by Dana Donovan
“What you remember is your father, who happened to be a hobo. And like many hobos of the day, he had a whistle. If you try hard enough, you’ll probably remember how he used to bathe you in the river, or how he made you hold a tin cup out on the street corner while he played his whistle for pennies and dimes so that you both could eat. And if you try real hard you just might remember how he cried like a baby the night before he left you on some stranger’s doorstep because he wanted a better life for you than what he could provide.”
“I do,” I said, noticing how the spot on the ceiling started to wobble for the tears pooling in my eyes. “I do remember that stuff.”
“I’m sure you do. You and a thousand other little boys and girls, because that is who your father was. He was Jersey Jake, Dickey Skittle, Milwaukee Mike, Scratch Jones and an army of great guys just like them.”
I thought about what she said, and it warmed my heart to know that whoever my father was, all he wanted for his boy was an opportunity to succeed. For years, I harbored a deep-seated hatred for the man that abandoned me like a stray dog. But now, as I find myself at the dawn of a new life, a new beginning, I can go forth treasuring the few memories I have of my father, knowing that they are some of the best I will ever know. I turned to Lilith and saw that she was already looking at me. Our noses touched. I pursed my lips and kissed her softly.
“So, we aren’t related,” I said.
I watched two pin-sized dimples drill into the corners of her cheeks. “Nope.”
I kissed her again, and this time she kissed back as if she were running the show. I put my hand on her thigh and walked my fingers up to her hip. “So then, do you want to….”
She slapped my hand lightly, stopping my marching fingers in their tracks. “I don’t know if we should now,” she said.
“Why not? A while ago you were all over me. Had I known then what I know now, we’d still be doing it.”
“Oh? You’re that sure of yourself?”
“No. I’m that sure of you, you little dynamo.”
She smiled at that. “If we do it, the entire dynamics of our relationship will change. You know that, don’t you?”
“Lilith, after this past week, nothing about our relationship will ever be the same.”
She pushed me away. “Still, I don’t know.”
I reeled back. “Oh, I see how this works. You only want it from me when it’s your idea. It’s a power thing, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not a power thing.”
“Yes it is. A minute ago you couldn’t keep your hands off of me. Now that I’m making the moves, you pull away. Well, I know what you need. Leona told me.”
“Leona Diaz?”
“Yes. She suggested I give you something.”
“Did she now?”
“Yes, she did. Wait here.”
I got up and ran to my room, hoping Lilith would stay put just long enough for me to return with her present. When I came back, I found her sitting up on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together, resting on tightly pinched knees. I handed her a tiny white box.
“Here. This is for you.”
She took the box and smiled up at me. “This better not be a ring.”
I laughed. “It’s not a ring.”
“Then what?”
“Open it and see.”
She pulled the ribbon on the bow and opened the box. Inside, she found a small ruffled wad of tissue paper and a note that said, Got Ya! Her initial reaction, as expected, was one of confusion. Her second was of anger. She held the box at arm’s length before pitching it at me.
“That’s my present? An empty box? That’s what Leona suggested you get for me?”
“It’s not empty. I put something in it.”
“Tissue?”
“Yes, along with something special.”
“How special can it be if I can’t see it? Unless you…. No! You didn’t!”
“Didn’t what, make a whisper box? Yes I did. Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you come here and kiss me?”
“Tony.” She stood up and put her arms around my waist. “A whisper box won’t work on me.” Then she rocked up on her toes and kissed me square on the lips.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
“Kiss me again.”
“No.”
She kissed me again.
“I guess I just got carried away,” I said. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it? You should unbutton your blouse.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
She unbuttoned her blouse. “And just so you know, you are years away from conjuring up any kind of spell that will catch me off guard.”
“Oh, I know that,” I said. “What was I thinking, huh?”
“I know.”
“Hey, why don’t you show me that tattoo now?”
“Forget it!” she said, and well, I will not go into details about how the rest of the afternoon went. But I will say that Lilith’s tattoo is definitely not a scorpion. It is a cat’s paw. But what do I know. Spells do not work on Lilith.