Forbidden Sister (35 page)

In the morning, I brought her a cup of coffee before I left for school. The trauma on her face looked worse, but her lip wasn’t as bad.

“Don’t worry about this,” she said, seeing how I stared at her. “Makeup does wonders.”

“Is it really the first time something like this has happened to you, Roxy?”

“Some men are a little rougher than others, but no one has deliberately hurt me before this.”

“How can you . . . I mean . . . how do you . . . ?”

“Go out with so many different men?”

“Yes.”

“After a while, they all look the same to me. I don’t have sex with all of them, M, if that’s what you’re wondering about. Some really are just looking for an escort, someone to make them look better at an event. It’s an ego thing.”

She paused and looked away and then turned back to me.

“I shouldn’t say they all look the same. I’ve been with some very nice men, elegant men, men who treat lovemaking like a symphony. At least, that was the way Mrs. Brittany put it when I began. They’re gentle, loving, and tender and then, like in some musical piece, bring it to a crescendo. You know, like in the movies when they show fireworks going off when people make love.”

She paused again.

“You have a look on your face that reminds me so much of Papa.”

“I’m sorry. I . . .”

“It’s all right. I know who and what I am. See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about myself right now, M. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“It won’t be the same for you. I mean, sex and love. It will be different, better.”

“Can’t it ever be for you?”

“I don’t know.” She smiled. “He’d have to be one helluva liberal-minded guy.” She sat up. “I could get used to having my coffee brought to me every morning.”

“I would do it.”

“I know. Look, we’re going to change things for you, M. We’ll get you into a new school. You’ll meet a new crowd of friends, everything. I’ll get you out of Snob Central, and you’ll be able to wear the clothes I bought you, too.”

“I can’t wait. You going to be all right today? Because I can stay home. It’s no big deal.”

“To do what? Take care of me? Believe me, I went through worse in the early days before I hooked up with Mrs. Brittany.”

“You ever going to tell me about all that?”

“Someday, when you’re desperate for nightmares,” she replied, and I laughed.

“I’ll see you later.”

“We’re going out tonight. A new place,” she called after me.

“Great,” I shouted back, and left the apartment.

We were having a beautiful spring morning in New York. The air was fresh and the breeze gentle, bringing hints of the warmer weather to come. I felt like smiling at people on the street and enjoying my walk.

How strange, I thought. I felt buoyed up because of our heartfelt and candid conversation that morning. I was full of new hope for Roxy and myself, even though we had both had a very bad experience, and in my mind, neither of us was well out of the difficulties that Mrs. Brittany could create. Last night was only the beginning of what could happen.

I smiled, thinking of how Chastity Morgan would react if I ever told her about it. The danger, of course, would be that she would spread the story so fast that it would reach Dr. Sevenson’s ears. I had no doubt that she would put the child-protection service on us and get me away from Roxy. Maybe Aunt Lucy or Uncle Orman had left her their phone numbers just in case anything untoward occurred. She could call them, and despite Uncle Orman’s threat, he would have me brought to them and locked up in their world. No, I had to be very careful about what I said to Chastity or anyone else.

That didn’t bother me right now. I felt above it all. The prospect of leaving for a new school soon and our vacation trip to Paris to see Uncle Alain put even more bounce in my steps. My whole demeanor changed when I entered the school building that morning. I said hello to classmates who thought looking at me would turn them into pillars of salt, raised my hand frequently in my classes to answer questions, and even though no one invited me, sat with other girls in the cafeteria.

Chastity couldn’t help herself. The dramatic change in my behavior stirred her curiosity. She had to approach me to ask how everything was. I should have snubbed her. Look at the trouble she had caused by telling Evan and the others about Roxy. But I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

This time, instead of replying with a grunt or a monosyllabic “Fine” or “Good,” I went into a vivid and enthusiastic description of the services at the hotel that were at my beck and call, the wonderful meals we had brought up for our dinners, including those delicious pastries she loved, and the luxury of Roxy’s apartment. I explained all I was learning about fashion, the boutiques we explored, and the clothes Roxy had bought me, clothes I certainly couldn’t wear there. Then I went into reviews of some of the restaurants Roxy had taken me to for dinners and lunches. Finally, I told her we were going to Paris for our vacation.

“We’re going to stay with my uncle Alain and see old relatives but then go to shows and dinners and do some of the fun tourist things. We’re going to be like real sisters traveling together, and since we both can speak and understand French, we should have a great time, don’t you think? Money is certainly not a problem.”

I saw how I had overwhelmed her. She was practically speechless, chanting, “Wow, that’s great,” after almost everything I said. Then I told her that when I returned from Paris, I might be able to invite her up to the apartment.

“Really?”

“Yes, but only you. Unless, of course, your parents wouldn’t want you to have anything to do with me now.”

“Oh, no. They’ve never said that. Besides, why do they have to know anything?”

I laughed to myself. Chastity was as easy to look through as an open window.

“We’ll see,” I said, but it was enough to get her very excited.

I shouldn’t be toying with her like this,
I thought. The Emmie Wilcox who was best friends with her not
that long ago wouldn’t be so cruel and conniving, but I couldn’t help myself. She and the others had been so quick to condemn me, so eager to prove that they were better.

When I turned her loose on the other girls, she was eager to describe how exciting and wonderful things had become for me. The words exploded from her lips like tiny firecrackers, and her hands went everywhere with dramatic flair. I was sure she embellished everything to make it sound as if I had finally confided in her and told her the most secret and forbidden things.

They all looked my way. The depressed, forlorn, and pitiful Emmie Wilcox they had grown used to seeing, the girl they had beaten down with their remarks and disapproving looks, was suddenly more cheerful and happier than they were. I could see the confusion on their faces and almost hear the debate going on in their soft ice-cream brains. Should they become friends with me again? Was it worth the risk? Could they still be contaminated? Suddenly, they looked willing to risk it in order to hear about this illicit and dangerous world.

Sorry. It’s too late for you all,
I thought.
I’ll be leaving this school and probably not setting eyes on any of you again.
But I wasn’t leaving with a tail of shame between my legs. I was leaving even more confident and stronger. After what I had been through, no challenges or obstacles lying in my path would frighten me.

At least, that was what I hoped.

I was both excited and sad when Roxy and I were driven to the airport to fly to Paris. It had been so long since I had gone to France, and I had been so young, that my memories were vague. It was exciting because everything would be like new, seen for the first time. Also, I was looking forward to spending quality sister time with Roxy. Even though I had been sharing her apartment with her, we saw little of each other from day to day because she was out and often busy at night. Until now, there was a thick veil of secrecy hanging between us. After the candid talk we had the morning after she was beaten, I felt there was a rip in the veil. What she did, whom she saw, all of it, had been on a need-to-know basis. I had to be careful about what I said and what I asked. Maybe that was about to change.

Despite the act I had put on for Chastity and the others to make my life seem glamorous and fun, living in a hotel, even in an apartment in that hotel, still felt strange and uncomfortable to me. I had trouble calling it home, even in my own thoughts. I would think,
It’s
time to get back to the hotel
or
I’d better get back to the hotel,
never
I’d better get back home
.

The desk clerks and bellboys all had gotten used to seeing me, but I never failed to detect some lustful thought hiding behind their nods and smiles. I imagined they believed that either I, too, was in Mrs. Brittany’s employ or I was being trained by her, soon to be one of her own. No matter when I entered the lobby, I felt I was running the gauntlet of lewd stares and comments. They undressed me in their minds and groped me in their dreams. Maybe that was why the first thing I usually did when I returned from school was to take a shower. By the time I had reached the elevators, I imagined their saliva and their eye prints stuck on my skin.

This trip that Roxy and I were taking was the first time in a very long time that I had left the city. I loved New York, just as Papa and Mama had, but escaping from the sad memories and getting away from the school and the hotel were like opening the windows in a house after a fresh rain. Maybe it was because of my French heritage, but I thought of France as home, too. I had family there. I knew the language and the customs almost as well as I knew my American customs and language. I was confident that none of it would feel strange or terribly different for me.

But I was also melancholy and wistful. This had been a trip that Mama and I were going to take. We had talked about it often. I knew she had been looking forward so much to seeing her family again. Now that I was older and could appreciate everything more,
she had been eager to show me places and things she loved. She often said seeing something again through the eyes of your daughter was like seeing it anew. She had wanted to share in my wonder, my pleasure and excitement.

To ease the sadness and the pain, I told myself that I was taking her with me. She was inside me and always would be. Maybe when loved ones died, they didn’t go off to another world but instead slipped inside you and curled up, waiting to be remembered or to do just what Mama wanted to do, live life through your eyes.

I was eager to know if Roxy had any of these thoughts and feelings. When I spoke about some of it on the plane, she became a little melancholy herself and revealed that she had been to Paris a few times but always on a trip with a client and therefore unable to make contact with any of our family. She said it especially bothered her that she couldn’t call or see Uncle Alain, but it was just not possible.

I wanted to ask why it wasn’t possible, but I knew. It was because she didn’t want him to know how she had gotten there, whom she was with, and what she was doing. She hated saying it, probably even thinking it, but despite the face she put on, she was ashamed. Right now, I could see that remembering that made her sad.

However, she also remembered places and things Mama had loved. She admitted going to the Left Bank on one of her trips to search for a particular café Mama had described to her when she was just
a few years younger than I was and still living with our parents.

“I found it, and I was able to spend an hour there, sipping coffee and watching people and thinking of Mama sitting there just as I was. We’ll go there,” she promised.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking or just my overworking imagination, but as we traveled farther and farther from America, from New York in particular, I thought I felt a change in Roxy, a softening. She looked more like someone who was escaping than I did. I could see it in her smile and hear it in her voice when she spoke to flight attendants and to me.

Was it possible? Could we erase all of the ugly and nasty things that had happened to us simply by taking this trip together? Was it our own private pilgrimage, our religious journey, that would cleanse us and renew us? Were we like visitors to Lourdes or some similar holy place looking for miracles? Perhaps it was wrong to put too much weight and pressure on a two-week vacation, but I could at least tell myself that it was a transition to something better.

We had already decided before we left that even though I had only two and a half months remaining in the school year, I would transfer to a public school when we returned. She promised me that I wouldn’t even have to go back to my old school for one day. She would take care of it all.

“I’ll deal with your Dr. Sevenson,” she said, obviously eager to confront her.

She told me that she had someone working on the
arrangements and paperwork for us while we were away.

Roxy always seemed to have someone in some high place doing things for her. The lawyer she had hired to handle Mama’s estate and the sale of the town house was very efficient. The town house had been sold two weeks before our trip, and the proceeds were placed along with my other inheritance in funds and accounts that would earn interest and provide for all of my needs and my college education. Roxy was determined that I go further in education than she had and have a profession.