from under the sweater I’d worn. I show off the pendant. Lexi leans across to read the word.

  “Choisie,” she says with a beautiful French accent. “It’s pretty.” I nod at her, knowing that she speaks fluent French and already knows what it means without any explanation.

  “Let me see,” Clara says as she gets up and comes to my side of the table to take a closer look. She holds the charm between her fingers and tries to repeat what Lexi already said. “Shwazee,” she says. “What’s it mean?”

  Before I can answer, I hear my dad’s voice. “Chosen.”

  I look beyond Clara and see him standing behind her, looking at the necklace. I had purposefully hidden the meaningful birthday present from my parents, and hadn’t wanted them to see it. I tuck it back beneath my sweater, watching his expression.

  “Did Jon give you that?” he asks.

  “Yeah, for my birthday.”

  “That was a very thoughtful gift,” he says, his tone even. His expression is one of worry.

  “It looks cheap,” Clara says with a shrug.

  “C’est trés cher,” Lexi says in response.

  “What’s that mean?” Clara asks.

  “It can mean two things,” my dad explains. “Very expensive,” he starts, “or very dear.” He smiles at Lexi and repeats her sentiment. “Trés cher, indeed. Has your mom seen that?” he asks me. I shake my head, and now it feels like I’m hiding it from them. I regret it immediately, as I can see him trying to read into the reasoning behind my secrecy. I look away from him, feeling guilty.

  From behind me, my dad clinks a knife against his wine glass to get the attention of my family. I take a deep breath and turn around in my chair, anxious to hear his toast.

  He clears his throat and pauses, looking at my mom. She nods at him, urging him to go on.

  “I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight to celebrate the birthday of my little princess, Livvy. Mom and Dad, it means a lot that you’d fly in for this brief weekend here, and I know the kids love having you here. We wish you’d visit more often.”

  “Likewise,” my grandmother says to him.

  “Understood,” my dad says with a smile. “And as for the rest of you, I hope you enjoy your free meal.” He jokes with my aunts, uncles and cousins who all live relatively close by. My uncle Matty was the only sibling of my parents who couldn’t make it. He’s a set designer for a traveling Broadway show, and has an impossible schedule. He loves his work, though, even if it was responsible for ending the ten-year relationship he’d had with his partner.

  “Twelve short years ago, after ten months of cautiously loving this little girl that came into our lives unexpectedly one Christmas eve, we were able to finalize the adoption of Olivia Sophia. She completed a family that Emi and I never thought we could have.”

  He walks over to my brother and puts a hand on his shoulder, but Trey really isn’t paying attention to my father’s speech. “When Jackson came along six years later, that was just icing on the cake,” Dad says off-handedly with a smile.

  “It was Livvy here who made me into a father. Without her, I’d just be a man wandering the earth with little purpose. I’d try to be the best husband to my beautiful wife, but I never felt whole until I held my daughter in my arms that day outside the courtroom; when I heard her call me ‘Daddy’ for the first time; when she fell asleep between Emi and me the first night she was officially a Holland.

  “Even though we’d missed out on the first few years of her life, we got to witness so many special moments with her. Her first day of school. Her first A+ on her report card.” He smiles at me, and then speaks to the rest of my family. “It won’t surprise you to learn that she earned that A+ in art.

  “We were there for her first trip to the beach, and to Disney World. We took her on her first airplane ride, and her first pony ride. We took off her training wheels, and watched her first bike ride around the block. Her first sleepover: first, the one we hosted at our house. It was her second sleepover that Camille’s mom called us at eleven o’clock at night to ask us to pick up our homesick little girl.

  “Emi and I were so relieved. We were unable to sleep that night, too, until she was safely nestled in her bed with Teddy in one arm and Kitty clutched in the other.

  “Some things we experienced with her weren’t her firsts, but they were ours. Our first Christmas morning, wakin
g up to the gifts that Santa left for her. St. Nick had elicited my help very early in the morning to build a very intricate dollhouse. Daddy should have been too tired to get up at five o’clock that morning when a little girl in footed pajamas crashed through the bedroom door, but I couldn’t wait to see the look of sheer joy on my daughter’s face when she saw the present next to the tree.

  “I still cherish the pictures of the first time we watched her make a secret wish, and blow out candles on a birthday cake. She had on a yellow dress that Anna had given her. I think she would have worn that dress every day if she could have.

  “That led to the first real temper tantrum,” my dad says, garnering a laugh from everyone in the room. I roll my eyes, but smile at him. “And over time, we had to see firsts we never looked forward to seeing. Her first skinned knee, and even worse, her first broken bone.”

  “Was that when you broke your leg in Seattle?” Clara asks.

  “Yes, the first trip to the emergency room in Seattle.” My dad answers my cousin’s question. “And later we’d see Livvy’s first D on her report card–in History. It was the only D, though,” he adds as an aside. “We saw the tears that came from the first fight with her best friend. We heard the screams from the first fight with us.

  “When they’re little, you can never prepare yourself for the gut-wrenching things they’ll say later in life. They can be hurtful.” My dad looks at me with watery eyes, and I can feel a lump in my throat forming that’s making it impossible to hold back tears. “But the humble apologies that follow, and the sweet ‘I love you, Daddy’s’ they mumble against your shirt as you wipe away their tears. Those are the moments that stick with you. To this day, I don’t remember what that first fight was about. I just remember that after it was over, my daughter and I had a new understanding of one another, and it seemed like the bond we had formed since we’d met when she was three was more tightly woven; that there was more substance to what we were, as father and daughter.”

  He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his eyes. I hear my mom sniffle, too, as Lexi passes me a clean napkin to wipe the streaming tears from my cheeks.

  “Contessa,” he says as he turns to me, “I used to ask your mother if there was any way that we could keep you young–to keep you that little girl with wide eyes and a million questions who loved us unconditionally. The thought of you growing up was hard to grapple with. It still is. If I think about where you’ll be tomorrow, or next week, or next year, I get a little pain in my chest, knowing that every day takes you one step further away from the little four-year-old girl we adopted.

  “But Livvy,” he says, then takes a deep breath and sighs. “Every day I’ve watched you grow up has been a day of growth for me, too. Every day, you give me one more thing, teach me one more lesson, share with me one more experience that transforms me into a different man, a better father. You’ve taught me things I’d never have learned without you in my life.

  “And now, today, as you turn sixteen and walk that fine line between child and adult, I can’t wait to see what else I’ll have a chance to witness simply because you’re a part of my life. As much as I never wanted you to grow up, I cannot wait to see what you become. I am so immensely proud of you, Contessa. And I’m so grateful to you. Happy birthday, Princess. Your mother and I love you more than we can ever fully express.

  “I hope that you never forget that, no matter how old you are, or how far away from us your life takes you.”

  “I love you, too, Daddy,” I cry quietly. He smiles and leans down to give me a hug. He holds on to me tightly, which is just fine with me. I desperately needed to hear these things. “And now for the gifts,” he says as he lets go of me. He pulls out two small boxes, handing them to me. I open the one wrapped in pink floral paper first. It’s a cell phone, a gift I had been expecting. It went hand-in-hand with dating. Sixteen was a pivotal birthday for me.

  “Just because it has an unlimited plan doesn’t mean you can spend all your time on it,” he warns me. Up until now, I’ve had an emergency-only phone that has hindered me from having a social life like all of my friends do. Camille takes the phone from me and starts programming her number.

  I open the other box, this one wrapped in thick, dark grey paper with a simple red strip of ribbon around it. Inside the box is an Audi smart key. My jaw drops as I look up at my dad.

  “Really?!” I ask him, shocked. All my life, he’s purchased practical and safe cars; nothing flashy, nothing exorbitant. I’d wanted an Audi A5 since my uncle Matty first took me in his when we visited in California a few years ago. Even with all the money he has, I never thought Dad would buy me one.

  “Happy birthday, Livvy. I hope I don’t regret this,” he says with a laugh and another hug. “It’s waiting for you at home.”

  “I promise promise promise you will not regret it. Thank you so much!” I run over to my mom and give her a hug, too.

  “Daddy said he’d take you out tomorrow morning and teach you the ropes.” I squeeze her tightly once more before returning to my table to finish eating. After dinner, my dad’s side of the family returns to our house for cake.

  In the driveway sits the most perfect dark grey car I’d ever seen. A man steps out of it and waves.

  “Matty!” I exclaim, barely waiting for my dad to stop the car before getting out.

  “Little Liv! Oh, my, you’re so grown up! Look at you!” It had been two years since I last saw my uncle. He’s still able to pick me up and spin me around, which is our trademark greeting.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve got a two week break,” he says. “What better way to spend it than in your guest room?”

  “You’re staying here?”

  “I sure am. You’ll be so sick of me!”

  “Never!” I tell him. There was no one cooler than my Uncle Matty.

  “Come check out this car,” he says finally as my mom and dad come up to greet my uncle. My mom gets into the passenger seat as Dad helps me adjust the mirrors and seat on the driver’s side.

  “It seems so small, Jacks,” Mom says as she inspects the backseat. “Are you sure this is a safe car?”

  “Yes, Poppet. Do you really think I’d buy this for her if it wasn’t?”

  Mom smiles. Dad squats next to me as he points out things on the dashboard and console. He shows me how to operate the hands-free setup so I don’t have to touch the phone to call people. He tells me at least three times that I’m not allowed to use my two birthday gifts at the same time.

  “Got it, Dad,” I tell him.

  “Let’s go have some cake, Tessa. We’ll take her for a spin in the morning.”

  “It’s a he,” I tell him.

  “Right, whatever.”

  “Livvy, Jacks, look at me and smile.” My mom is poised with a camera and snaps a picture of us in front of the coupe. When we all go inside, Camille, Finn and I go off to my room for a few minutes. The rest of the kids filter into the game room and start playing pool.

  I dial Granna quickly. “Happy birthday, Livvy,” she greets me cheerily. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your parents?”

  “I am, I just wanted to call you and ask you a question.”

  “Anything, dear, of course.”

  “Do you have Jon’s phone number?”

  She stalls obviously. “Is that okay with your dad?”

  “Yes, Granna, they gave me a cell phone. I would hope they’d allow me to use the thing,” I joke with her.

  “Alright.” I hear her shuffling though some papers before she gives me the number. I say it aloud so Camille can make note of it for me.

  “Is that his cell phone?”

  “That’s what it says here on the roster.”

  “Thanks, Granna.”

  “You’re welcome. Have a great evening, sweetie. Don’t spend the night on the phone with Jon. Get in some quality family time.”

  “I will,” I assure her before telling her goodbye. “Should I call him now?”
I ask my friends.

  “Call who?” my uncle peeks his head into my room as chaos ensues in the media area with all of the younger kids. I see his suitcases are open and spread out on the guest bed across the basement.

  “My boyfriend.”

  “What?” he asks, grinning. “When did this happen?”

  “Recently.”

  “Very recently,” Finn adds. “They’re going on their first date tomorrow night.”

  “What are you wearing? Where are you going?” Matty asks.

  “I’m not sure. He says he’s taking me somewhere nice. I can’t decide what to wear.”

  “Show me your options,” he says as he breezes past us into my room and goes quickly toward the closet. He rummages through my clothes quickly. “Where are your dresses?”

  “I hate dresses,” I tell him. I think I look like a little girl in dresses and stopped wearing them a few years ago.

  He turns around, stunned. “Does that mean you don’t have any?”

  “That might be what that means,” I tell him, nervous as I see his mind calculating.

  “This won’t work,” he says. “Why do you take after your dad so much?”

  “Yeah, I know Dad hates wearing dresses, too,” I yell at him as he leaves my room and makes a beeline to the stairs. “We can’t all be like you, Matty!”

  “Hey,” he says with a smile, stopping on the second step. “Your mother should know better. We’re going shopping tomorrow, Livvy. If this boy’s taking you somewhere nice, you’re going to look somewhat nice for him.”

  “I have pants and... and nice tops. Matty, no!” I plead. “I can’t wear a dress.”

  “You can,” he says. “And you will. I promise, we’ll find something cute.”

  “I don’t want to look cute,” I tell him seriously. He looks surprised, and then nods in understanding.

  “We’ll find something sexy, then.” He waggles his eyebrows and I’m sure my face has turned the color of a beet.

  “Don’t tell my dad that!” I yell back at him, watching him ascend the steps, on a mission.