Blackwater

by Tara Brown

  I sigh and try not to pay much attention to the fact he's been smelling other Southern girls. Bastard. He is humiliating me left, right, and center.

  I try to pull away but before I get the chance to get up and leave, he sets me down on the swing beside him. He takes my hand in his and holds it tight. "Look at me."

  I'm scared of him. I'm scared of a vision I have every time I look at him. It's our wedding night. It makes me sick.

  I look up at him and he leans in. His lips brush mine. I want to pull back but I don’t. I know better. He'll tell my momma and I've worked too damned hard to make her believe I am over Whit.

  Instead of slapping him, I let him kiss me. I let him hold my hand. I don’t even squirm when his hand slides across my ribs and his thumb brushes my breast innocently, as if by accident.

  He pulls back and looks down on me. His blue eyes are on fire. Desire and passion are pulsating from him. He places my hand on his thigh, too high for my comfort.

  "You know I love you right. We are a perfect couple. You're pretty and have good genes and the right connections. Look at your mother, she's stunning. That's what you'll look like in twenty-five years, amazing. And look at me, I'm, well I'm me. We will be such a power couple." I look at him and frown. I can't help it. I nod, but my face won't allow a look beyond absolute horror. Possibly disgust as well.

  I can suddenly see the difference in the declaration of love that comes from him and the one that comes from Whit. His is fake and creepy and really just an attempt at getting me to do the things I have no desire to do. With him anyway.

  Whit's, however, is sincere and I never knew how sincere until this moment. I'm determined to run away with him. I'll abduct my sister if I have to. I just have to get through the engagement party tomorrow night at my house. I planned it perfectly, just in case I decided to go through with Whit's plan for us to run together.

  I convinced my daddy that as it's my final hurrah and I'm marrying Northern Yankee scum, I should be allowed to have a dance on the old outdoor dance floor. It'll be where us young people will have fun after the dinner and drinks with the parents are over. Martin thinks it's a fantastic idea too. He wants to dance with me to smooth jazz and rub himself against me and anyone who'll let him. I cringe at the thought and leave my hand on his leg. I let him hold it there and imagine how it would feel in the place he really wants me to touch. The thought makes me sick. I've rubbed Whit, in an attempt to get him to make love to me, but the idea of rubbing Martin makes me gag.

  I close my eyes and know the engagement party is going to be the perfect getaway. If I can make it the next twenty-four hours, I will be in the clear with the man I think I love too.

  I have made certain the party will be the perfect place to escape. I invited twice as many people as is reasonable. I made sure we hired twice as many staff to serve drinks and I got twice as much liquor for the outdoor party. I have boxes of Cuban cigars that Angie got for me, on the sly. Her daddy is famous for things that fall off a truck.

  I did everything in case I changed my mind and decided to run with Whit. My plan was to leave during the chaos. I just have to wait until Martin is drunk and attacking a girl in the woods or a dark corner of the house, which I know will happen. I'll make a run for it with Whit and no one will be the wiser. My parents will be ten sheets to the wind, as will Martin's.

  I let Martin kiss me as I think about the plan. I even let him touch my chest and upper thighs a few times. It feels weird and dishonest, but if I fight him completely he will only fight harder for what he wants. All of this will make tomorrow even more believable.

  When we leave for home at the end of the evening, I can tell my momma is in a good mood. She smiles at me in the car, "You and Martin seem happy. Things are ironed out?"

  I can't look at her, not without her seeing the truth all over my face. Instead, I look at my feet and try not to furrow my brow. "Things are as good as can be expected in a situation such as this one. We'll make it work." I glance at my sister and regret the decision I'm about to make. She may not ever get to see Greg again, but I can't leave her behind. She has been the biggest deciding factor on whether to do it or not. I honestly believed my daddy would come around to my side, but he hasn't. He is willing to sell me to the highest bidder. He has ignored my advances to speak to him in private and even told my momma the first time I tried to talk to him about it all. His betrayal stung but I knew eventually he would show me his true colors too. Seeing my momma all crazed about it has sealed my fate in his eyes. He has left me no choice but to choose for myself and that means dragging Em with me.

  When we arrive home, I run up to my room and close my door. I turn the lock and run out to the deck. He ain't there. I turn and walk back into the room.

  I lean against the railing and wait for him to walk across the lawn like he always does, almost like he appears out of the shadows.

  The evening breeze is thick. I don’t even see how it can move being that heavy.

  A voice speaks behind me, "I saw you."

  I jump, startled by the deep voice coming from the darkest part of my room. His voice is cold. He steps forward and throws me a disgusted look. "I saw you letting him touch you." His face is angry in a way I've never seen before.

  I'm ashamed again. I shake my head and fight the tears in my eyes. I'm wound so tight. "How can I fight him off, without him getting suspicious. A girl like me should be grateful he is marrying me. Very grateful. He's a Kennedy for god's sake. If my momma gets suspicious she'll lock me away like Rapunzel and you'll never find me. I have to act the part. She believes I'm getting over you. Martin has to believe. They'll marry me to him tomorrow, no party and no wedding if I try to back out."

  He takes a step and is suddenly in my face, "I saw the way you closed your eyes and liked it."

  His words sting.

  My lips tremble, "I closed my eyes and pretended it was you."

  He makes a sickened face, "I think that's even worse." He whispers and leans in to smell the air around me, "You smell like his cologne."

  I get angry, "I'm engaged to the man. Lord suffering Jesus, I should smell like him and kiss him. Whit, you can't think that I enjoy it. I'm all-ashamed and whatnot of how I'm behaving. But my choices are marry a man I do not love, or run away with a man I want to be with. I'm not behaving right. In the South, ain't no self-respecting woman gonna go around sleeping beside another man every night. Y'all may do things like that up there in Scotland. We don't. I'm not acting the way I should for an engaged woman. I have barely let him touch me or be near me. Girls like me might not give the goodies up, but we sure as sugar let him touch us and get up under our clothes. Hell, we were taught exactly how far to go at finishing school."

  He looks horrified. I'm not sure if it's cause I've spouted a whole heck of a lot of Southern spice at him, or if it's what I actually said.

  His hands grip my wrists and pull my hands from my face violently, "You are mine." He presses his face into mine, hurting my lips as they're crushed into my teeth.

  He pulls back and shakes me silly, "You are mine."

  I nod. He scares me.

  He sees the fear on my face and turns and walks to the deck.

  I take a step towards him, "Stay. Please. Whit, I'm sorry. It's just one more day." Shit is wrong with me. I should be backing away from him, he's acting like a nut. Instead, I am begging him to stay. "Please. Don't leave me. I need you."

  He looks back at me, but walks through the French doors. They close with force and he's gone. I drop to my knees on the carpet and cry. I don’t know what to do or say to him. I know I was wrong to let Martin kiss me and touch me. I smack myself in the forehead. "Stupid stupid stupid."

  The cold wind creeps across the carpet like the fog coming in. I jump up and run for my bed but the wind covers me with a chill before I get there.

  "DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER!"

  I jump on my bed and pull the covers up. I lie there clutching Bunny as the wind circles a
bove me like a tornado, chanting.

  I wish he would come back. I need him. I know I need him. I love him. I think I do.

  Chapter Seven

  The adult party is ending and my nerves are alive and electrified. I sip my champagne and wait. Every time I get a chance to glance out the window or through the doorway, I do. I'm terrified he ain't gonna come. The fear wrestles inside of me like pigs under a blanket. Martin has cornered me several times. The look in his eyes is uglier than homemade sin. He is feisty and tired of my fighting his touches.

  I glance down at the huge sparkly ring on my wedding finger. The ring he put on my finger in front of everyone. The one that says I'm either gonna give him everything or he's gonna take. The ring says he's allowed. I'm his property.

  My daddy looks me in the eye and winks. I frown at him and look at my drink. I can't be brave and wear the face I should, not when I don’t know if Whit's coming or not.

  My dress is strapless, teal-green and tight. I was gonna wear the outfit my momma picked out for me but it looked too hot. Instead, I chose the short cocktail dress as my last act of defiance, before I wouldn’t be under her roof and control. My whole plan is dependent upon Whit's arrival. I sip from my flute and wander about.

  The anxiety I'm feeling is making even my drink taste foul.

  People hug me and shake my hand. Old men leer at me in my dress. The thick material makes a bunched belt that accentuates my hips and breasts.

  To the other women in the room, I'm the luckiest girl in all the South.

  The night is hot and humid and I'm grateful I made the choice I did. The other dress woulda killed me by now, as would the pencil skirt she had also mentioned. At least this dress is short enough that I can move my legs freely. I'm fanning myself and watching everyone be excited about the man I snagged. It's like the whole town is excited; a local girl snagged herself a Kennedy.

  Angie is the only one who looks sick and worried. Her eyes glow with moisture several times. I can see the devastation on her face.

  Martin grabs my hand and drags me over to make a toast with him. He thanks the crowd of people and toasts me. I want to stab him in the eye when he calls me his sweetheart. But I smile, just like I was taught to. I am good at behaving the way I was taught to.

  He excuses us youngsters and thanks my family for a wonderful night. He takes my hand and leads me out to the garden path.

  The jazz band is starting up. I have slipped them a list of songs my momma would never approve of. Songs to make people sway and dance and grind up against each other.

  The caterers and servants are everywhere with trays of rock glasses and flutes. Men are starting to gather to one side and ladies are milling about, waiting to be asked to dance.

  Angie stands behind Martin and waves me over. I look at her but Martin holds my hand firmer and pulls me to the dance floor. He shoots a rock glass of bourbon and pulls me into him. He holds the glass out and someone comes and takes it.

  I hate him. He can't even hand off a glass without seeming like an asshole.

  He grins under the light of the torches and I feel sick. His touch makes me nauseous.

  The huge columns and overhanging bushes make the rose garden seem ancient and mysterious. It's like we are behind a hidden veil to a world where anything is possible. The Louisiana magic floats in the air like fairy dust. The moon is high and the torches are perfect. The dance floor ain't too lit. It ain't so bright you would be able to notice the small details, like someone rubbing up against someone they shouldn’t be.

  I feel like I'm gonna be ill. My anxiety levels are through the roof. He still ain't here. He ain't coming. I feel the desperation reaching a level that is gonna make me scream.

  The song finishes and Martin steps away, "Okay darling. Go have a drink and loosen up. I have expectations now that we are officially engaged." He walks away to drink with his friends. They eye me up and cheer for him as he makes his way back to the circle. My momma already told me there are expectations men have of their fiancés. It was a beautiful mother-daughter moment. She brushed my hair and told me about things that made me want to gag.

  I walk into one of the huge rose bushes and feel like crying. He ain't coming.

  "Lorelei." I almost jump when I hear his voice. I spin and am unable to fight the smile that breaks across my face, "You came, Lord in heaven, I didn’t think you were."

  His eyes are serious, "We need to talk. Now."

  I look around. Everyone is too sober. I shake my head, "Not yet. If anyone sees you and me, it could ruin everything. Come find me in a bit. I'll signal you when it's time." I step forward and brush my lips against his quickly, before I turn and walk back to the party.

  Angie finds me and we smoke and drink while she tells me about how it's not too late to make a run for California. I feel free to be happy now that he has shown up. Martin thinks I'm loosening up to do forbidden things that are not part of the ladies handbook. But I'm loosening up to leave. I have a plan. My anxiety over his not showing up is nothing compared to the anxiety I have about what I'm about to do. I watch Em and make sure she's not getting too drunk. I need her mobile.

  Chapter Eight

  The fog in my head is a rush I can't fight.

  The party is over.

  It ended so much faster than I woulda expected it to, but the circumstances were out of anyone's control. No one coulda seen coming what came. No one coulda anticipated it all.

  I creep out into the dark shadows and try to piece it all together. In the dark, the garden comes to life in a way that was hidden from the light of the torches that are now destroyed. Everything is destroyed and yet I am giddy. I have fed from the love that was offered and now I am doomed.

  I giggle as I walk and notice the way the white columns glow against the enveloping black of the forest, making me feel as though I have a spot light upon me. Every rose and thorn appears darker, like my heart. My black, giddy heart that is broken but I can't seem to access the pain. The giddiness is taking away the sense I swear I had.

  I feel the garden reaching for me, as I drag my slender fingers along the thorns and leaves. Something euphoric is inside of me, blocking the terror and the need to run.

  I tiptoe in my slippers amongst the hanging trees and bushes, to the outdoor dance floor.

  Everyone has gone.

  Fled, run for their lives. The ones who didn’t are dead. So many are dead.

  I should flee too. I know it and yet I can't seem to do it. Not yet. I feel too alive.

  The smoke from the fire burning inside of the house mixes with the mist in the air. Slowly it blankets the garden, hiding it.

  Hiding me. But it's not enough. I need to run and yet I'm not.

  I'm in a dream.

  I'm certain of it. Everything fell apart too rapidly to be real. One minute we were dancing and then the next, it all ended.

  Reaching the old worn cement, I lean my back against one of the pillars. If I close my eyes I can still feel the warmth of his arms at either side of me, his breath at my cheek.

  In a burst of sobs, my breath fights for space in my aching chest. Memories battle amongst themselves, creating a blur instead of a picture. Every part of me wants too much of him. Too much to let one small memory or feeling surface and own the moment.

  There should be panic, but instead there is remorse and confusion and pain, horrible pain. But all of it's dulled by something. Some kind of magic that makes me feel alive and free.

  The moment when my brain should be the clearest, I have never felt more lost in thought and emotion. My decisions should be easy and yet they are not.

  "I'm not making sense." I whisper into the mist.

  The pillar makes me feel it all again. The way his hands ran down my sides and the way his lips pressed against my nape. My skin shivers from the memory.

  Nothing is where it should be, as my priorities lose against my desires. The damp in the air heightens the moment. I can feel the thick mist and the smoke forming into
something that resembles him and caresses me.

  I could remain the night and dream of him, but I know they will be coming for me. They came for everyone else. Everyone who stayed.

  I know they will find me.

  I let myself enjoy the last second of the smells and feelings, before I slip away with the mist.

  I've always hated the dark and the things that hide there with reaching fingers and icy whispers. I never knew anything real, beyond a ghost, could live in the dark.

  Now I know better.

  There are things that can live in the smallest of shadows. The dark is not ours. It never was. It has always belonged to things we can't understand.

  I run through the woods along the path, like I have practiced. I could run it blindfolded if need be. My slippers make no sounds against the old dead leaves and dirt. The farmhouse is a mile away. When I reach it, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. It stands alone in a huge wheat field surrounded by forest. Even my momma doesn’t come here, only Emily, our daddy and me. We are, were, the only ones who ever came here. No one knows about it, not even the help. It's always been our momma's greatest embarrassment, beyond the childhood she's hidden away.

  The wheat strands scratch against each other, whispering into the black night. I let my fingers brush the itchy wheat strands, as I run through it almost silently. My feet make no sounds climbing the front porch of the white weather-beaten farmhouse. I slip through the storm door and lock it once I'm inside. I close the huge wooden door and lock the several locks. It might not keep them out, but I'm willing to take a chance on a lock; it'll at least make a noise when they're through it. I don't look around. I know nothing is inside with me. Not yet. They were still eating when I left. A gagging sob leaves my throat when I think about it.

  I run up the stairs to the bedroom with the peeling wallpaper that I can't see in the dark, but I know it's there all the same. I smile seeing my house from the huge window. If I look hard enough through the overhanging willows and black walnut trees, I can see the pillars of the old dance floor. It glows like the ruins in Rome against the black sky and dark trees. The mist and smoke lie low along the ground, blanketing the forest and fields. The mist moves as if it's searching for something, someone.