by M. Lathan
The detergent flew over my head and dumped itself in the wash. “Did the damn maid die?” she asked.
“Watch your mouth,” Vincent said, poking his head through the doors. “She’s alive, but your mother fired her. She almost walked in on you practicing teleporting. She got worried.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “She’s always worried. You married a twit,” she said. “Are you aware of that?” Vincent pointed a finger at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. “Dad, you’re nuts. You could actually be something right now.”
He laughed. “Most people would think being an FBI agent is something.”
“You carry a gun, Dad. There are things in this world who’d laugh at your gun.” He came into the laundry room and picked her up. “I hate that you quit,” she said.
“But then I wouldn’t have you, princess.”
Sophia snapped, startling me. As we watched, Lydia’s hair stretched longer down her back and her legs grew.
“Promise me you’ll mind your manners, Lydia,” Vincent said. He chuckled. “Well try to develop some manners first. Then mind them. When I trained, we couldn’t talk to people like you’re accustomed to.”
If the diary wasn’t a lie, Lydia was twelve and headed to live and train with Julian.
“Okay. Don’t tell her I cried,” she said.
“I won’t. You’ll be an agent in no time, and we’ll be there to visit every weekend,” Vincent said. “There’s nothing else I can teach you. I quit at this point. Promise me you won’t.”
She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. She wiped her face and they went out into the kitchen. Cecilia was in hysterics, fixing a bow on a nicely decorated basket.
“Here, I made you cookies to take with you,” she cried. Vincent and Lydia looked like they were trying not to laugh. “Make sure you wash your hair. It gets all stringy and that’s not attractive, and you better not cut it.”
“Okay, Mom.” She hugged her mother, then she and Vincent disappeared.
Sophia snapped and we landed in an open field. Lydia ran by in black tights and a black tank top. She was leading the pack of boys behind her.
“Kamon,” a man said. He had neatly groomed, silver hair, but his skin wasn’t wrinkled. Julian, I guessed. He was dressed in a black suit. “You’d better catch up to her, or you’ll spend the night in a cell.”
“Yes, Master,” a handsome boy said. He broke from the pack, but he never caught Lydia. He shoved her when he crossed the finish line, and she jammed her right fist into his jaw.
“Good job, pet,” Julian said. Lydia turned and bowed to him. “She’s earned her dinner tonight. Will she be eating alone?”
The pack said, “No, sir.”
“Then go again. Ten miles this time, cut through the forest.” They took off running again, with Lydia still in front.
Sophia snapped, and we moved to a huge, cold home. Stern gray, like a medieval castle. “She lived here-”
“I know. From twelve to fifteen.” She nodded and Lydia passed us, dressed in the skimpy clothes she’d written about. We followed her into a small room. She was crying and started stuffing her clothes in a suitcase.
“They have just come from an auction. Everyone was sold except her and the boy she punched,” Sophia said. A door slammed and startled Lydia. Footsteps grew louder in the hall, coming closer to her door. She packed faster, in a teary panic, and closed her eyes.
Sophia and I moved with her. She was in her house again. We followed her up the stairs. She closed the door of her parents’ room behind her. We walked through it.
“Dad, wake up,” she said. She touched him on the shoulder. “Dad.”
“Honey? What are you doing here? And in underwear?!”
She crawled in bed with them like she’d written in the diary. Her back was to Cecilia, but she held on to Lydia as she bawled.
“I met her two weeks later,” Sophia said, pulling me away from the bed. I was staring at Lydia, trying not to feel sorry for her.
Cecilia and Vincent’s closet opened to a smaller house. The poor person’s home, as Lydia had called it.
Lydia and Sophia were in the kitchen. She knocked a glass off of the counter. It shattered and Sophia kneeled to clean it. Then she dropped another and laughed as Sophia snarled.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson one day, little girl,” Sophia said to her.
“I’d like to see you try, witch.”
Lydia was rude, bratty. Even worse than she’d been with her mother, like living with Julian had hardened her. This was the girl I’d met at the beginning of the diary, the one who hated everything.
We walked out of the back door of the house and into a coffee shop. My throat closed. I knew who she, who we, were about to meet. The soft strumming of a guitar stopped while she was reading a book alone in a booth. He knocked on the end of her table.
He was … so obviously my father. I looked just like him. His skin was a little darker than mine. Caramel and beautiful. He leaned his guitar against her table, waiting for her to notice him. She didn’t. Or didn’t care to show that she did.
“Can you get me another cup of coffee, please?” he asked.
She grunted, but her face softened when she looked up at him. “I don’t work here.”
“How about I get you one since I do? What’s your name?”
“Lydia Shaw.”
He smiled and reached to shake her hand. They were both staring, deeply captivated already. “I’m Gavin. Well … Christopher Gavin, but everyone calls me just Gavin.”
Christopher Gavin? Not Raymond Grant? So I was Christine Cecilia Gavin. How many different names could one person have?
He came back with two cups and sat across from her. He had her laughing in under a minute. They were holding hands in five. She hadn’t lied in the diary. It was obvious she loved him. It was instant and strong for them both. My eyes watered as I stared at the man I was the spitting image of. Then I forced my heart not to feel, not to buy into her story, because even though he was the love of her life, she’d given his child away. She didn’t love me like this.
“Come on, dear,” Sophia said, pulling me to the door.
“Wait,” I said. “I … uh … don’t think we should watch for a while. They get pretty out of hand.”
Sophia laughed and tugged at my arm. “I remember,” she said, cringing. “She brought him to Mona’s house once when she thought I wasn’t there.”
The thought of Lydia and Christopher going at it anywhere near Sophia was enough to make me gag.
I looked over my shoulder to my handsome father, thinking I’d look way better as a guy. The bell chimed over the coffee shop door as she opened it. Of course, it led to another memory.
Cecilia fluffed Lydia’s bangs and corrected her postured at a dinner table decorated exactly like the one in Paris. This room was bigger with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and far too many paintings on the walls. Her father walked in with his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. My dad looked terrified.
“So, is Christopher a family name?” Cecilia asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered and sat next to Lydia. “Never met my family.”
“Oh, how awful that must be for you,” she said, like it wasn’t awful at all. Lydia narrowed her eyes at her mother. “You two are perfect for each other. Lydia also lives like a wayward orphan who doesn’t have to answer to anyone.”
“Mom!”
Cecilia smiled and lifted her fork to her mouth. “Elbows, Lydia.”
Lydia grunted and Christopher rubbed her back, calming her and stopping her from acting like her old self, it seemed. This was the in love version of the famous woman. The psychotic, overly sexual girl from the diary. Did Cecilia and Vincent not have the talk with her? Did she not know that all that fun they were having would lead to an accident like me?
“Mrs. Shaw, I’ve apologized to Mr. Shaw, but I also wanted to tell you that I’m deeply sorry,” Christopher said. “I wasn’t thinking about her
family when I asked her to marry me. It all happened so fast. I regret not including you.”
Vincent swirled his wine around in his glass and took a sip.
“It’s not that you illegally married my daughter without telling us, Christopher. It’s not that she’s seventeen years old. I don’t even care that you serve coffee for a living and have absolutely nothing going for yourself.”
Cecilia huffed like she cared. I walked around their fancy dining table, moving closer to Lydia and Christopher. They were holding hands under the table.
“I can ignore those things,” Vincent said. “What I can’t ignore is the fact that my daughter is about to throw away everything she’s worked for since she was a little girl for some guy.”
“Dad, please stop. You’re being dramatic. I’m sorry I kept him from you until now, but he’s not just some guy. He’s worth it. He’s the most important person in my life.”
Vincent stormed away from the table and slammed a door somewhere. Lydia kissed her husband on the cheek and went after him. Sophia and I followed her into an office. Vincent was crying. She rested her head on his back and hugged him.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. You’re still important to me. And if you got to know him, you’d love him.”
Vincent turned around and kissed Lydia on her forehead. “It’s not him. He seems … fine. I’m worried about other things.” She wiped his face with her thumbs. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned with, but will you do your old man a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Wait to quit,” he said. He pushed a finger to her mouth to shush her. “Stay married if you want, pumpkin. You’ve managed to work him into your life this long. Just do what you’ve been doing. And no children. Please, not now. Let me work some things out first before we complicate things any further.”
“Complicate what, Dad?”
He smiled and kissed her again. “Don’t worry about it, baby. If this is the life you want, I will make it happen, but I’ll need some time.” Lydia agreed and he hugged her. He didn’t explain any further, but his expression echoed what he’d written in my hand. This was his fault. “Let’s go rescue your husband from your mother, shall we?”
In the dining room, my dad twirled Cecilia around the table and dipped her in the doorway.
“Why didn’t you teach Lydia to dance, CC? She doesn’t have an ounce of your grace.” Cecilia giggled and kissed him on the cheek when he pulled her up. He’d won her over in the short time Lydia had been gone.
“Unfortunately, grace is not hereditary. You either have it or you don’t, and you, my dear, you have it!” Cecilia said, swinging out of his arms and into her husband’s. “I love him,” she whispered.
Sophia held her hand out to me. I stalled, staring at Christopher, wishing I’d known him. Why would she ever want to leave someone like him? He seemed perfect.
“Let’s go, my love,” she said, pulling me away from dinner and dancing and into a quiet bedroom.
Lydia yawned and stretched under a light blue comforter, her blonde hair severely disheveled. She felt the empty space next to her before sitting up.
“Gavin?” she said. “Baby?” Lydia panicked in the bed when he didn’t answer. “Gavin!”
She jumped up and ran out of the room. She found him in the kitchen bobbing his head to the radio as he scrambled eggs. She caught her breath and dried her eyes. He’d cut his hair low, showing me how much better looking I’d be as a guy again.
“You look nice, baby,” she said. He turned around, still dancing, showing off his suit.
“So do you.” He ruffled her hair even more. “Are you really going to make me go?” He kissed her, and I looked away.
“Yes. I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s only four hours.”
“I don’t want to leave,” he said.
Sophia rolled her eyes as the two of them got entirely too comfortable against the fridge. Gross.
“You’ll teach some kids music and be back before you know it. I just want you to get out of the house for a while. Make a friend,” Lydia said.
“I have a friend,” he mumbled. “Wouldn’t you like to be friendly with me right now?”
“Sophia, please show me something else,” I said. “They are my parents, you know?”
“This day is important,” Sophia said.
Lydia squirmed out of his arms, and he chased her through the kitchen, trying to pin her against the cabinets.
“You know as well as I do that you want to do this. You want to play music for more than my ears, even if they’re kids. I can read your mind. You can’t hide this from me.”
“I don’t want to leave. It’s too soon after what happened to your parents, Lyd,” he said, serious now.
“Julian killed two people who didn’t know me. I lost my parents months ago. I’m done grieving. I can’t bring them back, and I’m not going to let fear drive you crazy in this house. I can’t do this to you anymore. Get out of here and live a real life, baby. Even if only for a few hours.”
He tried to protest, but she kissed him, and he gave up. They sat down for a quick breakfast then she helped him with his tie.
“Okay, just like we practiced,” Lydia said. “You can do this. You’re a natural.” They laughed like that was a joke. She must have taught him a power. Moving himself to his new job, it seemed. “And don’t strain, you’ll hurt yourself.” He threw his guitar strap over his chest. “Land exactly where we planned. They’ll get really freaked out if you just appear out of nowhere.”
“Baby, we’ve been over this, and you’ve made me practice this enough that there’s no way I’ll blackout again. I’ll see you in a few hours. Call the school if you need me.”
After a long kiss, he waved and disappeared.
Sophia and I followed her into their bedroom. She flipped on the TV and crawled in bed. “How old is she,” I asked.
“Almost nineteen.”
Lydia flipped over in bed and groaned. She stuck out her tongue … like she was nauseous. Two gags later, she ran to the bathroom and hurled. She wiped her mouth with a towel draped on the sink. “I’m never sick,” she whispered. Her eyes widened and she looked down at her stomach. “No way. Not possible.” She gasped. “Kinda possible.”
Her hands flew to her stomach, and she smiled. Actually smiled like she was happy about it. She ran to the phone on the nightstand and picked up the huge receiver.
She pressed two buttons and hung up. I peaked over her shoulder, the closest I’d let myself be to her in any of the memories. She grabbed a picture by the phone of Cecilia and Vincent.
“Shit,” she said. “No. No. No!”
“She’s upset about me,” I said. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, bracing myself for the fit she’d have about her accidental pregnancy. I was about to see exactly how much she didn’t want me. Why did she even bother having me? It was obvious I didn’t belong in this world. Not with her. Not with anyone.
Sophia motioned me to follow Lydia through the house. She went into another room, an empty one.
“This could work, right?” Lydia said to herself. “He won’t … he won’t find us. This will be his … no …” She rubbed her stomach and smiled again. “Her room. Right?”
She closed her eyes and I closed mine too as she forecasted the future. Her visions were misty and blurred at the edges like mine. She saw the hallway floor and bloody arms and hands clawing desperately, trying to reach something. I shivered as screams – a baby’s and Lydia’s – rang in my ears.
The blurry Lydia dragged herself into the empty room, now filled with frilly furniture and stuffed animals. Her legs were limp and she was bleeding like crazy. She screamed again, a painful howl, when she saw him, Christopher, lifeless on the floor. Julian stepped in her path and flipped her over. Her stomach had been cut open.
The handsome boy she’d punched, now a handsome man, gave me to Julian.
“Kamon, didn’t Lydia make a cut
e kid?” He shrugged his shoulders, and Julian laughed. “It is cute, but I don’t need cute. I need perfect,” he said. “I have a feeling you haven’t been training like you should. You probably haven’t killed anyone. She would be a copy of a lovey-dovey wimp.”
She squirmed and fought, but she couldn’t move her legs. The men left the room with me, and water turned on somewhere in the house. Lydia tried and failed to drag herself to the bathroom before I stopped screaming.
“My baby!” She yanked her limp body to the doorway of the bathroom. Julian and Kamon had turned away from the tub, without me.
“Kamon, close her up. I want her clean and ready for dinner. Welcome back, pet.”
She pulled out of the vision of our horrible future. She sobbed on the floor, still holding her flat stomach.
“I’m not going to let him hurt you or your dad. I’ll keep you safe. I swear,” she said, to me. “Julian wants me. Not you. Not Gavin. He didn’t want my mom and dad. I have to go back.” Her trembling hand carried a kiss from her lips to her stomach. “First, I’ll get far away from him. Then you, angel. And then he’ll stop hurting everyone I love. It will be over.”
Sophia came into the room that would’ve been my nursery and hugged me. I hadn’t realized I was shaking. “I don’t want to see anymore,” I whispered. I didn’t imagine her story going this way. I expected glory and fame. Not heartache. Not painful premonitions.
Sophia grabbed my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers. It made more sense for her to be so comfortable with me now. I’d only known her a week, but she’d known me forever. “We must continue, sweetheart.”
She pulled me into the hall. At the end of it, the carpet turned into grass. My father ran out of the school and to a black car. Lydia waved to him through the window, and she pushed over to the passenger side to let him in. Sophia and I joined them inside.
“What’s this?” he asked. “Why are you in a car?”
“It’s yours,” she said.
“First day of work present?” She nodded. “I love it, baby, but … we don’t need a car. Since you taught me how to move myself, I didn’t think we’d ever have one.”