by Seven Steps
“Our cook, Mrs. Grim, made it.”
James takes another bite.
“Well, you tell her that James Buchannan sends his congratulations. Her culinary skills are unmatched.”
He winks at Alana, and she beams. I’m sure she’s as enraptured with him as I’ve been yesterday.
Not anymore.
I know what he is. A kidnapper, come to steal my sister away.
“Are those, uh, tattoos?” Adella asks.
His colorful tattoos stand out beneath his thin, white sleeves.
I’m sure Daddy isn’t pleased with that.
“Yes, they are. Beautiful ones too.”
“Can I see them?”
“That’s inappropriate dinner table conversation,” Daddy says. “Tattoos are foul, vulgar things that should be outlawed.”
Adella sucks in a breath and takes a long swallow of her water.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Swimworthy,” James says. He has a southern twang that I try not to like. He seems confident and not the least bit aware of how lethal my father’s mood is. “I’m of the belief that tasteful tattoos are no more vulgar than a man wearing a nice watch or a woman’s makeup. They are meant to adorn and beautify the body.”
“Perhaps for those without a proper upbringing.”
“Daddy!” Duckie says sharply.
James quickly puts a hand on her shoulder, calming her. “It’s okay, darling.”
I watch her anger leak away. How can he calm her down so fast?
“Everyone has a right to their opinion. Especially a man as respectable as Triton Swimworthy.”
Daddy’s seat groans as he violently pushes it back.
“You dare put your hand on my daughter in my presence!” he thunders. “Who are you?”
James wipes his mouth with his napkin and places his hands firmly on the table.
“I’m sorry, sir. My name is James Buchannan.”
“I know what your blasted name is. Who are you? Why are you here? Is it just to raise my blood pressure or is it for some other reason?”
“I am here as an invited guest of your daughter.”
“In what capacity?”
The table goes quiet, and all eyes turn to Duckie.
She stands. I’ve never seen her stand so tall. So strong.
“He’s my fiancé, Daddy.”
Fiancé? She’s marrying him?
Daddy sputters.
“Fiancé? You never told me you had a fiancé.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
“What gives you the right to have a fiancé?” He doesn’t give her a chance to reply. Instead, he turns his line of questions back to James. “What gives you the right to date my daughter? Do you know who she is?”
“I do, sir.”
“And yet you continued to pursue her? What are you after? Money? Property? Fame?”
James smirks. “None of that, sir. Just the pleasure of knowing Aquata is enough for me.”
Daddy’s eyes narrow. “Before I call the police to throw you into a cell beneath the jail, tell me, where did you meet my daughter?”
“At work, sir.”
“Work?”
“Yes, sir. I was a CPA at your daughter’s firm.”
Daddy shoves his plate away from him.
“So, you are after her money!”
“No, sir, I am not. We worked on a project and got to know each other through that.”
“Consider yourself fired.”
“Sir, that is impossible since I am no longer employed by the firm.”
“Then consider yourself fired from wherever you work currently.”
“As I am self-employed, I don’t think that is possible either, sir.”
“Gutter trash. Get out of my house and stay away from my daughter.”
“No, Daddy,” Duckie finally says. “He’s not doing either of those things.”
“You didn’t get my permission to date this boy.”
“He’s not a boy. And I don’t need your permission.”
“Under my roof you do.”
“Daddy, please. I love him!”
The room goes pin drop silent.
“No!” Daddy roars. “Have you lost your senses completely? You are a Swimworthy and he is… is… he’s nothing. No one.”
She reaches her hand to James, and he takes it. They look at my father as a unified force.
It’s then I realize Duckie isn’t saying goodbye because she wants to leave.
She’s saying goodbye because my father won’t let her live her life any other way.
“He’s someone to me,” she says.
“Either he goes, or both of you go. That is my final judgement on the matter.”
And there it is.
This is it.
This is where Duckie walks out of my life.
She nods sadly and disappears into the back of the house, reemerging a minute later with a suitcase and a jacket.
My father’s eyes go as big as dinner plates.
He’d bluffed.
She’d called it.
But she can’t walk out. If she does, our family will be broken forever.
“Daddy, please,” I beg. “Give him a chance.”
“I will not have our family name defiled by a piece of gutter trash,” he bellows at me. “It is him or us, Duckie. Your family or this… this… this gold digger.”
I see James’ jaw tighten, and they talk at the same time.
“Daddy, please—”
“Sir, if I may—”
Daddy charges around the table, standing nose to nose with James. My heart pounds in fear. Will Daddy fight this man? No, he can’t. Can he?
“Don’t you address me! I’ll have you brought on charges and locked away. I’ll pick apart your life until there is nothing left.”
“Then you’ll have to pick apart my life too,” Duckie says. “We’re getting married next Sunday. Everything has been arranged.”
My breath catches in my throat. I suddenly can’t breathe.
“If you marry this man, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll disown you. Cut you out of my will and cut you off completely.”
Duckie blinks. An undescended tear settles in the corner of her eye. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
Daddy runs a rough hand through his gray hair, pulling it free from the ribbon that held it. Then he wags a finger in James’ face.
“How dare you come to my house, to destroy my family and corrupt my daughter!”
“She’s not a child.” James’ voice is calm. Surprising, since my dad is about to bust a blood vessel. “She’s a beautiful, adult woman who can make her own decisions, and I love her.”
“You’ll be on the streets in a month!”
“Your brilliant daughter runs three very successful businesses. I would say that we’ll be okay.”
Daddy pauses, considering this new piece of information.
“Three?”
“I’ve outsourced the accounting firm and opened up a tattoo shop and a motorcycle repair shop in Brooklyn,” Duckie says quietly. Her words shine with pride. “They’re doing well, Daddy. Really well.”
Daddy looks dumbfounded, as if she’s just been speaking Mandarin Chinese.
“A tattoo shop? You know my thoughts on tattoos.”
“I do,” Duckie says.
“She’s gifted, sir. The best artist I’ve ever worked with.” He pulls his sleeve high, revealing a beautiful design of corals, fish, and a mermaid with flowing hair. The same mermaid I’ve seen on Duckie’s wall.
“Like I said before. Tattoos beautify the body, and your daughter does beautiful work.”
Daddy doesn’t even glance at it.
“You’ve corrupted her,” he whispers. He puts a heavy hand on Duckie’s chin, tipping her face up. “You’ve corrupted my little girl.”
“No, Daddy,” Duckie says. “He didn’t corrupt me. He freed me. He believed in me.”
“I belie
ved in you too, daughter.”
“You did, as long as I did everything you told me to do. But I can’t do that anymore. I have to think about myself for once. I have to do what makes me happy. And that isn’t sitting in an office running an accounting firm and answering your emails. I want to be creative.”
“Your mother would turn over in her grave.”
That single comment makes Duckie’s face go white. Her unshed tear falls. Her lips tremble.
“You’re no longer my daughter,” Daddy says. “Get out and never step foot in this house again. You’re dead to me.”
The second Daddy turns his back, Duckie falls apart. I’ve never seen her do that before.
What was she thinking brining James here? Maybe she thought Daddy would never give up on her. She was wrong.
My sisters and I all scream at once, begging Daddy to reconsider.
“Silence!” he roars. He passes the dining room table and heads back toward his office. He puts his hand on the knob and says over his shoulder, “If I see either of you here again, I will have you thrown out.”
And then he slams the door, once again locking himself way.
The twins and I run to Duckie.
“Don’t cry, Duckie,” Adella says, tears streaming down her face. “He’s just upset. He’ll take it all back tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Alana says. “We’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
“And if he doesn’t listen to us, we’ll call Andrina, Attina, and Arista. We’ll get the whole family involved if we have to.”
“No,” Duckie says, her voice deep and cracked. She puts her arm around us. “I knew this would happen. I knew it. I tried to prepare you.” She looks at me hard, and all of her past words come back to haunt me. “Now, listen to me. Be there for him. He’s still your father and he needs you all now more than ever. Take care of him, but”—she pauses, making us all lean a little closer—“don’t be like him. He’s a hurt, angry man who hates the world because it took Mama away. Don’t be so focused on the past that you forget to move on. That’s what life is about. Forgiving and moving on. Otherwise, all you have is bitterness and regret. Do you understand?”
Her words pierce my heart.
“James has an apartment in Brooklyn, near Briar Park. That’s where we’ll be living. Call me, text me, come by anytime. I will always be here if you need me.” She looks at me again. “Ariel, you’re in charge now. Take care of your father and your sisters. Be there for them, just like I was there for you.”
My world suddenly has stopped spinning. Everything is backward and wrong.
Duckie, the only mother I’ve known for six years, is being thrown out and all I can do is watch. I feel weak. I feel helpless. I feel angry. How can Daddy do this to us? How can he tear us apart like this?
Duckie stands, her face soaked with tears, her lips trembling. James supports her with one arm, while the other grabs her suitcases. And then she walks out the door and out of our lives.
42
Tuesday slips by in a haze.
How can anyone expect me to concentrate when my world has turned to crap? Duckie’s gone, Daddy’s in a rage, and everything is so screwed up I can barely tell my right from my left.
Am I like my father? Do I push everything I love away? Am I bitter and miserable? My answer to these questions can be summed up in three words. Bella and Eric. I’ve pushed Bella and Eric away. I regret that now. Of all the terrible things I’ve ever done in my life, I regret that the most.
Don’t be like him, Duckie had said.
It’s the most meaningful piece of advice she’s ever given me, and I’m determined to listen.
But how can I change what I’ve done?
After everything that’s happened, how can I say I’m sorry?
I walk out of business class. Eric is walking ahead of me.
Have I spoken to him? Has he said something to me?
I don’t remember.
But I do know I have to say something.
I have to try something.
I have to do something.
“Eric.”
He turns, and his eyes immediately latch onto mine.
I freeze, not quite sure what to say. Once upon a time, Eric’s very presence made words flow from me like a river. Now, I’m tongue-tied.
Great.
His eyes scan me, making sure I’m okay.
“You good?”
It’s a valid question. I have just yelled his name in the hall. I’ve never done that before.
“Uh, can we talk?”
“Sure.”
We walk into a dark classroom and close the door.
He props himself against a bookcase, far away from the door. And away from me. I’m grateful for the space.
I open my mouth, and my gut twists so forcefully I shut it again.
Why is this so hard?
It doesn’t matter now. I’ve come to say something, and I’m determined to say it. It’s the right thing to do.
“I, uh, I wanted to tell you that…” I pause and clear the fear from my throat. “I want to say I’m sorry for how I’ve been treating you, Bella, and Cole. I’ve been childish and stupid, and I apologize.”
His eyes go wide, and he shakes his head, as if he doesn’t fully understand what I’m saying.
“Apology accepted,” he says. “Consider us even.”
I let out a long breath.
“Yes. Even. Okay.” I turn to walk to the door, then swivel back around. “I, uh, I guess I’d better get home. My house has been sort of chaotic lately.”
“You got a ride?” he asks.
Sophia and Michael are gone now. They’ve climbed on a bus this morning to Florida to go to the Tri-State Swim Meet, ridden off into the future without me.
I shake my head.
“I was going to take the train.”
“I can drive you.”
“Like in a car?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you took the train here?”
He chuckles. “I drive in every day.”
He pushes off the bookcase, reaches around me, opens the door, and lets me walk out first. I hold my questions until we reach the parking lot. He stops in front of a red Maserati. My dream car. The same car my dad has promised to buy for me on my next birthday. I run my hands over the red paint. It’s beautiful.
We climb inside, and I sink into the black leather seats.
“This is your car?” I ask.
“Yup. A little gift to myself when I turned sixteen.”
“And you drive this every day?”
“Every single day.”
“So why did you take the train with me?”
He shrugs and turns on the engine. “Because I don’t want you to ride the train alone.”
I can only stare at him as we pull out of the parking lot and into traffic.
He went out of his way to ride the train with me, even though he drove this? Did he just park it at school, ride the train with me, then get back on the train and drive home? I feel even more like a jerk and cross my arms uneasily across my chest.
“You should sit with us at lunch tomorrow,” he says.
Heat blast out of the vents, cold at first but quickly starting to warm.
“I’m not sure I’ll be welcomed there after how I’ve been acting.”
“We all miss you, Ariel. If you’re ready, we are too.”
“It’s not that simple. I was so mean to you guys.”
“That’s in the past now. We never gave up hope that you’d come back. Seeing you make that first step”—he threads his right hand through my left one—“that’s all we want. We just want you back.”
My hand grips his hard.
He makes it sound so simple. Like we can just pick up where we left off. Can I do that? Can I move on?
“Or, maybe there’s something else we can do,” he says. “Something better than a visit to a lunch table.”
“Such as?”
“Well, the bus to T
ri-State is gone, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you wanted to go to Tri-State, right?”
“Yeah.”
He’s silent for a minute, a slow smile growing on his face.
“I’ll take you.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“What?”
“I’ll be your personal chaperone to the Tri-State Swim Competition in sunny Orlando, Florida.”
“But the bus left this morning.”
“And, if we hurry, we have four days to make it down there. If we leave tonight, we can drive down, see a few sights, and get you there in plenty of time.”
He’s talking crazy. This is an impossible plan.
“My dad will never let me go.”
“Then don’t tell him.”
“So, you’re saying to just go grab my stuff, jump in this car, and drive away?”
“Well, not right this second. I’ll need cash, food, a bigger car. But yeah. Let’s go.”
He pulls up outside of my apartment, but I barely notice it. I can only stare at him.
“Meet me down here at midnight. Bring your stuff. I’m putting you back in the water where you belong.”
My blood bubbles with excitement. Adrenaline surges through me.
“Eric, this is amazing. Oh my God, I could kiss you.”
I clamp my mouth shut, my cheeks turning flame red.
He simply smiles his beautiful smile. “I’m right here, Red.”
Embarrassed and red-faced and tingly all over, I push the door open and practically spill out onto the sidewalk.
He waves. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“See you tonight.”
Then I run into the building, my dreams now clearly back in focus and ready to be fulfilled.
43
When midnight strikes, I run out of my apartment and down the stairs.
Part of me wants to leave a note or something, telling my sisters and my father where I’ve gone, but I don’t. I know that if they found out, they’d try and stop me. I can’t let that happen. I already have enough to worry about, like convincing Coach Fish to let me swim in the meet.
Plus, there’s the whole Eric and me thing.
I’m not even sure what we are.
Friends?
Friends who want to make out?
Boyfriend and girlfriend?
Nothing?
