When It's Love (18 page)

I do a quick scan of Shelby’s to see if I can spot Professor Sparling. I do, easily. He’s waiting in line to pay, looking spectacularly cool, like always, as he reads something on his phone. He doesn’t see me as I rush back to the Michigan wines aisle. Who the fuck does Professor Sparling think he is? I flash to the most famous line from
Indebted
, when he describes his wife’s descent into depression.
“She made me the man I am, but then she became someone else.”

It’s similar to my own story, and the way I changed after I learned the truth about who I am. And Professor Sparling knows about my depression. So why did he get involved with me in the first place, knowing that with me– even if I’m cheerful today - the risk of despair is there lurking in the background?

There are so many layers to a person’s psyche. Is it ‘brilliant writer’ that defines Professor Sparling or ‘jackass liar?’ Is he one person in the classroom and someone else in the rest of the world? Is he the man who left his depressed wife so he could freely fuck a bunch of students, or is he the man who did everything he could to save his wife, and then left because it was the only way he could save himself?

I can’t believe I revealed so much of myself to someone with a completely masked identity. Despite reading Professor Sparling’s memoir, and despite our fiery email exchange, I actually have no idea who he is.

I finish my slightly extravagant wine purchase at Shelby’s and make my way home. Light snowflakes begin to fall and my breath comes out like steam in the frigid air. Between the bare trees and empty streets, Addison looks like a deserted town. The emptiness is creepy, and foreboding. When a chill runs through my body, I quicken my pace. It’s not a chill from the cold, but from an inexplicable, menacing sense of danger that’s making my heartbeat accelerate. I don’t understand why, but I feel like I’m being watched. I turn my head right and left to see if there’s anyone behind me. No one is there, and all I see is the cascade of snowflakes descending onto the eerily quiet and vacant downtown Addison sidewalk.

I dismiss the creepy feeling of being watched as paranoia. Seeing the car outside my building last night has shaken me, even though I have no proof it had anything to do with me. There are probably thousands of blue cars with dented doors in Michigan. I try to push aside my gut feeling that my father has something to do with that car. I’m one of those people who always prepares for catastrophe. I don’t know how to let go and accept that something good is happening in my life. (Something amazing!) I’m thrilled with all the rekindled sensations I’ve experienced thanks to sex with Henry. Since I felt Henry inside of me, I’ve been overflowing with glee and desire (minus the time spent puking over Professor Sparling). But, still, here I am waiting for the catch and asking, how can something so delightfully good be happening to me? I don’t know how to stop myself from bracing for the bad, but I know it’s important to try. If I don’t make an attempt to be a normal college student now, my chance will be gone. And the taste of life Henry has given me only makes me want more. I don’t want to be dominated by darkness any longer.

Back in my apartment, I take a long, hot shower, taking special care as I shave my legs, armpits, and bikini line. When I’m done, I massage coconut oil all over my body so it’s soft and silky. I put on a new black lace bra and matching thong from Oui, pack a change of clothes in my backpack, and the bottle of wine I bought for the Harts. I feel badly about not having a present for Henry, but I’ve thought of a clever alternative. I’m going to sext him a bunch of times, and in each message I’ll offer myself to him in a different way. When Christmas dinner comes to an end and we go upstairs to the very private guest room at Ottawa Estate, I’ll let him let him choose his favorite message, and we’ll take it from there. I feel a wicked little smile taking over my face. I’m pleased with my plan.

Despite my bewilderment over the exchange with Professor Sparling, and the underlying threat of the Rudds being somewhere out there, possibly on the hunt for me, I’m feeling giddy. It’s Christmas Eve, and Henry and I are a couple. (I’m squealing on the inside!) I grab my phone and take a selfie in the full-length mirror so I can show Henry how I look in my new undergarments. Then I text:
Roses are red, violets are blue, have me for Christmas and I’ll have you too.

I quickly give the cats a tuna Christmas dinner, make sure they have plenty of water and dry food in their dishes, wash my hands, and prepare to get dressed. I pull on sheer black thigh-high stockings (thanks, Marina and Henry) and slip into the black skirt and red cashmere sweater from
Oui
. My Steve Maddens arrived a few hours ago from Zappos. Just in time and a perfect fit. I’m all set for Christmas at Ottawa Estate. I dab on lip gloss, brush my hair, and check myself out in the mirror again to make sure I like the way I look. I can’t remember the last time I dressed this nicely. It’s a bit of a shame that I’ll have to put my ugly parka on top of my outfit. Henry will see it when he comes to pick me up, but hopefully I can slip it off at Ottawa Estate before Dr. and Mrs. Hart get a glimpse of it.

My phone dings and startles me. I grab it and find a text reply from Henry:
Roses are red, violets are blue, open your door to find Mr. McGoo.

Ha! I giggle all the way to the door and when I open it, I see Henry dressed in black trousers and a black overcoat. He looks smooth, sleek, and unbearably sexy. He’s carrying a long garment bag, which he sets down on the futon when he walks into my apartment. He throws his arms around me and yanks me into a tight embrace. “I will definitely have you for Christmas,” he whispers in my ear.

“So now the only question is how you will have me for Christmas,” I whisper back.

Henry runs his hands from my shoulders down my back, and just that slight, sensual touch makes me quiver. He grinds his hips against me. “Don’t get me started, Syd. We’ll be late for dinner.”

I lean into Henry and moan softly.

“I have to let go of you to give you your Christmas gift,” Henry says.

“You already bought me all those clothes,” I say. “You didn’t have to get me anything else, and anyway, you’re all I want.”

“I got you something you need,” Henry says, as he steps out of our embrace and picks up the garment bag. He unzips it and pulls out a long cream-colored wool coat with slate gray buttons. He holds it up on its hanger for me to see. It’s gorgeous, simple, and elegant.

“I made sure it had some gray in it,” Henry says jokingly. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

I smile and flush at the same time. “Did you really buy me a coat?” I ask, my voice full of disbelief.

“I couldn’t have my date to Christmas Eve dinner look like she’s on her way out to shovel snow.” From the glint in his eye and his bubbly tone, I know he’s only joking.

“Oh, Henry,” I gasp. “I don’t know what to say. I’m embarrassed, surprised, and grateful all at once.”

“Don’t say anything,” Henry tells me. “Just put on your coat, take my arm, come home with me, and let me introduce you as my girlfriend tonight.”

“Deal,” I say. “Let me just grab my things.” I don’t remember ever feeling this happy, but I still can’t shake an unsettling sense of danger. I don’t know whether or not I should tell Henry. I don’t want my paranoia to spoil his great mood.

I double check to make sure the door to my balcony is secure, take my coat and backpack, and lock up my apartment. Henry and I make our way to his Camaro arm in arm. A thin blanket of snow is already covering the ground and more is falling. I’m wishing I had on a pair of boots and not these teetering heels. As Henry opens the car door for me, I notice a folded up piece of paper stuck under the windshield wiper on the passenger side. “Did you get a parking ticket on Christmas Eve?” I ask, laughing. “Only you could manage something like that.”

Henry lifts the wiper, pulls out the paper, and studies it intensely. I can see it’s very damp with snowflakes, but it’s too dark for me to see what’s written on it. “Get in the car quickly,” Henry says to me with an edgy voice.

“What’s wrong? You’re scaring me,” I say, feeling hysterical from just the sense of urgency.

“Just get in so we can talk where it’s dry.”

We both hurry into the car, and Henry starts the engine to get the heat going. Then he passes the paper to me with a shaky hand.

“What is it?” I ask. “Tell me!”

“You need to see for yourself.” Henry reaches over and rests his hand on my shoulder.

“Fuck,” I say. I hold the paper in my cold fingers. It’s so thin from the wet snow that it threatens to rip with the slightest movement. I see my name written in bleeding ink, the letters all streaked and smeared across the page. I stare at it, shocked, unable to look up, and incapable of making a sound. I keep reading the same five smudged words over and over again.
“Merry Christmas, Sydney. Yours, Dad.”

I feel searing, physical pain throughout my body, though nothing is touching me. Instantaneously, my entire being responds to the fragile note in my hand. My head is throbbing, every joint and muscle in my body aches, and my blood is boiling. How dare this man – a life-destroying rapist - invade my life and call himself my dad! And how long has he been watching me? Tears flood my eyes and my jaw trembles as I try to control the rage firing through me. My worst fear is coming true. I can’t ever escape my father; not when he was in another country, and certainly not when he’s here and close. Even if he were to drop dead this very minute, I wouldn’t be free. I may not identify with him in any way, but he is half of who I am, and I fear he has come to Addison to make sure I know it.

Holding my father’s note in my hands makes it feel as though he’s right here breathing down my neck. Fuming, I crumple the paper and jump out of the car. Henry is shouting, “Sydney, don’t get out!” I can’t listen to him. I can’t hear anything but the rage inside of my head. I slam the car door, leaving Henry there alone.

It’s snowing harder now and the flakes are hitting my hair and face as I stare out into the darkness searching for a figure in the night that could be my father. The bitter wind freezes my fingers and nose instantly. My body stiffens in the cold, but my voice doesn’t. I scream out into the blackness, “You fucking son of a bitch! You piece of shit rapist! Stay away from me!”

Henry is by my side now and he grabs me into a tight hug. “It’s OK, Sydney,” he says soothingly. “No one is here now. Your father’s gone. He’s obviously too much of a coward to show his face.” Henry’s voice is so strong and assured, it almost echoes in the cold air.

I break out of Henry’s arms to lash out again at the shadows.

“Bastard. Fucking bastard. I hate you. Can you hear me? I hate you.” I stagger forward with fury. If I had fangs to bare, they’d be jutting out like a vampire’s. “Rot in hell,” I shriek.

I’m screaming and stumbling into the empty street. Henry grabs my arm just in time to stop me from slipping on black ice in my stilettos. Without a word he pulls me into his arms, lifts me up, and cradles me like a baby. I’m panting madly. “Calm down, sweetie,” Henry murmurs. “You’re safe with me.”

“Oh, Henry,” I sob as all the fury in me melts into tears and I weep and wail until I’m totally frozen and numb. Henry holds me for what seems like an eternity.

“Let’s get back in the car and go to the estate,” he says. “You’ll feel better there.”

I agree to do what Henry suggests, but with the thought of my father lurking around Addison I don’t believe there’s any chance of feeling safe.

I’m shivering in the car. Henry turns up the heat, but the drive to Ottawa Estate is so short that there’s barely enough time for the car to heat up. “I must look awful,” I say.

“Awful good,” Henry says with a snort.

His geeky comment lifts my spirits and I smile. “Do you think I’ll be able to wash up before your parents see me?”

“Of course,” Henry says. “And I don’t think the mayor and his wife are expected before 8:00. By that time I expect to have you tipsy and giddy. I’m going to make sure you have the most amazing Christmas of your life.”