Hawk (41 page)

I didn’t say anything, but he went on.

“He put his hands on me that day I took you for a ride. Does he ever put his hands on you?”

I tried not to, but I flinched with a shocked expression.

“I see,” he said.

“No, he doesn’t, he never. He’s just protective of me, that’s all.”

“Mom said you were homeschooled.”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I… I couldn’t go to regular school. I wouldn’t fit in there.”

“Why?”

“Because he said so.”

Victor folded his big arms. The flexing of muscles stretched and distorted the feathers incised on his arms

“I like your tattoos,” I blurted out.

“Thanks,” he said, sounding slightly confused. “Does your father ever hit you?”

I tried to say
no, of course he doesn’t
, but nothing would come out. My throat just went dry.

“I need to go. Please.”

“There’s nothing between you and the door.”

I turned and rushed back, down the steps, and into the hallway without looking. Thankfully, I was alone. I almost went to my room, but headed for the kitchen instead. It was dark, but oddly well lit from the gleam on all the stainless steel. I poured myself a glass of water, choked it down in quick gulps, and went back to bed.

The wedding was scheduled for that Saturday. The next three days were the most tense of my life. I would be in the wedding party. Victor was giving his mother away, standing in for the father of the bride. A huge, far-flung extended family would be there. My mother’s family would be there, people I hadn’t seen in years.

Father came to me the day before. He sat beside me on my bed.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “I expect you to socialize with the guests. Keep it to a minimum. You will also be expected to dance with Victor.” His mouth twisted with distaste. “You understand why I am telling you this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“He’s promiscuous. You matter too much to be a notch on his bedpost.”

“Good. Get some sleep.”

I woke the next day at five in the morning, and spent an hour pacing my bedroom. The wedding was at ten, not in the city but a little town nearby. The house was full of guests, mostly Victor’s extended family. By the time I bathed and dressed and put my hair in a simple braid, Karen was already gone to get ready away from the house. Victor went with her. Father’s best man was a friend from the firm. My dress was demure and not particularly flattering but he kept eyeing me, as did another of Father’s guests, a Russian man that introduced himself as Vitali and held my gloved hand too long. I rode in another car, with one of Mrs. Amsel’s relatives.

The church was old, and packed, every seat taken. I sat up front near the altar. Victor walked his mother down the aisle, a forced smile on his face, heat in his eyes when he looked at my father, waiting in a morning coat with swallow tails. He hated this, I realized. He didn’t want my father marrying his mother. He didn’t want any of this. He glanced at me as he stepped away from my mother. The priest talked, but it was all buzzing to me. I rose when everyone else did, sat when they did, watched my father slip a ring on his mother’s finger and watched him kiss her, passionately. I clapped when the others clapped, but my hands when still when I saw Victor standing stock still during the applause. A little girl I didn’t know carried his mother’s train and another sprinkled flowers. Rice was thrown, and Victor stiffly took my arm and led me to the limousine for the wedding party.

He didn’t say a word to me on the drive to the reception. He offered me his arm again without looking at my father as we went into the fire hall. I glanced at Father and he gave me a tiny nod, and I stiffly took Victor’s arm and walked to the table with him. It took twenty minutes for the guests to file in.

Victor sat next to his mother. I sat next to Father. Three courses were served, after the toast. I didn’t hear any of it. The world buzzed in my ears, like the insistent rushing of a stream. I just wanted to go home. I sat there pawing the folds of my skirts and barely touched my food.

Soon I would be free, I realized. I would be going to college, living on campus.

Except I’d never be free. Father would always know if I did something I shouldn’t. If I was bad.

People started standing. I missed the announcement. It was time for the cake, and the dancing.

Oh, and the bouquet.

Before I realized it I was lined up with twenty other unmarried girls, all strangers. I wanted to run and hide. Victor’s mother turned around, faced away from all of us. She pitched the bouquet back over her head. I watched it sail through the air towards us and held my ground as the other girls moved forward. I held my hands out limply, pretending that I wanted to catch it. Father would be furious if it came at me and I let it hit the floor. He didn’t believe in inane superstitions like bad luck from dropping some flowers. I was sure it was coming right at me, until another girl snatched it from the air in front of me. I let out a palpable sigh of relief and shuffled away as soon as I could, while people surrounded and cheered the girl.

Then the single men started gathering around. I blinked a few times. What was that about? Victor stood in front, scowling.

His mother turned, hiked up her voluminous cream skirts, and stuck out her stocking-clad leg. My father smiled at her, his expression going blank as he knelt. He thought no one saw. No one did, but me. He slid her garter down her leg, careful not to disturb their stocking, and put on a false smile as he stood up, twirled it around his finger, and threw it.

Victor shoved another unmarried man out of the way and plucked it from the air.

Oh. Oh God.

He looked over at me and beckoned me forward. The girl with the bouquet turned red and scowled. Everyone was staring.

“Come on, Eve,” Victor said, loudly.

I looked at my father, but Karen grinned at me.

“What are you waiting for?”

Somebody whistled behind me. Catcalls started. I shuffled forward and stood stiff as a board, unsure what I was supposed to do. Finally I realized he was supposed to put it on my leg.

Which meant I had to hike up my skirts. I did, and stuck out my leg. Victor knelt in front of me, and gently cupped my foot in his hand. He slipped off my shoe, and pulled the elastic band up over my calf, then up my thigh. I shivered as his fingers brushed the skin of my leg, and bit my lip.

It felt… good. He held my calf lightly in his hand and put my shoe back on, and I lowered my foot to the floor. As I put my foot down he stood up, rising inches away from me, his face filling my vision as I stood to my full height.

Karen was
 
grinning. Father’s face was a stony mask, a false smile stretched over absolute, incandescent fury.

The disk jockey started talking. Victor took my arm and walked me, briskly, away from the open floor. It was time for the first dance of the bride and groom. Karen was absolutely overjoyed, smiling so much it had to hurt. She put her head on Father’s chest as they danced, and he looked genuinely happy.

Except for his eyes. His eyes never changed.

The best man danced with the maid of honor, a girl I didn’t know, one of Karen’s people. I tried to slink into the crowd.

Victor took my wrist and pulled me out onto the dance floor.

“I’ve never danced before,” I blurted out.

“Me either, not like this. It’s not hard. We just stand close together and walk around. No big deal.”

I nodded. It was no big deal, until he put his hand on the small of my back, and clasped my hand in his. My heart started pounding and my throat went dry. There was a distance between us, maybe six inches between our stomachs, but it felt like we were touching anyway. I stared at his throat and didn’t look at anyone, aimlessly moving in a circle, shuffling my feet. He squeezed my hand.

“Does he hurt you?” Victor murmured.

“Who?”

“Your father.”

I shook my head and looked away from him.

“Time for the cake.”

He let go of my hand, and his palm fell away from my waist. He stood next to me, arms folded, as our parents fed each other sickly sweet wedding cake. I ended up with a paper plate in my hand, picking at a slice. The icing was too cloying sweet and I wanted to spit it out.

“This cake sucks,” Victor grumbled.

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.

There were a few looks, but no one paid me much mind. They probably thought I was laughing from happiness at the wonderful wedding. I dumped my cake on a random table and looked for a place I could hide. I never liked crowds and it felt like there was an itchy wool blanket on my shoulders, weighing me down. I tugged on my skirts and wove my way through the crowd, and ended up in front of the fire hall. I breathed in warm, humid evening air. Music thudded through the brick walls as I sat down on a narrow ledge running through the windows and plucked at loose strands of my hair. A shadow fell across my feet.

I looked up and Victor pushed a glass of red liquid at me. There was a little umbrella in it.

“I can’t drink.”

“Me either. Not here, anyway. It’s a Shirley Temple.”

I took it and sipped it through the little straw. It was too sweet, but it was cold and liquid. Victor had one, too. He seemed amused by the umbrella. After he finished the drink he took it out and was playing with it, popping it up and down.

“These aren’t supposed to have umbrellas. Want another one?

“I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“Why?”

I was trying to think of an answer when I heard a piercing voice.

“Victor!”

I looked over to see a girl our age storm outside. Her dress made me blush. I was honestly wondering how it stayed up. It had no back or sleeves, just cups for her rather large breasts. She walked over and planted her fists on her hips, a long leg visible through a high slit in the side of her skirt.

“Uh,” he said.

“Amber.”

“Right. Hi, Amber.”

“What are you doing out here?” she demanded.

“Getting some air. I brought Eve something to drink.”

I looked at her but she ignored me. Instead she tugged his arm.

“Come inside. What was that about, giving
her
the garter?”

He shook loose of her grip. She scowled at him.

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“You invited me,” she said, folding her arms under her impressive bust.

“I did?”

“
Yes,”
she growled.

I stood up. Neither of them noticed me. I took my cup and Victor’s, and walked back inside. I found a trash can, tossed the little plastic cups and looked at the clock. When would this be over? I just wanted to be alone.

The reception had moved onto the dance floor, so I walked back into the dining room and sat down at my seat. It wasn’t five minutes before Victor slunk in and sat down next to me. In my father’s seat, I noticed.

“What do you want?”

“You look upset.”

“Shouldn’t you be occupied with Amber?”

“Don’t worry about her. She kinda crashed the wedding.”

“I see.”

I folded my hands primly in my lap. Maybe if I just sat there he’d leave.

“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble.”

“About what?”

“The car. The day we met. I wouldn’t have done that if I knew your father would flip out.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Maybe I would have. Mom was worried about you. She said you were really upset. Did I piss you off?”

I look over at him, then away, and sigh. “No. Not me.”

“I know he was upset, but I
do
know what I’m doing. You want some more cake? Something to eat? A drink?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Look, I’ll be honest. I don’t know most of these people. The ones I do know I hate. Three of my ex-girlfriends showed up, invited by my mother. Your father tried to kill me with his eye lasers when I gave you the garter.”

“I don’t think that was appropriate,” I said. “Our parents are married now. We can’t…”

“What?” he said, smirking.

“Nothing.”

“We can’t nothing? That’s a double negative.”

Flustered, I rubbed at my temples.

“I know, it’s shocking. I read a book.”

“I can’t talk to you,” I blurted out.

“Why? Did somebody threaten you? Your dad?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Why’d you come up to the widows walk? You
want
to tell me, you just
won’t
. Look, this guy just married my mom. If he’s trouble I need to know.”

I look around the empty dining room. The crowd in the dance hall starts to blur as my eyes burn.

“He disciplines me. That’s all. I broke a rule. I needed punishment.”

Victor looked at me intently.

“Punished you how?” he said, softly.

I covered my mouth with my hand and stifled a sob.

“I can’t. Don’t make me tell you. I
can’t
.”

“I don’t want to make you do anything.”

I sat there and sniffed quietly until he found a clean napkin and handed it to me. I snatched it and rubbed at my eyes and nose. It only made my nose raw.

“You moved into my house. My roof. Your father married my mother but the house is
mine
.”

“Are you mad at her? For getting married again?”

He sighs. “Yes, but don’t tell her that. It’s not… she’s been alone for over six years. She doesn’t fit into my dad’s social circles. She was a waitress before they married. She’s completely alone. Your father spent a lot of time with her. They got to know each other, started seeing each other, I was fine with it. I think he had me fooled.”

“Fooled?”

“You don’t have to tell me what he does to you. It’s probably better if you don’t. He does hurt you though, doesn’t he? You’re scared shitless of him.”

I started
 
wringing the napkin in my hands. “He spanked me when I was younger. That’s all.”

“When you were younger,” Victor said, carefully.

“A-after the car ride,” I choked out.

“With his hand?”

“No. He uses a belt.”

His hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles bleeding of color as he crushed
 
the tablecloth in his hand. “Not anymore. He puts a hand on you again, or a belt or anything else, you come to me, understand?”