Contessa (19 page)

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Authors: Lori L. Otto

Tags: #Fiction, #Coming of Age

BOOK: Contessa
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Let

s keep the lights on down there, okay, Livvy?

he asks when we get to the kitchen.


Why, Dad? We

re watching a movie. It

s supposed to be dark.

My mom follows us in.

I think your dad remembers our first date here,

she adds.


I don

t want to know what happened, do I?

I ask them both.


Emi, I

ve got this.

She nods her head playfully at him and leaves the kitchen.


Lights on,

he says seriously, handing me a bottle of water and a soda.


Alright,

I agree, not wanting to push it. I know my parents aren

t stupid, my dad especially. And I know Jon

s inability to look at my dad in the eyes gave our activities away.


Are you in trouble?

Jon asks when I make it back down to the basement.


Nah,

I answer, giving him his drink.

He just says we have to keep the lights on.


That

s fair,

Jon says.

Probably best. I could do that with you all night.

My skin prickles in
goose bumps
as a smile breaks across my face. I can only nod in agreement.

He starts the movie again, but our minds are both elsewhere.


What would you like to do on our first official date next week?

he asks.


Kiss you,

I whisper, knowing that a parent could appear at the base of the stairs with no warning now since the lights are already on–and probably
will
at some point.


I promise that will happen. But really, what do you want to do?


It doesn

t matter. Anything will be fine.


I want to take you somewhere nice. I

ve been looking forward to this for a long time, Livvy.


That sounds fine,

I tell him. I look into his eyes reassuringly.

I

d go anywhere with you.

He raises his eyebrows just a tad and smiles.

Tell me about this lake house you have,

he says quietly.

That sounds like a place I

d like to take you.


Jon!

I say, shocked at his brazen suggestion, but excited by it at the same time.


Not
today
,

he says quickly.

Someday in the future.


It

s a house on a lake, I don

t know.


Trees?


Lots of trees. And the most amazing flower garden you

ve ever seen.


A dock?


Two docks. Oh, and an old rowboat that Uncle Steven takes out fishing sometimes.


Excellent. Sounds perfect.


It is perfect. Oh, wait a second.

I get up and go into my room, grabbing a canvas off of the wall above my headboard.


Is this your room?

Jon asks me from the doorway. He

s deliberate about not coming in.

I turn around quickly, still standing on the pillows, holding the painting.


Yeah.


Wow, what

s that?

he asks, peeking at the painting hanging on the wall by the door.


It

s a replica of one of Nate

s paintings.


That

s... wow. That

s evocative.

He takes a few steps toward the artwork.


I know. It

s great right?


You have to wonder what he was feeling, to paint such a thing.

He leans against my dresser.


Um... you can

t be in here,

I tell him apologetically.


Right,

he says, realizing where
he is
.

It

s huge.


I know. This used to be two bedrooms, but we converted it so my studio could be a part of my room.


I

m pretty sure our entire apartment could fit in half of your basement.


Nuh-uh,

I counter, hopping off the bed and bringing the painting with me.


Actually, yeah, Livvy. I share my bedroom with my brothers,

he explains.

It

s easily a third of the size of your room.


Oh. Sounds cozy.


Uncomfortable,

he corrects me as we both sit back down on the couch. I clutch the painting in my grasp, listening to him and suddenly feeling weird that we

re talking about my family

s second house.

It

s cramped and uncomfortable and there

s absolutely no privacy, except on Saturdays when Mom takes them to see their father.


Oh, they

re your half-brothers?


Yeah. Their dad is in jail, actually. He

s a winner.


What

s he in jail for?


Stealing a car and evading the police. This time, anyway.


Wow. I

m sorry.


I am, too,

he says.

He

s an embarrassment, and has set a horrible example for Max and Will. That

s why I think it

s important for me to stay close by. When he

s out of jail, my mom will leave them with him while she goes out or runs errands, and it pisses me off to no end that she does stupid things like that. She

s made some bad choices in her life.


I don

t want my brothers turning out like either of them.


Do they look up to you?


Yeah. Sometimes I feel like the only parent in the household. And Max is thirteen, you know? So he

s at a really critical age where he needs someone to watch out for him, someone to answer questions. You know–things a parent should do.


Sounds like you have a lot of responsibility.


Yeah. But I guess it

s helped make me into who I am. And I

m not so bad, right?


Not at all.


So when can we go to this lake house?

he says jokingly as he holds my painting up, examining it.

Is this it?

he asks, outlining the house with his index finger.


Yeah,

I tell him.


Is that your lake house bedroom?

he asks quietly, pointing to a window in the painting with pink curtains.


Now
you

re bad.


Yeah, I know.

He stares into my eyes intensely and leans in to kiss me quickly.

You know I

m just messing with you, right?


Yeah,

I whisper, my lips still very close to his.


Mostly, anyway,

he says, kissing me once more, this one slower and less cautious. It

s the last kiss of the night for us.

My dad comes down the stairs as soon as the credits roll on the movie, but Jon has already decided it

s time to head home. Dad carries Jon

s shirt with him, now dry but wrinkled, as well as his tie.


You

re welcome to take my shirt,

my dad offers.

It

s probably dropped twenty degrees since you got here. You didn

t bring a jacket?


No,

Jon says.

Are you sure you don

t mind?


Not at all. Would you like a ride home?


No, thank you. I

ll just hop on a bus.


It

s really no problem.


No, I don

t mind the bus at all. It

s an interesting study of human nature,

Jon says. I laugh, but when he looks at me curiously, I realize he was being serious.

You

ve never been on a city bus, have you?


No,

I admit to him.

Dad

s not a fan of mass transportation.


I just worry about you, Livvy. It

s not safe for a young girl.

Jon shrugs his shoulders, taking his clothes from my dad. The three of us ascend the stairs and meet my mother in the hallway. I can still hear the rain coming down hard outside.


Let us take you home, Jon.


Livvy, it

s fine.

My mom goes into the hall closet and grabs an umbrella, handing it to Jon.

Keep it,

she insists before he has time to argue.

I threw your other one away.

He laughs and thanks her for the umbrella, and then thanks my parents for dinner. He takes my hand in his and squeezes it.

See you Thursday?


Definitely. Can

t wait.


Good night.

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