Resilient (5 page)

“Not at all,” Dad says, and I feel his concern. He turns the TV off. “I’m actually glad you came. I have something I want to ask you. But you go first.”

I try to ignore Dad’s emotions oscillating between anxiety and worry, and I ask him about the lake. “Are you sure that it’s on our property? I heard it still belongs to Mr. Cooper.”  

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean, you heard it? Heard it from whom?” 

I tell him about the encounter with Adam. I tell him everything, but withhold Adam’s rudeness—he always says that, because I’m so sensitive to people’s intentions, I tend to assume to worst about their behavior, and I don’t feel like listening to him dismiss my claim now. 

My dad suddenly stands, pacing around the living room. “You didn’t empathize with him at all? I wonder why.”

“Dad, I don’t know, but you could answer my question.” 

He looks at me, confused. 

“The one about the lake?” 

“Oh, that.” Dad says, still with creases between his eyes. “We actually own half of it.”

“The side that doesn’t have the dock?” 

“Correct.”

Well, guess who was right? That cocky jerk called Adam. I hate that he is right, even if he’s only half right.

“Dad, can we have a floating dock, too? It would make swimming easier.” 

“Livia, the water up here is deathly cold. It’s a deep lake and the sun only warms it for a short time each day. The trees cover most of it. You definitely don’t want to go for a swim.” 

“Okay,” I say before he comes to his senses and realizes that I just told him I’ve been in the water already. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” 

Dad looks at me for a moment. He’s still hung up about my inability to empathize with Adam. I can sense the turmoil of emotions in him, and he finally settles on hope. He’s always hoping to find me some type of cure; I guess he sees Adam as another variable in the experiment.

“Yes, I do have something I want to ask you.” He reaches over the coffee table and hands me my cell phone. His concern flares again. “You left this on the kitchen counter this afternoon. Henry texted you saying that he needed to talk to you about the search. I didn’t mean to read it, but when I saw it was just a text from my brother, I didn’t see any harm. You mind explaining exactly what he meant?”

I try to come up with something fast, but Dad’s eyes see straight through me, and it takes me too long. “You went through my messages?” I say lamely. 

“Does it have anything to do with your incessant search for your biological parents?” he continues. “Livia, as your father, I do not appreciate getting cut out of the loop.”

“We are not going behind your back! You know I’ve been searching.”

“Your mother and I have already asked you to stop,” his voice is dangerously low. “We have done everything we can, but there’s no trace of them. When you keep looking, it makes your mom upset. She feels like she isn’t enough for you.”

“This isn’t because I want different parents! It’s not like they wanted me, anyway. It’s just—I have no choice but to search for answers.” 

Dad raises his eyebrows, and the questioning look is back on his face. Now he’s expecting me to explain and I’m almost tempted to just tell him.

I could. This might be a good opportunity. We are starting over, a new house, a new life. Maybe it’s time to start over some more, to come clean. 

“I’m not sure where to start,” I say rubbing my forehead and preparing myself for the drama that is about to be unleashed.

Dad sits down next to me. “Why don’t you start with the truth?” He has suspected me of hiding something from him for a while, now, but he has never come close to the truth. 

I take a deep breath and look into his eyes. I’ve always liked to look into Dad’s eyes; they’re blue like mine, and the familiarity makes me feel like I belong. As I look at him, I see the blue hues changing as his emotions shift, and I tell him. 

I tell him how cold temperatures and weather have no effect on me. I tell him how Uncle Henry and I found that out when I was eight years old. We were at my uncle’s lake house in the winter. My parents and my uncle’s girlfriend were buying groceries in town, and my uncle was reading a book in the house. I snuck out and went to the lake. It was early afternoon, and the sun was out, just like a nice swimming day. I jumped in the water and stayed there, floating like I always do. I heard my uncle screaming when he saw me, so I swam back to shore. He was freaking out, about to call 911, until he saw that I was just fine; I wasn’t even shivering. 

My uncle asked me not to do that ever again, that I could have died. He asked me not to tell my parents and he made me promise him. I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I never said anything. I tested myself a couple of times, doing anything that would make a normal person cold, but nothing affected me. I have no idea what a cold sensation feels like. 

My dad is looking at me with disappointment. “Why didn’t you trust me? I have been doing everything I can to find you help, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me everything.” 

Underneath all his effort to keep a serious face, he’s crying. It’s not the first time Uncle Henry has lied to my dad. Years ago, my uncle disappeared for three years without a call or an explanation. He’s unpredictable. Even though Dad loves him unconditionally, he doesn’t feel like he can trust him entirely.

“There’s more, Dad.” His frustration aches within me, and I’m not sure how to get the words out. I get up from the couch and my stomach twists in a knot as I feel how sad he is. He doesn’t even try to cover his emotions. He wants me to know. He wants me to hurt like he does.

I steady my breath and say, “I can run really fast; like, a minute mile. I also learn really easily. In Italy and Spain this summer, I picked up both languages like they were nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Dad asks with mounting anxiety in his voice. 

“I found that out two years ago, when I got an advanced algebra book from the library. A new ability develops every three to four years around my birthday.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief. “How do you control all of it? Feeling people’s emotions are already a toll on you, how do you—?”

“These are different. I don’t have to control them; they just come natural to me. It doesn’t take any effort to use them.”

“Livia, you should have told me this before.” 

“I know that, but Uncle Henry didn’t want to worry you. You guys get so upset when I ask about my biological parents, and I thought he had a valid point.” As I speak, I watch my dad fumble, unsure what to say or do. “I’m so sorry.” 

I truly am. I’ve always wanted to talk about this. I hated keeping it from him, but I thought I was protecting him.

An antagonized sensation clenches my heart, and anger rises inside of me. I suddenly realize that it isn’t mine, and a moment later, Mom walks into the room. 

“I can’t believe you hid this from us!” 

I stand up. She heard everything.

“Mom—” 

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me, Livia!” she shouts. “Your uncle set you up for this! You should’ve known better than to keep a secret like this. It’s not from us that you have to hide.”

“Laura!” Dad gets her attention. “What matters is that we know now.”

“Mom is right,” I say. I don’t want to see my parents fighting because of me. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t want to upset you. I know this stuff bothers you.”

Mom puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, “I know you meant well, but I thought you knew that you can tell us everything. When you don’t, I feel like…I failed you, or our family isn’t as strong as it could be.” 

I feel the truth and warmth in her words, and when she hugs me, I know her anger is towards Uncle Henry. Part of me wants to defend myself and my uncle, but the other part of me, the one that is ashamed, keeps me quiet. I know my uncle’s intentions were to protect my parents from the same terror and confusion he felt every time a new ability developed in me. He knew my parents would panic when they couldn’t scientifically understand what my body was doing.

“It’s not like that, Mom,” I murmur. “I do trust you guys, more than anybody else in this world.” 

She knows this, but I also know that unless I repeat it out loud, she won’t believe her own feelings and start to worry even more.

Meanwhile, Dad has already gone into medical-research mode. “We need to study your brain reaction while you are using one of these abilities. Somehow, I think it would show us an answer. I’ll schedule a MRI at the hospital for this week.” 

“It’s not going to take us anywhere, Nick.” Mom rubs her eyes. “We have done so many tests already. Nothing has changed.”

“Dad,” I add, “I think the missing piece of the puzzle is my biological parents. They are the only ones with all the answers, and that’s why I can’t stop searching for them.” 

Mom turns to face Dad; at the same time, anxiety overflows from her body and into mine. Every time I bring up my true parents, Mom acts this way. She doesn’t want me searching for them. I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.

Dad sits back down, looking straight at me. “I have been looking for them for years now because I knew it was important to you.” He adds gently, “There is no trace of them. I looked for who dropped you off at the convent that night. It could have been someone other than your biological parents. I am still looking—I promise.” 

Dad drops his eyes to the floor and feels defeated. 

Uncle Henry was right. Now, Dad will be searching for an answer until he finds it. The problem is I don’t think we will find anything. We need to find my parents, but it’s like they never existed. I haven’t found a trace.

The emotion in the room is stifling. I get up to escape to my room, but Dad calls me back. “Tomorrow, we’ll be going to the Coopers’ house for dinner. You need to try to empathize with Adam. If you can’t, then there might be a reason why, and that will have to be explored,” he says with anticipation in his eyes. “It could be a clue, something we could base a hypothesis around.” 

*                            *                              *

I throw myself on my bed. I don’t like arguing with my parents, but this time was worth it. It feels like I’ve taken a heavy weight off my shoulders. I live my whole life pretending I can’t feel people’s every reaction—and this is one less secret that I have to keep.

I let my mind wander and I find myself thinking of my encounter with Adam. I felt vulnerable, not knowing what was going on inside him. I have been relying on my ability for so long; it scares me, the emptiness that comes with not empathizing with another human. 

If I can’t read him, I won’t know what type of person he is—he is rude and cocky, sure, I don’t need to see through him to know that, but it would help to know why. If I could read him, I would’ve had an idea of what he was thinking. If he acts rude and feels pleasure about it, that means he’s one sick bastard. Sometimes, people act rude out of anger, sadness or insecurity. That could make him a different person entirely, though I doubt that lack of confidence is his problem. He seemed way too self-confident.

He was very good-looking, I’ll give him that. His skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and not to mention his eyes. I’ve never felt such penetrating eyes on me before—windows to the soul that were as dark as his emotions. The thought of it makes me shiver.

I’ve always been proud of myself for never letting guys fool me, but I’ve always known their intentions, the kind of person they were. With Adam, I can only see what is on the outside. Reduced to the limitations of any normal person, I’m left wondering: how does anyone ever learn to trust?

“Come on, Adam; tell me what she looks like. I heard she’s really pretty.” 

Brianna is starting to annoy me with her questions about the new girl in town. I should’ve known better than to mention I saw her at the lake earlier today.

“She’s different. Happy now?”

“You gotta give me more than that. Describe her to me.” She sits on top of the pool table, not allowing us to play until she gets her answers.

“Not on the table, Bri! Get down.” Matt complains. 

“Not ’til Adam answers me.” Brianna rests her chin on her hand and smiles.

Matt gives me a look. “Please, man, she isn’t giving up.” 

“Fine! Nice skin, long black hair, blue eyes.” I try to sound casual, I can’t let her know that the girl has gotten my attention; she might try to play matchmaker or something. 

Brianna and I are good friends—we have been friends since we were babies. However, Brianna loves gossip and romance and all the related drama, and I’m not into that crap. I just need to learn how to keep my mouth shut.

“What’s her personality like?” Brianna insists. I give her an irritated look. “I just want to know if she and I can be friends, you know, or if she’s like Lindsay.” 

Definitely not like Lindsay. Livia didn’t even look at me twice, while I had Lindsay at hello. 

Brianna is not a fan of Lindsay. They are very different from one another, and Bri can only stand her for a short period of time. She has to play nice since they are in the cheer squad together. Bri has it down to an art: putting up with someone she’s forced to live next to. I’m hoping I won’t have to learn the same lesson, living next to a girl who waltzes onto my property; I don’t like the idea of having to share my lake.

“I don’t know. I only talked to her for two seconds.” 

“I see.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I bet you threw your charms at her, but she didn’t buy it. Looks like someone finally has you all figured out.” She laughs. The problem is Bri knows me all too well.

“That’s enough, Bri,” Matt says, picking her up and taking her to the couch.

“Just so you know, Adam,” she says, “Kyle met her this morning and invited her to the party tomorrow. I’d say he has dibs on her!”

I shake my head, laughing to myself. “He can have her! It’s not like we’re going to be friends, anyway. I had to kick her out of my lake. She wasn’t too happy.”

We play a couple rounds of pool and Brianna watches TV. Matt’s parents are out of town. They always take a trip to Hawaii this time of the year. Matt stays behind, and we throw a huge party at his house, something we’ve been doing since sophomore year; so far, his parents either haven’t found out or they don’t really care.