by Lily Paradis
Jesse looked at me for a moment, and I watched as laughter bubbled up from somewhere inside him, and then it overflowed from his lips like lava.
“Fine,” I said flatly. “I’m sleeping here.”
I started to climb into the passenger seat while Jesse regained some intelligent thought.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing. It’s just, you’re you. I never thought that…” He trailed off once he realized how much his comment stung. He might as well pour the rest of that poison down my throat because it looked like I was going to die here anyway.
“Here,” he said, his voice changing now, “help me move him to my car.”
“Was this on your to-do list today? Moving more bodies for me?”
“Nope, but somehow, I think I’d move bodies night and day for you, Tate McKenna.”
I stared at him because people just weren’t that candid. He didn’t shy away or try to eat his comment back up like I expected.
Where was this version of Jesse when I wanted him?
“Fine. I’ll push, and you pull.”
It took us ten minutes to roll Colin’s massive frame out of his car and into Jesse’s. By this point, I was actually concerned that Colin was dead because even the dead would rise when they had been put through what Colin was subjected to in transit.
Finally, he was slumped over in Jesse’s backseat, and after retrieving the keys to Colin’s Bentley, I was in the passenger seat. I was sure that the interior in this car would never be the same again, but Jesse didn’t seem to mind.
He entered the driver’s side and simply sat there, staring at the road.
“Are you going to start it? Or have you decided to kill me after all?”
“Why is everything about death with you?”
“It just is.”
He seemed to accept that, but he still didn’t turn on his car.
I took the keys from his hand, turned them in the ignition, and plugged my phone into the stereo. My favorite song came out of the speakers, but Jesse made no motion to drive.
“Why didn’t you call anyone?” he asked, turning his head slowly to look at me.
“I didn’t have anyone to call.” I shrugged.
He took my phone out of my hands, and I assumed he was putting his name and number into it.
“Now, you do.”
The way he looked at me when he said those words took a hammer to my icy heart and didn’t just chip away at it, but it completely obliterated the glacier that had taken up residence inside me.
“I don’t even know who you are anymore.” I broke our gaze and looked out the window. I saw tiny raindrops chasing each other down the glass, and I couldn’t look at that either.
“Yes, you do.”
I couldn’t handle anything he was saying. It wasn’t just his words. It was the power that came with them. It was like everything had an underlying meaning imbued into it, and for every word he said, there were ten thousand he didn’t say, yet I still understood.
“Just take me home, please.”
I reached over to the stereo and turned it up loud. At least I could pretend that Florence would drown out everything Jesse was making me feel.
Now
HAYDEN IS ALARMING. I feel like all my limbs have turned to jelly, and it’s like I’m forced to care about my actions for once. I don’t like it, but I’m addicted to it at the same time. I can’t deny that he’s attractive, but I’m wary of him. I dealt with Casper and enough of his friends to know I can’t trust a beautiful man when I don’t know the first thing about him.
I’m still standing, frozen to the spot, contemplating whether or not I should kiss or kill Catherine next time I see her. Hayden approaches, and once again, I feel his movements more than I see or hear them. It’s as if all my senses are on overdrive, acutely attuned to him. I haven’t felt this kind of attraction…ever—not to Casper, not to Jesse. I’m torn between the desire to run and the need for this to become routine.
“Have dinner with me,” he says, breaking the silence.
He’s standing in front of me, and I can’t move. I dare to look up at him beneath my lashes, and I feel like I’m finally observing his face for the first time. Up until now, it has been all shadows and side glances. There’s never been a moment when I’ve truly looked at him.
I noticed his green eyes, the planes of his face, and his dark hair when I first met him. His hair is styled in an effortless way, but it still looks as if he doesn’t care too much. Everything about him is so entirely classic that it’s as if he’s not real. I do something completely un-Tate like.
“Yes,” I say.
He looks mildly surprised, like he thought he was going to have to chase me to the ends of the earth instead of just to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
I wish I could have made it infinitely more difficult for him, but it was like my mind, my heart, and my mouth were all on different wavelengths, and I had no idea how to line them up. I should get to know him before I fling myself at him or run away. At least, that would be the smart thing to do, and I’m trying to be smarter. I’m trying to think before I act instead of the other way around. I’m trying to be a better human being.
He smiles, and his lips reveal perfectly straight white teeth. I don’t know what else I expected. I want to roll my eyes because I’m not sure how I could possibly find anything wrong with him. That’s the problem. I need to find something wrong with him because I can’t go with him if he’s perfect. I’m about as perfect as a shattered mirror, and I’ll feel like a child playing in her mother’s clothes if he’s perfect. I’ll feel like no matter how much I want it and how much I’m pulled toward it, I’ll never be able to fully commit myself to anything because we aren’t equal. He has to be imperfect, too.
He doesn’t try to take my hand, but he puts his own on the small of my back as we walk out of the now empty gallery. I look back over my shoulder one more time at Pissarro, as if saying good-bye.
I see Hayden smile again, and I can tell he doesn’t understand how I’m so obsessed with this painting. I don’t think I understand it either. I just am. Some things have to be felt.
We glide down the front steps, and I brace myself for the heat that’s going to assail us once we are on the other side of the doors. Hayden is wearing a black shirt with dark jeans, and I wonder how he hasn’t melted already.
I get my answer when a man in a black suit and cap parked on the street waves to Hayden, who gives him a nod back. No one is allowed to stay parked on this street—except, apparently, Hayden Rockefeller’s chauffeur.
“Stop,” I say, feeling like I need to catch my breath even though we’ve done nothing strenuous. I’m about to have some kind of panic attack because I don’t belong in the same world as he does, not even close.
“What?” He looks concerned, like he wants to touch my face to make sure I’m not hurt, but he doesn’t.
I find it interesting that he’s hesitant to touch me there, and I laugh a little, thinking of how terribly physically possessive Casper was.
“I need you to have a fault.”
“What?” He looks at me like I’ve just asked him to travel to another dimension with me.
“I need you to not be perfect.” I say it like I’m angry with him because I’m not sure how else to say it. If he’s perfect, I’m running to the subway in less than five seconds.
He laughs like he can’t believe what I’ve just said, but his smile fades when he sees the conflict on my face.
“Okay,” he says, looking down at his feet.
The gesture doesn’t fit the persona I’ve placed with the man, but it’s somehow endearing, like he’s answered my question without actually speaking.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asks me, leaning in.
“Yes.”
“Okay then. I’m deathly afraid of cherries.”
Now, it’s my turn to look at him like he’s insane. “Cherries?”
“Cherries.”
“What
kind?”
“All kinds. I’ll scream like a girl if there’s one near me.”
I laugh a little, feeling more at ease.
“Are you being serious right now?”
He suddenly takes my hand and pulls me down the rest of the steps to the curb where his driver is parked.
“Al,” he says to the man, “what is my worst phobia?”
Al gives him a painful look as though he’s not sure he should really be answering this question because his job might be at stake.
Hayden nods, and Al clears his throat.
“That would be cherries, sir.”
Al looks around as if he hopes no one else has heard that Hayden Rockefeller is terrified of cherries. Hayden looks to me to see if I’m satisfied, and I shrug my shoulders.
“Cherries,” I say, letting a smile come to my face.
I want to ask myself where in the world Tate McKenna has gone because I feel like I should be slapping myself right now instead of being slap-happy.
“Dinner?” Hayden nods toward the car.
“Dinner,” I say, sliding into the backseat.
Hayden says something inaudible to Al before getting inside next to me, and all of a sudden, I’m sitting in an air-conditioned town car, and I understand why he hasn’t melted.
He’s Hayden Rockefeller.
And I’m in trouble.
Then
“TATE, GET BACK in the car.”
“No.”
“Tate, please.”
Jesse had that look on his face like I was really hurting him, but I tried to harden my heart. He had been trying to teach me to drive all summer, and I was a failure at it. I had just driven the car into a ditch, which was better than the tree last week. The front license plate on his car was unreadable.
“No.”
I continued to crunch along the gravel road as I walked away from the wreck I had created. Destruction—that was what I was put on this earth to do.
He shut the car door, and I heard his footsteps following me until he was walking right beside me. I didn’t know why I even tried to walk away from him because the invisible grappling hooks that spread from his soul to mine wouldn’t let me get far. If he knew that, he didn’t ever show it. For all I knew, it was just me, and I was officially certifiably crazy. I wouldn’t put it past myself, but I hoped I hadn’t reached that point yet. I figured I still had sixty or so years left to live, and I didn’t want to spend it in a mental hospital. I would have to pretend to be normal for at least forty more.
Neither of us said a word until we’d reached the house.
Mae was standing outside with her hands on her hips, looking at me like I’d just killed someone with my bare hands. “You’re late, young lady.”
“For what?”
“Your own birthday dinner. They’re waiting in the main dining room.”
“Fuck,” I said under my breath. I looked at Jesse. “Come with me.”
“What?” He looked at me like I had a fever.
“Come with me.”
I pulled him up the stairs and past Mae, so neither of them had a choice. I wasn’t wearing proper dining attire, and neither was Jesse. In fact, I was pretty sure that neither my grandmother nor grandfather had ever actually seen Jesse since they hired him to do landscape work.
He let go of my hand and stopped walking behind me.
His eyes told me he couldn’t do this, and he wouldn’t. Mine told him that I needed him here with me, or I wasn’t going at all. If he weren’t there with me, I would probably put a fork through Lara’s face.
After a few seconds, he relented, and I knew he would follow me to the ends of the earth if that were where I walked. I didn’t understand what was between us, considering I barely even knew him as an adult even though we’d spent pieces of the summer together. Just sharing space once in a while seemed to be enough.
“Tate, you’re late,” Lara spit her words out at me.
She hadn’t learned that she couldn’t hurt me, even with her verbal spikes. She could make the most innocent phrase sound like it was coming from Satan’s mouth.
“I am,” I told her. “I’ve brought a friend. Happy birthday to me.”
It was my birthday dinner, yet I shouldn’t have to be here. I hated the fact that I was using Jesse to hurt Lara and that I was hurting Jesse by making him my pawn, but I really did need him there with me. I needed him to understand this piece of the puzzle that was my life.
“The table is only set for four,” she announced.
That was true. It was set for me, Julian, Cece, and Lara.
Jesse threw me a helpless look, and I gave him one that told him I would kill him if he left.
I left him in there with the wolves while I went into the adjacent room that connected the dining room with the kitchen. The slaves’ entry, Lara called it. Lara never learned that wasn’t politically correct.
I dragged another chair loudly across the floor until it was right next to Jesse. He reluctantly sat down, and I followed suit.
Mae entered with a water pitcher, and I knew she thought I was crazy for bringing Jesse into Lara’s den. I would do anything I had to in order to protect Jesse, but I needed him here with me. I couldn’t stand to be in her presence without the strength that came from him, not after the vase incident early on in the summer.
Mae set a place setting in front of Jesse, and he thanked her. Lara was still staring at us, and I was smug to be the black mark on this day even if it was my birthday. I was eighteen, and I would finally be allowed to do what I wanted instead of answering to her.
Cece shot me a nervous look and twisted her napkin in her lap while Julian looked disinterested. He’d brought the paper to the table, which no doubt meant he wasn’t interested in Lara’s shenanigans. Sometimes, I wished he would save me, but he didn’t care enough.
We all sat in silence until Mae brought in the first course of salad with apples and bleu cheese.
“Tate,” Cece said, breaking through the tension, “I heard James Landau is back from studying in Prague. He’s been asking about you.”
Of course James Landau had been asking about me. Even if he hadn’t, Cece was saying it just for Jesse’s benefit. Lara’s smug smile told me that Cece was merely her mouthpiece, and although Cece had no idea that what she was saying had multiple implications, I had never been so spiteful toward my sister in my life.
“I don’t care about James Lindau.”
“It’s Landau, Tate,” Lara corrected me as she gave me a warning look.
I felt Jesse react next to me as if the air around him was giving off secret vibrations that only I could interpret.
“I don’t care. I have a boyfriend.”
Cece nodded at Jesse. “Oh, I wasn’t aware the two of you were dating.”
“We’re not,” I said flatly.
I crunched an apple piece in my mouth just to annoy Lara. It worked because I saw her start to chew on her lip.
“I’m dating Casper Van Damme.”
Lara gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth as if I’d just said I was dating the devil—although I might as well be. Casper’s escapades were well known among the parents of our school because of the regular bulletins that were sent out regarding various rules he’d broken or physical damage he’d done to school property—most recently, the library. Lara just assumed that no one was allowed to stay at school during the summer, but Catherine was. She didn’t go back to the suburbs outside of Charleston to be with her stricter-than-most parents. She stayed at school. So did everyone else who wasn’t Casper or Colin or me.
I felt Jesse’s desire to leave, but I knew he wouldn’t walk out on me. I would explain it all to him later. I knew he resented Casper, and I thought it was because Casper possessed me, but I wasn’t sure. Maybe I was just flattering myself at the thought that Jesse cared about me that way.
The next sentence flew out of my mouth before I could stop it because I knew it would sting Lara the most. What I didn’t re
alize was that it would also mortally wound Jesse.
“Yes, I lost my virginity to Casper Van Damme. Try putting that on my cotillion card.”
Five mouths dropped open, including Mae’s. She was serving Lara soup, and it was now dripping all over the wood floor that had just been refinished due to the glass scratches from the shattered vases.
With that, I shoved my chair back on the floor, scraping it so much that my ears could barely stand the squeal.
My head was spinning, and my body felt like I wasn’t in control of it. My limbs were buzzing, and my heart burned with hate.
I wanted the money my parents left me, and I wanted to get out of here. I had one more year left of school, and then I would be free to do what I wanted with my life instead of being trapped here in a houseful of people who thought I was some kind of witch. I could barely remember a time when Lara brushed my hair like she did Cece’s, but the wild part of me that was my father was etched too deeply into my soul. All I had of Maggie was my hair. The rest of me was too dark, too unsettling for Lara, and her disdain made me into the entity she projected me to be. I half-wondered whether I would be this person if Lara had decided to love me.
I needed Denny and Maggie.
I ran as fast as I could to the cemetery on the edge of the property, and instead of bothering to open the gate, I simply jumped it. I scratched my leg on one of the pegs, and blood ran down my leg, but I didn’t care. Let it mix with the dirt.
“It’s my birthday,” I whispered once I was sitting in between Maggie’s and Denny’s headstones.
I was eternally grateful that they weren’t so far apart now, and I could almost feel Denny’s satisfaction. It registered how disturbing I was that I tried to dig up my own father to move his remains, but that was who I was. Jesse was just as bad for helping me.
I lay back in the dirt in between my parents, and I imagined this was how children would lay in a bed between their mother and father when they had a bad dream at night—at least, any child that wasn’t me. I almost laughed because this perverted sense of family fit me perfectly. Tate McKenna, daughter of death.