“Bye Zev,” she smiled at my brother, apparently back in her usual good-humored mood. We made our way to the parking lot, where I dropped the bag in Keira’s backseat and met her at the driver’s door. She told me, “This is your last chance to get out of meeting the rents. I’d take it if I were you.”
“I appreciate the option, but I’ll pass. I am adamant on this meeting.”
She sighed before conceding. “I promise to tell my parents you’re coming,” she grudgingly acquiesced.
“That’s all I ask.”
“You come in, say hi, Mother does her best Godzilla impersonation, and then we’re off to lunch.”
I gave her an unrelenting look. “Relax Keira. Don’t you want this relationship to survive?”
She started fidgeting. “I think it’s doing just fine.”
“The proper thing would have been for me to have asked your parents’ permission to date you in the first place. Perhaps, had protocol been followed from the beginning, the road getting to this point would have been less bumpy.” I mused with this idea, but decided that “what ifs” couldn’t change the past- if they could, mine would be completely different. “Even in today’s culture it’s normal for teenage girls to introduce their boyfriends to their parents.”
Keira put her hands on her hips. “And what part of our relationship is normal?”
She had a point. But still- “It’s happening tomorrow.” I leaned in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you at noon.” And I walked to my car and drove home.
♂ ♂ ♂ ♂ ♂
Everything was going as usual- Dagan in front of the television, Odeda fixing dinner, Azra mulling over what we were to do next for our mission, and me sprawled comfortably in a chair, enjoying one of my favorite modern books Keira had introduced me to. The guild had a meeting scheduled for later that night, after Zev came home and we ate, but the plans changed the moment Zev came bursting through the front door and urgently called out to the house, “Meeting. Now. Let’s go.”
He had barely uttered the last word before everyone was moving to their positions at the glass table outside, ready to listen. Zev had our full attention and four pairs of eyes followed him as he launched himself from one border of the brick patio to the other. It was his form of pacing. His fists were clenched so tightly the skin over his knuckles appeared to be having trouble remaining in one piece. “How could any human-? What happened to paternal-? Why didn’t I see it before? How long has this-?” My brother continued to rant incoherently on in this fashion until his eyes registered that we were waiting for him to tell us the cause of his temper.
With some visible difficulty, Zev stopped moving and calmed himself enough to give us his account. “I’ve found my personal mission in High Point.”
“Good,” Azra was pleased.
Zev snorted. “Hardly.” He registered my presence and it seemed to spur his explanation. Speaking to me, he asked, his jaw clenched, “Do you remember the boy who came in for basketball practice before you left school earlier tonight?”
I nodded.
“He is my mission.”
I had to guess what my bother meant by that. “Is he going to hurt someone?”
A cynical, humorless laugh forced its way up Zev’s throat. “The child couldn’t hurt another if he wanted to. That’s the problem.” Zev’s face grew pained and anguished. “He’s so meager, much too small. Throughout basketball season he’s only gained a couple of pounds. He cannot possibly defend himself.”
“Defend himself against what?” Odeda asked.
Zev locked eyes with her, and Odeda cringed away from the mixed sorrow and hatred she found in his expression. “Not what- who. After practice today, the team was in the locker room, changing out of our practice jerseys. I’d noticed that the boy- Robert- did not normally undress in front of the others and I’d always written it off as him being self-conscious of his size. After tonight’s practice, he was in unusually high spirits because he had dominated the court and won the scrimmage for his team. I suppose he forgot himself because he started changing with the rest of us. The scars were on his back, but a fresh contusion colored his stomach and ribs a blackish purple. When he saw the others staring at him, I heard his heart accelerating. When one of the guys asked what had caused the bruise, Robert quickly replied that he had fallen the day before down a flight of stairs at his work. I could hear the higher pitch of his lie from where I stood, but the others apparently did not.” Zev stopped and shook his head from side to side. “Robert’s father has been beating him for years.”
Our sister gasped quietly.
“How did I not see it?” Zev chided himself.
Azra spoke reassuringly. “It sounds like there was no way for you to know. But now that we all do, we’ll stop it from happening again.”
Zev shook his head again. “Robert didn’t want my help when I confronted him after we were alone. He claimed he’s not at home that often- not with school, sports, and work- and he can avoid being there too much. He said things are getting better, anyway. Then he kept repeating that he only had five more semesters to get through. He plans on waiting until graduation to get out.”
“What about Robert’s mother?” Dagan asked.
“She died when he was eleven. There’s no one there with him except for that monster.”
“We can’t leave the boy unprotected,” Azra said to himself. He was determining how to keep Zev’s charge safe. Always the defensive move with Azra. I didn’t want to be defensive after hearing Zev’s mission; I wanted to execute an offensive strike- that night if we could find where the man was.
“I gave Robert our telephone number and my cellular one as well and told him to call the next time anything happened. He was reluctant but accepted that much from me. I think he’ll call, but I’m keeping a very close eye on him from now on.”
Collectively, the guild nodded our support.
Zev sat down opposite Odeda and told her, “I’m going to need you to explain how to use that cellular device again. I wasn’t paying much attention when you bought them all for us.”
“I’ll do that tonight.”
The air felt heavy as we all sat in silence. We hadn’t encountered a serious problem as one of our individual missions in a few decades. Mostly we handled changes of the heart, pointing the students in the right direction, comforting the downcast- exciting, I know- but once or twice in a century, a few of us would come across a mortal who desperately required our assistance.
“I think I’ve found my purpose here as well,” Azra interjected solemnly. “I saw one of my classmates, a junior, from my Advanced Placement European History class take a drug last week. I’ve been giving her more consideration since then, and she’s popped something back two times a day at the same time every day, and that’s only during the classes we have together. Her name is Hannah, and the school’s official records say she has been at the top of her class for years, she is generally a favorite of her teachers, she is aspiring to be accepted to an Ivy League university, and she’s been succeeding academically in spite of her dyslexia. I believe Hannah is self-proscribing Ritalin so that she can study for hours into the night in preparation for the mid-terms in two weeks. I’m afraid she’ll crash before then.”
“Do you have a relationship with her that’s close enough for you to talk to her about her problem?” I wondered.
“Not yet, but I’ll turn on my charm,” Azra half smiled. “It’ll be an easy fix as long as I get her to quit before her system turns against her.”
Odeda spoke up, “I found my girl today.”
Missions revealed were popping up in clusters.
My sister continued, “The homecoming queen was cleansing her body in the stall next to mine after lunch. She actually attempted to justify her purging. After her initial excuses had no effect on me, she reverted back to the traditional ‘Everybody does it’ line. I told her that no, everybody does not puke up their meals and that she needed to stop.”
“Way
to use that loving tone only you have,” I commented.
“I had a feeling she would respond to bluntness better than with me beating around the bush and only hinting that I knew she was hurting herself. But I did insinuate that I would be inclined to tell some of her peers about her habit if she didn’t stop immediately. She reacted satisfactorily to that approach.”
“You really think she’ll cease being bulimic over night?” Zev asked her.
“Sure,” Odeda shrugged. “She’s obsessed with her reputation and self-image, which is what I would imagine caused the disorder in the beginning, so she’ll never allow her peers to know about her weakness for self-control when it comes to food. Now, she’ll have to find that control within herself and stop taking dangerous shortcuts.”
Three out of five missions revealed. One of which was already taken care of. “I still have no idea what my purpose is at that school,” I told the rest, frustrated at how long it was taking.
“Me neither,” Dagan added.
“Time will tell,” Azra reminded us patiently. “But while you’re waiting, I have more news to notify you of.” Azra looked nervous- I was intrigued. What could the news be? “We are going to have a visitor soon,” our guild’s leader announced.
“Who?” Odeda asked our question for us.
“URIEL,” Azra said quietly.
I stopped breathing and went rigid.
Someone had to ask the next question in my stead. Odeda assisted again, though this time she sounded more wary than excited. “Why?”
Azra was watching my face, his gaze slightly unsteady. I knew the answer wasn’t going to be good. “All he said was that he wanted to see his godson… He didn’t sound angry or disciplinary.”
I found my voice long enough to get out one word. “When?”
“Sunday.”
And then I was lost in dark thoughts for the remainder of the night.
Last Call
Chapter 19
Keira
When I got home on Friday, I knew Mother and Father were back from their trip- Maria and Jerry were nowhere to be found as I walked in the front door. I made my way to the kitchen, thinking that I might find and talk to them there and be able to eat my food in peace at the same time. I’d be nice to get their opinions on my telling Mother and Dad about Uriel. But, of course, they were not in the kitchen. Jerry’s duties would have been over; it was seven o’clock. I hated coming home so late, but what can you do? This week, the little middle school teams got the early shift for the basketball court, the varsity boys got the late shift, and my team got to practice through our dinner. And Mother’s supper is to be prepared and set out on the table at six o’clock sharp.
I checked the fridge for a drink and smiled when I saw that Jerry hadn’t forgotten me. There was a Tupperware container with my name on it and some spaghetti meat sauce in it. A plastic bag that held the noodles was sitting beside the container. That was really sweet of him but I’d fended for myself on the way home and drove through McDonald’s. I’m not going to lie- I always get a warm tingle from knowing Mother would disapprove if she could see me eating a Big Mac. But instead of finding her and flaunting my fast-food bag, I grabbed a well-hidden Dr. Pepper can from the fridge and sat down at the counter to enjoy my massive, rebellious burger. After every crumb was consumed, I stuffed the bag and wrapper in the trashcan and carefully layered paper towels on top of the evidence before I headed off to fulfill my promise.
I located my parents in the dining room drinking their after-supper beverages. Dad was reading the paper, and Mother was flipping through a fashion magazine that featured her company’s products, both sitting at the grand dinner table that sat twenty people. The ever-present candles were unlit and the food had already been cleared away. I hated this room. The carpet in particular was something I had always detested. Ever since one incident of me spilling a glass of blueberry pomegranate juice on the damn carpet, Mother never let me forget how expensive the imported over-sized, ugly rug was. I had been seven when the incident happened.
The walls of our eating room were a dull off-white and were kept bare. We wouldn’t want anything to strike up an interesting conversation while others were trying to enjoy their fancy food that had as much flavoring as the walls. In contrast, whenever important guests would come, Mother would pull out all of the works: convincing fake flowers were put in a beautiful crystal vase as the centerpiece of the table, the candles were lit, soft, classical music would be heard in the background, warm colored napkins were set out for each person, and even the food would taste mouth-watering.
But not tonight.
Dad smiled when he spotted me lurking in the archway that opened up the room. “How was basketball practice, Keira?”
My parents went on trips so often that we quickly fell out of the whole home-coming-we-missed-you-so-much charade years ago. “Practice was good,” I said as I bravely took a step further into their room.
The disapproving gaze of my mother rose to take me in. “Did you finish your part of the guest list for the ceremony?”
That was my opening. “Um, I need to talk to you about that…” I lost my nerve.
My mother lost her patience. Oh wait- you have to have patience to loose it. Never mind. She was simply being true to herself as she commanded me, “Then talk.”
Deep breathe, and… “I want to date.”
The change I had expected, which would have been any change at all, did not occur on the woman’s face. “You want a date for what? You know when the ceremony is.”
Typical. Of course she thinks immediately that I mean something from an appointment book than that I’m talking about a boy and me going out. I tried again, “No, I want to date.”
My father put down his paper, suddenly interested in the conversation. “A boy?” he asked, the surprise comically splayed across his face.
Was he serious? “No, a girl. I’m gay. Didn’t you know? And I chose to come out as a lesbian instead of out into society, so the ceremony’s going to be canceled, and I brilliantly decided to tell you all of this and that I want to start dating on the same night. I thought that’d be best, to just put it all out there for you two. I can’t wait any longer because, you see, there’s this strawberry blond in my second period on B-days and every time she flips her hair or crinkles her cute little button nose, I just can’t help the-”
Dad cut me off with the quick raise of his hand and gave a disapproving look at my use of sarcasm. Mother still looked lost in my story about being a lesbian.
Let’s give this one more try, shall we? “I want to date boys- a boy,” I corrected. “Just one, actually.”
While I let them absorb my statement, my mind wandered off to another version that I could have used to ask them to date. This version began the same way, but kept going. I went over the speech silently: I want to date boys- a boy. Just one, actually. Actually, he’s a man; he’s an unbelievably, devastatingly attractive old man who should have died thousands of years ago, but he can’t because he’s only half of a man. Well, he’s all man if you know what I mean, but he’s only half human. The other half is some ancient evil that he struggles with daily. He also hunts down his actively evil relatives. I’m still trying to believe all of this and it’s taking some time, but all I do know and understand is that I love him, and I want to be with him forever. And it really doesn’t matter to me what you think because I’m going to date him even if you forbid it. In fact, I’ve been dating him for months except for a brief and scarring time when we were apart, but I forgave him for that because he’ll never do it again. By the way, he’s the one who wants your blessing and for you to accept our relationship. I really couldn’t care less.
My dad recovered first. Shocker. He squinted his eyes at me in concentration. “So you already have a boy in mind?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Uriel Gray. He’s a junior at my school. He moved here at the beginning of the school year.”
Dad nodded, not in approval but as a sign that he was following.
Mother caught up with conversation. “We’ll have to meet the boy of course.”
“You can meet him tomorrow. He’s picking me up for lunch.”
Mother’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows shot up. “You arranged this without asking our permission?”
I had to bite back my natural reaction. It would be better to play on her weaknesses- flattery being one of those- than it would for me to, for the umpteenth time, point out the fact that I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. “I knew that you would want to appraise the man who I wanted to be my escort as soon as possible. You’ve been planning the Coming Out Ceremony so meticulously and flawlessly that I wanted to give you sufficient time to arrange things, and this could be one more concern to cross off your long list of things that still need to be taken care of.” I smiled in what I hoped looked like a genuine, suck-up way.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my dad grin. He saw through my façade but thankfully didn’t out me.
My mother pursed her lips as she thought about what I’d said. Coming to a conclusion, she gave one tight nod of consent. “I will meet Uriel Gray tomorrow.”
She said it like the idea was hers and she was giving me an order. Fine, let her think that. Dad didn’t object, and I took his silence as acceptance.
Uriel would be happy now so now I could leave. “Absolutely. Thanks.” I skipped out quickly, not wanting to give them a chance to change their minds.
Later that night, I called Uriel and told him he had gotten his way and we were on for the next day. I had expected him to be pleased, but he sounded melancholy- that is, he sounded that way whenever I could extract any words from him. Something was wrong, but he didn’t want to tell me, or else he would have done so. I hung up and hoped he’d be better in the morning.
At about nine, Dad caught me in the hall while I was on my way to the bathroom. “Keira, hold up a second,” he called from his chair in the other room.
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