Blackout (9 page)

“As long as you were doing it, I’d probably enjoy it.” He slams the door shut behind me and spins out of the sandy driveway and down the road.

My face feels like it caught fire, and I forgot to ask about his girlfriend and about Lisa. Where is Shannon anyway? And he thinks I’m hot? No boy has ever said that to me.

“Where’s the biscuits and gravy?” Lulu balks the next morning, pushing aside her fruit and yogurt for breakfast. “This won’t feed a growing girl like you or me.” She pats the little bulge in her elastic waist shorts that are the color of a ripe plum.

“This is healthier.” I shove the bowl of Greek yogurt, blueberries, and the glass of fresh squeezed orange juice in front of her.

She spoons the yogurt and takes a bite then spits it out. “It’s awful. You eat this?”

I want her to live a long time. I don’t want her to leave me, like Mama did. “Every day.” It’s a lie. When I lived in Paris, my friends and I would head to the nearest café for espresso and crepes.

“I have to have more than this. I’ll waste away. It’s making me go blind.” She winks at me.

I laugh. “You have to eat that, and I’ll make you a bagel with cream cheese.”

“Carbs. I don’t know what you young people have against grains. I grew up on them, and I look great—other than the cataracts—good thing I can’t see them.” She lets out a raucous laugh.

Using her mottled fingers, she pinches her nose and swallows a bite while I fix her a bagel. Other than her eyes, she’s in good shape for being in her early seventies.

She reaches for my hand. “I have a great joke for you. A woman walks into a bar, and a guy offers to buy her a drink. The woman tells him that it’s bad for her legs, and he asks how so? It spreads them.” She laughs and slaps her knee.

A tight smile fixes on my lips. She needs to get out of the house, so she can tell others her dirty jokes instead of me. I push the bagel over to her.

“What? No strawberry preserves? Girl, who taught you to cook? It certainly wasn’t your mom.”

I choke on a blueberry. “Did Mama cook?” I have no idea.

“Heck no. She wouldn’t clean or fix a meal. Always liked being waited on, except when it came to blowing glass. She’d stay out in the shop for hours.”

Did we have one here? I don’t recall that. “Did we eat out?”

She shrugs. “You must have.”

I get up and fetch the preserves from the fridge. When I sit down, I swirl the blueberries in my yogurt. “What was Mama like?”

As she pats my hand, sympathy washes over her expression. “You don’t remember, do you? Do you recall anything about her?”

A choking sob sticks in my throat. I force it down. She left us—no tears for her, ever. I don’t want to feel anything for her. I’ve never felt anything for her since she left Daddy and me. After a few deep breaths, the emotion evaporates.

Lulu glances outside where the sun promises a sultry day, and the wind rippling over the waves ensures relief from the heat. “Your mother was beautiful—not just any ordinary beauty. She got that from me.” Her lips lift on one side, and she waggles her brows.

“Is,” I insist. She isn’t dead. She’s probably off in Paris with Francois or whomever.

“I told you. She wouldn’t have left you, not willingly. She loved you—very much so.” She watches me stir my yogurt. “Eat up or you’ll wither away. You may yet anyway. You’ve barely eaten since you’ve gotten here.”

Lulu keeps telling me Mama didn’t leave us, but how can I believe her? Mama left. She didn’t even say goodbye that I remember. “She didn’t say anything to me.”

“I don’t believe that.” She fumbles for the butter, so I pass it to her. “Thank you, sweetie.”

She crunches on the toasted bagel then wipes her chin, crumbs dusting her blouse. “After you got out of the hospital, you told me she left without a word. You repeated it over and over again. I never understood why your mother would do that, and I hadn’t spoken with you in some time.”

I was in the hospital? When? “Daddy said she returned to Paris. He said they were divorcing.” When he told me that, he wouldn’t look at me. I didn’t cry though. I remember that. I wasn’t upset, but I wasn’t happy either. Daddy hugged me and said we’d be okay, not to worry.

Lulu twitches her nose and snorts. “You want to know your mom?” She slathers butter on top of the cream cheese then a dollop of preserves that spills off the side and dribbles down her chin. “Every man desired her. Your dad was no different. He shoveled out a lot of money to impress her—many men did. Your dad is handsome and very charming, and Lynn liked the high life and baubles…like me.” She dangles a diamond bracelet on her wrist. The diamond and emerald rings on her fingers that her husbands gave to her glitter in the morning sun.

Lulu and Mama are materialistic. Then I glance down at the expensive clothes I bought in Paris. Am I like Mama?

“After you were born, a peace settled over Lynn,” Lulu says. “She loved you and fussed over you.”

She smiles as if at a distant memory. “She so loved to paint, and she loved her freedom, but she was good with her family. I was never any good at being a mom—too much spit and poop.” Lulu bats her hand.

It’s my turn to laugh. She’s always been direct, and I appreciate that, no hiding behind false niceties.

Lulu went through several husbands. Two of them died. Another three she divorced. The last one stuck until she buried him. He was much older than her.

“I want to love her,” I whisper. I don’t know how. Was Mama nice? Was she a witch? There’s nothing there for me to hold onto.

“You should remember her. You were eight when she disappeared.” She runs her fingers through my long hair. “The memories are still there.”

When and if they return, can I survive them? Are they that horrible? “Is Mama the reason I feel so lost?”

“Oh, sweetie, you loved your mom. You even look like her,” Lulu says, still fiddling with my hair. “Men will chase you, just like they did your mom.”

“I don’t want that,” I snap, not understanding why. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay, sugar. You’re under too much stress. I hope your memories return, so that you may be at peace like your mom finally found. You should remember your mom. It’s healthy.”

But I don’t. Thinking of her only opens a desert, empty and barren.

I finish eating and sit staring outside. It’s like my brain was wiped clean when it comes to Mama, yet I remember Dare and most of the times we spent together.

“Go have fun with your friend.” Lulu shoos me, breaking into my reverie. “I have a hot date with a young doctor.” She glances at the TV and bumps into the table on her way over to it. I consider helping her, but she wouldn’t like it.

I pack Lulu’s and my breakfast bowls into the dishwasher and kick its door closed.

Kami has already texted, telling me she’s out on the sand, ready to beat me at beach tennis.

The navy and white bikini that Dare picked out lies on my bed. With hesitation, I slip into it. He’s right. It’s a good color for me. I tie my scarf around my waist—very beachy and less revealing.

The French book sticks out of my bag, so I shove it back in. For whatever reason, I feel drawn to its pages. After witnessing Dare manhandle Shannon, I wonder what he’s like as a lover. Heat flares between my legs. I want to date again, even after my disastrous courtship with Henri.

I lather my skin in SPF 50, walk outside, grab a beach chair and umbrella, and sway past the sea oats floating in the breeze.

Kami is texting on her phone. She gives me a nod but continues fingering on the pad one-handed.

I open
The Story of O
. The novel starts out tame enough until the boyfriend drops off O at the manor where she has to dress to sexually please men. Why would Francois give a book like this to Mama? Was she into having multiple men?

Parts of the story stir the most primal desire within me. Others sicken me.

I glimpse Kami out of the corner of my eye, hoping she doesn’t ask me what the story is about. The graphic sex and abuse shortly follow after O enters the manor. I want to stop, but my eyes stick to the page. Did Mama read this or was this what Francois wanted?

Women bathe and prepare O. A man measures her for a collar and bracelets. She’s then presented to four men, one of which is her lover Rene. She stands naked and blindfolded in front of them. The men take her. One forces himself from behind while another fills her mouth.

A sudden ache spreads in my stomach, my head throbs, and spots scatter at the edge of my vision. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, expanding my abdomen. Flashes of images, smells, and sounds repeat in nauseating cycles, and then comes the crimson washing over the scene in broad brush strokes.

I practice what Miles taught me, but my breathing quickens and my pulse throbs in my head. It’s almost worse than it was before I left.

Nothingness devours me.

Kami shakes my arm, diverting my attention. “Must be a pretty good book.”

My erratic breathing threatens to take me under again. I try the calming technique again. “How long was I out?”

“I didn’t notice. Probably a few seconds.”

I don’t want to think about what this book is suggesting, but yet I want to know who Mama is. I put the book down to give it a rest. “What are a dom and a submissive?”

She laughs. “Didn’t you read
50 Shades of Grey
? A few years ago, it was the hot read for the summer.”

“What’s that?” I check the publishing date on Mama’s French book again. It’s 1954, long before she was born. Was Francois older, more experienced? Is that what she liked when she was my age?

Kami giggles some more. “It’s about this guy who likes to tie up women and slap them around, smack their bujus with a whip.”

“Buju?” I’ve never heard of that.

She chuckles. “VaJay, poontang, pussy.”

“Oh.” Despite the summer heat, a shudder trembles in my core, and my VaJay clenches as if slapped. “And that’s supposed to be fun?”

She shrugs. “For some, it is. I’ve never tried it, though it could be interesting.” She rolls onto her side to face me. “Handcuffs sound kind of fun.”

I don’t understand any of that, but then again, I don’t remember having sex. Does it even feel good? Dare flits into my mind. He’s off limits, but Graham’s the kind of guy I’d like to scoop me up and carry me away.

After we play beach tennis for an hour, I cover my cast in a plastic bag, untie the scarf around my waist, and float out into the water to let it cool me down. As I come from the water, the surf pushing me into shore, I toss my wet hair back.

Graham jogs toward us. His head is angled in my direction, so he doesn’t see the toddler building a sandcastle in his path.

“Look out,” I yell, pointing in front of him. It’s cute that he’s watching me instead of where he’s going.

He sidesteps out of the way, grabs me for balance, and takes us both down. I inhale the wave tunneling me under, coughing and choking on churned up sand and seawater. Graham yanks me up, and I’m thankful no stars block my vision.

“I’m so sorry, Teal.” The muscles in his arms tense, holding me up.

I walk backward and wiggle my butt to clean the sand from my bikini bottoms while he still grasps me. Once we’re out far enough, I plop down, taking him with me. I plunge into the warm water, washing the sand from my face and hair.

When we surface, we’re so close our eyes meet. He grins. “I must look like a complete idiot to you.”

For once my tongue cooperates around a cute man. “It’s a nice change that I’m not the one looking foolish.”

His hands are on my hips to steady me. “I can’t imagine you ever looking anything but amazing.”

I work hard on not flushing or flinching. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

I dunk myself into the water to remove the rest of the sand in my bottom before resurfacing. He’s still there, smiling. His teeth are white and perfectly straight, and no blemishes tarnish his handsome face, like he’s been Photo-shopped.

“I like your new suit.” His gaze sweeps along me.

“Thanks.” Dare picked it out. I dip my chin to hide the heat flaming my face.

He grasps my hand. “I came down to make sure you ladies are still coming tonight.”

A bit of nervousness twitches in the corner of my lips. As long as I don’t black out, I’ll be fine. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good.”

His smile works into me.

Kami bats the paddleball at us. It smacks Graham on the shoulder. He picks it up before the tide washes it out to sea.

“You need to ask her on a proper date before any touching,” she says.

He flashes his gorgeous smile. “Would you like to go out with me sometime this week?”

“Sure. I need to look for a job, so if I get one, it’ll depend on my schedule.”

“Think you’ll find one with a broken arm?”

I almost have a date. I restrain from doing the happy dance. “I shouldn’t even be swimming, but I can’t let this ruin my summer.”

After Graham helps me to shore, his hand brushes my arm, initiating the right kind of shivers. “Tonight, ladies. The beers are on me.”

“See you then,” Kami says from her lawn chair.

Graham gives my elbow one last squeeze before jogging back from whence he came.

Once I settle back into my chair, Kami taps my arm. “The hot man is into you. He’s on the rebound though, so you better watch him.”

“I am most definitely watching him.” His very fine butt jogs away from us. “It’s time for me to head in. See you around nine for the party?”

“I’ll be ready.”

I go in to check on Lulu. She’s already fixed herself lunch and left grapes and some tuna salad for me.

“Need anything else?” I ask.

She waves me off without a word. I tie the large scarf around my waist and put on flip-flops to walk out to the mailbox. It’s stuffed with junk mail, bills, and a notice to my father from the county clerk’s office.

A neighbor blows by me, kicking up sand and dirt on the road. He waves. I cough and walk back to the house, blinking dust from my eyes.

In my bedroom, I put the mail down on my dresser before shuffling through the rack of dresses and skirts in my closet. As I do so, I notice the cedar storage closet in the back. There shouldn’t be anything in there, but I check anyway.