Surreal Ecstasy (34 page)

Ree seemed to magically grasp her
thoughts. "You mean Mom-"

"Yuppers.
And I gotta say, I have mixed feelings
about it."

"Shall we ask-"

"Of course, you freak. Do it
now."

I tried to ignore them, fingering
the abstract painting absentmindedly.

Ree turned to face me, taking my
painting away and gently placing it on top of the living room table. Dess,
grinning, took the luggage she'd come home with and went to her room to unpack,
leaving us alone. 

Ree squatted on the floor in front
of where I sat on the couch. "We need to talk. Are you ready for the
ultimate challenge?" His eyes gleamed with excitement.

Oh, my god. 

He's going to ask me to marry him.

Just as I started internally
arguing with myself as to whether my mother would attend our wedding and
whether spring or summer would be a more appropriate time to hold the ceremony,
I realized Ree was waiting for my answer.

"I'm always ready," I
told him.

He smiled, still watching me
carefully. "My mom wants Dess and me to return to California and oversee
the restaurant."

My breath caught in a gasp. The
imaginary bouquet in my hand withered away and was oddly replaced with an
imaginary bottle of suntan lotion. "Is that what the two of you were
talking about? We're moving to L.A?"

The right side of his mouth curled
up in a grin. Adorable. God, I loved him. "Just for a year. After that, we'll
see where we want to settle down. We'll come back to Washington, if you want.
But every family member takes turns manning the restaurant. Next year is our
year."

"Why didn't you tell me this
before?"

"We didn't know we'd be next.
Every year on my mom's birthday, she draws the name of one us kids out of a
hat. Usually it's one family member per year, but Dess and I come as a matched
set." He paused and searched my eyes, possibly nervous about my reaction. "We
should be out of here before January, so we'd still have a couple months to get
everything together. So?" he prompted, making an encouraging motion with
his hands. "What do you think?"

"About us living in L.A?"
I asked him incredulously.

A full-blown smile adorned his
face. "About us living in L.A," he agreed. "I personally think
it's a great idea. You need a change in environment. I'm feeling restless being
in a serene city like Lynnwood. Dess is homesick. It all adds up."

A million thoughts coursed through
my mind. "Wait. You don't like it here in Lynnwood? But what about the
people that are hunting you down in L.A., the people your mom wanted you to
hide from?"

"We have people hunting us
down
here
, don't we? I'm not going to stop living my life because of
people like that. We'll work on our self-defense techniques. We can hire a
security team, if we need to. AND, my dear, you forget that we have a little
heavenly advantage. I'm ready to take on the world."

I couldn't help smiling at his
confidence and excitement, and the fact that not too long ago I, too, had
gotten sick of living my life for other people. "So the ultimate challenge
is moving to California? Are we really ready for L.A?"

"The question really is, is L.A. really ready for
us?
And no, the ultimate challenge is not moving but meeting
my mother and my large, insane family."

I laughed but otherwise didn't
answer, moving my face closer to his neck, smelling his natural clean smell.
How could he possibly smell like that all the time?

Slowly, Ree stood up. "I'm
distracting you," he said sheepishly. "Look, I'll go grab some food
for us. Why don't you think about it and we'll talk about it when I come back?"

I looked up at him, still
mesmerized by his perfection. "Sounds good."

I watched him as he stood up,
mostly because the view was so grand. His butt reminded me of a perfect apple.
I laughed to myself as I heard him yell at Dess loudly, asking her what she
wanted from the local Subway.

It wasn't until he was out of my
line of vision that I realized he'd neglected to answer my question about not
liking Lynnwood. Oh, well. I'd have to remember to ask him again another time.

Even though he hadn't proposed, I
almost felt like he had. Meeting his family was no small thing, and it really
demonstrated a lot about his feelings for me to know that he wanted me to be
there with him in his hometown, in fast-paced, ultra-warm Los Angeles.

I walked to the living room just as
he finished taking Dess' order.  Holding on to his arm, I walked with him to
his car, planting a kiss on his mouth before he drove off to Subway. As I
watched him leave, I wondered if I'd survive in L.A. From what I understood, it
was a totally different world there.

Los Angeles for a year? Really?

The figure of a man approaching me
snapped me out of my reverie. It had begun to drizzle a little, so he was hard
to see at first, especially since he was wearing a hood, which mostly everyone
around here did anyway. He stopped in front of our house and looked up at me.

Ethan.

Immediately I started to run back
into the house, too caught off guard to scream. Faintly, I heard something,
someone yelling something.

"Wait, Morgan! I come in
peace! I just have a message for you!"

That stopped me in my tracks. I
turned around to face him, but did not come any closer. "What message?"

"Your number changed and you
don't have a Facebook anymore, so…I'm sorry. This is the only way I could get a
hold of you, or for your parents to get a hold of you."

"What is it, Ethan?" I
braced myself to hear a scripture reading which would undoubtedly describe, in
exquisite detail, the utter humiliation and disappointment that my parents had
to endure every day because of my selfish trashiness.

"Your father died a couple hours
ago."

"What?" Tears
automatically spilled out of my eyes. How? What happened? Why was I finding out
this way? A strange ball of emotions burrowed into my heart, refusing to come
out—emotions filled with shock, tragedy, and a kind of grieving that wasn't
quite ready to surface just yet. He might have been an unreal shadow for most
of my life, but he was still my father, and I would never have another.

"There's something else,"
he added gently as he handed me a large manila envelope. I took it hesitantly. "He
opened a bank account for you a long time ago. He never told your mother. He…
never told her about a lot of things, in fact." I looked down at the
envelope as if it were somehow at fault, as if my hating it would somehow bring
my father back to life.

After a moment, I opened it just
enough to see what was inside, taking precautions with the drizzle. An
assortment of items were inside, so many that I didn't want to take the time to
inspect them right now. It all faintly smelled like my father's aftershave. A
deluge of emotions gripped my heart in an iron fist, my heart breaking and my
eyes stinging with tears that should not be emerging, not at this vulnerable
moment. I hugged the envelope to my chest, still sobbing, and looked at Ethan
in shock.

He dared to take a step closer. "
He
was the one who hired me to look after you, Morgan. Not your mother. He'd known
he was going to die these past couple of days, and he wanted to make sure I
tell you that he loves you, has always loved you. But, see, your mother stood
in the way and made life difficult for him. She was jealous of how devoted he
was to you, so he kept tabs on you secretly—through people like me." He
looked down for a moment. "He sent someone over to my place last night to
drop these things off to you. I'm sorry—it's
your
family—but I'm
starting to think the only reason your mother knew about your life was because
she always intercepted my reports to your dad. If not for that, I really don't
think she would have known very much at all. I'm sorry for how this must sound
to you, now of all times.

"But he kept your bank account
a secret, mostly because his CPA handled everything. It's an account that only
you can touch. He really loved you, Morgan. He wanted to say that he's sorry
for not showing you while he was alive, but he wants to provide for you, wants
you to know that he never stopped thinking about you."

At that, Ethan bowed his head down
a little, then turned to leave. He hesitated, adding, "Just so you know, I'm
not working for anyone anymore, and I'm certainly not going to keep tabs on
you, especially not for your mother. I'm really sorry for everything. I know it's
sort of too little, too late, but I wanted to tell you anyway." He stopped
for a moment and sighed. "I put my number in that envelope as well, in
case you need me—well, in case
any of you
need me. With anything. I have
a lot of making up to do. I'm really, really sorry about your father, Morgan."
He turned and left for real this time, leaving me standing there alone with
shocked tears streaming down my face.

I ran inside the house and closed
and locked the door, running to our bedroom and sitting in the corner of the
room. I stood there, feeling somehow protected between these two walls, my body
frozen in shock.

I have no idea how much time passed
before I heard the door open and Ree's shoes thumping on the floor. "Morgan?
Have you thought some more about us mov-"

He paused when he walked in the
bedroom and saw me huddled in the corner, hair and clothes wet, cheeks stained
with tears, holding a strange, large envelope.

He moved quickly, approaching me
cautiously, his arm extended so he could touch my shoulder. "What
happened?" he asked, his voice sounding panicked. Dess appeared behind
him, her eyes wide as she took in my appearance.

I began bawling loudly, tears
continuing their already-established flow.

"You weren't with her?"
Ree asked Dess accusingly.

Her eyes widened and she opened her
mouth to speak, but I interrupted in order to save her hide, since Dess really
had no way of knowing what had just happened. Through broken, sobbing speech, I
managed to relate Ethan's quick visit to the twins.

Dess barged her way between us and
gave me a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Morgue," she said in an oddly-quiet
manner. "I'm so sorry about your dad. We're here for you."

"Oh, my god, Baby. I'm so, so
sorry. I should have been here so you wouldn't have had to endure this alone,
with everything else that's been going on." Ree pulled his sister off
despite her protests and hugged me, holding me tight for a long time.

"Do you want some time alone?"
When I didn't answer, he hugged me tighter for a moment and then released me
gently. "We'll set up our food on the table. Come out when you're ready,
or call if you need me." He kissed my forehead and walked out to the
kitchen, Dess following him and looking over her shoulder at me.

I sat on the mattress and dried my
tears, opening the envelope. Inside was a small cardboard folder and a flash
drive. I opened the folder to find bank information, including a checkbook.
Curious, I opened the checkbook, flipping to the check register, which had been
updated every month, adding interest and the occasional additional deposit,
making my current balance $4,071,089.51.

Four million dollars! I mean, it
was a joke compared to the Rios Empire, but to me, it meant that I would never
have to struggle again or depend on anyone else, if I was careful. But my
parents were comfortable, not wealthy. How did he get so much money?

Maybe they specifically weren't
wealthy
because
of the fact that my father put so much money away for
me? Ethan's words came back to me: 
He never told her a lot of things.
Was
my father a millionaire, and I never knew it? Would he keep himself away from a
luxurious lifestyle just to make sure his daughter was provided for? And how in
the world would my mother not be aware that he had access to that much money in
the first place? Maybe she did know about it after all, and just never told
him. I mean, how could she not know?

I felt
like
my life
had been turned upside down. Weeks ago I was bogged down
with drugs and self-pity, feeling like the most lonesome, pathetic girl
in the
universe. Last week I
got into my first argument with Ree and broke a chair over my ex-boyfriend's
head.

And today I was told that my
father, who I had deemed invisible long ago, had loved me and kept me close to
his heart,
to the point
that my own mother
was jealous and stood in between him and me. It had even threatened their
marriage.

And I never really knew my father
loved me, not until Death took him away.

The corners of my mouth turned
upward in a sad smile. I looked off in the distance and remembered the
countless Mariners games he'd taken me to. Those days were priceless. We were
friends during that time and most importantly, we were father and daughter, and
it showed.

We would come home to an impatient
woman who did not try to hide her angst about the time we shared together. She'd
have me do my homework as soon as I walked through the door, and if I didn't
have any, she'd give me something to do, whether it consisted of washing the
windows or every mirror in the house. Then she would usher my father into a
room and scream at him for hours. I didn't know what their discussions were
about, but I could hear my mom's screechy voice through the walls.

Looking back at it now, I realized
she'd been giving him a hard time about being such a good dad to me, possibly
even giving him an ultimatum—her or me. What kind of mother would do that?

It hurt my heart in a fresh,
different way to know that I could have spent more time with my father if it
hadn't been for her, if what Ethan said was true. Maybe I could've come to him
with questions about boys or career choices, or whenever I'd tripped and fell.
That would have been an entirely different childhood, instead of the one in
which I had been forced to sob quietly, figure out the solutions to my own
problems, and try to wash and bandage my cuts by myself.