The Knowers (The Exiled Trilogy)

by Merry Brown

  John finally rang the doorbell and hid. Hannah, Katie, and Sue answered the door, hesitantly, and we jumped out of the bushes.

  Sounds of screams from the three, screams echoing throughout the house, and the sound of the door being slammed in our faces.

  Michael was immediately on the phone with Hannah apologizing and seeking admittance. She was mad – but that was just show. She was excited he cared to crash her party.

  After a few more minutes of pleading, Katie opened the door and we were in.

  There were about 15 girls, all of them in P.J.’s. Some were huddled in a circle giggling at our presence, some were painting their toenails, and one had something green smeared all over her face.

  All of this fell to the background when my eyes met hers.

  Lizzy was sitting on the couch talking with Jan and Tracy when she saw me. Her face lit up like the sun.

  She excused herself and made her way to me. My heart was on fire.

  “Hello William, what brings you here tonight?” she said with a huge, alluring grin.

  Before I could answer, my attention was caught by a knock at the door.

  Lizzy’s face fell. I turned to see who else decided to crash this party.

  To my surprise, it was a girl – no – clearly a woman. Her long jet-black hair framed her face and cascaded down her back, clinging to it almost as tightly as the midnight blue dress she wore. It was low cut and short, revealing her extra curvy legs. She was straight off the page of a men’s magazine.

  Hannah answered the door, “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here for Will. I’m his date for the evening.”

  Dead silence as all heads turned towards me with mouths hanging open.

  I dropped my eyes from Lizzy’s too-kind, too-knowing expression and turned toward my fate. I wouldn’t fight it, wouldn’t make a scene, wouldn’t try to explain. How could I?

  On my way out Michael put his hand on my shoulder saying, “Sorry man. How’d they find you?”

  I replied in a low defeated voice, “Followed I bet. Could you please explain this to Lizzy?” As if that would make a difference.

  I followed the model to the limo. She got in first. I took a deep breath and looked up to the sky.

  It was a clear night and the stars were out in force. I would survive this night. My humiliation was waning already. The stars were looking back, shining on me.

  This world was large, bigger than I knew. I would find my place. I would leave all this behind.

  The paid date stuck her lovely head out the door, “You coming sweetie?” she asked, holding her hand out for me.

  I got in and the driver slammed the door shut behind me. On the seat was a change of clothes: coat, tie, oxford, slacks, dress shoes and dark socks. I couldn’t think of where we were going until I saw the outfit. Ah yes – the annual charity banquet for my father’s foundation. Of course he wanted me to be there, his family. Sick.

  He wanted me as a prop, dressed for the part, right down to the girl on my arm. He thought of everything.

  I got ready quickly and quietly. As the limo turned onto the freeway I zoned out.

  My “date” didn’t say much all night, and neither did I. She knew her role. She smiled, laughed, hung on my arm, caressing it as if we were lovers and looked at me with the eyes of manufactured affection.

  We sat at the head table with my father and various trustees. They drank too much, congratulated themselves on their great beneficence and talked endlessly about their hardships and who they’d been sleeping with.

  I smiled and pretended to enjoy myself. I’d tried all other possibilities over the years and found this was the best way. Shut up and bear it. This was the one time my father wanted me to behave.

  It usually brought him much pleasure to see my defiance, disgust, or any sign of rebellion – but not at a work event. My father was sadistic, and it was not worth getting him really angry. It was better to fly beneath the radar.

  I left as soon as I could without being rude. Stella, my date, wanted me to come up to her apartment - her instructions were clear. I declined. She looked disappointed, and I hoped she wouldn’t get into any trouble on my account. She got out of the limo without a glance in my direction.

  The driver dropped me off at my front door. My father was still at his event and probably wouldn’t be home until the morning.

  I moped about on Sunday, but not at home. I took my schoolwork, computer, and guitar with me, hoping to find enough stuff to occupy my mind until I’d head home when the day was over.

  I started off by eating breakfast at Blenders and Bagels, then off to the Cal State library to study and play on the laptop.

  Michael called and we decided to meet for lunch. I desperately wanted to know what happened after I left Hannah’s. I could count on Michael for an accurate rendering of events, and I knew he was curious about the reason for the model.

  We ordered and found a table. I decided to let him ask first.

  “So, who was she? What was the occasion?” This was not the first time my father had purchased a date for me; sometimes for no reason, or at least not one I knew of.

  “The annual benefit party was last night. I either totally forgot or he just didn’t bother to tell me about it. I think the latter is more likely.”

  “How did it go? You seemed really checked out when you left last night. I wanted to help, but couldn’t think of what to do.”

  “Naw, you know there isn’t any fighting him. He’s a force of nature. Once I realized I’d always lose in a battle with him, I gave up fighting. I use to feel like I’d given in, like he’d mastered me. Now I feel like I’m actually winning. If I can just make it through the rest of this school year, I’ll be free. I can put up with it.”

  “You’re good at dealing with it all. I don’t know how you do it,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You’d do the same.”

  “I’m not sure. But, you’re right. Just make it through this year and you’re home free.”

  Michael was such a good friend, a brother. He never judged me or second-guessed my decisions. I knew he’d do whatever he could for me.

  “Now,” he said with a smile, “you’ve got to want to know what happened when you left. I’m surprised you didn’t text me last night or this morning, or call.”

  I wanted to know too much, I think. I wanted positive news, but what if he only had bad to report?

  “So . . . what happened?” I asked hesitantly.

  “As you can imagine, the girls who didn’t know you very well were shocked. We all looked around, bewildered. Hannah slammed the door saying, ‘Will’s father is such a jerk!’ or something like that. There were whispers for a while, but slumber party activities soon resumed.”

  “Did you say anything to Lizzy?” I asked, looking down at my soda.

  “She actually came up to me. She said she was glad you had such good friends. She wasn’t mad or anything. She just looked concerned for you.”

  Relief.

  “She’s still into you. I’m not that great at reading body language, but it was pretty obvious.”

  Hope?

  Michael went home after lunch and I went back to the library. It was hard to concentrate, but for another reason this time. Maybe she was ready to be with me again. Maybe she’d gotten over whatever was blocking her in the first place.

  Maybe, maybe not. I knew she cared for me, but this might not change anything in her book. If anything, last night just reinforced how blatantly true her declaration was: being with me is dangerous. Will it always be that way? I hope not. I’m going to try to get away, but I’d be delusional to think it’s a guaranteed thing. He has resources I can’t even begin to imagine.

  Chapter Fourteen: Faux Baby

  I made it to senior seminar as the bell rang. I was late, but Lizzy was later. She snuck in the back and took a seat next to me.

  This week, we were told, we’d be talking about human sexuality.

  Great –
joy of joys.

  They had a series of speakers and videos lined up to torture the senior class. First off was a woman who was going to give us a look into what it takes to keep a baby alive.

  Lizzy leaned over and whispered in my ear, “That’s my sister. She travels all over the country with this program.”

  Sister? They both had olive skin, dark hair and eyes. She looked to be at least 10 years older than Lizzy, but with a similar sweet non-threatening demeanor.

  My interest peaked.

  “Hello all, my name is Charlotte. I run a program called iBaby. I’ve chosen your school district due to the recent decline in teenage pregnancies and abortions in Kern County. We are here to help you continue this positive trend.

  “I know you’ll be talking about sex and sexuality a lot this week. I want to talk to you about a little-known fact among teenagers. Ready? Having sex can lead to pregnancy! Shocked?

  “Most of you don’t have what it takes to raise a child at this stage of your life. Babies may seem cute and sweet – they are – but they are also a ton of work. This week you’ll get to see firsthand what it takes to keep a baby alive; not happy and entertained, mind you, simply alive.

  “You will break into pairs, and each pair will receive one of these high-tech baby dolls. First, you will need to feed and change your baby’s diaper every three hours. Your baby will record the time of day you do these tasks. Second, you will be given a questionnaire to be completed by the two of you together. The questions range from the simple, as to what to name your baby, to the complex, such as how you’re going to pay for food and diapers. And last, there is a research component investigating how much time and money it takes to raise a child today.

  “Sound fun? It is. Now, when you pair up, make sure one person in your pair has access to the Internet. If you don’t have the baby, you need to log on to the iBaby website and check off your feeding and diapering. You’ll be spending a lot of time with your partner this week, so choose wisely.

  “Ms. Gray is handing out the assignment in detail. Now pair up and we’ll hand out the babies.”

  This could be interesting. Of course I wanted to pair with Lizzy, but would she want to be my partner? There’s only one way to find out.

  “Lizzy, want to have a faux baby together?” I asked, having no idea what she’d say.

  “Sure. This will be fun. Well, actually, babies are a lot of work and every three hours means the middle of the night . . . and morning. I’m not much of a morning person.”

  “That surprises me. I would have thought you jumped out of bed every morning with a smile on your face,” I teased.

  She smiled. “I’m not grumpy in the morning; I just like to sleep in, as long as I can.”

  Charlotte came by with our baby, and Lizzy introduced us. They looked connected, like a family should be.

  “Nice to meet you Will. Are you up for the challenge? You going to keep this baby alive – not letting my sister take over the project?” she asked jokingly.

  “I’ll do my best to keep up with her,” I promised.

  Relief washed through my body. This week I could breathe. This week I’d get to spend time with Lizzy. No matter what next week held, if she went back to pretending we were only friends, this week we were thrown together, and I was elated.

  The project was set to commence at midnight. At lunch we started answering the questionnaire. It had questions ranging from whether we intended to use a pacifier to what religion, if any, she’d be raised in, to how we planned to discipline her when she was older.

  I was stumped on almost every question. I’d never given much thought – any thought- to my philosophy of child rearing or any of the real-world realities of raising a child.

  What I found more interesting than my lack of knowledge was Lizzy’s. She was such a nurturer, I assumed she’d been babysitting as soon as she was old enough and would be the kind of girl who knew how many kids she wanted to have – and their names picked out.

  “Why don’t you have any of these answers?” I asked her, showing my surprise she was not prepared with answers at the quick.

  “I’ve just never given much thought to having children myself. I’ve seen lots of people raise kids, so I know about various options, techniques, and philosophies, but I’ve never put these questions to myself. It would be easy for me to answer these questions off the top of my head, the way I know others have. But if the exercise is what I would do . . . or what we would do, I just don’t know. . . .”

  “Let’s start with something simple,” I suggested. “How about a name? Any ideas?”

  “You first.”

  “I’ve always liked the name Isadora. That was my mother’s name,” I answered.

  “It’s a lovely name. Let’s go with it. Do you want to be on baby duty first, or shall I?”

  “I’ll take a stab at it. I hope we don’t flunk out the first night!” I said with a nervous laugh – I’ve been known to sleep though my alarm.

  “You’ll do just fine. Have you ever changed a diaper before?” She asked, grinning.

  “I’ve never even held a baby before!”

  “Never?” She was surprised.

  “Nope. Never spent any time around kids, besides myself.” My father was not the nurturing type. No parents ever asked him to kiss their little ones. “And you?”

  “Loads of kids. I love babies in all their messy liveliness.”

  “Does your sister Charlotte have any kids? Are you an Aunt?”

  Up to this point I knew she had a family, and I guessed she had a few siblings, but she never talked about them. The bell rang, and she seemed relieved to have an excuse to leave my questions unanswered.

  I took the hint and didn’t pursue my line of questioning.

  On to more pressing matters, like when we should meet. I suggested the coffee shop after school but she declined. She said she was busy. “But I can meet you tomorrow, after you get off work.” That was good enough for me.

  In Computer Lab we were working on the program that accompanied the iBaby assignment, putting in our parameters as to when we planned to feed and change the baby, along with various other info. There was a surprising amount of details to put in place when dealing with a newborn. Who would’ve thought?

  In gym we were nearing the end on a section about surviving in the wilderness. Next up was ballroom dancing. This school was crazy.

  On our way to the parking lot, Lizzy gave me Isadora with the accompanying instruction booklet. After work I went home, put Isadora on my dresser, and began to read her instructions.

  I thought I knew a lot about life. And I do, about some things. When it comes to the beginning of life, though, I was clueless. I knew how babies were made and came about, but that was about it.

  Did you know many babies are born yellowish, jaundiced, and they should be stripped down to their diapers and placed in the sunlight while they sleep?

  Did you know newborn poop is black, resembling tar?

  Did you know if you feed a new baby every three hours, you don’t have three hours between feedings, but the three hours begins from the start of the last feeding, and feedings can take up to 45 minutes? That leaves 2 hours and 15 minutes for a nap before you have to feed the baby again . . . assuming the baby is napping too!

  After reading about the work a baby entails, I thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t a teenage dad.

  I rolled off my bed and saw the clock read midnight; time for the first round of feeding and diapering.

  In order to get credit for keeping your baby alive, you had to type in a set of numbers for the feeding and a different set of numbers for the diapering on the keyboard located on the baby’s stomach. I set my alarm for 3 a.m., hoping my first night on the job was successful.

  I jumped when the alarm sounded. I was sleeping by the baby and vaguely remembered pushing the right buttons to get credit for taking care of her.

  When my alarm sounded at 6 a.m. I was exhausted. I entered the info and tri
ed to go back to sleep, unsuccessfully.

  I handed Isadora off to Lizzy in the morning and proudly reported our baby was still ticking. Not all of our fellow students were so lucky. The guy who usually sits in front of us, Ted, missed the 6 o’clock feeding and his ibaby was crying, and had been crying for almost 2 hours now! Ms. Gray came over and put in a code to restart it.

  At lunch I told the table what I’d learned about babies, and we all shared our nighttime activities, though with not much enthusiasm. Most of us were sleepy.

  On the way to gym Lizzy and I made plans to meet at the Daily Grind after work. I was filled with excitement at the idea of spending time with her tonight. My mood quickly melted when our gym teacher announced we’d begin ballroom dancing today.

  Great. Just another way to reveal what a freak I am. Because of the lifestyle my father had and the parties he threw, he made sure I was an adept dancer. It’s not that I don’t like dancing, it’s that guys my age aren’t supposed to know how to waltz, rumba, or salsa.

  I hoped no one would notice I knew what I was doing. I also hated the idea of dancing with girls I didn’t really know because they were typically afraid or nervous around me. I’m the one who should be nervous, not them. It bugged me that I wasn’t and they typically were.

  Before we paired off we had to learn the basic steps. That’s what we did for the hour. Man – most of the guys really had two left feet whereas most of the girls got the steps with just a little practice.

  I wasn’t looking forward to the pairing of partners tomorrow, mostly because I wanted Lizzy to be my partner, which wasn’t likely, and I didn’t like the idea of any of these guys handling her.

  I tried to push the thought, Lizzy with another guy, out of my mind.

  After gym I was off to work, grateful for the steady stream of customers today which helped me not to focus on how nervous I felt about meeting Lizzy, sensing she was coming to her senses. But what if I was wrong?

  I beat Lizzy to the coffee shop. She arrived looking lovely as ever, her long dark hair pulled neatly into a pony tail at the base of her neck, her cheeks reddened from the cold weather.