Page 67 of Seduction
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When the shuttlewas driving among rows of hotels and busy multiple-lane streets, I knew the hotel was not far away, so I turned on my cell phone to call Christine. My device dinged and vibrated, letting me know I had several messages from Jake, but I purposely avoided looking for or listening to them. As soon as I saw that he had reached out to me several times, my heart and soul wanted me to forgive him.Forgive him for what, exactly?I didn’t know. Perhaps I wanted contention in our relationship.
The appearance of Gina had complicated things in ways I never saw coming. My mind kept trying to convince me that he wanted to pick her over me.See how she was dressed. See how put together she was from head to toe.I wore comfortable doctor clothes on a daily basis. I’d shrunk in her presence earlier that day. I didn’t think I owned a dress that could compete with the one she had on. Asher Christmas was a billionaire, and those kinds of guys lived in a different universe from mine.
Christine met me in the wide-open and well-lit lobby. The décor was gaudy with a lot of glass trying to pass for crystal chandeliers. As usual, when I first saw my aunt, I marveled at how stunning she was. Her skin was like fine porcelain, and her eyes were dark and mysterious. She had wavy brunette hair, and she was about two inches taller than I was. Basically, my aunt had the DNA of a 1980s supermodel. My mom had also been taller than I was. I wasn’t short, standing at five feet eight, but I must have gotten my height from the man who gave my mother the sperm that made me. With looks like hers, one would think my aunt would flaunt them, but she never did. It was as if Aunt Christine didn’t notice or care that she was a goddess.
When she saw me, she waved, then crossed and uncrossed her arms. “How are you?” she asked when I reached her.
I didn’t know whether to initiate a hug or not. “I’m fine, and you?” As soon as the question left my mouth, I noticed her puffy red eyes and splotchy skin. Her day-old mascara was smudged as well. I’d seen too many faces that looked like hers not to know she’d been crying. So I initiated a hug, and she instantly wrapped her arms around me, holding me tighter than I had held her.
“You’re shaking.” Her voice broke. “You must be tired.”
I nodded. “I am exhausted.”
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
We walked side by side to the elevator. I was probably better at small talk than she was, but whenever I spent time with her, I always struggled with it. I had some questions, but most of them had to do with what the coroner’s office had said. I also wasn’t clear about whether she’d seen my mother’s body. I wanted to know if there were signs of trauma. Even though the last time I’d seen my mom was at my high school graduation, I couldn’t bear it if she had suffered a painful death.
“How are you feeling about all of this?” Christine asked as the metal doors of the elevator slid open.
I leaned against the handrail once we were securely inside. Then I frowned, mainly because of the waft of cheap cologne someone had left behind. “Do you know how she died?”
She sighed and cast her gaze on the scuffed-up floor. “No, I do not. They’ll tell us everything after we identify the body.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Then you haven’t seen her yet?”
She shook her head then whimpered in a way someone did to keep themselves from crying. “But they explained how she looked. She was also wearing our mother’s locket. She never took it off.” By the last sentence, her voice had cracked.
Truthfully, I didn’t know how to respond. I always thought that Christine was more pragmatic and stonier than how she was acting. I’d pictured her consoling me, not the other way around. Suddenly, the reason why my aunt would make sure she had my new address and phone number every time I moved made sense. Also, a handful of times a year, she would email me an article about new developments in neurology or something. I’d gotten a sense that relationships were hard for her and that was why she was an exotically beautiful, ultra-smart, and kind, but single woman. My aunt, like my mother, had some damage. However, regardless of her inner issues, she maintained a relationship with her niece because she loved her sister. The fact that my mom and her sister could’ve had a real relationship never occurred to me until then.
When I was thirteen years old, my aunt had saved my life and ensured a solid future for me when she put me in boarding school. Before then, even though my mom would go missing for days at a time, my attendance was pretty good. School had been my best babysitter. I had learned to wake myself up in the morning, get dressed, and walk to the bus stop. I didn’t have to worry about food either. Every school I attended in California had free breakfast and lunch programs, and since my mom was never employed, I always qualified.
However, whenever the office started asking deeper questions about my home life, Mary would pull me out of that school and put me in another one, using fake addresses to enroll me in brand new districts. From the ages of seven to thirteen, I had attended so many schools that it made me sick in the stomach to count them. I would always remember the day Aunt Christine visited and saw that I was sleeping on a dirty mattress in the corner of a studio apartment and rotating three sets of clothes as my entire wardrobe. She and my mom never argued in front of me. They went out for a chat. That was what Christine called it—a chat. When they came back, I packed my things and went to a hotel with my aunt.
I would never forget how I felt, sitting in the front seat of her rental car. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. When I slept in a real bed that night, it was as if the cavalry had arrived.
The next morning, on our way to the mall to shop for clothes, I asked Christine if my mother would be joining us that day. I was used to Christine taking me out to spend time alone whenever she came to town.
“Sweetheart, you’re flying back to the East Coast with me. You’re going to attend the best boarding school in the world. They’re excited to have you, and I know the principal, a lot of the teachers, and the guidance counselors personally.” Her voice cracked when she said, “They’re going to take of you, babe. I promise.” Then she cleared her throat.
That was the first time I truly perceived how sad my mom had made my aunt by choosing to raise me the way she had. I imagined they had fought the night they went out to talk. And Christine was right—Heart of Grace Academy wasn’t one of those miserable boarding schools with abusive nuns, teachers, and classmates. I went to school in a nurturing environment where the administration was quite aware of the way we girls, living away from our parents, would suffer. I owed my aunt everything.
So, seeing how devastated she was about my mom’s death, I consoled her by rubbing her arm. “One step at a time, right?”
She watched me with watery eyes, smiling tightly. We would’ve hugged again, but the doors slid open.
