Reign (37 page)

Ann had always been such a goddamned coward. Whenever Terri had asked for something, whether it was some extra spending money for clothes, her own car, or later, as a college freshman, for a signed permission slip so that she could start taking birth control pills (that one had been kept a secret from her father), Ann had always agreed, albeit with motherly cautions, such as the observation that the pill would do nothing to prevent AIDS. Her father had done very little parenting. Most of the time he was working, and when he wasn't he was either playing golf or parked in front of the television. Maybe, Terri thought, that was why she liked
Marvella
so much — because when she said do something, you either did it or else.

A movement at the door caught her eye, and she saw Cristina rubbing herself against the frame. "Well, hello, girl," she said to the cat. "You lonely tonight? You'd have to be to come and see me, huh?" She had never seen such a standoffish feline before. It wouldn't allow anyone except Abe
Kipp
to pat it, and if you tried to corner it to lavish some affection on its gray fur, God help you. It would just as soon savage you as look at you.

Nevertheless, Terri put down her pen, knelt next to her drafting table, and rubbed her fingers together. "C'mon, girl . . . c'mon,
Crissie
. . . puss
puss
puss
. . .”

The cat, its itch apparently scratched, sat and looked at her, unblinking, as still as an Egyptian idol.

"Aw, come on," she said, "let me pet you, huh?"

"Like most of us," said a voice from above, "there are few people she loves."

~ * ~

(
TERRI looks up at the loft and sees THE EMPEROR standing there, leaning on the railing. He is dressed in a V-neck sweater and navy slacks
.)

Jesus, you startled me. How did you get in here?

I must have come in when you weren't looking. (
His manner is gentle, very non-imperious. He descends the stairs through the following speech
.) You'll find it quite an endeavor to get on the good side of Cristina.

She's not very friendly, is she?

No. Of course you never can tell with animals — or with people. One minute it
seems as though they hate you . . . (
Now at the doorway, he leans down and
picks up the cat, cradles it in his arms. It purrs and nuzzles his hand
.) . . . and
before you know it, you discover that there is . . . some affection there after all.

~ * ~

What in God's name? Terri thought. That cat hated Dennis.
Marvella
had told her that in no uncertain terms, and she had seen an example of it once, when Dennis had rounded a corner and taken the beast by surprise. Cristina had leapt into the air, come down spitting, taken a swipe at his ankle, and run off. But now she lay there as gentle as . . . yes,
goddammit
, a
kitten
, purring and reaching up toward his face to lick it, as though Dennis was the kindest, most calming thing in the world.

It was a sensation she was uncomfortably aware of herself. Here was a man she was determined to despise, a man who had seduced her mother — perhaps not for the first time, in spite of Ann's denials — only a short time after his wife was in her grave, who, with his money and fame, simply bought everything that he desired. Yet she, like that sycophant of a cat he held in his arms, could not help but feel drawn to him, just as, she finally admitted to herself, she had been ever since she had first seen him on the stage.

~ * ~

I think you can pet her now.

I . . . I'd really rather not.

She won't hurt you. I promise. When you're afraid of something, the thing to do is to grasp it, firmly but gently. That way you learn to control your fear. Your fear leaves, and you are left with fulfillment. (
He brings the cat to her
.)
Here.
Touch it. (
TERRI reaches out a hand and pats the cat on the head. It continues to purr
.) See? Listen to me, Terri. I'll never do anything to bring you harm.

(
Steps back, her temper rising
) Maybe you already have.

I don't understand.

My mother.

(
Nodding solemnly
) Ah. You're referring to our . . . spending the night together.

And the weekend too, as I recall. (
She waits
) Well? You're not saying anything.

(
Sets down the cat
) I don't know what to say.

Do you love her? Is that your excuse?

I loved her . . . a long time ago. And now I love what she was. Perhaps that seduced me more than I did her. (
He looks at her intently and speaks slowly, weaving a web of words around her
.) I love in her what I see in you now. You remind me so much of her, as she was then. She had that hard surface too, to protect her from the world. But I saw beneath it, to the tenderness that was there. (
He touches her cheek She neither draws away nor responds, but simply looks at him, fascinated, trapped
.) You ask for my excuse. Love needs none. It is enough in and of itself to excuse anything. Any deed, any pain.

(
THE EMPEROR moves his hand behind her head and draws her face toward him. He kisses her passionately and she responds immediately. Still kissing, he lifts her as if she weighed nothing, and carries her to the pile of costumes on the floor, where they both fall, their arms about each other. From the corner, the cat watches
.)

~ * ~

She bled afterwards. She bled and hated herself for what she had done, what she had allowed him to do. But while it was happening she had felt powerless to resist. She had been swept away by him, by his passion, by his need for her, and had been unable to refuse anything that he had wanted of her. For the first time in her life, she had been used.

Her cheeks burned as she remembered. She had, at his direction, put her fingers into herself as far as she could, much farther than she had thought possible. She had fellated him, licked him everywhere, and finally he had thrust into her savagely from behind, surprising her by swiftly moving his penis from her vagina to her anus, something she had never experienced before with anyone.

The pain had been nearly unbearable, but after her first gasp he had ordered her to be silent, and she had not cried out, not even when he exploded inside her, and it felt, not merely warm, but hot, as if fire was jetting from him.

Afterward, when he left, only blood had leaked from her. There seemed to be not a trace of semen. Only the blood, which soon stopped.

The bastard
, she thought.
The son of a bitch
. He had not even used a condom, and she had not even mentioned it. It had occurred to her, but by that time he was already in her, pounding away, and she was afraid, afraid to say a word. He had seemed so big that she thought he could actually split her apart if he became angry. Then, when he had finished, he had withdrawn so roughly that she had cried out despite his warning. She had fallen, exhausted, into the pile of costumes, her face buried in velvet, and had heard him say, "Love and pain. Ache, and remember me." When she had turned around, he was gone.

Why in hell had she done it? She had been attracted to him, of course, but to have actually fucked him, knowing that he and her mother . . .

Or maybe, she thought, that was exactly why she had done it — to get back at her mother. A cheap, quick, easy (if painful) revenge. But it would be useful only if Ann knew about it. Terri was sure that Dennis wouldn't tell her, so that left only one way for her to find out.

Love and pain, mother — a lesson I've been taught, a lesson you taught my father, a lesson for you to learn too
.

When she dressed and left the costume shop, she walked past Cristina. The cat spat at her, then ran away.

~ * ~

It was nearly eleven o'clock when Terri pulled her
Jetta
into the garage. Ann was not in the family room, so Terri went to her bedroom door, saw light beneath it, and knocked. "Terri?" her mother said, and she opened the door and went inside. "Is something wrong? You don't look well."

"Maybe something's wrong. I'll let you be the judge of that."

Ann put the bookmark in her volume and set it on the bedside table. "Sit down." Terri ignored her and remained standing, looking at Ann, who was wearing a long-sleeved nightshirt. Her hair was up, and she wore no makeup. She looked, Terri thought, every year of her age, and would look older once she heard the news. "All right then, suit yourself. What is it?"

"I saw your boyfriend tonight."

"My boyfriend." Her face remained expressionless, as though she was determined not to let Terri get to her.

"Dennis. Remember him?" Ann said nothing. "He paid me a visit in the costume shop." She waited for a moment, but was rewarded only by her mother's silence, by a total lack of emotion in her face. "We talked about the two of you for a while. And then — I wouldn't mention this unless I didn't think that you should know — he came on to me."

"He came on to you," she repeated flatly.

"
Mmm
-hmm. Tried to make me. To fuck me." She still hadn't cracked that damn facade. "And you know what?"

"You let him."

"Yeah. I did."

Ann picked up her book, opened it, and turned her attention back to its pages. "That's nice, dear. Sleep well."

"You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that."

"But you don't." Terri smiled crookedly. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

"Why would you want to prove it to me?"

"So you believe me."

She closed the book and look up at her daughter. "Is it that important? If it were true, what would you gain by telling me? Would you want me to do something about it? Should I go to Dennis and tell him that he should do the honorable thing and marry you? Or would just hurting me be enough?" She shook her head. "Honestly, Terri, I don't know what you hope to gain."

"He has a mole high up on his thigh," she said, then looked up as if trying to remember. "Now let me think . . .” She lifted her hands to eye level a foot in front of her face, spread her fingers, and turned her palms inward as though cupping imaginary buttocks. Then she opened her mouth roundly and let her eyes shift from hand to hand. "The right thigh, it would be." She dropped her hands. "I couldn't have missed it from where I was. How about you?"

God yes
, Terri thought,
that got her
. Ann's chin was trembling now, her eyes had grown very hard, and Terri's satisfaction was replaced by a feeling of loss, of something irretrievably broken. Still, her pride made her tough it out. "I assume that you'll accept that as verification?"

"Just get out, Terri," Ann said in a choked voice. "I'm very tired, and I feel sick.”

“All right, Mother. I bid you good night."

"Get out." Ann reached over and turned off the light. Terri heard the book fall onto the floor. The pain coming out of the darkness was almost tangible, driving her through the door, and as she felt it she felt her own pain as well, and knew that this time she had gone too far, she had pushed her mother over the edge.

Pushed? No. She had pulled her. They were both going down, weren't they? Falling into an abyss of broken trust from which there would be no returning. God knew the times they had felt close, had laughed and joked together, were few enough, but now there would be no more at all. What she had done, what she had just said, had made them more than strangers. It had made them enemies.

In her room, Terri wept.

~ * ~

And Ann Deems wept too, wept knowing that what her daughter said could not be true,
was
not true, but doubting, and weeping for her doubt. She did not sleep well that night, and in the morning she called Donna Franklin to tell her that she was ill and could not come in to work. It was a cowardly thing to do, she knew. The best thing would be to go to Kirkland and confront the truth, whatever it might be. If what Terri had said was true, she would learn it quickly enough by the way Dennis acted toward her. If it was
not
true, she could learn that quickly enough too.

But either way she lost. If Dennis had not seduced Terri, then her daughter was a vicious liar. If he had, then the man she loved was not worthy of her love. It was a no-win situation, and one that she did not want to face. To move from such buoyant joy to such terrible doubt was more than she could bear.