Descendant

by LJ Amodeo

  I stirred uncomfortably in my seat as I watched Samantha glide her eyes over each and every student in the classroom. I felt even more ordinary compared to her. More invisible than before. I chuckled under my breath as I thought,Of course, another person who is everything I’m not had to move to town. First Sophie, then Annie. Now her! It’s bad enough I’m a nobody, now I won’t have a shot in hell to ever be anything but!The only flattery I had ever received were from the senior citizens in church complimenting my large pale blue eyes, little Andrew who stared at me with his adoring ones as I attempted to teach him the piano at the music center, and Mr. Harley at the local market, who never failed to remind me every time he saw me that I looked like a modern-day Ava Gardner. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the old man, who apparently needed to have his vision checked. But even those compliments felt insignificant compared to Samantha’s looks.

  Fifty minutes passed before Mr. Mason finally dismissed us.Alleluia!Second-period class was study hall in the library. I called it my “free” time. Samantha glanced at her program and asked, “What’s study hall?” I looked over at her, as I packed up my books, “I have study hall, too. It’s a free period in the computer lab or library to catch up on assignments. I’m heading that way,” I stated, mesmerized by her creamy skin and stunning eyes. Although I wasn’t up to showing her around campus, I decided I would do it just this one time not to seem too standoffish. “You can walk over with me. I’m heading that way.” I said.

  “Well, would you look at that? What a coincidence. I have a feeling about us, Elizabeth!” she stated enthusiastically.

  “Hmm,” was all I could say.

  We walked across the school grounds toward building C. Across the facade of the old library, an inscription inlaid into the concrete slab read“Beware when the great God lets loose a thinker on this planet, ” a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

  “You have a sense of humor, I see!” Samantha muttered condescendingly, as if she spoke to someone inferior to her and invisible to me.

  It took me a nearly a second to realize what she referred to. Looking up at the inscription, I had to agree, “Ah! Yes, thinkers on the loose, especially in Caneadea,” I joked back, finding Sam’s humor to be just what this trite little town needed.

  Cackling at the idea, Sam nudged me with her elbow as a sudden violent surge of electricity charged through my veins. I jerked backward abruptly, looking at the new girl with confusion. I noticed she too seemed stunned by this electrical force. Her eyes were as wide and unsure as my own. I questioned if perhaps the static charge in the air from the earlier lightning storm was to blame. Nervously, I smiled, hoping to end the odd moment between us, thinking this was not a great way to start a friendship, if one were to ever transpire. God only knew how much I’ve wanted a friend who wouldn’t make me feel unworthy or invisible. Someone who would appreciate me for my loyalty and friendship, besides Freddie. It was exactly what I needed in my life now. Agirl friend. I would make the effort to take down the wall. The wall I’d built and hidden behind all these years. No more backing away from or shutting out people. Today, I’d step out of my own darkness to let Sam in.

  We placed our belongings on the table at the far end of the library, scouring over the studious student body before I took a seat. Our books remained tucked away in our bags and that was where I intended to keep them.

  “So, what shall we do?” she asked, with a cunning smile on her face as she sat down next to me.

  “Umm? We can start the research paper for history class, if you’d like.”

  “Are you shitting me? You’re going to do school work on your ‘free’ time? Boy, do I have my work cut out!” she smirked, eyeing me from head to naval. “Besides, I’m already done with that meaningless paper.” Confused, I replied. “I don’t understand. Mr. Mason didn’t post the assignment until this morning. How did you fin—?” I heard my voice trail off as she lifted her hand to abruptly silence me.

  “My mom called the administrative office before our move here and asked for any assignments that needed to be completed for this semester. We travel a lot, therefore, missing classes.Mommy Dearestwants me to stay on top of all my school assignments. She’s a stickler for education.” “I hear you,” I frowned, as I pointed to myself in agreement. “My mom’s a teacher, and she’s constantly getting on my case about school! I’m guessing your mom’s a teacher, too?” I asked.

  Samantha’s posture relaxed against the chair, resting one arm over the seat. She played with her wool scarf. “Used to be! Now she’s the department chair for Integrated Studies at Porto University, blah, blah, blah. That’s why we moved here, to nowhere land,” she blatantly stated, as her effervescent eyes continued to scope the library.

  I wasn’t sure if I should have been insulted or amused by her reference to Caneadea as “nowhere land.”

  “What is there to do in your neck of the woods, anyway?” she yawned.

  Feeling a bit embarrassed about Caneadea’s social venue, I answered, “Well, we have skiing and ice skating in the winter. In the summer we usually go to Rushford Lake or hang out at the Farmer’s Market Park. And the hot-air balloon rally is pretty cool, I guess.”

  Samantha’s face remained a blank, horrified glare. “No offense, but that is the lamest shit I’ve heard in years. Is that what youdo for fun? What about keg parties or nightclubs? Ugh! I knew it. I can picture it. Soon I’ll be milking cows and tending pigs, while sporting some unsightly denim overalls. Shoot me now!” She huffed, flipping her lustrous hair behind her shoulders.

  I cleared my throat stifling a giggle. I wanted to know more about her, but I was too intimidated to pry into her life. I knew this whole friendship thing was going to take some getting used to, but something in my gut told me to go for it anyway. I was intrigued by her for some strange reason. “Sorry. That’s as good as it gets around here. Where did you live before moving here?”

  “All over,” she said boastfully.

  “Really?” my voice cracked with enlivened curiosity.

  “Yes, Daddyhadclients in all parts of the world. We traveled a lot because of his business—Berlin, Florence, Amsterdam, London, Hong Kong,” she stated, as she admired her long, polished fingernails.

  “Wow! No wonder you’re upset about moving here. This really blows! Did you have a favorite place?” I was completely fascinated and wanted to know more about her exciting life.

  “New York mostly. I like to call it my little hell on earth. People in the city are—how shall I put it—willing to sell theirsouls for a little indulgence and night life.” Her long lashes flitted playfully over her large eyes. “There is so much to love about Manhattan: the restaurants, theaters, fashion, and the Wall Street men.” Her mind seemed to have wandered off for a moment marking her admiration for the city on her full lips.

  “Cool. I’m hoping to go to college there. Is New York really like it is in the movies?” I asked, resting my chin on my fist.

  “Way better. It’s like a drug; just can’t get enough of it. We should take a road trip one day so you can check it out before hand.”

  “I’ve never been anywhere except to Lake Sinclair and Kaslo, to visit my grandmother,” I whispered ashamed.

  “Ah! Canada’s oldest community in the Kootenays.” She smiled.

  I looked at Sam stunned and somewhat speechless. “You’ve heard of Kaslo? Please don’t tell me you’ve been there!”

  Wistfully she winked, “Great place to ski, and as for Sinclair, best sunsetsever!” she sang playfully. I was ecstatic that this spectacular girl had been to the only two places I had. I didn’t feel so insignificant after all.

  “I can’t believe you just said that. I remember going to Sinclair as a little girl and admiring those same sunsets. Did you go there a lot, because, my family spent every summer there. Well, I mean until I was nine, then we never went back.” The thought of my father quickly surfaced in my mind.Better days, I thought.

  “Nah, I was at the lake just once,
a long time ago. I remember the sun was setting so beautifully over the lake and then out of nowhere—BAM! The sky turned real ugly and dark. Huh? Go figure! Maybe Mother Nature was menstruating that day!” she flashed me a wide, artificial smile.

  Chills rippled across my skin, right up to the back of my neck. I wasn’t sure if at that very moment I was having a déjà vu or if Samantha’s recollection of that stormy day in Georgia, was the same violent storm that ripped my family and my life apart.

  It was obvious that Samantha was a free-spirit. Not a care in the world. I never thought I’d friend a girl like Sam in this speck-on-the-map town or imagined her to befriend a commoner like me. It was hard to recall the last time I had a conversation with a girl my age, or anyone in my classes besides Freddie. I totally agreed with Sam. I had a feeling about us, too.

  “So, what does your dad do now that you’ve moved here? Is he retired?” I inquired.

  She looked down at her lap, her eyes staring blankly at her hands and her lips pressed into a hard line. She didn’t stir or blink. For a moment, it seemed like she wasn’t breathing.Have I said something wrong? Am I getting too personal? I thought to myself, regretting the question I hampered at her.

  “My father was . . . murdered,” she mumbled.

  I gasped, feeling terrible for asking. Normally, with my latest blasé-type personality, I wouldn’t have flinched much at her story. But today I felt differently about this girl, that even I surprised myself. For some strange reason, I didn’t want to screw this up with Sam, who could potentially be my friend; a friend I had longed for. I found myself immediately asking her forgiveness. “I––I’m sorry, Samantha. I didn’t mean to pry. I had no idea.” I looked down, ashamed at myself.

  “We found his body in the woods, not far from our home,” she whispered pained with the upsetting memory. “He meant everything to me. It’s not fair, just not fair how he was desecrated without honor. All because someone wouldn’t give him what he rightfully deserved. He was betrayed!” Sam muttered grimly, as her eyes stared coldly at the mahogany table.

  “That’s terrible. I hope whoever did this to your father paid for it.” I murmured again, but this time she no longer stared coldly, she smiled vehemently.

  “He hasn’t yet. Hewill! Now it’s time for him to be judged. I will make sure of it!” She spoke strongly against her father’s killer.

  "Then you know who it was . . . that murdered him?" I asked hesitantly, preoccupied that his killer was still on the loose.

  "Yes, I do! The games have just begun. It’s hunting season, and he’s the prey. They’re on to him. Just a matter of time that he is caught and punished! Mark my words, because I can almost taste it!" She replied in a cold, contemptuous tone. I began to wonder what really brought Sam and her mom to Caneadea. Was it really for her mom’s new job? Or was it an opportunity to get closer to her father’s killer. Was he in Caneadea? I shifted nervously with the idea.

  "What about your mom? How is she dealing with it, because I know how my mom suffered when my dad left home?"

  “Why did your dad leave?” Sam asked curiously staring at me through her lashes.

  “Not sure, really. One night after work, he came home angry about something. We never found out what upset him so much that he walked out on us. But the memory of it all still hurts.” I said, recounting the night he slammed the picture of the Blessed Mother with his fist. I closed my eyes, picturing the blood on his hands from the broken glass. I was frightened, hiding in a closet under the stairs, worried for my mother who was trying to calm him down. His last words were still etched in my memory:‘I’m so sorry! It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be Elizabeth! It wasn’t supposed to be my daughter!’He cried, as he dropped to his knees on that dreadful day that ruined my life. “‘I must go. I must leave here Grace, and whatever you do, never, ever come looking for me!’ he begged her before walking out. And now I’ll never know why he left.” My voice faded with his memory. When I looked up, Sam sat quietly staring at me with an amused grin on her lips. I thought it strange that she’d find my story humorous and not upsetting. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “You were completely in the zone. It’s like you were transported somewhere else. You, my friend, have a talent.” She winked. “Besides, if you want to know why your dad left, why don’t you just ask him?” She said, shrugging her shoulders.

  “I can’t. I found out recently that he died.” I whispered looking toward the sunlight that streamed through the library windows.

  “I guess we have more in common than we know.” Sam replied. I guess we did.

  “How selfish of me. I asked about your mom and here I am telling you my sob story. I didn’t mean to change the subject, Sam.”

  “It’s fine. My mom––Lillian, still hasn’t gotten over my father; that’s why she took this job at Porto, to erase the memories of his brutal slaying. Now, we’re here hoping to make a few changes in the story of our lives. Make our mark in history, so to speak.” She stated cheerlessly. Sam was dramatic and morosely animated in her manners and expressions. I didn’t mind this about her because I too, was dismal. In a weird kind of way, she was similar to me: pessimistic, a glass half-empty. “Did this happen recently?” I asked sadly, listening to her tragic story.

  “What difference does it make, Elizabeth, if it happened yesterday or years ago? He was murdered, and all that talk abouttimehealing the pain is bullshit!” She snapped bitterly. I sadly agreed because time hadn’t healed the pain I felt for my father. It only angered me more.

  “I feel terrible that I rambled on about my dad leaving, when you and your mom had suffered your dad’s murder.”

  “I’m suffering; she’s handling it. Any chance she gets to leave town, she goes and visits my brother. She’ll probably visit him for the holidays, as always, leaving me alone. My mother holds a special place in her little heart for her prodigal son. He’s always been her favorite—the one who’ll carry the family legacy.” Sam said, rolling her eyes. “Luca’s a spitting image of my dad in so many ways, but not quite so powerful yet. I hate that douche bag. He’s always stealing my spotlight!” Sam said in an acerbic tone looking passed me. It was apparent that Samantha wasn’t fond of her brother. It was moments like this that I was glad I didn’t have to put up with sibling rivalry. I guess being an only child had its perks, too. I tried to think of something pleasant to say to change the direction of our conversation, but all that spilled from my lips was, “You have a brother?” I gave her a cunning smile.

  “Yes, I have a brother,” she responded with a smirk.

  “Is he cute?”

  “Let’s put it this way…he’s really gonna like you,” she replied. We giggled.

  Chapter 4: Disbelief

  I lie on the floor, washed by nothing and hanging on. I cry at night. I am afraid of hearing voices, or a voice. I have come to the edge, of the land. I could get pushed over.”

  Margaret Atwood

  The sound of the alarm clock pierced through my head like metal. I put the pillow over my head to block out the siren. I reached out my hand, searching for the galling object and slammed my fist down to silence it.

  My head felt extremely profound this morning. A pulsating spasm beat in my temples like a drum, as I pressed the pillow tighter against my skull. A nauseous sensation manifested in the pit of my stomach. I pressed the pillows tighter over my head, but the pain increased bringing tears to my eyes, as my skin became clammy and colder. The pain was unbearable this time, not like before. Much, much worse, like something in my skull was about to explode. The quicker my heart beat, the deeper I burrowed my nails into my sweaty palms. Every sound outside my window, the chirping birds, droning bugs, rustling leaves, speeding cars, jogger’s bounce, neighbors chatter, amplified louder, embroiled in a chaotic mess, proliferating the pain.

  “Mom,” I searched for my voice. “Mom?” I yelped, hardly inciting a whisper, trying to wake her in the next room. Louder, I shrieked in
agony, “Mom!” My startled dog barked loud enough to alert the neighborhood. I pressed on my temples as hard as I could to block out Prince’s deafening bark and the confusion of voices chanting in my head. With every second that passed, sounds amplified and lights magnified, cutting through my skull. My strength deteriorated with each passing minute. I turned on to my side, crying and panting for help as my head rolled back and my mouth gasped for air. I could taste the sour bile rising at the back of my throat, thinking I’d choke to death on my own vomit. My body abruptly lurched forward. I felt an unexplainable pouncing in my chest. Something pressed angrily against my ribcage, making it impossible to breathe. The mattress beneath my spine caved violently as my felt my rib snap. The pressure on my chest became unbearable until the door slammed open and immediately it vanished as I faintly heard my mother’s frightened voice screaming.

  “Beth, what’s wrong? Sweetie, talk to me!” she yelled as she violently shook my shoulders. “Beth Anne, tell me what’s wrong! Oh my God, Beth can you hear me? Dear Lord, please, please, not my little girl. What is happening? Why are you doing this? Beth, Mommy is here. I’m calling an ambulance and a priest!”

  The terror in her voice was clear as she quickly spoke to the 911 operator. Prince’s whimpering continued, sympathetically licking my cheeks, trying desperately to get me to open my eyes. But, all I could do was squeeze them tighter, just as bright flashes of light blurred my senses before giving way to darkness.