by Nic Tatano
And for the first time Ryan looks at me in a different way.
***
Roxanne’s face dissolves and I find myself on the brick walk again. I hear the classical music in the distance, same as before.
Only this time I sense another presence.
I look to the side and see Ryan standing next to me.
“Ryan, can you hear me?”
He smiles and nods. “Of course. I’m in your head. What is this place?”
“It’s what I saw in my readings. The afterlife. And there’s an angel at the end of this walk. I don’t know why I couldn’t remember that.”
“Because this is your subconscious.”
“Wait a minute… he told me I would only remember his suggestion.” I reach out to him. “Would you hold my hand? I’m a little nervous.”
He takes it. It feels warm, normal.
It feels right.
“Let’s go.”
We start walking down the brick pathway and I see the now familiar bench with a figure sitting on it. Carrielle looks up and smiles at me. “Nice to see you again, Jillian.”
“You too, Carrielle.”
I notice Ryan has let go of my hand. I turn to face him, but he’s gone.
***
“She’s finished talking to the angel.”
I hear Ryan’s voice before my eyes flutter open. I’m holding Ryan’s hand. Our eyes lock, and it’s clear our relationship has changed.
But I cannot remember much. “You were there, Ryan. I was holding your hand. We were walking down a path. Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“And then you left me. You were there and then you were gone. That’s all I remember.”
“No. I stayed with you the whole time.”
I sit up and shake my head. “I distinctly remember looking for you after we took a walk… and not seeing you.”
“I was distracted by… your other thoughts. They were too powerful to keep me in one place. But I was still with you. I know everything you experienced. You talked to an angel, Sparks. His name is Carrielle. And he has a mission for you.”
“A mission?”
“Yes. You have to defeat your father.”
***
Sebastien and Roxanne are on their way home. Ryan is helping Mom put away the good china in the dining room while I wipe water spots from the crystal in the kitchen. I’m desperately trying to put a picture with Ryan’s words about the angel but am unsuccessful.
It’s too much to comprehend what I’ve been told. Too much for a high school girl who should be worried about a prom date instead of saving the world from her own father.
And then there’s the matter of those “other thoughts” that distracted Ryan, that were “too powerful” to keep him at my side. I’m dying for some time alone with him.
I hear the china cabinet close. Mom walks into the kitchen, slides an arm around my waist and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m turning in, sweetie. If you kids wanna watch TV, just keep the sound down.” She gives me a wink. Mom never goes to bed before eleven and it’s only nine.
“Okay, Mom. G’night.” I give her a strong hug back.
She heads out through the living room where Ryan is putting the silverware back in its case. “Goodnight, Ryan. Thanks for all you did tonight.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Spectre.”
Mom gives him a gentle pat on the cheek and heads upstairs. I hear her steps, then her bedroom door close.
Leaving us alone.
He looks at me from the living room, a serious look I’ve never seen before. “Sparks, we need to talk.” He gestures toward the couch.
My heart rate picks up as I head toward him. He sits down and pats the cushion next to him. I take a seat facing him. Our knees lightly brush, sending a bolt of electricity through my body. He takes both my hands and looks right into my soul. “I had no idea,” he says.
My lips begin to quiver knowing his next words will either bring me incredible joy or break my heart.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next words don’t clear things up. “You’re attracted to me?”
I gulp as my pulse quickens. “Uh-huh.” My voice is barely above a whisper, sounding scared, like I’ve been called to the principal’s office even though that’s never happened. For once, I can’t read his expression, except that he’s wearing that serious look. Serious good or serious bad will hopefully be revealed shortly. “You read my mind about…?”
“I’m sorry, Sparks, I know you like your privacy on stuff like that.”
“Really, I’m not mad.” C’mon, C’mon, get to the damn point.
“Anyway, Roxanne’s thoughts were so strong I couldn’t help but read them. When we were holding hands she was thinking we looked like a couple… and wished I’d pick up on your romantic feelings for me. So when I went into your head… I sensed those feelings when you took my hand. I explored a little. Probably why I disappeared from your point of view. Even though I was still with you, though I wasn’t completely focused on the angel.” Now the serious look becomes apologetic. “Sparks, I didn’t mean to—”
“Dammit Ryan, just tell me if you feel the same way.”
“You’ve always been the sister I never had—”
Oh, shit.
“Until… a year ago.”
And? And?
He begins to blush. “One day at school I looked at you and… well, you looked back at me, differently than you ever had. You had this devilish little smile and you kind of raised one eyebrow like you were up to something… if it were any other girl I’d know it was flirting, but with you I wasn’t sure. But right then you stopped being the little girl I pushed on the swings in the second grade and you became the most beautiful girl on the planet. All of a sudden I wanted you. No, I had to have you for my girl, and I had the inside track because we were already great friends. I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
My pulse quickens a bit more, but for a different reason. “Soooo… why didn’t you ever ask me out on a date?”
“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way, and if you didn’t you’d feel uncomfortable being around me forever. And it terrified me that I might lose you as a friend.”
“Ryan, that would never happen.”
Suddenly his eyes are filled with emotion. “I couldn’t take the chance.” Now his voice cracks a bit. “And when I saw the way you looked at Jake… I knew you were attracted to him and that he was interested in you. I figured that when you looked at me you saw a brother and not a potential boyfriend.”
“Didn’t you ever pick up on all the hints I was dropping? Remember when we talked at the dance? I practically begged you to ask me out.”
“You of all people should know how clueless I am about girls.”
He has a point. “So, basically for the past year—”
“I’ve been wondering.”
“If I felt the same way.”
He nods. “But mostly wondering what it would be like to kiss you.”
At this point most girls would pucker up, close their eyes and wait for the guy to make the move.
But I can’t take it any longer.
I lean forward, grab his head and take charge, my momentum pushing him back until he’s lying on his back as I feed an incredible hunger with my lips. I’m on top of him, running my fingers through his hair as his hands slide down to the small of my back and begin to explore.
I’m in total control of him, and I dare say I like it.
A minute later I come up for air, and try my best to recreate that devilish look while dropping my voice into something sultry. “So… was that what you thought it would be like?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
I raise my head and give him an indignant look. “Excuse me?”
“It was ten times better.”
***
Roxanne cannot believe it as we walk through the park. “So let me get this straight,” she says. “Ryan has been dying to ask you on a r
eal date for a year but was worried he’d lose you as a friend, at the same time you were desperate to go out with him but thought you’d scare him away.”
I nod. “Yep. Hard to believe we were basically thinking the same thing. And both of us were too scared to take the leap. That’s how much we valued the friendship. Oh, and he also thought I was hung up on Jake.”
“Well, you sorta were.”
“Pfffft. Ancient history. Just eye candy.” I smile at the sight of a few birds taking a bath in the fountain that sits in the center of the park. The air smells fresher today (well, for New York anyway), the sun brighter. Probably because the relationship cloud that’s been over my head has dissipated. “Amazing how the hurt of being stood up goes away when the guy you really wanted comes around.”
“Well, thank goodness he finally read all of your mind.”
“Thanks to you distracting him.”
“What do you mean?”
“You remember when he was holding my hand before we started our session? Apparently you had a very strong thought about us looking cute together and wishing Ryan knew how I felt about him. He picked that up from you, so naturally he explored a bit when he went into my head. He’s always respected my privacy on matters of the heart but this time he simply had to know. So thank you, dear friend.”
Roxanne flashes a huge smile. “Hey, now I can add matchmaker to my repertoire of powers. But let’s get back to what happened after you guys figured this out. Do you need to go to confession?” She raises one eyebrow and gives me a devilish look.
“No, unless ravishing cute boys is considered a sin.” I feel my face flush as the memory of frolicking on the couch fills my mind and I absent-mindedly lick my lips.
“Depends on the degree of ravishing. It was a garden variety fully clothed ravishing, which I assume it was with your mother upstairs, then you’re okay. But from your look I think I’d better light a candle for you as a pre-emptive strike. Might have to throw in a rosary as well.” She takes my hands. “Anyway, I’m seriously happy for you guys.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, now that we’re all on Team Jillian, I think I’ve come up with a way to find your father.”
***
Mom thinks the three of us are headed to the Jersey shore for the day since it’s a long weekend due to a teacher conference. In reality, we’re already in a ritzy little town in Connecticut.
Headed toward my father’s mail drop.
Roxanne’s plan is nothing short of ingenious. As to whether it will actually work, that’s another story.
She has borrowed a uniform from a cousin who works for a national delivery service, put her hair up and stuffed it under a baseball cap. With a pair of sunglasses she can pass for mid-twenties. She’s got one of those styrofoam coolers they use to ship frozen steaks through the mail, addressed to my father. Her plan is to deliver it to whoever is manning the mail drop, tell the person it’s perishable and that the owner of the box needs to be called, then hope my father will show up sometime today to pick it up. Ryan has tagged along, in case, as he puts it, I need backup. (Roxanne says he simply can’t get enough of me now that we’re on the same page.)
So here we are, three seventeen year olds, on an actual stakeout.
We park down the street from the mail drop, not wanting to be seen by anyone working behind the counter. It’s a few minutes after nine, the time the place opens.
Roxanne pulls the baseball cap lower on her head, adds the mirrored sunglasses, and grabs the package which is filled with a block of ice to simulate the weight and temperature of a bunch of frozen steaks. “Okay, wish me luck.” She gets out of the car and heads toward the mail drop.
“You really think this is gonna work?” asks Ryan.
“I think it’s a long shot, but it’s the only plan we’ve got right now.” I watch Rox as she heads down the sidewalk, looking for all the world like a delivery person. She opens the door to the mail drop and heads inside. “Okay, she’s in.”
“You think they’ll buy a delivery person without a truck and only one package?”
“If they ask, she’s gonna say the truck is down the street and she only takes care of perishables.”
Our eyes are locked on the door. We can’t see the counter, so I have no idea how things are going.
One minute later Roxanne leaves the place, empty handed, and shoots us a smile.
“Looks like part one of the plan worked,” I say.
Roxanne picks up her pace and gets in the back seat. “Okay, operation flush out your father is underway.”
“How’d it go?” I ask.
“Some schlub around twenty was the only one working there. He totally believed everything I said, and he was looking up your father’s number to give him a call.”
“Great,” I say, turning to look at Ryan.
He looks worried. “I’m still concerned that you’re going against the wishes of the angel.” He reaches over and takes my hand. “He said it could be dangerous.”
I gaze into his eyes and give him a soft smile as my head tilts to the side like a puppy wanting a treat. “I have you to protect me.”
“Oh my God, I’m gonna get a cavity,” says Roxanne.
***
Six hours later my back is in a knot, I’m sick of using the bathroom in a nearby gas station and ready to pack it in. So is Ryan, but Roxanne insists on waiting till the place closes at six.
And I haven’t been able to take a nap since I’m so wired. Every time a man coming remotely close to the photo I have of my father walks into the mail drop I sit up straight, only to see a guy leaving without our package. (Which is no doubt thawed by now and has turned into a cooler full of water.)
“I wanna go home,” I say, and reach for the key that’s in the ignition.
“Don’t!” says Roxanne. “Just two hours and forty eight minutes more.”
I shake my head. “Rox, I’m sick of sitting in this car, I don’t want to hover over that disgusting gas station toilet again, and I’m emotionally wrung out from getting my hopes up every time a guy who might be my father goes in that store. I’m tired of looking at the same thing through the windshield and I don’t ever want to see another hanging flowerpot or old fashioned gas lantern—”
My eyes suddenly grow wide as I realize what I’ve been staring at since nine this morning.
“What?” asks Ryan. “You see him?”
I shake my head. “No. I see it. This place.” I turn to face Roxanne. “The flowers, the storefronts, the old lanterns! This is the street I saw when my father talked to me during our session!”
Now she’s excited. “That means he is coming. You saw your own future, I’m sure of it now.”
And just as I turn back to look out the windshield, I see a man leaving the mail drop, carrying our cooler of fake steaks. Heading in our direction.
Ryan takes out his camera with the telephoto lens and begins taking pictures of him.
This is it.
***
My brisk walk is fueled by pure adrenaline. I’m getting closer to him as Roxanne drives the car and follows me. He doesn’t notice me, as he looks quizzically at the box, obviously trying to figure out who would send such a package, the inside of which is probably sloshing around at this point. He’s much older than the last photo, and looks somehow different, but that was to be expected.
I’m not much older than the last picture he received from my mom. But will he recognize me? Did he even look at it? Does he throw her letters away every year?
The question is answered as he looks up and stops dead in his tracks, dropping the box. His jaw hangs open for a moment as he studies my face. “Jillian?”
I stop walking. I’m two feet from him, searching his face for… I don’t know. Love at seeing his daughter for the first time in sixteen years? Disgust that I’ve found him? Total indifference? Does a parent simply know his own child? But I don’t know him well enough to read his expression.
“Yo
u are Jillian, right?”
I nod. The words are too thick in my throat to say anything. I feel my eyes welling up, my heart trying to escape my chest as I begin to tremble.
I expect him to rush forward, pick me up in a hug, tell me how much he’s missed me, say how sorry he is for leaving. Instead he simply stands there, with no hint of love in his eyes. “I hadn’t planned on meeting you this way—”
“Oh. How had you planned it?” My words are suddenly fueled by anger. I wrap my arms around my waist to keep them from shaking.
“I, uh— ”
“Just tell me why. Why you left Mom and me. Why?”
“It’s complicated, Jillian. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Leaving your only daughter had nothing to do with it?” I feel a tear begin to run down my cheek.
“I can’t talk about it right now. I have to go—”
“Go where? What the hell is so important you can’t talk to me for the first time? You’re my father, for God’s sake!” My entire body is shaking.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
I hear a car door slam behind me and a few quick footsteps. I know it’s either Roxanne or Ryan or both coming to lend support.
My father looks over my shoulder. “You brought a friend.”
I take a quick look at Roxanne, her eyes burning with anger. Then I turn back to him. “She’s my sister.”
He furrows his brow. Then for some reason he stares past me at the car and his eyes become saucers. “Mindreader!” He glares at it, his dark eyes turning into those of a gunslinger. Then he turns and walks quickly in the opposite direction.
“You okay?” Roxanne asks.
I answer by wrapping my arms around her and burying my head in her shoulder, sobbing. She hugs me hard, then softly strokes my hair. “It’s okay, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you.”
He already has. He couldn’t even give his daughter the hug that she longed for.
I’m holding onto her for dear life. She takes my shoulders, pushes back and looks into my eyes. “Breathe, Jillian. He can’t hurt you,” she says in a whisper, but I’m trembling. “He may be your father, but he’s not your Dad. C’mon, let’s go home.”
We turn and head back to the car, her arm around my shoulder, mine around her waist. I realize I’m in no condition to get behind the wheel. “You drive home, okay Rox?”
