Playground (35 page)

Playground

“Apparently.”

“I wanted to call Mom to come get me but Dad was in such a

hurry. You know how he’s always in a frenzied rush, and I . . . it

was really weird.”

“Some things will never change,” I tell her.

“Though we did meet outside the Mansion.”

“Must’ve been an off night.”

“That’s the last time I’ll be seeing him for a while,” she says.

“Can’t wait to come home,” I hear myself say. We hang up and

I fall back to sleep.

The next day, I finally motivate to check out colleges. I open my

planner for the first time since arriving in New York and see I have a

meeting scheduled at Mount Vernon College (now owned by

George Washington University). It was one of the most exclusive

high-end female colleges, full of young royals and southern belles. I

take the train to D.C. and find myself sitting across from a warm-

hearted, plump guidance counselor. Through the window, I can see

the trees, the colorful spring leaves swaying back and forth. Students

in casual wear and knapsacks stroll by in between classes. I squirm

in my seat. “Normal” feels so thoroughly uncomfortable to me.

“Why do you want to move out of Los Angeles, dear?” she asks

and I want to tell her everything: the fear I face daily, the guilt, the

fact that I too have become a person without a conscience. I get

unexpectedly choked up. The counselor looks into my damaged

eyes and places her hand on mine. “Everything is going to be

okay,” she says sincerely, and I believe her.

I catch a flight back to L.A. and wait for my father to pick me up

outside the airport. I look around but see no sign of him as a black

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stretch Mercedes limousine with the license plate 1HEF pulls up.

Kendall waves out the window and jumps out. I hug and kiss her

hello, both surprised and excited to see her. Then I hear a familiar

voice over my shoulder. I turn to see my father stepping out of the

limo. A huge rock falls to the pit of my stomach.

“We thought we’d surprise you,” Dad chuckles jovially.

“You definitely did.”

Inside the limo, the tension is unbearable. At first, I regard the

surprise as an act of kindness. I take it as a genuine effort on my fa-

ther’s part to show that he finally understands my relationship with

Kendall, although I’m puzzled by his sudden shift in behavior. He

sits next to her and I sit across from them. We engage in small talk

until Dad places his arm on Kendall’s leg. I twitch because he’s flirt-

ing with someone he’s forbidden me to spend time with.

“Don’t you think Kendall is phenomenal?” Dad rubs his hand

over Kendall’s thigh. “All right, so she can be a bitch sometimes,

but everyone has their moments.”

“Look who’s talking,” Kendall laughs, caressing his hand affec-

tionately before she lets go. “Your father is nuts.”

“I’ve been told that once or twice.” He bats his eyes, but I cannot

hear either of them. I feel like I’m the butt of some kind of sick joke.

When we arrive at Dad’s house, I can barely wait to kick open

the door and get out of the limo. I don’t even bother saying good-

bye to Kendall, who yells after me as I hurry inside.

The next day, I show up at the Mansion unannounced. I see

Kendall sitting in the med room. My eyes say it all. We march out

to the Playmate of the Month house so we can talk in private.

“What the fuck is going on?” I yell.

“Stop it.”

“You fly to New York, feed me bullshit about how much you

love me, how we’re in love and best friends, and then you’re flirting

with my father? I thought you hated him?”

“Jennifer, there’s so much you don’t understand.”

“Like what?” My eyes are fuming.

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“Like stuff I have to do. I’m expected to act a certain way.”

“Like how?”

“You’re so young, you don’t get it.” She shakes her head.

“What don’t I get?”

“You’re going to hate me.” She lowers her head, hands me a cig-

arette, lights mine, then hers.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you will,” she states clearly. Kendall turns away from me,

ashamed. She covers her face with her hands. She lets out a long

sigh, as if making a decision within a matter of seconds, and then

proceeds to speak.

“Your father was here one night and we all sort of . . . slept

together.”

“What?” I scream, afraid I might puke. “You fucked my father?”

Disgust rushes through my veins. My knees are weak. I lean

against the wall and slide down to the floor. I feel like I’ve been

punched in the stomach. My whole body hurts.

How do you explain a father’s carnal desire to share female

lovers with his oldest daughter?

“That’s why I don’t want you around all this crazy shit,”

Kendall says softly.

I pretend to listen to what she’s saying as I raid the kitchen for

alcohol. I ponder for a moment if this is my punishment for

falling in love with someone so unavailable. All her words and the

way she seemingly cared for me made me believe her intentions

were real.

“I told you you’d be pissed,” she insists. I find the Absolut and

swallow continuously from the bottle. Kendall tries to reach for

my hand, but I push her away.

“I trusted you. Traitor! You betrayed me. I thought you

loved me.”

“I’m sorry.” She covers her face with her hands and I ignore her

tears. “I was drunk and next thing I know a bunch of us . . . we’re

upstairs and . . . oh, I don’t know . . .” She tries to reach out, but I

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J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R

am dead inside. “Talk to me . . . ,” she cries, and I stare at her

blankly.

Nothing seems familiar anymore.

I drive out the back gate going fifty, sixty, seventy miles per

hour down a winding street toward Wilshire Boulevard. I speed up

even more, hoping to hit something. I envision death. My head

spins furiously as I plot revenge on my parents and everyone

else—my long escape.

I snap out of my delusion because some asshole cuts me off in

traffic and flips me off. “Fuck you, faggot!” I scream.

I’ve become the poster child for a vengeful generation.

Rounding a corner at high speed, I’m unable to make the com-

plete turn. Headlights flash right at me! I spin 180 degrees and

smash into a parked car. My head knocks against the steering

wheel. Things are fuzzy and waves of pain move through me. I try

to mumble for help but no one can hear me, no one is around. The

sky becomes gray. There’s a heavy weight shutting out all sounds

until everything goes black.

Distant voices call out my name as if I’m in a tunnel and can

only hear muffled echoes. There’s a sense of dullness and heavy

weight on my head as the voices continue and I slowly regain

consciousness.

“Jennifer, wake up. Say something.” Bright lights bombard me

and I’m forced to shut my eyes again. Something tugs at my arm.

There seems to be a lot of commotion: IVs, monitors, vital signs,

X rays, EKG, CT, MRI results, tubes of fluids. It’s daylight. I’m

not sure how many hours have passed. Doctors and nurses hover

around, mumbling. intensive

e

car unit ucl ,

a the blurry sign

above the door reads.

I think I’m coherent but no one is talking to me. My head is

pounding. A doctor lifts my eyelids and shines a light in my pupils.

My father is there.

“Are you sure there’s no internal bleeding? I want you to check

everything out. We need to do an MRI,” my father tells the doctor

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Playground

when he lowers his shining light away from my eyes. The doctor fi-

nally notices I’m awake.

“You had quite an accident, young lady. You’re lucky to be

alive.” The doctor clears his throat.

“Honey, are you all right?” Dad says, holding my hand as a

nurse with blond hair stands beside him. “I’ve been so worried

about you.” I blink a few times, unsure of where I am.

“She’ll be fine,” the doctor informs him.

“What happened?” I ask in a groggy voice.

“You have suffered a slight concussion,” the doctor explains.

“All of the test results show only minor head injury. A few bruises

here and there. I’ve seen situations much worse than this. Fortu-

nately, you wore your seat belt.”

Then I remember. All the oxygen is sucked out of me; the room

spins as distant visuals of the car accident return. Headlights.

Swerving. Crashing. And then I remember why I was so upset. Im-

ages of Dad and Kendall having sex flash.

“How do you feel, Jennifer? Can I ask you to move your arms

and legs for me?” the doctor asks. “We may need to keep her here

for a couple of days, to monitor her,” he explains.

Faces lean over me as my mind races through possible excuses

to justify how the collision occurred. My stomach sinks when the

doctor leaves me alone with my father. I feed him a half-ass story

about a hit-and-run accident as I’m squinting my eyes, cringing,

and preparing myself for his wrath.

To my surprise, he waves the story off and mutters something

about insurance and being late to the Mansion. He tells me he was

able to speak to the chief of police about my alcohol level and

somehow the DUI offense has been lifted. I thank him and apolo-

gize profusely.

“These flowers are for you,” he says.

The bouquet is beautiful. Long-stemmed red roses in a tall vase.

I suppose these are my makeup flowers for fucking my best

friend.

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J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R

“Forgive me, but I have to leave.” Dad kisses my forehead. “I’ll

be back in a few hours. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

That leaves everything wide open. I stifle the impulse to laugh.

My father has a smile on his face as he waves good-bye and I

grin back with a happy face that peels off. I obsess over the kind of

mood he will be in later, but the throbbing headache makes it dif-

ficult for me to think. All alone, I pick up the phone and call my

mother.

“Mom, are you sitting down?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been in a car accident. I’m at UCLA.”

“Oh my God! Are you all right?”

“I’m okay.”

“I’m on my way.” She hangs up and I fall asleep.

When I wake up the room is dimly lit. There’s a curtain around

the bed and a tray of soft food and yogurt in front of me. Perhaps

I have changed rooms. The doctor went somewhere and the nurses

are gone. I don’t know where everyone went. I’m dizzy in here and

panic sets in.

“Mom?”

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m here. The doctor said

the medications would make you a little out of it. Honey, what

happened?” she asks, extremely worried. The thought of drinking

and driving is more than she can handle.

“Don’t ask,” I say.

“You know better than to drink and drive.” Mom frowns. She

looks stressed and tired. “I’m really happy you’re reaching out to

me,” she says as tears form in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. About everything,” I confess, gently reaching out to

her with an IV stuck in my arm.

“I’m sorry too.” She squeezes my hand and we hug. She is here

now. But we both know there is a bigger issue that neither one of

us is strong enough to tackle. My father will never let me go and I

don’t have the courage to leave him. Mom offers to let me move in

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Playground

with her but we both know she doesn’t really mean it. Somehow, it

is easier to deny what is going on than to contend with going up

against a monster, especially when everything is a game to him.

Savannah strolls in licking an ice cream cone.

“What the hell happened to you?” she blurts out. “Are you try-

ing to kill yourself ?”

“Actually, I think they’ve given me some awesome painkillers

’cause I haven’t felt better in months.” I reach for the bottle, but

Mom yanks it away and hides it in her purse.

“Hunter called and said she saw your car in front of Dad’s

house,” Savannah says.

“And?”

“She said it was totaled. The hood’s up and smoke’s coming out

of it. The whole side is banged up, but that’s nothing compared to