by Ava Zavora
"...That's why I avoid stairwells.”
"Oh,” Sera said politely. She was already formulating a strategy on how to excuse herself.
They waited around for the Goth boy, but he had, it seemed, vanished, perhaps disappointed that there were no plans for drawing pentagons at the stroke of midnight. No one seemed surprised by his disappearance and after standing around in strained silence, John herded them all to the rest of the walk, pointing out, as promised, Colma's famous underground citizens, once more adapting the solemn and formal manner of an undertaker.
"It's like that alien movie, where everybody looks and sounds normal until you get them up close and something is totally off,” she described to Allison later that evening as they lay on the carpet of Allison's room, listening to "Nightbird.” "I mean vortexes?"
"Weird. But what about that haunted stuff?"
"I know. That creeped me out. Of course, we were in a cemetery."
"And what did he mean that it will drive you far from home?"
"Maybe he meant this.” Sera took a piece of white paper from her pocket and unfolded it before handing it to Allison. An empty white envelope, stained and torn at the side, it was addressed to Sera's grandmother and posted from New York City. It bore no return address.
"I found it in the garbage a couple months ago."
Allison turned over the wrinkled envelope, examining it. She looked at Sera in puzzlement.
"I've seen an envelope like this in the mail before. And each time it comes, my grandma gets, I don't know, kinda angry, sad at the same time."
"Who's it from?"
"Well, she doesn't know anybody in New York. I looked through her address book. And it's handwritten, so I know it's not like a bill or junk mail."
"Did you see what was in it?" Sera shook her head.
"Whatever it was, it was thin and shaped like a check. And I got my savings account statement two weeks later. The day after that came, my grandmother deposited $2,000 in my college fund.”
"So, what are you saying?"
"I think it's blood money. From Him."
"Your dad?" Allison asked incredulously.
"Sperm donor,” Sera corrected. "Why would my grandma get checks from somebody in New York City? And if she did, why wouldn't she put it in her own account? Why mine? And why wouldn't she tell me about it? Maybe He feels guilty so he sends my grandma money every now and again to make up for the fact that He abandoned me and my mother and caused her to kill herself. Like my mom's life's only worth $2,000,” she spat out.
"Maybe it's from someone else."
"I don't think so. In fact, I'm almost positive it's from Him. I found something else, too, at the bottom of my grandmother's jewelry box, next to pictures of my mother.” Sera fished out another piece of folded paper, on which was written 1152 Riverside Drive, New York, New York.
"Far from home.” Allison whispered. "It can't be a coincidence.” They stared at the piece of paper in silence. "So, when are we going to New York?"
Sera laughed. "What's scary and unbelievably awesome is that you mean it don't you?"
"What does Andrew think about all this?"
Sera turned away. "But I don't know if I want to go see Him," she continued, ignoring Alli's last question. "What good will it do? He obviously doesn't care to see me or else he would have showed up a long time ago."
"But if he is sending those checks, that must mean he cares at least a little."
"Like I said, it's blood money. He has my mother's death on his hands and he thinks that this is the most efficient way of getting rid of it. Have I gone too far?" She asked suddenly. "Do you think I should let all this go?"
"No, of course not! I would be doing the same thing if I were in your place. I used to think how horrible I had it that my parents were divorced and I only got to see my dad twice a year. I used to hate having to fly back and forth, and I still don't like it, but when I think of you...” Allison trailed off. "We'll figure it out,” she said, putting her arms around Sera, who shook with quiet tears coursing down her face.
"He gets to live in New York and write out $2,000 checks, like some lord dispensing crumbs to his bastard. What about her, what about all her dreams, all the things she wanted to do? I'm not like that creepy cemetery guy am I?” she sniffed. "In perpetual mourning?"
Allison wiped Sera's face with a tissue. In a gentle voice she asked, "Why, are you vibrating?"
Sera laughed and snorted at the same time, shaking her head.
"C'mon then," Alli said brightly, "A bag of potato chips and extra sour pickles should lighten up your aura. And," she said as she rubbed her hands with glee, "Speaking of creepy, there's a Twilight Zone marathon on T.V."
Chapter 20
Sera placed a finger on Andrew's throat. "You would not make a convincing woman," she murmured as she pressed lightly on his Adam's apple. "This thing is huge."
They were twined loosely, unself-consciously so that Sera always marveled how familiar his body was, his long limbs seamless with hers, his fairness in contrast to her own skin. It was May again, warm enough that afternoon so that they lay on top of the blankets and sleeping bags they kept in the old house. They were in the great room off of the downstairs foyer, by the fireplace flanked by carved griffins. It had been weeks since they needed to build a fire.
Andrew's skin always looks like soft marble in this room, with the light diffused from the starburst window seemingly drawn to him so that he glowed. Usually spent, he would sleep a little while she stayed awake, tracing her fingers over every inch of him as if engraving him to the memory of her touch. But today, he was alert, looking back at her, his muscles taut and wired still.
"Guess what I found today?"
"Hmm?" Sera burrowed deeper into the space by Andrew's side so that her head fit beneath his outstretched arm. Her hand traveled from his throat to his chest.
"A 1976 bug in mint condition, only 95,000 miles. Exactly what you said you wanted. Well, except it's blue. Danny's friend said he could paint it cherry red for three hundred bucks. He would cut us a good deal. Fred Dean's cousin's asking eighteen hundred for it."
Sera's hand strayed below his torso. "And you know what else would keep you from being a convincing woman?” she said as she started playing with him again.
"Hey, cut it out.” Andrew shook her hand off and sat up. "We gotta get going if we have to find you a car, get an apartment, and move before August, before you start school.”
Sera looked away from the expectation in his face, the dread she had kept at bay for weeks now suddenly too powerful to ignore. Not now, she thought, wishing for more time.
"Well? What do you think? Wanna take a look at it?” he asked when she didn't answer. "It should last you at least a couple years, especially if we get an apartment in San Rafael."
"Come here," Sera pulled him down to her, "You're so far away," she said playfully.
Andrew held her arms away from him. "You said you wanted a bug, I found you a bug. We're not gonna do better than eighteen hundred."
"It's not that," she said uneasily.
"Then what?”
Andrew let go of her arms.
"I don't think I'm going to need a car."
"You wanna live in Berkeley instead?"
"No.” Shivering, but not with the cold, Sera wrapped her arms around herself.
"So you wanna commute four hours every day between San Rafael and Cal? That's two buses and BART each way!"
"No."
"I know you don't wanna jinx it, but you have nothing to worry about. You'll get a big, fat package from Cal any day now.” He put his arm around her reassuringly and kissed the top of her head. "Stop stressing out.”
Sera wanted to push him away from her and hang on to him at the same time, wanting to silence him with kisses and make him forget about everything but the two of them entwined, unaware and lost in each other's flesh. He smelled so unbearably sweet, of soap and sweat and the wild strawberries they just discovered grow
ing in the shadow of the rampant rose bushes.
"And I know you're worried about what your Grandma's gonna think about us moving in together.” Andrew lowered his voice, just a shade above a whisper. Hesitant and painfully tender, he said his next words carefully. "I've been thinking about it, too, and, I was thinking, you know, what if, what if we weren't living in sin?” His voice was so low she couldn't be sure she heard him correctly.
Here we go, she thought as she took a deep breath.
"I've been accepted to Columbia,” she broke abruptly before he could say anything else.
"Columbia?” He said the word as if it were in another language, foreign and incomprehensible.
"The school. I got the acceptance letter a week ago."
"Columbia, like New York?” Andrew looked stunned. She wanted to laugh out of pure anguished nervousness. "You didn't get into Cal,” he flatly. Sera looked away again.
"Jesus, Sera, why didn't you tell me?” He turned her face so that she was looking at him. "They rejected you, right?” Sera lowered her eyes. After a long minute, he let go of her chin.
"I've decided to go to Columbia."
"When did you decide this?” he asked quietly as he stared at the fire grate.
"Just this past week. I didn't want to say anything until I was sure."
"That's strange 'cause unless they changed the rules, I know that you have to have applied at least six months ago. You've been planning this for a long time.” Andrew got up and started putting on his jeans.
"That's not true, Andrew. I only applied just to see if I could get in. Besides, Mr. Leach told me I should always have a backup.”
"Mr. Leach told you,” he with a snort. “A backup would be SF state, not an Ivy League school three thousand miles away."
"That happens to have a prestigious journalism department.” Letting the blankets fall from her, Sera lay back down and stretched out, inviting and seductive. She reached out a hand to Andrew, who stood over her.
"Come here," she smiled as she softened her voice. They were on the lip of a precarious edge and it would take much to bring them back to safety. He remained looking down at her with dark, calculating eyes.
"And what's more," he murmured, as if thinking out loud, "You got accepted to Cal, didn't you?”
Sera dropped her outstretched hand.
"I don't understand.” Andrew shook his head, bewildered. "You love Cal. All those games we watched from Cheapskate Hill, that time we played hooky so you could sit in on a lecture. You even made me go to a protest rally on campus. You've wanted to go to Cal for...ever."
"Andrew."
"What about our plans? New York's gonna kill our budget. Where are we gonna live? We don't know anyone there. My uncle was counting on me to start this summer. What kind of jobs are we gonna get?” Andrew spread out his hands in agitation. "Have you thought about any of this? This is not okay with me, Sera."
"You don't have to worry about living there, Andrew.” Sera bit her tongue, chagrined that even with her best efforts, she could not keep the steeliness from her voice. She knew that now was not the time to tell him it was he who had made all those plans and it was he who had assumed that they were what she wanted.
She could see his whole body stiffening with realization. If only she could rewind the last few minutes, and begin differently, lay out her whole plan so that he could be made to understand that there was nothing dangerous about her decision.
"It's not as bad as you think," Sera quickly said, her words bursting out, as graceful as battering rams. "We'll have summers, Christmas, winter, and spring break. You could come visit me, too."
"Summers, Christmas," He repeated.
Andrew took a step back then leaned against the fireplace mantle as if for support, his face frozen in shock.
She had prepared a speech outlining all the positives in her plan, the details of which were abandoning her at this moment when she needed them the most.
She rose from the floor and took a hesitant step towards him. When he did not turn away, she gently leaned against his chest and drew his limp arms about her.
"You're cold.” She held him for several beats of their hearts, her face against his icy skin.
"Take me somewhere, today," she enticed. "The lighthouse or the woods. Take me to the headlands where we can see the city and the red bridge rising from the blue sea.” He still felt like cool marble to her, but she stemmed her panic, still intent on weaving her spell.
"No, I changed my mind.” Sera looked up at him, trying to meet his unseeing eyes. "Limantour, where we can walk for miles on the dunes. Let's go for a long, long drive in your car. Or maybe," she said, when his eyes did not waver from looking out past her, "we'll stay right here, where I love it best. You know that, don't you? That right here, in your arms, is the place dearest to me?"
He mumbled something she did not catch.
"What, my love?"
"You have nothing but secrets from me."
Standing on tiptoe, she pulled his head down to her with both her hands and kissed his mouth open with hers. She felt him stir, come to life in her embrace and she was grateful that at least she had this to keep him to her. She quickly pulled his jeans down and led him to the pile of blankets on the floor. She cried out as he fell on top of her, crushing her with his weight and the roughness with which he gripped her. Throwing her head back, Sera arched her whole body to meet his.
"Look at me," he said harshly. Sera opened her eyes. "I would have followed you anywhere. You only had to ask. All this time I thought only of a future with you in it, always with you."
"Andrew--",
"But you want me to wait for you here, like a faithful dog, waiting for someone who'll never come back.”
"Never come back? You're over-react-."
"Think I'm too stupid to know what's going on?” Andrew gripped both sides of her face with his hands, pressing them together as if he was meant to crush her. "You've been pushing me away for months now."
Mesmerized by the ferocity of his eyes, she did not tell him to stop hurting her, did not move from his vise-like grip.
Still keeping his hands on her face, he leaned in as if to kiss her, but stopped short. And in a voice she had never heard, like jagged glass had scraped his throat raw, "You don't know what you're throwing away, Sera."
She tried to snatch at him but he had already pushed off of her and had dressed quicker than she could get up.
"Wait, please!” she called out as he walked out the door.
A quick slam, then the outraged roar of the Mustang soon after, and the finality of heavy silence settling on her, as if she had been alone all along. Even the old house ceased its creaking. Now cold, Sera drew the blankets tightly around her.
*****
"It'll blow over," she told Allison when Andrew passed them by at school, without an acknowledging word or glance.
A week or two of the cold shoulder, then unable to take it, for he never could stay away, even at his angriest, he would eventually drive up to her house, the Mustang announcing his arrival before a knock on her door or pebbles thrown at her window. She would turn a corner at the library or go walking and he would be there, slouching against a bookcase or a tree, with his head tilted in that boyish way, the hurt in his eyes pummeling her so that all she would have to do, all she could do, was enfold him to her and soothe away his pain.
She was not surprised when she could not seem to reach him at home or when he did not return her messages. None of his family told her outright to stop calling, so she felt justified. It was the pity in their voices which made her cringe.
When Saturday came around and she showed up early at Miss Haviland's, she headed straight for the backyard where she heard the familiar drone of the lawnmower. She was ready for her peace offering, what Andrew did not stay long enough to hear, a trip to New York for the two of them for the price of a hundred Saturdays at Miss Haviland's, a costly blow to her savings. They would do all the touristy things, exp
lore like always, and he would help her settle in before going home to California.
She would be humble and agreeable, she who was always proud and unyielding, so that he would hear and mark well her words, that this temporary separation couldn't possibly tear down what was unbreakable, that it would only grow stronger with time. She would prove to him the truth in her heart.
Sera stumbled when she saw that it was Luis Gonzalez pushing the lawnmower and heard, as if from a great distance, Luis explain awkwardly that Andrew had offered him the job, as he said he had something better lined up.
And when Allison pulled her behind the Math building after second period the following week, her face full of worry, Sera already knew somehow what Allison had found out when she bought prom tickets, that Andrew and Vanessa Sadler were going together.
"It's punishment,” she calmly said. "Do you think in the great scheme of things, it matters who he takes to some high school dance? He wants to hurt me, but I'm above that. I'm not going to change my mind because he's trying to make me jealous. Why else would he have picked her, of all people, to go to prom? Nothing's going to keep me from doing this."
"You know I support you and everything," Allison said hesitantly when they were in Sera's room that night, "and I understand what you said about 'all great artists go to New York', but..."
"Not you too, Alli," Sera turned to her. "I don't think I can take you and my grandmother. I thought I had you in my corner."
It had hurt Sera to tell her grandmother, who after the shock, had pulled Sera to her bosom and held her there as she cried. Yet her grandmother had almost seemed resigned, as if she had secretly feared this would someday happen.
“I won’t stand in your way,” her grandmother had said quietly as she held Sera. “I know better.”
"I am on your side. Always.” Allison assured her now. “It's just that New York is so far away and you'll be on your own. Why New York?”
