I got past them and into the house. I needed another drink, but my excuse to Margie had been real. On the way to the hall bathroom, I spotted the pianist from the quartet. A blonde with faded acne and an odd, melancholy confidence.
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Your friend? On the viola?”
“Monica?”
“Tell her no flirting with the guests or hosts. Understand?”
Her look went from offense to curiosity, as she craned her neck to see past the sitting room windows. The set up for the quartet was just about visible.
“Oh, crap.”
“I’m serious.”
“She’s not like that really,” her words ran together. “I mean she’s just started seeing my brother, but she’s not a flirt like that at all. She’s barely even friendly.”
Caught between the desire to know more and the desire to run away, I simply walked quickly and rudely down the hall before I heard another word about that woman.
Girl.
***
I never let myself truly fall for Rachel. I’d always felt bad about that. I’d trapped her, protecting myself from that moment I’d see her and my father in the same room. Unfortunately, all that guarded emotion didn’t pay off. At Sheila’s party, Rachel had shown up with Theresa, and Dad was still there. When I saw them together, I felt like my spine was being ripped out. She was giving him what-for with her finger extended and mouth demanding something through gritted teeth and intense, burning eyes.
He took whatever verbal abuse she was dishing out with the serious air of a guy who didn’t give a shit. This man was impossible to understand unless you saw him work a room, his uncanny appeal, the way he didn’t look like a fifty year-old man in a party full of kids. The way he melted into any situation. The magnetism I never understood was illustrated over and over again, even as he refused advances when Mom was around, and always left open a maybe as soon as she turned her back.
As I got closer to them, I got disproportionately angry. Rachel wasn’t supposed to be there. That was the rule, and it was in place because seeing her in the vicinity of my father made me consider patricide with a cold, collected calm that scared me.
My peripheral vision closed in on her as I navigated the crowd. It’s possible the multiple bong hits were making me paranoid. There was zero danger of her falling into his clutches that, or any night. But I didn’t want him to know I was just short of loving her. I didn’t want him to have information he could use, because he’d use it to hurt me. He’d pulled strings to keep Margie from a man he found threatening, destroying a law firm rather than have her work there. He’d do it to me, but as the only male of eight children, the damage would come faster and I’d fare far worse.
“Rachel,” I said when I reached her. Her pale brown eyes were tear-streaked, and her beautiful mouth cut into a line of rage. “Come on, let’s go.”
My father smiled as if I was rescuing him from an embarrassing incident.
And that was the last I remembered of that night.
***
On our backs, in the grass of Elysian Park, where my family would never find us, Rachel and I stared at the clouds. She liked to wonder what it would be like to be me. She thought I had not a worry in the world. Yes, my father was a f**king sociopath, but he didn’t stick his fingers inside me like hers had, and he didn’t scream and hit and lock me in the house like her stepfather had. And for me, whatever I endured would end when my trust fund spread its legs at twenty-one. For her, the light at the end of the tunnel had not appeared.
“Do you wish for things you can’t buy?” she asked.
I looked over at her. Blades of grass sat in the foreground of my vision, slashing her face, which was turned to me. Her eyes were tobacco brown, wide and light, catching the sun inside them. “You’re fascinated with money,” I said.
“I think I am.” She smiled. “It’s made you different, you know. You’re fearless. It’s exciting, kind of. Watching you is like watching someone who’s really, truly free.”
I laughed. I never felt free in my life.
“What do you wish for?” I asked. “Besides money.”
“You make me sound like a golddigger.”
“You are, but you’re terrible at it. I think a few more years and you’ll be sleeping with the right guy.”
She flung herself on top of me and pinched my sides. I laughed and rolled her over until I had her pinned.
“Tell me what you wish for, and if it’s any part of my body, your wish will come true at the Regency Hotel in forty minutes.”
She giggled and turned her face to the sunlight. “Free, Jonathan. I wish to be free.”
I unpinned one of her shoulders to pluck a seeded dandelion out of the grass.
“Blow,” I said, holding the white puffball in front of her.
She blew hard, and the seeds went into my face. We laughed, and blew the rest of the seeds off together, wishing her free from the constraints of her family and her scarcity. They floated away on their sinuous parachutes, like little messengers to God, saying take me, take me, take me. Set me free.
***
“You’re mine,” Leanne said, yanking me out into the backyard.
“Did anyone hear from Jessica yet?”
“She stopped to get you something.”
“Pepto bismol, I hope.”
A few early birds gathered around the bar. I’d be on call for congratulating and handshaking soon, so I hoped I could get hypnotized into a state of blissful relaxation in five minutes or less. Didn’t seem possible.
Theresa, standing with the gaggle of green, waved me over to the man in a tweed jacket and handlebar moustache.
We shook hands.
“David Mesmer’s the name. I hear you’re a little tense?”
“Mesmer, huh? Any relation?”
“Great grandfather. I fell into the profession. Lie down right here.”
The sky was clear blue and sunless as the day darkened into night. I felt ridiculous lying on a chaise in a formal suit. I felt vulnerable and scrutinized by four of my seven sisters. I feared I’d miss Jessica’s arrival if I wasn’t by the door and if any of my friends saw me getting hypnotized the ribbing would break a bone.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said.
“Said like a truly anxious man. Can you focus your mind on what’s making you tense? I’m going to count backwards from ten.”
The string quartet keyed up and began with Mendelssohn. Very nice, even for a group of teenagers. Despite being from the gifted school, I hadn’t expected much, especially not from the viola. No one could be that beautiful and talented at the same time. But her beauty carried to her playing, because as David counted back from ten, I didn’t hear a goddamn thing past five except the viola as if there was not another instrument on the planet.