Collision

by Stefne Miller

  “You were no more than seven years old.”

  “I know.”

  “If that’s the case, then how can Oliver have you clean their house? I’d never let you do that after everything you’ve been through.”

  “I needed to raise money, and cleaning the house was a way to do it. Oliver actually refused at first, but he eventually gave in. Cleaning house doesn’t bother me.”

  “Still…”

  “Anyway, like some of the princesses, I was isolated from society.”

  “Did you go to school?”

  “No. No friends, no visitors. Only my poor imagination and my mother to keep me happy.”

  “She loved you?”

  “Very much.”

  “Then why did she do what she did?”

  “Other than losing her mind?”

  “I guess.”

  “I think she gave up on the fairytale ending. The night she fully realized what was happening, I believe she saw me as a girl who would always be the lowly servant, that I’d always be mistreated, I’d never escape. I was damaged, and no Prince Charming would want me.”

  “So she made an escape for you, of sorts?”

  “In her mind, I think so. She destroyed the evil in my father. She destroyed the two sons who she believed were being trained to act just like he did.”

  “And why you?”

  “She thought she’d save me the pain of having to live with the truth of what I’d experienced. At least that’s what she says anyway. You can’t really expect an answer that makes any sense. None of it makes sense.”

  “You’ve talked to her about this since it happened?”

  “Yes. I visit her every time I come to the States.”

  “Is that’s where you disappeared to after I first saw you at the house?”

  “Yes. It’s a day trip. You have to report to the prison early in the morning and wait your turn.”

  “I can’t believe you still want to see her after everything she did.”

  “She’s my mother. She was trying to protect me.”

  “Kei, she tried to kill you.”

  “I know. I didn’t say it was logical. It is what it is. All I can do is forgive her and move on the best way that I know how.”

  “You’ve forgiven her?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not saying that I want her to be released from prison and I want to try to live a normal mother-daughter life. She’ll be living in a cell for the rest of her life. She has nothing, no future. The least I can do is offer her a little forgiveness and visit her once a year.”

  “What about your parents, your new parents?”

  “They aren’t legally my parents. My mother never signed over her parental rights, and my parents never fought it. They’re my guardians.”

  “Then how did you end up with them?”

  “My birth mother and Grace, my new mother, and Mariah were all childhood friends who always remained close. When everything happened, Grace and my dad offered to take me in. They were moving to Africa, and they knew that it would get me away from all the attention, it would give me the chance at a new life.”

  “So Mariah is the connection here, not Oliver?”

  “Right, although Oliver and I are very close. And actually, Oliver wanted to take me in, but everyone ended up agreeing that I would be too close to the situation if I remained there. And with two boys in the house, they were afraid it might be too uncomfortable for me, bring back too many memories. So both couples have helped to raise me, but the Sallees took on most of the responsibility.”

  “And Millie?”

  “Millie is Oliver’s mother. I actually lived with her after I got out of the hospital, during the trial and until the Sallees took me to Africa. She’s the one who primarily orchestrated this entire life for me. She put all the pieces together, and she keeps contact with my birth mother. She visits her twice a month, at least when she can anyway.”

  “Really?”

  “Millie and my grandmother, whom I never met, were very close.”

  “Did nobody see what was happening to you or your mom, the abuse?”

  “I don’t think so. They lived a normal life outside the house. They were very well respected and looked up to, I suppose. They went to all the parties, did community service events, but at home, life was hell on earth.”

  “I just don’t see how all of that happens and nobody knows it,” I said as I rubbed her feet.

  “My father’s abuse was more mental than physical. When he lashed out physically, he only left a mark that could be hidden.”

  “So he put thought into what he did.”

  “Oh yes. It was all deliberate, mind games. He could control himself enough to plan where he’d leave his damage. He wasn’t violent. He was mean.”

  “Did he abuse the boys?”

  “No.”

  “How long had he been molesting you?” I shocked myself at saying it so easily and in such a nonchalant way.

  She didn’t even flinch at the word.

  “Nobody knows.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No. I have no memory of it ever happening. I remember the physical abuse, and I have direct recollection of certain routines that he required of me or ways that I had to make the bed or leave the towels in the bathroom, but I don’t have any recollection of the other abuse.”

  “You think you’ve blocked it out of your memory?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose maybe. Millie once told me a story about what she thinks happened. I’ve just always accepted it and left it at that.”

  “What’s the story?”

  She closed her eyes and laid her head back. “I belonged to the Lord, but Satan tried to have his way with me. Jesus couldn’t keep Satan from attacking my body. He used my father to do that. But Jesus could keep Satan from attacking my mind and my spirit. So Millie says that when my father would abuse me, the Lord would wrap my mind and my spirit in his arms so I didn’t realize what was happening.

  “I always pictured that when Jesus wrapped his arms around my head, the sleeves of his robe would keep me from seeing anything. All I would see was white. He kept my mind innocent even if my body couldn’t be. At least that’s what Millie says. I’ve chosen to believe it.”

  “You took her faith and borrowed it until you believed it for yourself.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you worry that it’ll come back to you one day, that you’ll suddenly remember?”

  “All the time. I think it’s one of the main reasons I don’t dream about a wedding, like most girls my age. You know, they imagine what they’ll wear or what type of cake they’ll have. Me, all I can do is worry about the wedding night.”

  I couldn’t respond.

  “What if being intimate for the first time with my husband is what brings it all back? That’s the type of thing I worry about.

  “I’ve got this moral belief in waiting until I get married. But then I have this other side that wonders if I should shove all that aside and not wait. Part of me wonders if I should go ahead and find out if nobbing will bring it all back, get it over with and see what happens.”

  “Would you like my opinion on that?” I asked.

  She hesitated a minute before answering. “I suppose.”

  “Of course, I’m speaking from the male point of view and as someone who would hopefully be the beneficiary of you possibly choosing not to wait until you’re married.”

  “So your opinion is skewed?”

  “You would think so.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t think you should push aside your moral beliefs out of fear of something that might never happen.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. As much as I would love to sit here and talk you into why you should go ahead and get it over with, so to speak, I don’t think you should.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that.”


  I laughed. “I’m just as surprised to be saying it.”

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “From what I’ve read over the last month or so—”

  “You’ve been studying this?”

  “I told you I would.”

  She smiled and nodded, encouraging me to keep talking.

  “Trust is the most important thing. And you’ve got to know that when you finally do give yourself to someone, it’s in an act of love and that’s it. It’s not because you’re doing it out of duty or expectation or fear. The person that you choose to marry will understand that. They will have done their research.”

  She laughed. “So you think I should wait?”

  “Unfortunately for me, yeah.”

  “And knowing all that, you still want to date me?”

  “Yep.”

  “I find that very hard to believe.”

  “Honestly, so do I.”

  She laughed again, thank God. The admission could have really upset her.

  “Trust me, Kei. Choosing not to do what I want to do isn’t easy. Like you’ve said, I’m not told no very often.”

  “I didn’t say no. You did. I opened the door for you, and you shut it right back.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I teased.

  “It means a lot to me, Cabot. I don’t think you can have any concept as to how much.”

  I picked up her feet and moved them to the couch beside me before sitting up. “It’s because I love you. I’m quickly learning that you do a lot of things you never thought you’d do when you love someone.”

  “Perhaps my mother was wrong. Maybe I’ll get a Prince Charming and a happy ending after all.”

  “I know you will.”

  “I never pictured it for myself, never let myself imagine or dream about it.”

  I leaned toward her and ran my fingers over her check. “I want you to dream about it. Dreams do come true, Kei. You’re going to get your happily ever after. I promise.”

  “I’m going to choose to believe that.”

  “Good.” I stood up and walked toward the refrigerator. “Need anything while I’m up?”

  “No.”

  I reached in and pulled out a bottle of water. Just as I closed the refrigerator door back, she walked up behind me.

  “I love you,” she told me.

  My upper body turned toward her so fast that it almost dislodged from my lower body. “What?”

  “I know the words don’t hold a lot of meaning for you. I remember you stating that you hear it all the time and get sick of hearing it, and I tried to think of something else to call it, but really, love’s about all I could come up with. As I’ve said, I’m not very imaginative, but if you can dream up something else to call it, then I’ll use that term instead.”

  “Say it again.”

  “Say what? I love you?”

  I pinned her against the counter. “Yeah.”

  She looked me straight in the eyes and said it again. “I love you.”

  There was no doubt or fear in her voice.

  “I was wrong. I could never get sick of hearing that, especially when it’s coming from you.”

  “You certain?”

  “Absolutely. It sounds nothing like what I hear from other people. You could say it five million times a day and I’d never get sick of it.”

  “Splendid. I might just have to do that.”

  “I wish you would,” I admitted.

  “Keep doing things that make me realize how much I love you, and trust me, you’ll never hear the end of me saying it.”

  “Examples, please.”

  “Pretty much everything you do. But my favorite so far…”

  “What was it?”

  “When you stood in the guest house after I’d told you the truth about myself and you told me you loved me and that you’d see me in thirty days.”

  “That’s your favorite thing I’ve done so far?”

  “So far,” she said with a tilt of the head and shrug of the

  shoulders.

  “Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  “Oh really?”

  “We’re in one of the most romantic countries in Europe. You didn’t think I’d get you all the way over here and leave you sitting in a hotel room, did you?”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t have to be on set until Tuesday.”

  “Okay.”

  “Ever read in a travel book about Lake Como?”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes!”

  “We leave in the morning.”

  “Together?”

  “Isn’t that what ‘we’ means?”

  “But someone might see us.”

  “They won’t. We’ll be staying at a friend’s house.”

  “A friend’s house?”

  “I know people.”

  “I’m certain you do.”

  “I’ve got something planned every day I’m not filming. You might not get to see all of Europe on this trip, but you’ll see a lot of Italy, at least the best parts anyway. And we’ll be filming all over Tuscany, so you’ll see a lot of that.”

  “You’ve planned our time here?”

  “Umm…our time here, yes. And…well, come with me. I have something to show you.”

  I grabbed her room key off the bar as we walked by. We walked out the door, down the hall, and into my hotel room. I placed her on the couch and left her there while I went to my room.

  “I think my room is nicer than yours,” she announced.

  “I planned it that way.”

  “Of course you did. Another reason I love you.”

  “That’s the third time you’ve said it. Keep ’em coming.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  I walked back into the room, sat on the couch next to her, and handed her two boxes. “Merry Christmas.”

  “It’s January.”

  “I know it’s January, but you wouldn’t spend Christmas with me, so this is the best I could do.”

  “But I don’t have anything for you.”

  “You’re all I want.”

  “But you’re all I want too. I don’t need a gift.”

  “Open the blasted gift already.”

  She rolled her eyes and then looked down at the boxes. “Which one first?”

  “The small one.”

  One small tug on the end of the ribbon made it unwrap, and she had the lid off the box. “Oh my word. I love it. Oh my word. I truly, truly love it.”

  She pulled the bracelet out of the box and inspected it. The bracelet was made up of five antique wristwatch heads. “It’s so that you can set all the different watches to a different time zone, like to the time zone in Uganda, in Asheville, LA maybe.”

  “And a Cabot time zone. That way I’ll always know what time it is wherever it is you are in the world.”

  “Which perfectly leads into gift two.”

  “I want to keep looking at this one. I love it.”

  “You can look at it more in a minute. I want you to open the next one. It’s my favorite.”

  “Better than this? I can’t imagine.”

  “Just open it.”

  Again, she pulled on the ribbon and let it unravel on to her lap and then pulled the lid off. One look inside and she started laughing.

  “A Cab Stone twelve-month calendar? Just what I always wanted!” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Open it.”

  “Oh yes. I want to see all these amazing photos.” Her face turned serious and tears filled her eyes as she read out loud what I’d written inside the box for each day of the year. “January eighteenth, Kei gets to Italy. January nineteenth, Lake Como with Kei.” She flipped the page to February. “February twenty-second, Leave for Los Angeles with Kei. Question mark. February twenty-fourth, Cabot and Kei at the Academy Awards. Question mark.” She looked over at me, her bottom lip quivering.

  “Keep going. Skip to March.”

  She fli
pped the page. “March second, Ireland. March third, Versailles. March fourth, Paris premiere. March fifth, London premiere. March sixth, Madrid premiere. March seventh, Greece. March eighth, Greece. March ninth, Los Angles.”

  “More promotion and filming stuff. Skip to April,” I said.

  She flipped the page. “April fifth,” she cried. “Movie wraps. Leave for Uganda.” An arrow sliced through the remaining days of April and the first week of May.

  I reached over and took the calendar out of her trembling

  hands.

  “I won’t leave Uganda until the first week of May. I’ve got a movie in Vancouver the rest of that month.” I flipped the page to June. “More filming and movie premieres in June. And then all of July and August I’ll be back in Uganda. Then I’ve got another movie starting at the beginning of September. And different stuff the rest of the year with a little more time in Uganda whenever I could squeeze it in.”

  She looked at me but said nothing. I think she was in shock.

  “This calendar is my way of showing you that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work. I’d love it if you could travel a lot of that with me. You don’t have to stay all the time during shoots, but if you travel with me during the premiere trips, then we can see something new each time we’re in a country. And I’ve tacked on Ireland and Greece before and after. We can make this work, Kei. I know we can.”

  She still didn’t speak.

  “You okay?”

  “You’re going to take me through Europe?” Her bottom lip quivered as she talked.

  “I promised you I would.”

  “And you’re coming back to Gulu?”

  “I promised that too. I keep my promises, Kei.”

  She looked back down at the calendar, her bottom lip still trembling.

  “So, first things first. Will you be my date to the Academy

  Awards?”

  “That’s a huge event, isn’t it?”

  “The biggest one of them all.”

  “And you want to take me?” she asked, looking back at me.

  “I want to take you. I figure it can be our coming-out event.”

  “Coming out?”

  “I want to keep us on the down low for a little while, keep the madness out and get to enjoy each other before everyone’s in our business. But I don’t want to hide us forever. It’s not like it would be possible anyway. And the Academy Awards is a big deal. I don’t want to go without you. I want the woman I love right there by my side.”