Secret Page 4

  "Father, listen very carefully to me. I will speak slowly and clearly as you seem to be unable to hear. That woman is not my mother. I am not going on this date."

  "Well, then you need to call him and ..."

  "No, father. No. I don't need to do anything. And I was not ..." she yelled over his words.

  "Listen hear, daughter, this is a very important ..." he yelled back.

  "It doesn't matter..."

  "You ungrateful daughter!" he yelled. He glared at her, his breath coming rapidly.

  She stared at him. Her anger had drained from her. She no longer cared.

  "Good bye, father," she said, her voice completely cold and emotionless. She rose and grabbed her purse, jacket and scarf. "I think I loved you once. Before I caught ..." Ellen's heart froze for a second. In twelve years, she had never been so close to telling her father what she had seen. She had not. She would not. "Before I knew the 'real' you," she finished.

  "What do you think you are doing? Get back here right now!"

  She did respond. She not look back. As she let herself out, she shut the door behind gently.

  * * *

  As she walked to her car it suddenly hit her. Why did she come to Christmas? She was an adult. She didn't have to come. No fake smiles. No heated arguments. No disrespect.

  As she opened her car door, she glanced up at the grand house and promised herself, "Never again."

  "I can't do it."

  "Do what, friend?" Millie asked.

  "I can't get involved with Kris."

  "Whoa, girl! Where did that come from?"

  Ellen didn't know what to say. She had loved the feeling of freedom she felt as she had walked away from her father's house determined to never go back. Then later guilt had set in. So, he had planned a bit of her schedule for her. Was that so bad? Yes! She had told him to stop trying to set her up.

  If it had been only this one event, if he hadn't already betrayed her, maybe then it would be different. However, it was not different.

  He had no right!

  "Talk to me, sweetie. What is wrong? Does it have to do with visiting your parents?"

  "I don't know. Yes. Maybe," Ellen answered, her thoughts a jumble.

  "That covers it pretty well. Why don't you start at the beginning."

  "We had another fight. My father and I. Dinner was fine. We opened gifts and everyone was being nice. Then he informs me that he has set me up."

  "He didn't!"

  "He did."

  "But you told him last time. Some muckety-muck's son, I think it was."

  "Same idea this time. Basically. Only this time it was a client's son. Visiting from out of town and needed a companion. And he tried to guilt trip me. "

  "Guilt trip you? How?"

  "He said it was important. For his business, I guess. I wasn't really listening at that point."

  "So, he set you up on a date so he could make a sale?"

  "Yep."

  "That sucks."

  "Yep."

  "Then what did you do?"

  "I told him to have fun on the date. He said that the young man wanted the companion of a woman. I told him to hire a hooker."

  "You didn't!"

  "I did." Ellen paused for a second. The she continued, "Then I stormed out of the house. I told him something about having loved him once, which I did. Then I left. He was yelling at me. Something. Nothing. I wasn't paying any attention. I closed the door behind me, and I vowed to never go back."

  There was silence on the line for a second before Millie said, "Good for you."

  * * *

  'What?" Ellen asked in surprise. That was the last thing she had expected her friend to say.

  "You were clear last time. 'Don't set up dates for me.' Not a very complicated request. And he ignored it. Again. Has he ever honored a request you have made of him?"

  "Well, ..." Ellen said, stalling for time. Once, long ago, she had loved him. He had been as far as she remembered a good father. They had had fun together. Then he had ... betrayed her mother. He had betrayed Ellen.

  Since then, had he ever honored something she asked about? She had tried to grow her hair out. Just a couple of inches. He had put his foot down. She had wanted to go out of state for college. He had refused claiming it was too expensive. She had said she would make up the difference with her own money, but somehow or other that had just never worked out. She had ended up going to the local college, even though it didn't really have the major she wanted.

  Then he "helped" her get a job through his connections. It wasn't really a job she wanted, but it was local and it did pay well, though there was no future to it. And "of course" she wanted to be near her surviving parent. Well, he actually said "parents" plural. That was another point of contention between them. Her father insisted that she call Karen her mother. However, that woman was not her mother. She had not birthed her. She had been a major part of what had split her real mother and father. How in the world could her father think she would call the woman who had destroyed her family her mother? Mother implied a builder of a family not a destroyer.

  "No," she spit out last. "No, he has never done that."

  "Whoa! Easy girl." After Ellen took a deep breath, Millie continued, "You are still ticked at him."

  "'Ticked' doesn't cover it. Doesn't come close."

  "He has shown no signs of changing, and you don't need that sort of aggravation. The boundaries were clear and he violated them. If he ever wants to see you again, he will need to honor them."

  "But ..."

  "You're a grown up now, friend. Not a child anymore. He is not paying for your food or your schooling or your house. He has no claim on you now. If he wants to be in your life again, it has to be on your terms this time."

  Ellen took a deep breath. Millie was right. He had no hold over her. None. She owed him no debts. He had nothing she wanted. If he wanted something from her then he would have to treat her with respect, if he knew what that word meant.

  "Thanks," she said sincerely after a long moment.

  "That's what friends are for. So, what about Kris?"

  Indeed. What about Kris?

  "I don't know. I like him. He is funny. He is fun. I enjoy being with him."

  "But ..."

  "Yeah. But. I don't just don't know. None of my relationships with men have worked. Not one. Not even with my dad."

  "He's not any of those other boys. He's not your dad."

  "But ..."

  "He's a guy."

  "Yeah. He's a guy."

  "Is he like any of the other guys in your life?"

  "No," Ellen said reluctantly. "No, I suppose he is not."

  He hadn't kissed her. He hadn't groped her. He hadn't slept with her. He hadn't even stared at her chest. Maybe he was different. Actually different.

  Explosion

  New Year's Eve came around. They had agreed to go to the Annual Ohlman's and Olsson's New Year's Party. Unlike the Christmas Party which was free to employees, the New Year's Party was a hefty fifty dollars per head. Kris had refused her offer to pay her own way. In some ways she was glad. Her budget could not really afford unplanned outlays. On the flip side she wondered if Kris viewed the expenditure as a gift or a "gift with strings"?

  In any event, Ellen looked forward to the party with longing and dread. She loved talking with Kris and looked forward to seeing him. She liked the way she felt around him. She loved his warm hands. She had never tasted his lips, but she supposed they must be soft and enchanting.

  Her dread was harder to define. Perhaps she was simply afraid that he was too good to be true. If so, would she be merely disappointed or would she be betrayed again?

  Choosing an outfit had been an amazingly difficult task. She realized part way through the task that she was trying to control the future by her selection of clothing. Clothing
undoubtedly was part of the equation. However, her choice of dress had no power to guarantee a particular future.

  Ultimately, she chose a deep blue dress with a deep "V" neck--she realized there was nothing else in her party wardrobe--whose wide straps fastened at the back of her neck, with a mid-calf skirt. She thought it emphasized her hips a bit too much. Especially with a belt. However, without a belt, it was too shapeless. She spent fifteen minutes discovering this.

  Perhaps his eyes would never get that low.

  * * *

  Kris showed up at the appointed time. He was wearing a black suit and white shirt. She thought he looked quite handsome. Actually, a more honest assessment was that he took her breath away.

  "You look beautiful," he said, after giving her a once over from her head to her toes. "The dress looks lovely with your eyes."

  "That had to be a line," she thought to herself. She had never met a guy who could even tell her what color her eyes were. "However, it is a very nice line." What she said aloud was, "And you look quite nice yourself."

  "Thank you. I bought this a few years ago for a company party at my last job. Actually, there was a friend's wedding a month later, so I figured it was the expense for two events. Fortunately, I dug the suit out of the closet a few days ago. It had gotten quite dusty. There was an especially thick band where the trousers folded over the hanger."

  "That's what a suit bag is for," she laughed.

  "So I was informed by the nice lady at the dry cleaners."

  "Why wasn't it in the suit bag? Didn't it come with one?"

  "Yes, it did. And it was quite dusty as well," he added with completely straight face.

  She shouldn't be laughing at jokes like this, should she? They weren't really that funny, were they? Was it the delivery? Or was it the deliverer?

  * * *

  This party was at a different hotel than the Christmas Party. However, as before, moving from the parking garage to the ballroom was like moving from a dark, cold reality to some fantasy world. Only with Kris at her side in the parking garage, she hardly noticed the odd echoes; and the squealing of tires seemed funny not sinister.

  The elevator took them up and polished crystal and wood soon filled her vision--when she could take her eyes away from her partner.

  He was nice looking, though he was not the most handsome man in the room. He was not even the most handsome man she had ever dated. At the moment that didn't matter. She loved looking at him. And he seemed to find her equally attractive. Their eyes met more than once as they talked and laughed.

  They danced twice. She loved the feel of him against her. He was a better dancer than she, so she didn't have to worry about him stepping on her. And when they left the floor the second time, he grasped her hand firmly in his larger hand. As he did so, he looked at her, seeming to ask her permission. She smiled in affirmation. He squeezed her hand.

  It was so ... exhilarating. His hands were strong, but smooth. He worked in an office. Her father's hands had been rough sometimes. He loved to work in the garage.

  The thought of her father dampened her spirits like a bucket of cold water over her head. And heart.

  Anger boiled up. He had no right to spoil her evening! He wasn't even here, and he was ruining things for her!

  "What's wrong? Are you alright?" Kevin asked, perhaps sensing her change of mood.

  "I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.

  Kevin sat back like he had been slapped. Her hand slipped from his grasp as he did so.

  "No!" one part of her cried. She could feel him slipping away as their grips parted. Not his hand. His heart. She wanted to grab it back. Another part still boiled with rage, not caring who was within range. She couldn't break through the rage to apologize. And she dared not speak for fear of simply making things worse. And she couldn't explain her rage without explaining her secret. Maybe to anyone else, but not him.

  Never had her rage betrayed her so.

  * * *

  At last she forced her rage to abate by simply refusing to think about her father any further. That didn't always work, however, it was sufficient this time.

  "I'm sorry," she said at last. It was all she could do to keep the tears in. She had lost him before she even knew him. Their relationship would end with a fight before it really began.

  "Did I do something?" Kris asked.

  "No. No, you were perfect," she responded sincerely--and honestly.

  "Are you OK?"

  "Yes. Just fine," Ellen said, knowing as she said it that it was a lie.

  Kris opened his mouth. She thought he might challenge her lie. She wasn't sure what she would do then. The rage lay hidden just beneath the surface like a lion waiting to pounce. She didn't want to let the rage free again. Neither did she want to hide the truth from him. For the first time in a long time, the little white lie felt ... very wrong.

  After a moment, he simply nodded his head. He had taken her word at face value. Or at least he had chosen not to challenge her about it. A small voice deep within cried, "No! Don't believe the lie." However, it was small and weak. Easily squelched.

  She wanted to offer him something. She didn't want to leave things as they were.

  "I ... Sort of a flashback. Not a very pleasant memory."

  "Oh," he responded. He nodded, apparently accepting the idea. "I hope I didn't trigger it."

  "Only in that you are the memory's opposite." She couldn't help adding internally, "So far."

  She looked away. The evening was in ruins. It had been going so well.

  "Is it a memory that would get better with the telling?"

  "No," that part of her which had been defending her for so long answered automatically. "Yes," she corrected a moment later. A thrill of fear, almost terror, ran through her at the thought of telling her secret. The "yes" answer left her so vulnerable. What would he think of her? Of her father? "Maybe," she amended, trying to find a way to get her heart back to safety.

  She could see Kris's eyes as they studied her face for a moment. Ellen had no idea what he was seeing. She wasn't crying, and she thought she had the anger back in its cage. What was left? Could he see her fear? Her doubt? He must think her so weak and confused.

  "I ..."

  "You're not ready to talk about it," he said when she hesitated. She really hadn't know what she was going to say. Only that she needed to say something. His words were as much a question as a statement.

  Perhaps that was the answer. The fearful part of her leaped on that. Later would be so much better. Any time but now.

  "No," she said. It would have been nice, in some ways to finally have the secret out. "Not yet," she appended. "Not yet."

  Kris did not offer her his hand again, and she dared not reach for his. Her heart had already been too exposed this evening. A rejection would be too much to add.

  What about the kiss? The question echoed through her mind, fear following its path. She had been looking forward to his lips upon hers. However, to have him reject her at the door. Perhaps it would be better not to ask him up. She suddenly wanted to be at home, curled up in a blanket with a strong, warm pair of arms holding her. Not Kris's. Perhaps never Kris's now. The thought saddened her. Not her father's. That bridge had been crossed long ago.

  There were no arms for her.

  * * *

  They stood at her door. She had not been able to think of a polite way to keep him from walking her up to her apartment. She had almost begged off down at the street. The apartment had security after all. However, she hadn't had the ... will to do so.

  Her heart was racing. She *so* wanted a kiss. She was *so* sure he would not. She wanted his lips against hers. His arms holding her. It would not be. Could not be. It was all she could do to push aside a burst of rage at her father's ghost, haunting her though he was not yet dead.

  "Tha
nk you for a wonderful evening," Kris said. He seemed sincere, though she couldn't imagine how he could be.

  "I ... I had a good time as well. I am sorry. It wasn't you. Really!" And she meant it. She had had a good time and it wasn't his fault. Why would he believe her?

  To her surprise, he leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. His lips on hers at last. Ever so gentle. Not a passionate tongue devouring kiss, but intimate nonetheless. The moment lasted for only a few heartbeats. She wanted it to go on for a few lifetimes. It was all she could do to not follow those lips as they pulled back.

  "Thank you, again. And good night," he said.

  "Good night," she managed to say as he reached the head of the stairs. It had been hard to find enough breath to breathe. Speech had been momentarily impossible.

  She waved back when he waved.

  * * *

  Ellen was not addicted to coffee, though she was fond enough of it. She had gone caffeine free after a friend had started getting headaches he attributed to the popular drug. However, she was not at all afraid to add chocolate.

  "After work, then?" Kris asked.

  He had indeed ended up working in cube 125 though not exactly when he had anticipated. A few last minutes tasks at his temporary assignment had kept him from moving back to his office. Then during the holiday season with holidays, vacation days and such, she hadn't really seen him at work much.

  Today was Wednesday. The sixth if she was remembering correctly. A few weeks since their first date. Her mother, was she still alive, would have said Ellen was overthinking the relationship. Ellen didn't care to consider her father or his opinion. In reality, she may have been overthinking things. Nonetheless, she was ... concerned. She thought she liked the direction things were moving. Only she wasn't sure she could hold up her side of the bargain.

  "Sure," she responded.

  Kris had called a couple of times since their near fight and the ever so brief kiss. She had had *so* much trouble concentrating in the days since the kiss. No. That was not exactly true. She could concentrate just fine, but only if it involved thoughts of Kris. And she knew what the problem was. She knew the symptoms quite well. Trouble thinking about anything other than "him". Racing pulse. Giddiness. She had had her first crush when she was fifteen. James Dent. A nice boy. But a boy. He might have wanted the relationship to go further. He simply was too young to know what to do next. Nonetheless she had had all of these symptoms. Followed by a broken heart when the relationship had fallen apart.