“Oh, Nicci,” Michael breathed in my ear, as he spread my legs wider for him. “I am going to make you so happy.”
Then, he rammed inside of me. There was only a slight burning at first, and then there was nothing. Just the weight of his gyrating hips against mine, as he grunted into my neck. His hands tightened around mine and then he gave one long groan and it was over. He rolled off me, kissed my cheek, and then he snuggled against me. As soon as I heard the rhythm of his snoring, I pulled away and turned on to my side.
I had given myself to another man. A man I had not wanted. The act had made me feel worthless. I had forgotten how mutual passion could turn the act of sex into making love. The tears of memories past flooded my eyes, and I cried quietly into my pillow until I finally fell asleep.
Chapter 22
The magic day finally arrived. May fifteenth—graduation day. I could hardly believe that the endless hours of studying were over. I woke up that morning feeling jubilant. The forecast called for a sunny and warm day, even though May was a notorious month for dumping large amounts of rain on the city. But when I pulled my cap and gown out of the closet, the sun was rising into a clear blue sky.
As Uncle Lance had predicted, even my father was excited. He brought a huge breakfast of coffee, pancakes, waffles, and toast upstairs to my room.
“I thought you could enjoy your last day of being a student and lounge in bed with your breakfast.” He kissed my forehead while depositing the tray on my bed. “I couldn’t decide what to make, so I made everything.”
“I can’t believe I’m graduating.”
“Well, I’m proud of you.” Then he frowned. “I assume you turned off your cell phone last night because ‘It’ called the house phone again this morning. Would you please tell ‘It’ to stop doing that.”
Dad had taken to calling Michael “It.” He never referred to him by name anymore.
I decided to humor him and avoid another argument. “I’ll call ‘It’ later.” I was eager to change the subject. “Hey, did the paper come? I’m supposed to be in it today. They publish the names of all the graduating students.”
Leaving Dad, nibbling on my toast, I went downstairs and retrieved the paper from the front porch. Frantically pulling out the different sections of the newspaper, I finally found the graduation announcements for the LSU Medical Center. I hurriedly glanced over the section until I found my name. That meant it was official. I picked up the section and was just about to run back up the stairs when a page fell out. I bent over to pick it up and froze.
There was a caption in the top corner of the page: “Local Artist Receives Acclaim,” with a picture of David. He was standing next to an older woman with his arm around her. She had dark hair, weathered skin, and heavy dangling diamond earrings. Her head was tilted back, laughing. David was laughing, too. I read the blurb beneath the picture.
Mrs. Ernie Tyler, wife of the late Dr. Ernie Tyler, opens new gallery in New York City with up and coming artist David Alexander, formerly of New Orleans.
I could feel the energy draining from my body like water from a bathtub. My muscles were weak and it was difficult to breathe. Reaching out for the banister, I sank to the floor. I was still clenching the paper, when my father came down the stairs.
“Hey, what did they do, misspell your name?”
When I gazed up, he ran to my side and took the paper from me. After he read the headline, he sat down next to me.
“Well, now you know. You don’t have to think about him anymore.”
“I wonder what industrial secrets he is trying to worm out of that one,” I added, pointing to the picture.
“Nicci, you don’t know that. It says he was showing his art.”
“I never really mattered, did I? All this time I thought maybe, just maybe, there was something there. He never intended to change. This picture proves it. He is back to his old games. I was nothing to him.” I snatched the paper away from my father.
My father wrapped his arms around me. “I can’t believe that. No matter what I see here, I can never believe he didn’t love you.”
“I can.” I pushed myself away from my father’s embrace. “He used me, just like he used you. All I can do now is make sure it never happens again.” I crumbled the paper in my hands and threw it on the steps. “I’m going to get ready. The graduation starts at ten.”
Slowly I started up the stairs, wiping the tears away with my pajama sleeve. It seemed that in a matter of a few seconds, every single one of my hopes for the future had been ruthlessly swept away.
***
The rest of the day was like drifting in and out of a dream. I remember dressing for graduation. Michael had bought me a new pine green dress for the big day. My father told me that I looked like a walking fern.
Dad drove me to the university stadium where the graduation ceremony was to take place. Along the way, he just kept patting my hand and telling me everything would be all right.
We were standing outside of the entrance for the graduating students, when I was suddenly gripped by an inexplicable panic. “I don’t think I can do this,” I said to my father, clutching the cap and gown in my hands.
“You’ll be fine. You go in there, march up on that stage, and don’t look back.” He paused and patted my shoulder. “I’ve got to go and find Lance. We’ll be waiting for you by the car when it’s over. I’m very proud of you, Nicci. Very proud.” He walked away, leaving me to join the rest of my graduating class.
From that point on, it was just a matter of going through the motions. All the excitement I had felt earlier that morning was gone, robbed by the memory of David.
All this time he had been in New York, returning to his old lifestyle, and never thinking of me. It was time to accept the fact that he was gone for good. Any hope I had harbored for his return was dashed. Like a ship thrashed against a rocky shoal during a storm, I was simply another victim of his ruthless ambition.
***
After the ceremony, I found my father and Uncle Lance waiting next to the parking lot.
“There she is! Let’s see the paper that says you’re legit.” Uncle Lance took the diploma from me and looked it over. Then he raised his eyes to me. “You okay, kid?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Your father told me about….” Uncle Lance just shrugged without saying anything else.
I scowled at my father. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Hey, we are family. No secrets,” Uncle Lance asserted. “Save that face for the party. Your father tells me ‘It’ is putting on quite a little celebration.”
“Not you, too!” I groaned.
Dad took his time on the drive to Michael’s. We arrived well after the rest of the guests. Aunt Hattie and Uncle Ned had skipped the three-hour graduation ceremony, and opted to hit the party instead. Michael’s aunt and uncle were also there, joining the festivities.
As soon as I entered the house, Michael was glued to my side. He must have sensed something was wrong, even though I tried to put on a good face for his sake. He had gone to a lot of trouble for my graduation party, arranging for Commander’s Palace to cater the affair. He had also ordered a Doberge cake—a New Orleans specialty, made up of layers of cake and pudding—from an expensive Garden District bakery. There was even a dozen bottles of champagne chilling in the refrigerator.
During the party, my father, Uncle Lance, Uncle Ned, and Dr. Fagles hung out in the den by the makeshift bar, debating the importance of a good college education. The women stood in another corner of the house, talking about their men. Just when I was beginning to think the event resembled something more akin to a funeral than a celebration, Colleen walked in the door.
“Oh my God, girl. What have you done?” my aunt exclaimed, turning a deathly shade of white when she saw her daughter.
Colleen always had an ample bust, but now her breasts reminded me of two scud missiles about to launch from under her shirt. She had also lost several inches from her formerly chubby hips and
thighs. Her previously long nose was now smaller and too dainty for her round face. She had also dyed her brown hair blonde and capped her front teeth. To top it off, she was wearing a pair of pink skintight pants and a very tight white tank top. Sammy, it seemed, had discovered a new disciple.
“Colleen, you look…remarkable,” I commented while Hattie excused herself from the living room.
“Thanks, Nic.” Colleen beamed. “Sammy introduced me to this great plastic surgeon she knows. He redid everything. Well, almost,” she snorted.
At least, she still sounded like a Hoover.
Taking Colleen’s present, I set the bright pink box on top of the pile of other graduation gifts on a table in the corner of the room. Hattie returned to the living room, looking more composed, and went straight to Colleen’s side. I left them and strolled quietly into the kitchen. When I was sure I was alone, I began laughing.
I was standing at the sink, with tears streaming down my face, when Michael walked in. He came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m better now.” I wiped the tears away. “I needed that. I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in months.” It felt like I had laughed all the frustration and pain out of me. I leaned against the kitchen sink, completely spent.
He raised his eyebrows playfully. “Your cousin?”
“Did you see her?”
“How could I miss her? She sort of stands out in the crowd.” He grinned. “Come on. It’s time to open your presents.”
I received the usual array of graduation paraphernalia: mugs, frames, gold pens, as well as some cash. Val sent her present in absentia; a book about art. I decided I would have to give her a good reprimand after she returned from her museum conference in New York.
All the presents had been opened on the table except one. I presumed this present was from Michael since I had opened everybody else’s. He had purposefully been handing me other presents, avoiding the small silver box on the table.
“Now for the last present, from me,” he dramatically announced.
I unwrapped the package and opened the lid to the small box. The first thing I heard was a scream from Michael’s mother. Then Aunt Hattie screamed and the two women began jumping up and down. Michael hovered over me, waiting for my reaction.
Inside the box was a round, three-carat diamond solitaire ring. I kept staring at the ring, thinking that this was some kind of joke.
“I knew it would happen!” Hattie yelled, rousing me from my shock. “I knew you two would get married!”
I frantically scanned the room for my father. He was standing next to my Uncle Lance, leaning against the door of the dining room, watching me. Both men had faces of stone.
“Oh, I just can’t believe it. I am so happy.” Mrs. Fagles wrapped her arms around Michael and me. “Oh, we will have such a beautiful wedding for the two of you.”
“I haven’t even asked her yet, Mom,” Michael complained. He then pulled me from his mother and took me to the side of the room. “Do you mind?” Michael pressed. “I thought there was no point in delaying the inevitable any longer.”
At that moment, my father walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek. Uncle Lance was at his side.
“Congratulations.” Uncle Lance shook Michael’s hand and edged him away.
My father leaned in closer to me. “I got the impression from your reaction this morning that there was still someone else,” he whispered. “Michael is not the one you want, Nicci.”
Then Michael was back, cutting in between us, and grinning with pride. “So, Mr. Beauvoir, what do you think?”
My father glared at me, and then shook Michael’s hand. “If this is what Nicci wants, then I am happy for the both of you.” He and Uncle Lance walked away, leaving me alone with Michael in the corner of the living room.
“Well?” Michael said to me.
My mind went blank. What could I say?
“Hey, are you going to say anything, Nicci? Most girls get excited. You are like a statue. Is it yes or….”
“I—I’m stunned, Michael. I never expected this,” I managed to get out.
His face fell a little, and I could see the apprehension in his blue eyes. I did not want to hurt him. He had been good to me, but the picture of David in the newspaper kept flashing across my mind. Maybe if I tried, I could grow to love Michael.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, Michael.”
He picked me up and twirled me around in the air. When he set me back on the floor, I felt dizzy. He took the ring out of the box and placed it on the appropriate finger of my left hand. Beyond Michael’s grinning face, I spied my father in the corner of the room. His eyes were saturated with disappointment.
Leaving an exuberant Michael, I went to the bar and poured a glass of champagne. Once I finished that one, I had another, and then another.
Michael came up to me. “What are you doing?” he grumbled, looking around the room.
“I’m having a drink.”
“You are having several drinks. Slow it down. What…are you nervous or something?”
I did not reply. I spent the rest of the party next to the bar gawking at the ring on my finger, and dreading the future.
***
Michael ushered everyone home later on that afternoon. Not wanting to face my father’s cross-examination just yet, I volunteered to stay behind and help clean up. After the last guest had left, Michael pulled me into his arms.
“I never thought they would all leave. I have wanted to be alone with you all day.” He guided me toward the sofa.
“Don’t you think we should clean up first?” I asked, as he started pulling down the zipper of my green dress.
He slipped the dress off my shoulders and pushed it to the floor. “Later.”
As Michael unzipped his pants, he helped me onto the sofa. His hands were all over me, canvassing my flesh. He eased my panties down my legs while pushing my head against the hard arm of the sofa. Before I knew it, he was biting the flesh around my right nipple and spreading my legs apart. He roughly stroked my sensitive folds, right before he thrust himself inside of me. Soon the dull throb of his thrusting ended when he groaned, and collapsed on top of me.
I lay there with his weight crushing me, and thought about the times I had been with David. Unlike sex with Michael, I had enjoyed sex with David. He had been a patient lover, who had relished both taking and giving pleasure. Michael, however, was like every other hormonally challenged boy I had known. He made sex more of a race than an adventure.
I poked his shoulder. “Michael?”
He mumbled and opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Michael, have you ever done anything creative?”
“Creative like what? Paint a picture?” He stood from the sofa and zipped up his pants.
I sat up and reached for my dress. “Paint, draw, or write. Has anything ever made you feel impassioned?”
He appeared to consider the question for a moment. “I spent my days learning something practical and useful; a career with which I could support a wife and family.” He went to the bar and poured a glass of champagne. “I guess, in some ways, I am creative in how I help my patients, in how I plan their care.” He shook his head. “Why all these questions about being creative and impassioned. What do you want to do, take art classes?”
“Forget I mentioned it,” I said, zipping up my dress.
I was heading to the kitchen when his voice stopped me.
“Hey what do you think about a December wedding?”
“December?” I tried to stifle my surprise. “That soon?”
“Yeah, a December wedding would be real romantic.”
“Funny,” I glanced back at him, “I never thought you were the ‘real romantic’ type.”
He stared into his glass of champagne, seemingly lost in his thoughts. “That reminds me. We never talked about kids.”
I was taken aback. “Kids?”
“I’
ve always wanted a big family. Around four or five kids, but when you’re ready, of course. I figured you would want to work for a while before we started a family.”
“You have all this planned, don’t you?”
He sipped from his champagne. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No, I used to be the same way, but things change.”
I hurried out of the living room, uninterested in any more of Michael’s plans.
***
Hattie was all in favor of a December wedding and she, along with Michael’s mother, buried herself in the planning. The two found an available church and came up with the date of December tenth for the wedding. Michael agreed and I just went along.
However, my father was not at all pleased with our plans.
“December is too soon. I want you to have more time than that to change your mind.”
“How long of an engagement do you want me to have?” I had asked him during one of our constant rows.
“Ten years.”
“Be fair!” I had argued.
“I am being fair. You are not in love with that silly moron. Why are you pretending?”
The continual fighting with my father forced me to spend more time over at Michael’s. I didn’t get much peace there, either. Michael was constantly bringing up ideas for the wedding. He had already made out the guest list and was even picking out china patterns. When he came home one afternoon with three patterns he thought would be ideal for entertaining, I about lost it.
The Nicci Beauvoir Collection: The Complete Nicci Beauvoir Series Page 26
