Guardian of Eden (8 page)

“
Oh, Gary, you just missed Grandma,” Eden blurted before my mother had a chance to think of a suitable lie. “Mommy, why didn’t grandma want to meet Gary?” I locked eyes with my mother. Her silence profoundly answered Eden’s question that words would not have accomplished. All these years I thought my grandmother’s hate and rejection of me simply stemmed from my race. While that still may be part of the reason, being the son of the man who murdered her husband would surely add to it.

When we got home from the prison, my mother ran upstairs and locked herself in her room for the rest of the evening. Eden found me in the hallway and temporarily sidetracked my desire to unravel my mother’s past.

“
Gary, you
gotta
see this!” She exclaimed as she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her room.

“Can it wait Eden? I’m really tired. I just want to sleep.” Eden crossed her arms and pouted. I couldn’t stand to see her disappointed. “Okay, Bug, what is it?”

“Look at these,” she said with renewed vigor as she pointed to a pile of pictures on her bed. I picked up a few of them and studied the beautiful teenager with wild blonde hair dressed in a tight outlandish leather outfit with strategically placed rips and tears. “Don’t I look gorgeous?”

“You?
This is you?” I looked closer, and sure enough, the beautiful teenager was my 11-and-a-half year old sister. Heat rose into my collar. The clothing, the hair, the makeup was all completely inappropriate for a child. “Who took these?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Are you mad, Gary? Don’t be mad?” Eden pleaded. “I thought I looked pretty.”

“Who took the pictures, Eden?”

“It was
Dashanka
.”
Dashanka
was a Ukrainian photographer that worked with Corbin in his studio. She specialized in photographing pale sickly thin girls in clothing that only a handful of Europeans found attractive. I had no idea why she suddenly decided to photograph my sister.

I gathered the scattered photos off of Eden’s bed then stormed to Corbin’s office upstairs.

“What is this?” I asked throwing the pictures onto his desk. Corbin put down the magnifying glass he had been using to check his latest work for defects. He studied the pictures for a moment then said,

“Wow, these are actually pretty good.” He gestured for me to sit, but I continued to stand.

“You mean you haven’t seen them before?”

“Unh-uh.
I guess that’s what Eden was doing all day with
Dashanka
.” Corbin leaned back in his desk chair and continued to peruse the pictures casually.

“Why weren’t you keeping an eye on her?”

“Garrett, I had to work. I knew she was safe. She never left the building.”

“This is child exploitation. These pictures are inappropriate.” I slammed my fist into his desk.

“Now that’s going a bit too far, Garrett. I admit the pictures make her look a little older than she is, but she’s not naked or anything. I really think you’re overreacting.” Corbin looked at me and smiled slightly. His relaxed demeanor somehow managed to cool the hot anger that had erupted in me. Corbin always had the ability to diffuse tense situations and make people feel comfortable. Models loved working with him because unlike some photographers, he never yelled or belittled them or their body image.

“What’s going to happen to these pictures? Will they be published?”

“No, I think
Dashanka
was just playing around. These were probably just for fun. You can relax. No one else will ever see them.” Corbin studied the pictures more closely. He picked up his magnifying glass and continued his examination. I stared at the top of his dark hair with the frosted blond tips. And though I didn’t agree with men dyeing their hair for aesthetic purposes, the style worked for him and easily made him look ten years younger. “You have to admit. These are quite good. Your sister has a natural talent. The camera loves her.” I looked at one of the pictures again. I could see what he meant. Her beauty was undeniable.

“She’s too young,” was my only retort.

“You’re absolutely right. She’s too young for pictures like this, but what about other pictures, more innocent ones.”

“I don’t know if I want my sister to be a model. I’m not sure it’s safe.” Corbin nodded acknowledging my concern.

“How about this, I’ll let you and your
mother see
every photo taken of her before it gets published. Anything you don’t agree with gets trashed, no questions.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said reluctantly. I trusted Corbin, not my usual reaction to the men in Holly's life. The way he considered my feelings and took into account my need to protect Eden comforted me. He took me seriously. None of my mother’s other partners ever did.

“So, how did your visit with your father go?” he asked with concern in his dark eyes. I shrugged. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but it’s the only way he’ll let me adopt you.”

“Why do you want to adopt me so badly anyway?”
I settled in the chair in front of Corbin’s desk. It was a question I’d been dying to ask, but never had the opportunity. We never really spoke one on one a lot. Corbin sighed then pushed his work away.

“I was an only child,” he began. “My mother died in childbirth and my father died when I was 13. I was raised by my father’s sister. I always wanted a family. I know how hard it is growing up without one. I know what a troubled life you and Eden have had. When I fell in love with your mother, I fell in love with the two of you as well. I want to see you happy. I want us to be a family, a happy family, the kind of family none of us have ever had.” Corbin stood, walked around his desk then sat on the corner of it. “I know you’ll never admit it, but I think you want a family as much as I do. You want to belong. I want to give you that.”

I still had a hard time believing someone wanted me. The last time I felt truly wanted and loved was when I lived with my grandmother. Now, in the same day, I had my biological father and my stepfather professing their respective desires to be a permanent part of my life. I should have been overjoyed. I should have felt as though the threads of pain and lies that restricted my growth and freedom were being unwound but instead, I felt even more trapped.

Monday morning before third period I waited at my locker for
Maddie
. We agreed that we would do the interview then since I had a free period and she had journalism class.

I missed her. I know it sounds ridiculous since I’d only met her once, but I missed her. I missed the conversations we could be having, the time we could be spending together and the embraces we could be sharing if only we knew each other better. I wanted that process to begin as soon as possible. The sooner I got to know her, the sooner those imagined conversations and embraces would become reality.

“Hi, Garrett,” she said when she arrived. After the stressful weekend I’d had, I really needed to hear her voice. But something was wrong. Her voice sounded weak and strained. Nothing like I’d dreamed about all weekend. And when I looked into her normally radiant blue eyes, my heart raced with fear. They seemed dull and sallow.

“Are you okay,
Maddie
?”

“Why? Do I not look okay? God, I knew I should have worn makeup. I…I need to sit down.”
Maddie
dropped her backpack, slammed her back against the locker and slid down to the ground.

“Are you sick? You’re sick, aren’t you?” What a senseless question. I could look at her and tell she was sick. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I was a little sick over the weekend, but I’m better now. I want to do the interview.” I squatted in front of her and felt her forehead.

 “
Maddie
, you’re burning up. Let me take you to the nurse.” I took her hand in mine to help her up but she gripped it tightly and held me in place.

 “No, no, I’m fine. It’s just a cold. I just…just let me sit here for a while. Will you stay with me?”

 
“Yeah, sure.”
I sat next to her on the floor with her hand still in mine as the bell rang starting third period.
Maddie
took deep slow breaths and focused on a point in front of her on the floor.

I stared at our entwined fingers. The contrast of my dark caramel colored skin to her creamy vanilla made my heart flutter. Her hand was so tiny and fit perfectly into mine, like it was made to be there. I wished I could kiss each and every delicate little finger and take her pain away, but I thought that would be too presumptuous of me. So, I sat there holding her hand for an eternity.

Curiosity and concern ate away at me, but I didn’t want to invade her privacy. A part of me really didn’t even want to ask what was going on. I had enough questions in my life I didn’t want to add more. I just wanted to sit next to her and enjoy the feel of her hand in mine. But I also didn’t want to sit there without talking. She might think I didn’t like her. So, I started talking.

 “When I was little, my grandmother used to have me learn a word a day. By the time I was five, I had the vocabulary beyond that of most 12- year-olds according to the tests anyway. The odd thing is, I enjoy learning, but I don’t like school. Never have. I think it’s a waste of time. My seventh grade Algebra teacher used to make me stand in the back of the classroom because I would fall asleep every day.” I smiled and looked over at
Maddie
who concentrated on her breathing. I fell silent again for a few moments wondering if she had asthma. Something deep inside me wished I would have to give her mouth to mouth resuscitation. I shook off that thought then said, “I don’t think I could pick a favorite or most meaningful word if you paid me. The closest would probably be…bereft – adjective, lacking something needed or expected.” I sighed. That would certainly describe my life. I didn’t even know what it was I lacked, but there was definitely something missing in my life.
“Definition two, suffering the death of a loved one.
It was the word I learned the day after my grandmother died.”

Maddie
looked at me for the first time in half an hour.

 “Thank you for sharing that with me. And thank you for not treating me like some sort of leper or berating me with questions. I get so sick of explaining it sometimes.” Explaining what, I thought.
Maddie
tried to stand and I helped her to her feet. Then her cell phone rang. “Hello,” she answered. “Yes, daddy…no…I’m fine daddy…I
am
in class,
kinda
. I’m doing an interview…I don’t know. Okay.” She put her phone down and asked me, “Would you take my pulse please?” I nodded as I reached for her wrist. She stared into my eyes as she grabbed my hand and placed it on her neck. When I finished, she put the phone back to her ear. “About 112…a friend…he’s really smart, daddy I think he knows how to check a pulse…no, he’s just a friend…I’m fine, I want to stay in school…no…no…okay…I love you, too.”
Maddie
closed her phone.

“Do you need me to do anything?”

“No, I’m
gonna
go home.”
Maddie
grabbed both my hands and swung them side to side.

I should have kissed her right then and there. It was the perfect opportunity. We were alone, holding hands, and staring into each other’s eyes. But, she had just called me her ‘friend.’ Maybe she only saw me as a friend. I didn’t want to embarrass myself so, instead of kissing her, I said, “Do you want me to take you?”

 “
No, my dad’s sending the driver.” I thought I noted disappointment in her eyes. Did she want to kiss me as well?