My Sweet Audrina

by V. C. Andrews

  “Who was screaming?” asked Papa as he raced into the foyer. He stopped short and stared at Aunt Ellie. “Ellie … is that Ellie?” he asked, pale and shocked looking. Shadows seemed to immediately darken his face. He hurried to kneel where I’d knelt only a moment ago. “Oh, Ellie, did you have to do this?” he asked with a sob, lifting her so that she was cradled in his arms and her rubbery neck stretched too long. “I gave you a check, Ellie, more than you asked for. You could have gone. You didn’t have to fall down the stairs just to hurt me …”

  Seeming to remember my presence, he paused and asked, “How did this happen?” His eyes narrowed as I pulled Sylvia into my embrace. I wanted to defend her from that hard way he was staring at those prisms clutched in her hand. Holding her head against my breasts, I faced him. “I was coming downstairs when I saw her … she was face down on the floor, like she’d fallen.”

  Again he was staring at my aunt’s dead face. “She very seldom used the front stairs. You turned her over?” How empty his eyes, how flat his tone. Was he hurting like I was hurting?

  “Yes, I turned her over.”

  “You heard us last night, didn’t you?” he asked accusingly. Before I could answer, he was picking up the purse I hadn’t noticed and rummaging through it. “No check,” he said as if surprised. “We did quarrel last night, Audrina, but later on we made it up. I asked her to marry me. She seemed very happy when she went back to her room …”

  He eased my aunt back onto the floor and stood up. “She wouldn’t leave me … I know she wouldn’t do that, not after I asked her, and she wanted that, I know she wanted that…” Then he was taking the steps three at a time standing there.

  I grabbed hold of Sylvia and forced her to run with me to the back stairs, hoping we’d reach my aunt’s room first and I’d be there to see what he did with the check when he found it.

  Even if his way was the longest way, he was in her room before I could drag Sylvia there. Her suitcases lay open on her bed. Frantically, he was tearing through her things, opening and closing every handbag she owned. “I can’t find it! Audrina, I have to find that check! Did you see it?”

  I told him then that I’d pinned it to the corkboard so she’d see it first thing in the morning.

  He groaned and wiped his hand over his lips. “Audrina, run and see if it’s still there.”

  With Sylvia beside me, stumbling along as I tried to hurry, I reached the kitchen and found the corkboard empty. I reported that to Papa. He sighed heavily, glanced again at the still form of my aunt in her crisp dark suit, then dialed the police.

  “Now,” he instructed before I went upstairs to dress, “you just tell them exactly how you found her—but don’t tell them she was leaving. I’ll put away all her clothes. I can’t believe she was leaving anyway. She had such idiotic things in her suitcases, clothes that wouldn’t even fit her now. Audrina, I think it would be a good idea if you took off your aunt’s traveling suit and put on one of her house-dresses.”

  I didn’t want to, though I understood his reasoning, and with his help we managed to take off her jacket, blouse and skirt. Soon she was wearing a plaid cotton dress. I was trembling long before we were finished. Hurriedly I did up her hair while Papa held her in position. My fingers shook so her knot had never looked so messy. No sooner was I dressed myself than the police were jabbing at the doorbell.

  Huddled with Sylvia at my side on the purple velvet chaise, I watched and listened as my father gave the two policemen an explanation of my aunt’s fall down the stairs. He appeared calm, only a little distraught, with worry and sadness making him seem genuinely grief-stricken. The policemen seemed to consider him charming, very likable, and I was thinking unmercifully what an actor he was. He would never have married her. What a lie to tell me that—as if he considered me so gullible I’d believe anything.

  “Miss Adare,” said the older of the policemen, his face kind and grandfatherly, “you were the one who found her? She was on her back?”

  “No, sir, she was face down. I didn’t want to think she was dead, so I had to turn her over to check.” I bowed my head and began to cry again.

  His voice was sympathetic when he asked, “Was your aunt subject to dizzy spells?” On and on the questions came until Papa fell into a chair and bowed his head into his hands. Somehow I forgot to mention I’d heard the back door softly close. But perhaps I’d only imagined I’d heard that.

  “Where were you when your sister-in-law fell?” asked the older policeman, looking directly at Papa.

  “I was asleep,” said Papa, lifting his head and meeting the eyes of the policeman squarely.

  Even as my aunt’s body was lifted and put on a stretcher, covered over and taken to the police morgue, the questions went on and on. I was numb and feeling dazed, and I was forgetful of Sylvia, who hadn’t eaten breakfast. That was the first thing I did after the police left. Papa sat down to eat what I prepared, too, not saying a word to me, only chewing and swallowing automatically.

  Yet, later on, when I was alone in my room and Sylvia was napping in hers, I kept thinking of my aunt and the argument she’d had with Papa. She had wanted to go to Vera, and now she was dead. The more I thought about that the more alarmed I became about my own situation. How many times had my aunt told me to escape when I had the opportunity? Hundreds of times. Now, while Papa was off somewhere making funeral arrangements, was my chance.

  Where did you go when Fate kept breaking your heart over and over again? A little voice inside me kept whispering that Papa thought baby girls were born every day just to serve his needs when they grew older. And when he was old and ugly, he was thinking money would buy them—and when even money couldn’t, he’d still have me left to take care of him and keep him from those institutions he seemed to hate. Even as I thought that, behind that was another whispering menace … that awful thing my aunt had said to him about how he was capable of doing anything and everything to get his way. I dashed about madly, throwing my clothes into suitcases. I ran for Sylvia’s room and gathered up what she’d need, too. We were leaving. Leaving before something awful happened to us, too. Now, while Papa was away and couldn’t stop us.

  As I pulled Sylvia along with me, we had to pass the front salon, and in the door I paused as I said goodbye to my mother’s grand piano. It seemed I could see her sitting there playing her favorite Rachmaninoff melodies, one of which had been given lyrics in a popular ballad: “Full moon, and empty arms …”

  Steel arms, that’s the kind my father had. Killing arms of love.

  As I stood there I think I forgot every hateful, mean thing my aunt had ever said or done to me and Sylvia. I shoved into the darkest corners of my brain all she’d said to tell me I was too sensitive and unable to cope with reality, and remembered only the good things, the thoughtful deeds. I forgave her everything.

  Pulling Sylvia with me, I picked up the two heavy suitcases and began our journey through the woods to reach the cottage on the far side. Billie looked sober when I told her my plans. Arden was delighted. “Of course. What a wonderful idea. But why can’t your aunt look out for Sylvia? It’s not going to be much of a honeymoon if we have to drag her along with us.”

  With my head low and my voice, too, I told them what had happened and that it was escape now or never. I had told everything in such a way that Papa had seemed blameless. Why had I spared him?

  Billie cuddled me in her strong arms. “We have to think some things are for the best when there is nothing we can do about it anyway. You’ve told me your aunt has acted all winter like she wasn’t happy, or she was ill. Maybe she did have a dizzy spell. Now, there’s no reason why you can’t leave Sylvia here with me, if you truly feel you have to escape like this. I just want you to be sure you love my son enough, Audrina. Don’t marry Arden today and regret it tomorrow.”

  “I will love Arden forever!” I cried fervently, fully believing this was the truth. Arden smiled at me lovingly. “I can echo that,” he said softly. “All my lif
e will be devoted to making you happy.”

  Nervously I glanced from Sylvia, who started to scream when Billie tried to touch her, to Billie, then Arden. I couldn’t leave my sister with Billie, whom she seemed to fear and dislike. I’d promised Papa a long time ago that I’d take care of Sylvia; she was my responsibility, and I couldn’t leave her.

  My heart seemed to stop as I waited for Arden’s response after I told him Sylvia had to go with us. He blanched, then quietly agreed.

  Perhaps Billie was right to look worried as she waved goodbye.

  I Take Thee, Arden

  In a small town in North Carolina, where the law permitted couples to be married on the same day they took out a marriage license, Arden and I were wedded by a fat, balding justice of the peace, while his plain-looking, skinny wife played atrocious wedding music on a worn-out old organ. When the brief ceremony was over, she sang (without our request) “I Love You Truly.”

  Sylvia perched restlessly on what looked like a bridge chair, swinging her feet as she played with the crystal prisms and babbled incessantly to herself, as if suddenly she’d found her voice and was going to use it, even if she couldn’t say meaningful words—or was she trying to sing? It was difficult to concentrate on our vows.

  “In a few years we’ll do it all over again in the proper way,” promised Arden as we headed south toward a famous beach and a fine hotel. “You look so pretty in that violet suit. It matches your eyes. You have such wonderful eyes, so deep. I wonder if ever in a million years I will have time to find out all your secrets.”

  Uneasily I fidgeted. “I have no secrets.”

  By nightfall we were registered in the hotel. Soon we were in the dining room, where all the guests stared at Sylvia shoving food into her wide-open mouth without benefit of cutlery. “I’ve been working on that, too,” I said with apology to Arden. “Sooner or later she’ll catch on.” He smiled and said that we’d both teach Sylvia how to be the perfect lady.

  I was glad dinner took a long time. Only too soon would come the time I dreaded most.

  Try as I would, that dark, fugitive memory of the wet woodsy day kept flashing before my eyes. Sex had killed the First Audrina, and it was my wedding night. Arden wouldn’t hurt me, I said again to reassure myself. It wouldn’t be awful with him. The pain and the terror and the ugliness all belonged to that crazy rocking chair dream of the First Audrina; it didn’t belong in my life with a wedding certificate in my purse.

  Arden was wonderfully considerate, tolerant of Sylvia as he simultaneously tried to be romantic with me—a nearly impossible task. I felt sorry for him as he tried so hard.

  He’d rented a double suite of rooms with a connecting door so Sylvia could have her own bathroom, and in her bathroom I slowly, painstakingly did what I had to. When I tucked her into the wide bed I gave her strict orders to stay in bed—or else. The last thing I did was put half a glass of water on the nightstand. “Drink as little as possible so you won’t have an accident during the night.” I kissed her and reluctantly withdrew when she drifted into sleep, still clutching the crystal prisms.

  In the bedroom Arden and I were to share, he paced the floor impatiently while I took an hour-long tub bath and shampooed my hair. Next I rolled it on curlers, used my hair dryer, creamed my face, and while my hair finished drying, I removed my nail polish and did my nails all over again, my toenails, too. Now that my hair was thoroughly dry, I had to wait for my nails to dry as well. When they seemed solid enough, I carefully took out the curlers and brushed the tight curls into loose, soft waves. I sprayed on cologne and puffed on talcum and finally dropped a fancy nightgown down over my head. Stupid, stupid, I was calling myself for being afraid to go to my husband.

  I tugged at the revealing nightgown Billie had given me on my last birthday, wishing it weren’t so transparent, though I guessed she’d given it to me for just this reason. It had a matching peignoir of violet, with creamy lace that wasn’t placed to conceal anything. When I’d finished every last detail I could think of, I sat on the edge of the bathtub and just stared at the closed door, dreading to open it and go through.

  I kept seeing Momma as I sat there, so much like I looked, only older. I thought of Papa and the belt he used for a whip. I envisioned again all that had happened to the First Audrina that awful day in the rain when she’d been found dead under a golden raintree. A child raped, it wasn’t fair or right. I began to tremble, and beads of sweat came to dampen my armpits despite the deodorant I wore. I saw Vera rolling about on the floor with Lamar Rensdale, and the violent way he’d taken her, like a rutting animal. I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t want to go through with it.

  Standing, I began to unfasten my peignoir—I couldn’t let him see me in this bit of nothing.

  “Audrina,” called Arden from the other side of the locked bathroom door, his voice beginning to sound angry, “what’s taking you so long? You’ve been in there for hours.”

  “Give me five more minutes,” I answered nervously. Already I’d promised him that two times before. I fiddled with my hair, the peignoir, taking it off, thinking about pulling on my panties or getting fully dressed again. I began to chew on my fingernails, a habit long ago abandoned. I told myself again that Arden had known me since I was seven, seen me in playclothes, in a bathing suit, in all sorts of conditions … but he’d never seen me in a see-through nightie just before intimate relations. Yet he was my husband now. Why did I have to be so worried? I wouldn’t end up dead under a golden raintree, or on the floor, nor would he use his belt … would he?

  “One more minute,” reminded Arden. “I’m holding you to your time limit… and no more excuses.” His tone was so grim it scared me. He’d never sounded so harsh before. Oh, it was just like I’d heard Aunt Mercy Marie, Aunt Ellsbeth and my momma say: You never knew a man until you married him.

  “I’m watching the second hand,” he informed me. “You’ve got thirty seconds now. If you’re not out when you promised, I’m coming in. Even if I have to kick down that door, I’m coming in!”

  I shrank back against the wall, my heart pounding as I panicked. I took a step closer to the door, said a quick prayer for the soul of my aunt and asked her forgiveness for not attending her funeral.

  “Time’s up!” he yelled. “Stand back—I’m coming through.”

  He’d hurt himself if he backed up and ran forward to slam his shoulder through the door. He kicked the door twice, but it didn’t budge. I heard him swear and guessed he was going to throw himself against the door next. Hurriedly I turned the lock and threw open the door.

  It was his misfortune to hurl himself forward at the very second I swung the door inward. He slammed hard against the tile wall opposite the door. He crashed against it, then slid to the floor and lay there looking stunned and in terrible pain.

  Rushing forward, I knelt to hover above him. “Oh, Arden, I’m sorry, so sorry. I didn’t know you’d really try to break down the door.”

  To my surprise, he laughed and grabbed for me. He began to smother me with kisses. His words came between them. “I’ve heard that brides can get stage fright, but Audrina, I thought you loved me.” More kisses on my face, neck, the swell of my breasts. “It’s not as if we just met.”

  Jerking away, I rose to my feet. Painfully he stood, too, before he leaned over and felt for broken bones. “I guess nothing is permanently damaged,” he said with a good-natured grin. Tenderly he took me in his arms and gazed deeply into my eyes. “You don’t have to look so scared. All this is kinda funny in a way, like a farce, but I don’t want our wedding night to be a farce. I love you, Audrina. We’ll take it easy, go slow, and you’ll be surprised at how naturally things come about.” Lightly he kissed me with his parted lips. “Your hair looked great before, you didn’t have to wash it again. Yet, I’ve never seen you look so beautiful … and even if you do look terrified, you take my breath away.” Again he kissed me, like he didn’t want to stop. “I’ll be finished in a flash,” he said, reluctan
tly parting and entering the bathroom.

  He didn’t have to tell me that. I’d known all along he’d be finished in a “flash.”

  I’d have to endure this night, and all the nights to come if I was to escape Papa and find the physical rapport every woman was supposed to enjoy with the man she truly loved.

  Pulling off the peignoir that Arden hadn’t even noticed, I slipped between the sheets of that huge bed. Hardly had I arranged myself comfortably when Arden was opening the bathroom door, finished with his shower and what little else a man did to get ready for bed.

  Quickly he came to the bed, silhouetted briefly before the golden light behind him. To my horror, he wore nothing but a damp bath towel swathed about his slim hips. Whatever dim light there was in the hotel room seemed to concentrate on his damp, shiny skin, forcing me to take notice of his maleness even when I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted this night over and done with as quickly as possible. I could have screamed from the casual way he took off that towel and tossed it aside. It missed the chair arm he aimed for and slid to the floor.

  Oh, it was already starting, all the sloppy things neat men did after they had a wife to pick up after them. “You forgot to turn off the bathroom light.”

  “Because you turned off all the lights in here,” he said easily, “and I like some light. I could open the draperies instead, and let in the moonlight.” The scent of toothpaste was on his breath. He lingered by the bed, as if wanting me to look him over in the pale rosy night light he turned on.

  “Darling, look at me. Don’t keep your head turned. I’ve waited for this night for years and years. I’ve gone through all sorts of trouble to make my body muscular and attractive, and not once have you ever said anything to say that you noticed. Do you ever notice anything about me except my face?”