The Lake

by Grant, AnnaLisa

  “First, let’s get one thing straight: my father is wealthy, I have nothing. He gives me money because he thinks it solves everything.” He pauses and thinks a moment before answering. “I guess I hate it because I see what it does to people. I see what it did to my mom.

  “I remember being little, like six, and she would take me places, play with me. She was a regular mom. She wore jeans and t-shirts, but dressed up when she needed to. She was always so beautiful. But…then…it was weird.” Will’s voice stumbles and I can tell this is difficult, even painful, for him to talk about. “She literally changed overnight. I remember having been at the park all day with her one day, and the next day the jeans were in the trash and she was interviewing nannies.” His head rests heavier on the cushion above my head, his whole body heavy with the sad emotions this recollection conjures. “It wasn’t the money that got to her. I mean she wasn’t scared of being poor. She came from a blue collar, working class family that had to scrimp and save for even the smallest luxuries in life. It was the power that my dad wielded with it. I didn’t understand then, but I know now that he was unyielding and relentless.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would your dad choose your mom, having come from the class he hates so much?”

  “She was beautiful. She is beautiful. My dad saw her and wanted her. Gregory Meyer gets what Gregory Meyer wants, remember?” Will answers with sadness saturating each word. “So, he groomed her into the woman he wanted her to be. He changed what she wore, what she ate, what type of music she listened to; he showered her with money and taught her how to live the life that he wanted her accustomed to.”

  I can see that it’s hard for him to talk about his mom. He doesn’t want to paint her in a negative light and I understand what that feels like. A memory from my own childhood floods my mind and before I know it I’m sharing every detail I can remember.

  “My parents were big activists. I called them my little hippies. Before one cause had run its course they were doing research on the next up and coming one. They were passionate, sometimes a little too much, about their causes.

  “I was eight when my parents got involved with a group that was protesting Taiwanese sweatshops. We drove down to Miami to a rally in front of some famous designer’s gated neighborhood. We had been there for a while and I was getting bored. I held a sign and chanted with them for a while, but I didn’t really understand what was going on. I’m pretty sure I was there for visual effect. There weren’t any other kids there, not that it mattered. Half the time I think my parents forgot that I was kid.

  “I had brought a book with me but left it in the car. When I tried to find where we parked I got lost, and when I tried to find my way back, I got even more lost. I wandered around for over an hour before I found them. I had been gone almost two hours and they didn’t have a clue.

  “I’ve never told anyone that. I never wanted anyone to think they weren’t good parents. Sometimes they made mistakes. Sometimes they were just doing what they thought was right. Sometimes those two were one in the same.”

  Without a word Will takes my face in his hand and kisses me. I’m prepared for the bliss to end as quickly as it started, but it doesn’t. Will becomes more passionate, pulling me tighter to him. His hand moves down my back to my hip and down my leg to the back of my knee. He pulls my leg up to his hip and I feel his hand on the back of my thigh. I reach my hand under his shirt and feet his bare chest. His skin is hot and smooth. I move my hand to his back and pull myself even closer to him. With every second that passes Will is kissing me harder and with more passion than I knew was humanly possible. He lifts my shirt and I feel his hand on the skin of my back. I want him more than I ever thought one person could want another. My heart is beating fast and hard, and my breathing is labored in the exhaustion our passion is producing. My body is hot and I’m filled with elation.

  I never want it to stop.

  But it does.

  Will pulls himself away from me and I cut him off before he can even begin to speak.

  “Don’t you dare say that you’re sorry!”

  “Layla…” he says, catching his breath.

  “No, Will.” I protest.

  “The only thing I’m sorry about is that we’re not a year into the future and away from here. I want you, Layla. Words can’t express how much. You are everything I have ever hoped for,” he says, and then kisses my forehead. “But we can’t…I mean…if anything ever happened…”

  “I understand. It’s just…difficult. I feel safe and at home with you. It feels so natural to be close to you.” I bury my face in his chest.

  “It’s ok, Layla,” he says, lifting my face to meet his. “I feel the same with you, and when you opened up like that…I just felt so…at one with you. All I wanted was to be as close to you as possible.”

  “This time alone together is the only time I get to really show you how much I love you.” Here, I can be with Will in every way possible. Well, every way he’ll allow us to be. Once school starts I’m afraid the pressure will be too much and Will is going to give up on us. I know that I’m not enough for him. The thought of not being close to Will is too much and I start to cry.

  “I promised I wouldn’t be responsible for one of these,” he says as he wipes a tear from my cheek. “I’m so sorry.” He pulls me close and I feel warm all over again. “We’re in this together. We’re going to make this work.”

  “I’ll be ok. It just hit me all at once. And today…being with you…” I say sitting up. I take a deep breath and regain my senses, removing the evidence of my breakdown from my face. “I’m going to do whatever I have to do to keep you,” I say seriously.

  “What does that mean, Layla?”

  “I’ll change. I’ll be more like the kind of girl he wants you to be with.”

  “No! I don’t want that!” Will says darting up to face me. “I want you, just as you are! I don’t want some Gregory Meyer Stepford. I want you. Just you!” Will brushes the hair from my eyes and kisses me sweetly. I feel warm and soothed, like hot chocolate. “Please, Layla. Don’t say that again. It scares me to think of you not being you. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Ok. I’m sorry.” I lay my head on his chest and concentrate on his breathing.

  He sighs. “Let’s get out of here. Do you want to get something to eat? There’s an Italian place in town.”

  “That’d be great.”

  Will holds my hand in the car all the way to the restaurant and I cherish every second. I hold his hand and cup my right hand around our entwined fingers, stretching to his wrist. The silence in the car allows me to concentrate on his pulse. Every throbbing beat reminds me that I’m not dreaming. Being here with Will is real.

  We enter the quaint, family owned restaurant and the hostess seats us right away at a quiet table in a slightly darker corner. “Thanks, Michelle,” Will says politely to the hostess. She isn’t wearing a name tag so he must know her. She smiles at him and I immediately feel a twinge of jealousy. Back off! You have no idea what I’m going through to be with this guy! This sentiment is swiftly followed by feelings of foolishness. Will barely gave her a second glace. I don’t know where my head was.

  After a few minutes of reviewing the menu, I order the chicken piccata and Will orders veal saltimbocca. We eat and talk and try to act like we’re not in love. This isn’t the kind of place that Heyward families frequent, so it’ll be good practice for when school starts. For now, while we sit here, everything seems…normal.

  “I’m curious about something,” I say in between bites, trying to make small talk. “Why Heyward Washington? Why don’t you all go to the local high school where you can be a big deal? Doesn’t everyone being at Heyward mean they’re all vying for supreme superiority?”

  “Well, about five years ago my dad realized that I was about to enter high school. He didn’t like the options so, him being him, he built his own school,” Will says.

  “But, isn’t he all about showing the masses how
wealthy he is?”

  “Yes, but…he’s more interested in keeping us away from the masses and letting them adore us from a distance. He thinks that if we mingle too much with the commoner that we’ll become like them – happy with the intangible things of life. He went to the state about starting a charter school. He had his core founding group assembled in less than a month. Within six months Heyward was built and ready for business.”

  “Where’d the name come from?” I ask.

  “The Heyward Washington building in Charleston is one of dad’s favorite places. He’s a real history buff. He swears he’s related to George Washington.” Will rolls his eyes having heard his father’s declaration of impressive genealogy one too many times.

  “I’m nervous about my first day, Will. They’re going to eat me alive…in their fancy dining hall,” I say with both fear and contempt.

  “You’re going to be fine. I’ve got it all under control.” His mischievous smile stretches across his face, telling me he has used his family name to his benefit.

  “What did you do?” I say smiling back, curiously worried.

  “You’ve got three classes with me, one of those with me and Chris, two with Tyler, and study hall with Gwen and Caroline.”

  “You fixed my schedule? I don’t need a babysitter, Will,” I protest.

  “Heyward students aren’t like us, Layla. Tyler calls them the others. There will be three camps of people. The first will reject and be rude to you, making a point to turn you into the center of their ridicule. Did you see Mean Girls?” I nod. “It’s worse than that.”

  “The second group won’t care either way about you. The third, and most dangerous, will try to take you under their wing and to turn you into one of them. Tyler, Chris, and the girls know who they are so I asked them to make sure you didn’t find yourself alone with any of them,” Will explains.

  “How did you change my schedule?” I ask a little more appreciative of Will’s looking out for me. I forget that I have to let him show me he loves me in deed and action and not just with his amazing kisses.

  “Mrs. Whitman loves me,” he says with a wink and a twinkle in his distractingly blue eyes. “I promised I would protect you, Layla. Overconfident socialites are still the least of our worries.” Will’s tone changes. He’s still worried about his father.

  “You don’t think he bought it, do you?” I say.

  “I don’t think you would have been invited to dinner if he hadn’t already made up his mind. Like I told you before, my father doesn’t waste his time with people that mean nothing to him. The only reason he has to involve himself with you is if he suspects in the least that you’re going to tamper with his plan for my life.”

  “So what do you think he’s going to do?” The confidence I had in my performance has more than dwindled and I again begin to think I’ve done more harm than good.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. This isn’t like it was with Holly. Her dad had a gambling problem that caused them some serious financial issues, so accepting my dad’s deal was sort of a no-brainer for them. He doesn’t have the same kind of easy leverage with you or Luke and Claire. That’s really bothering him. We’ll just have to burn that bridge when we get to it. For now, we’ll stick with the plan. That means we’re going to have to give him proof.”

  “Marcus,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry about that, Will.”

  “It’s ok. He took us all off guard and you had to think faster on your feet than we thought you would. I don’t like it, but we’re going to have to involve him.”

  “Can it wait until I get through my first week at Heyward?” I plead. I’ve got too much to think about with school to start strategizing with Marcus.

  “Yeah…but we’ll need to arrange some public appearances for you two. The Concert on the Green is the best option to start.” Will is incredibly calm for a guy who’s talking about coordinating fake dates for his girlfriend and another guy.

  “Ok,” I say, not really knowing how to respond. “So…why doesn’t your dad just cut you off and leave you to fend for yourself? Isn’t that what rich people do with their slacker kids?”

  “Because he knows that’s exactly what I want. I would love nothing more than to take my mom and just walk away. I could take care of us.” He speaks like a warrior, prepared to defend against an oncoming enemy. “We don’t need him like he needs us. We complete the picture for him so he looks good to the community and clients. If we walk, he’s just a lonely old man and that doesn’t sell as well.”

  “If he doesn’t have any leverage, then what’s there to worry about?” I ask, tearing apart a roll and buttering it. The last syllable has left my mouth when my memory is answering my question with a question. Would he try to literally knock sense into Will, or Luke, like that poor guy a few weeks ago? I wonder.

  “Leverage or not, he won’t rest until he gets what he wants. Right now he’s counting on intimidating you into backing off. That little stunt he pulled at dinner, questioning you outright, is one he only pulls when he’s either got absolutely nothing or so much that it’s not worth the time it takes to play his game. With you, he’s got nothing to work with, and if you don’t back down… Well, I can promise you that it will drive him crazy to not have anything to work with, which in turn will make him even more furious with both of us.”

  It’s the first time I’ve really begun to understand the severity of the situation. Just because Will’s his son doesn’t mean he won’t do what he thinks is necessary, even if it is extreme. Will’s father is not going to give up. He’s not going to see how in love we are and magically be swept up in the romantics of it all. In any other circumstance he might like me, but because Will loves me, and I love him, I am now Gregory Meyer’s enemy.

  After dinner we walk off the tiramisu we shared. We’ve put away the worry for now and do all we can to simply enjoy being with each other. We pass the law firm without a word and cross the street. I don’t even look at it except to acknowledge its presence in my periphery. I’m glad when we find ourselves in front of the coffee shop where we first met. We look at each other knowingly and begin to laugh. It’s the first jovial moment in the night. I open the door to the shop and Will asks where I’m going.

  “I still owe you a Coke, remember?” We laugh some more and Will follows me in.

  The mood, however, quickly turns awkward when we see Marcus sitting in the corner, drinking coffee and reading a book. It’s more than awkward. I’m terrified. I just solidified the plan to tell him about Will and me after I made it through the first week of school, but…we’re here now and it seems there’s no time like the present.

  “Hi Marcus,” I say, greeting him cautiously.

  “Hey Layla.” Marcus is very obviously ignoring Will.

  “Hello, Marcus. It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.” Will extends his hand to shake, but Marcus hesitates, leaving Will’s hand waiting in mid-air for what seems like minutes before reaching out to reciprocate. We’ve caught each other off guard and no one seems sure of what to say or do. “I’m glad we ran into you. Layla has something she would like to talk with you about.” Will’s tone is calm and easy as he leaves me standing there with Marcus. I don’t know where to start so I just sit down, hoping to buy some time. The first thing I need to do is decide if I’m mad at Will for throwing me under the bus here to spill the beans to Marcus, but it takes only seconds to know that Will is right. I have to tell him what’s going on not just because we need him on board, but out of respect for Marcus.

  “You don’t need to say anything, Layla. It’s clear what’s going on. He gets the money and the girl. I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Marcus says with disdain in his voice. He’s struggling with the memory of what Mr. Meyer did to tear his family apart, all because his sister wanted Will.

  “Marcus, we…I…need your help,” I blurt out clumsily.

  “How could you and money bags possibly need my help?” He’s already skeptical and I have no reason to
think he’ll be on board with any plan that makes anything easier for Will.

  “I told Mr. Meyer that you and I might be…romantically involved. He was questioning me as to my feelings for Will and you were the first person that came to mind.” This is so not going the way I hoped it would, but in my own defense, it’s not like I had time to prepare.

  “Why would you do that? I don’t want to have anything to do with that family. You know that, Layla.” His brow furrows and he is not happy with me.

  “I had to make him think that I wasn’t interested in Will. I did it to protect him.” I hesitate, knowing what he’ll say. “I love him, Marcus.”

  “I told you this was going to happen. I warned you,” he says, his volume rising slightly. He’s more upset than I had expected.

  “I know, and you have every right to say no, but…”

  “But what?” he drops his book on the table and it lands with a thud that makes me jump.

  “Don’t you wish someone had been there to help Holly?” It’s an unfair play, but it’s the best card I’ve got.

  He stares at me for a long minute. “That’s a really crappy move, Layla.” Shaking his head he finally says, “Fine. What is it that I’m supposed to do exactly? If it involves keeping you away from Will Meyer, I’m totally in.”

  “Thank you, Marcus. You have no idea what this means to us…to me.” I reach over and squeezed his hand in a show of gratitude.

  Will arrives with drinks for all three of us when he sees that Marcus and I have come to an agreement. “Thank you, Marcus. I’m sure Layla has expressed our gratitude for your help.”

  “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for Layla. I won’t let her go through what you put Holly through.” His posture changes in a move to defend me. I know it’s a move he wishes he had been able to make to protect Holly.

  “Well, then you and I are on the same page.” Will’s reply is smooth and completely unaggressive. He knows the pain Holly experienced having faced and been threatened by his father and couldn’t be more tormented about it. He and Marcus are on the same page – they both want to protect me. “So let’s talk ground rules.”