Mastered by His Touch-Complete Box Set (16 page)

"Oh you poor dear!"

"I thought my mother adopted me when I was a baby but she just told me today that you brought me here to the United States when I was five."

"Yes," she said as she stared at me, "yes, Jacques and I saved you from that terrible boy. Did he hurt you, Kiri?"

I felt dizzy all of a sudden.

"No," I said. "He didn't hurt me. He saved me. He saved my life."

"Well, true. But he was no good. I don't know whatever happened to him. We left him in Papeete. He was in custody with the French authorities there."

"French?"

"Yes, Papeete is in Tahiti, but it's run by France."

I had a flash of the painting at the art gallery. Caden had looked at me strangely when I told him I had never been to Tahiti.

A floodgate opened in my head. It felt like a cascading waterfall. Am I having a stroke? I grabbed the side of the couch and took a deep breath.
Oh mon Dieu!

"Are you all right, dear?" said Mrs. Decoud.

I really wish people would stop asking me that.

"Oui, je vais bien," I said. "Je viens de réaliser que j'ai toujours été en mesure de parler français."

"Well, of course you must have known French if you grew up there," said Mrs. Decoud in French. "We tried both French and English with you, but you wouldn't speak. The boy spoke English."

"Yes, I knew both," I said in English. "But I just realized I've always known French. Now I know why my Mom forced me to take German in high school. She didn't want to trigger any bad memories. I always thought it strange that whenever there was a movie on cable TV in French with English subtitles I always understood it without reading. For some reason I never questioned why."

Saquina arrived with the coffee and a tray of elegant cookies. I was starved and lightheaded so I took one.

Mrs. Decoud took her coffee and sipped it while staring at me.

"You said you just remembered all this recently?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "And I want to ask you, Martine, if you would be kind enough to tell me the story of what happened. I need to know where I came from."

She kept on looking at me over the clouds of steam coming out of her cup. She took another sip.

"Yes," she said. "You deserve to know."

Chapter 5

Jacques and I were travelers. We had each been all over the world before we met, and then together we went round once again.

And what a trip it was!

Jacques had bought the sailboat in New Caledonia. It was so much better than the one we had in the Caribbean. So much more room.

Jacques named it
Nostromo
, which was a silly name for a boat I thought. He said it was a tribute to some author whose books he loved. Joseph Conrad, I believe. I was never much of a reader.

We set out on a South Seas tour. We went to Vanuatu, Fiji, Tonga, American Samoa. Oh my I think Fiji was my favorite! I should really just go there right now to die. If my last breath were with the setting sun over that ocean, I would be happy.

I had been sailing since I was a girl. My father was a sailor and Jacques was very experienced. Jacques had an amazing cock. I swear it was a full 12-inches. Probably not. I never measured it, but it was fucking huge, dear. I was quite satisfied. Too satisfied, in fact. Sore many days.

So, anyway, there we were heading to Tahiti. The sun was bright and the day was hot. And then we came across this little dinghy. Just drifting.

That's strange, we thought.

But we learned not to question too many things you find on the sea because you can easily make the wrong people very mad. Plus, breakfast was ready and we were hungry.

But then we saw something in the dinghy. It looked like a person.

So naturally we steered toward it and my oh my what we found!

A boy, about eighteen years old, dressed like a scallywag, and the most beautiful little girl I have ever seen. You were both passed out. Your lips were swollen and you both had severe sunburn.

Jacques got the dinghy to the side of our boat and tied it on. He went over there and checked your breathing. You were both alive, but barely.

The next task was to get you onto our sailboat. Which was easy for you, but very hard for the boy. He was tall and lanky and Jacques almost dropped him in the ocean.

We finally did it, though, and got you below decks. We set course for Tahiti, where we knew there was a hospital. But we were maybe five days out so we were going to radio the authorities to see if they could send out a helicopter or something to pick you up.

It was about that time that the boy woke up and started talking. He told the story of you and he on a boat with your parents and somehow they died and the boat sank. He cried at all the right places and told the story well, like he had rehearsed it.

Jacques and I had none of it. He was lying. Jacques is an old-time scallywag himself so he knew a bullshit story when he heard a bullshit story.

And on top of that, the boy insisted we not call authorities. He said he was fine, and you were coming around too.

So against our better judgment, we just fed you both and filled you up with water to rehydrate you. But we slept with one eye open.

The boy, even though he was only eighteen, was crafty. Jacques didn't fear anybody but he was very wary about that boy.

"He's wise beyond his years," he said.

You woke up and just stared, though. That's all you did. You were alive. You drank water. You ate food. But you were dead inside.

I never had children. Not sure why. Back in our day, you didn't go to the hospital to get tests to find out why. You just accepted it.

I was sixty-five years old when I first saw you, but all the mothering instincts that were born into me kicked into high gear. I suddenly had a little girl to take care of and I felt so responsible, so valued, so worthwhile. It was like you were a gift to me.

Jacques and I decided that there had obviously been some sort of incident that had put you into a state of shock. That's what it was. Pure shock. You just stared and stared and stared.

But I was determined to make you better. My trip... all my plans... everything... I was willing to give it all up just to get a smile on your face.

Jacques decided that we had to get you away from the boy. He was bad news. We didn't believe for one moment that his parents who died on the sinking boat adopted you, which was the story he told us.

But he did seem to care about you. He talked to you and tried to get you to talk. He himself was burning up about something. He sat there on the deck with his arms folded, like he was furious at someone.

I wasn't sure about him but I went along with Jacques to get you away from him. Especially after he begged us to not stop in Tahiti.

That's when we knew something was very very wrong.

But Jacques insisted.

We came into port and took you to the hospital where the doctor said you were okay but in shock. Then I took you shopping. Pape'ete is not a big city but your little eyes looked around like you had never seen the like before. I took you into a toy store and you seemed to like this teddy bear so I bought it for you. It was the first little spark of life I had seen from you, but it was very weak. I knew I had to get you into the hands of a specialist.

I had dated this doctor in New York... well, dated is not correct... we fucked for many years. He was a bigwig at a psychiatric hospital for children. At that time, I hadn't seen him in about twenty years but I knew he was still an administrator there.

Jacques and I decided to rent a slip in Tahiti, lock down the boat, and fly back to New York with you.

Jacques had one son who died in Vietnam. He wasn't a warm cuddly man. But he saw that I was completely taken with you. And deep down, I could tell he was too. He never would have admitted it. The most he ever did was pat you on the head. But he didn't question me when I insisted we interrupt our vacation to bring you to my friend in New York.

The problem was the boy, who called himself... oh I forget, Jacob or Joseph or something like that. Why can't I remember? This happens to me when I watch
Jeopardy!
now. I know the answer. I know it so well. I just can't get it out in time. Then later, I'm on the toilet with Saquina helping me, and the answer comes to me. God, I hate being old.

Anyway, back to the boy.

He pulled a fast one on us.

I don't know what he did, but he bribed or charmed somebody. He
was
a charmer, that's for sure. He seemed to get whatever he wanted from everyone all around him.

Of course, it helped that he was good-looking. He hadn't fully filled out yet. Not much of a body. But he had these amazing aquamarine eyes that were hypnotizing. I could easily see him becoming a ladies' man eventually. At eighteen, he was almost there.

So where was I?

Oh, right. He pulled a fast one on Jacques and me.

Two young women came up to us and distracted us in the street. They were very upset. They told us some story about being robbed by a man.

Then suddenly they ran off. Just like that.

And we realized that you and the boy were gone. It was just a distraction the boy had arranged so he could grab you and take you away from us.

We looked everywhere but couldn't find you.

Now Jacques is not a man who takes to being had. Not at all. He got furious. And I got very upset because I was so worried about you.

We went to the nearest police station and told them the entire story about finding the two of you at sea. They took us very seriously and put out word all over the island.

It took two days but they finally found you. The boy had somehow rented a room in an old building in the middle of the city. How he did this with no money I'll never know. He was clever, that boy.

But not quite clever enough. The police found you and threw the boy in jail.

The police had tried to find your parents too, but nobody knew your last name and you wouldn't talk. Nobody had reported a little girl missing.

So we picked you up, got on a plane to Hawaii, and a day later we were back here in New York at the children's psychiatric hospital.

So how did we get you away from the French authorities so easily? The old adage is true, sweetheart. Money talks. A good chunk of cash in a sealed envelope and we were escorted to a waiting plane.

Life is simple when you have money, dear.

So there we were in New York. My friend checked you into the hospital under a fake name. They ran every test on you but found nothing.

You just stared. Stared and stared and stared.

And I just cried. I thought I could bring you back. I had never been touched by anyone so strongly before. I would have given all my money just to get one little smile from you.

Then, there was a woman with a strange name who worked there at night who came by. She was a cleaning woman. Your mother, obviously. I still can't pronounce that damned last name. Than-wana-tang-wang-wang. Shit, that's not it, is it?

Anyway, she took to you right away. Just like me, she felt something special about you. She would come in night after night, trying everything. Playing games. Coloring books. Music.

But nothing worked.

Until one night.

I don't know what it was. You had been in there maybe two months and like a curtain going up you came to life.

You laughed. You talked. You spoke English, so you did know it. You colored in the coloring books. You played games.

And you laughed.

I was so happy!

But what tore me apart was that whenever your mother left, you went back into the trance. You just stared.

She was the only one who could bring you out of it. I don't know if it was because she was young, or because she was Asian like you, or what.

But I couldn't get you to smile. And it hurt. It really hurt.

She would come in and you turned on like a faucet. She had the magic touch, I don't know.

So I swallowed my pride. I wanted you to start kindergarten and grow up in a normal household. Your mother had a nice family.

Jacques had put out some inquiries to find your parents, but nothing ever came back. It seemed hopeless that we would ever find out where you came from.

So Jacques and I did one of our little deals where some people got some money in an envelope. And just like that, you had a birth certificate.

Your mother wanted to keep your name Kiri, but Jacques insisted that they put a completely fake name on it. He didn't want the boy to ever be able to find you. Jacques really hated that boy.

And so you were adopted by the woman you know as your mother. And you lived a happy normal childhood growing up in Queens.

I came by a few times, but when I did you went right back into the trance. Just stared.

So I stayed away. I sent money. I helped pay for your college, but you never knew.

Your mother wanted to send me pictures on this foolish computer thing, but I said no. I can't get the damned device to work anyway, and on top of that... I just wanted to remember you the way you were.

But now here you are, a fully grown woman. My oh my!