by Carol Robi
The large room is silent now, at least it feels so. The music sounds so distant, I wouldn’t believe we are in the same room as hundreds of party goers. I turn my eyes to Gauthier in a panic, feeling myself edging closer to him, an unvoiced beseech written clearly in my eyes when they meet his which are now gleaming even darker than they had before, and he surprises me by stepping even closer, and holding out a hand to keep his father at a distance from me.
“Don’t taunt her anymore, father,” he asks, a vulnerability in his voice that I wouldn’t have expected. “Just confirm us please.”
“You brought her too early!” The woman calls from the small group still seated at the table ahead.
“I know,” Gauthier says. “But I need to know.”
“It was quite impulsive of you,” she rebukes. “What if you’ve permanently scared her?” She continues scolding. “Even if father confirms it, she might still not want to be with you. That’s why patience is critical at this point, brother.” I guess he has a sister.
“I’ll win her heart..” The woman that had spoken laughs, interrupting whatever Gauthier was going to say next.
“You know nothing about women, brother,” she goes on to say. “In your haste, your impatience, you might just lose her after having waited for her for so long..”
“Father just tell me!” Gauthier says with exasperation, interrupting his sister.
His father chuckles, just before stepping even closer to me, as Gauthier steps away. My heart immediately screams in fear, and I reach for him, my body freezing on the spot, my hands halfway to him when he softly mutters, “stop.”
I look at him with fear and dread, hating this control he has over me, hating the vulnerable situation I find myself in, cursing whatever gods had seen to it that our paths should ever cross.
“Look at me child.” his father’s quiet voice is barely done when my head automatically turns back forward to him, and my eyes search for his, meeting them in time as they slowly turn from dark globes to fiery orange. He leans in even closer, crouching low as he does so, so that our eyes are on the same level, and gets even so dangerously close, his lips a hairbreadth away from touching mine.
My insides recoil at his proximity, my head screams, my blood pumps so furiously, that my vision is hazy red. But even in this constant internal struggle, my muscles never move an inch.
“Exhale,” he says, his voice like a gentle wind, and my lips immediately part, and I feel my energy exiting me in the deep exhale that escapes my parted lips, just in time as I see him inhale that very same air that escapes my lips. It is a light gray stream against the dim light that seeps in through his parted lips right before mine, and his eyes shut slowly as he continues to take the air from inside me, and consequently my energy, until my insides are hurting and my chest is shaking.
I breathe easier when he steps away, and with his eyes still closed, walks over to his son, and lowers himself slightly as he is nearly a head taller than him. I watch Gauthier part his lips like I had, and watch the gray stream that escapes his father’s lips and is directly taken in by his son’s. I watch baffled to see Gauthiers now bleeding orange eyes shut slowly, almost as though in bliss. When next they open, they are icy blue pupils that stare back at me, causing me to gasp. Right when I think I’ll get a heart attack thanks to the irregularity of my beating heart, jubilant cheers start from the three seated at the table ahead.
His brothers and sister walk up from the table and come down to him. They pat his back or embracing him, clapping happily as they speak, just stopping short of touching me as they introduce themselves, telling me welcome to the family.
I never once say anything. I have no choice but to keep looking forward with parted lips for that is the situation I find myself immobilised in. I do not catch the names of the other two faces or their father’s that swim before me. That doesn’t stop them though from welcoming me to their family, telling me how beautiful I am, thanking me for making their brother happy. All are things I am apparently to do regardless of my wishes.
They never once touch me, and I notice that they all have gloved hands. I soon notice that their zeal to avoid tactile contact is for my benefit. I ponder over the fact further as they continue their celebration around me. If their father inhaling my breath had weakened me so, and if Gauthier dabbing at my tears with a gloved hand under a large hanky had left a trail of burning sensation behind, then what could a bare touch of skin to skin do? Is that why they wear gloves? Are humans poisoned by the touch of these beings, whatever they are?
Some time later, it does eventually come to an end. Gauthier is asking me to leave with him, and my feet are following him as we walk out of the club, using a different side door this time that exits into a darkened alley. We walk along the deserted alley and around the bend, coming to stop at the front side of the club. A bright neon sign blinks the words Nuit Noire.
Fitting, I think, for it’s indeed a dark night tonight.
His car is then driven to a stop by the entrance a couple seconds later, and a uniformed valet jumps out just as another chilly gust of wind slaps against my face, chilling my tensed up features as Gauthier leads me into his car, waits until I am settled in before closing the door behind me and rushing to his door.
“I know you want an explanation,” he says as we drive through the dimly lit streets. “The events of tonight must have scared you,” he continues to say when he realizes that I am not going to say anything in response. “I did not mean to scare you. I.. I have just been searching for you for so long, that I did not want to get attached to you only to realise that you were not the one for me.”
I am not even panicking anymore. I must be beyond it. In my heart is settled a form of terror, a terror that lets me know that my nightmares have literally come true. Not only have they come true, but that they are even more alarming than I first thought them. I am not scared anymore. I am not even terrified. I am now resigned to a panic-stricken state.
“I want you to know that I loved you even before you were born.” He must think it endearing to say that. It isn’t. It only intensifies my alarm. “I love you, leman..”
“Don’t call me that!” I retort. Sad eyes study me in the darkened street the car now crawls through.
“I suppose I shouldn’t. Sophia will do just fine. It is a beautiful name in any case. I like it. I could get used to it. You see for the better part of the past five centuries, I have been referring to you as my leman. I didn’t know your name. However, nobody born of this century knows what leman means anymore. They all say darling and sweetheart.” His voice sounds so hollow, so lonely, but I do not let it break me. I do not want any part of his world. After tonight, if he does indeed drop me off at home, I’ll never again talk to him. I’ll tell the police. I’ll tell mom. I’ll tell Tony. I’ll tell everyone, even if they think me crazy.
My heart soars as he slows down to park by the last house on this street, and if it wasn’t because I am still immobilised in place, I’d have flown out of his car screaming to my mother for help. I’d be halfway across the yard by now.
“You know you can’t tell anyone anything about this,” he says. I scoff to myself. “I can’t let you do it, you understand?” He asks, his eyes searching for mine. I never once meet them. I keep staring straight ahead. “Remember that, Sophia. Do not tell anyone about this. Anyone asks you, you just say that we had dinner, and that it was a great date.”
Dream on!
“Le.. Sophia, please look at me.” I am surprised to find that my head does not automatically turn to face him. He must not be using whatever compulsion spell he has me under. He is giving me a choice to look at him. Of course given the choice I wouldn’t. After tonight’s events, there is no debate about that.
“Please,” he urges. “I want to see your eyes again tonight, but I want it to be on your own accord.” I resist turning, even though the vulnerability in his voice almost breaks me.
“Please,” he calls again. He gives up,
for I never once turn towards him. “I promise, I’ll not force you against your will again after tonight.”
And with that, I feel the relaxation that settles over my features, letting me know that he’s released me from the immobilising spell he had me under. I waste no time in leaping out of the car and bounding across the yard, screaming for my mother at the top of my voice, disbelieving the freedom that I have finally been granted.
She opens the door just as I make to throw myself against it. I sail through it, bumping into her and forcing the door shut behind me. My panic-stricken eyes causing her face to fall in alarm, her arms immediately embracing me protectively.
“What happened?” Mom asks panicked. “What did he do to you?” I open my mouth to tell her all, my body shaking in her embrace.
“We had dinner,” I surprise myself by saying. “It was a great date,” I proceed, and my mother pulls from the embrace to look at me puzzled, unsure of why I look so bewildered, yet my date went so well. I open my mouth to attempt to tell her exactly what happened, but all that spills from me are variations of just how great my date went.
“Oh darling! I am so glad to hear that,” mom says, embracing me even tighter. “Hush now. Don’t cry. Don’t be sad that you had a good time, okay? Don’t feel guilty. Dad would be happy. I want you to be happy. Now rush up take a shower, and come down. I’ll twist your hair for you while you tell me about your great date. Those curls have almost flattened out, and your hair is starting to stick out. Run along, my baby!”
Chapter 10
I dread meeting him again. Any attempts to get out of going to school only seems to make mom worry.
I have attempted all communication methods to tell her or Tony of what happened, but each time, all that comes out are variations of just what a great date it had been. I tried writing a note, typing, gesturing, sending a text, an email- nothing. I am completely unable to tell the truth about my traumatizing date. He must have some form of mind control over me, that ensures I never once say anything.
Or it was that which he said before releasing me from his mind control. Do not tell anyone about this, he’d said. Anyone asks you, you just say that we had dinner, and that it was a great date. With those words, he’d mind-controlled me one last time.
For the first time in months, I am sleeping all night undrugged, and waking up without nightmares. At first I’d been too scared to close my eyes, not wanting to find myself lost in my nightmares again, but exhaustion had finally caught up with me, and blessed restful sleep followed.
Back at school, I am glad for contrary to my original fears, he does stay away from me. He sits at our table every lunch. My friends never once allow me to run away and seat elsewhere, much less my brother.
On days when I think I cannot take it anymore, I do sit elsewhere. This of course causes my brother to follow me and sit with me. Which then causes Mandy to follow him because she has a crush on him, and this leads to Dave following, because he has a crush on her. Mike then follows, as he is Dave’s best friend, and the two boys have more to talk about together than they do with Collin. Collin then follows them, with Jennifer in tow, which also means she makes sure to call Gauthier to join us the moment she sees him. So in actuality, it is impossible to avoid him. It is impossible to escape him. In school, in class.
Worst of all are the haunted eyes he keeps directed to me. Deep haunted eyes as though begging me to save him, to liven them. Unbridled longing eyes that cause everyone in my group of friends to ask me why I won’t go out on another date with him whenever he is yet to join us at the table.
“Poor boy is so in love with you,” Mandy starts this time. “Why don’t you just go out with him.”
“I already did,” I tell her curtly, tired of the repeated nagging.
“You said it went well. Why dont you go for a second date with him?” But I cannot answer her honestly, can I? Any attempts to refer to the disturbing experience I went through last time, or what I fear I might happen should I go out with him again, die unspoken in my lips.
“Leave me alone,” I say instead, turning to my food, as the topic of conversation joins us at the table, fielding cheerful hellos from everyone but me.
“Are you looking forward to this Saturday?” Mandy asks my brother. The same dreamy look is in her eyes, the look my friends held in my former school whenever they looked at him.
Tony shrugs absently in answer, running his hands over his neat cornrows. Mom was in her mood yesterday, so we both have very tidy hair today. My curls are fresh, as last night mom twisted my wet hair again, and I uncoiled them this morning. Tony’s previous wild curls were also reduced to neat cornrows last night by mom, and the positive effect is obvious as so many girls have stopped by our table to make small talk with him.
If I had any doubt before now that I am sitting on the most popular table, I don’t anymore. The presence of Gauthier, Mike and Tony has made our table the grand station for all pretty girls in the school, and the fact that they are still single, and are yet to express an inclination towards any girl in particular have most girls hot and bothered.
I have always known how beautiful Tony is. I grew up with him. Watched him getting fought for by girls since I was seven, so I am not entirely new to it. It’s Gauthier’s beauty that has me on edge, and rightly so. He is stunningly good looking. Because he is not my brother, I am not shielded from being affected by it, not even with the traumatizing experience that was our date. Maybe even more proclaimed because of that. The knowledge that he is something else, that he could hurt me, or cause me to hurt myself or anyone for that matter, by just whispering simple words of command has me enthralled. The memory of how his father had blown my breath into his lips, and caused the burning fire in his eyes to thaw to cold ice blue; and to remember how much he’d been affected, the sheer bliss that crossed his face, the longing with which he often gazes at me- causes me to shudder with weakness.
Against myself, despite my wishes, his gazes are slowly softening my resolve. I at times surprise myself by catching myself studying him when he’s turned away. And not studying him with anger and fear like I had in the weeks right after our date, but with curiosity now. Often have I caught myself sometimes doodling the outline of his face, or puzzling over his lips. The latter has become a very annoying obsession of late.
“What about you, guys?” Mandy turns to Mike, Dave and Gauthier, when it’s clear that my brother will not answer.
“I know I’m looking forward to the afterparty!” Dave rushes to say.
“Of course you are,” Collin says, lifting his head from kissing Jennifer. “Because you won’t be playing,” he says and the guys begin to laugh at Dave’s expense. It annoys me even more when I see Gauthier smile at the mean joke.
“Stop it now!” I surprise myself by saying curtly. Seven pairs of eyes turn my way curiously. “I hate this! I hate it when people constantly put someone down. Yes, Dave may not be as talented as you, Collin. Or you Mike and Gauthier,” I do not cower from his dark eyes. “That does not mean that he doesn’t love the game and deserve your respect. When I left Hamilton, I told myself that I would stay away from friends such as you. Popular teens that think it’s okay to say mean things to their friends, to tear them down. It’s all your fault Tony that I am here sitting with them,” I say, now turning to my brother. “You and your perfect looks and athletic profile.” He looks completely surprised, and very apologetic. But there is a weight pressing against my shoulders, and I am yet to finish relieving myself of it.
“I want good friends for once,” I proceed to tell him. “Kind friends, caring friends- friends that aren’t monsters.” That might have been directed at Gauthier. “Please let me walk away and sit at a table without you following me, so that your entourage isn’t forced to follow me too,” I finish, rising to my feet and walking away before anyone can stop me, rushing to the back to sit across the girl with the head brace that always sits alone over lunch.
I am still fuming when my brot
her walks over to me. I groan inside when he sits next to me. I guess I always knew he will follow me. We eat in silence, the girl studying us with curiosity over her meal.
“I’m Amelia,” she eventually says.
“Hi Amelia. I’m Tony,” my brother puts in, stretching his hand to shake her pale feeble one. “This is my sister Sophia. She’s normally kinder and would have introduced herself, but at the moment she’s fuming.” I cannot help it but laugh when he says this.
Cheerleading practice is awkward after that little tantrum, but luckily everyone just pretends as though nothing happened. There is a chilly air between us though, but the angry exchange of words is luckily dissuaded for the moment.
I guess that balloon will explode another day.
Chapter 11
“Go angels, go!” I call at the top of my voice, my voice barely discernible over the shouts of the rest of our home fans as we cheer on our team. We are leading, with the score at 72:54, and just three minutes to go.
The whole gym is wild as it’s the first time the Angels, our school’s basketball team, is winning against the Rangers, our rival high school in more than seven years. Everyone says it’s because of Tony and Mike. The two guards, Tony playing the shooting guard, and Mike the point guard, are an unstoppable force.
A while back, I noticed that Gauthier had arrived at the games. I know where he is, at the back right corner of the gym. He never once stands since arriving, keeping his eyes forward, appearing to be watching the game, but really he is watching me.
I am constantly aware of his gaze fixed on me. My raised goosebumps despite the humid warmth of the tightly packed gym is evidence of how much his gaze affects me. Try what I may, it is nearly impossible to tear my eyes away from his direction. So we spend the near three hours that the game lasts staring at each other.