12 Hours In Paradise (19 page)

“I’ll go stop him before he calls,” my mom said and ran off toward the front desk.

Chester was grinning like a maniac. Granny looked really sad.

“We were frightened,” she said. “I woke up and you weren’t there. Why didn’t you have your phone turned on?”

“My battery died.” I looked at my granny, trying to avoid my father’s face, which had gone from white as a ghost to bright red with anger. “Sorry. I thought I’d be back before you guys woke up.”

“Smooth move.” Chester smirked.

“Dorothy, do you know what you’ve put us through these past thirty minutes? Your mom was in tears. All of us. We’ve been looking everywhere. And who the
hell
is this?” He glanced at Arash, who still hadn’t said a word.

“That’s Arash,” Chester said. “His name means Bright Arrow.”

“You knew about this?” My dad looked accusingly at Chester.

“No! No way. I mean, I know Arash, but I didn’t know about
this
.”

My mom was back by then, and her face did look a little tear-streaked. I felt a stabbing sensation of guilt. I subconsciously reached out for Arash’s hand, but he was standing behind me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can explain everything.”

“Nothing happened,” Arash said, which was apparently the wrong thing to say to my dad, who hadn’t even considered the possibility that something
might
have happened.

“
You
,” my dad said, looking Arash straight in the eye for the first time. “Get out of here. Go back to wherever you came from before I decide to call the cops. She’s a minor, you know.”

“Arash is a minor too,” I foolishly said, thinking it would make him more innocent in my father’s eyes.

“I don’t care what he is.
Leave
,” he repeated. “And you, Dorothy, get up to your room and make sure you’re packed. We’ll finish this discussion later.”

For some reason, I focused on my granny’s wringing hands. That really broke my heart. And by the time I stopped focusing on them and turned to speak to Arash, he was already gone.

I ran to the elevator, holding back my tears until the doors opened and I was safely inside. And then everything came spilling out—all the happiness, all the sadness—my elevator anxiety apparently gone, giving way to more powerful emotions. My granny came up to our room a few minutes later and sat quietly on the side of her bed while I finished packing my things.

“I’m sorry, Dorothy,” she finally said. “I had no idea where you were. I didn’t want to bring this trouble to you. You’re a good girl.”

I sat down on the bed next to her, and she took my face between her soft hands and cradled me against her breast. I sobbed like a baby. “You’re my good girl,” she said over and over. “You’re my princess. Don’t cry, sweetie pie. Granny loves you.” And I knew she did.

“Granny, what was it like the first time you met Grampy?” I asked once I was pretty well cried out. “Did you know right away that you loved him?”

She pulled away and looked long and hard at my face, like she was seeing me for the first time. “No, I wasn’t sure right away. But I loved him deeply, more than anything. It didn’t take too long to figure that out.”

“Do you miss him, Granny?”

“I miss him every second of every day.”

“I do too.” I thought about my grampy’s clear blue eyes, so light they might have seemed cold in another person less gentle and compassionate.

“It’s a beautiful thing, Dorothy. Falling in love like that. One day you’ll experience it for yourself, so just have patience and don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”

I bristled at the implication anything to do with Arash could possibly be stupid.

“But I already experienced it, Granny. With Arash.” I could barely speak above a whisper.

“That boy? You’ve known him how long? A few hours? You can’t fall in love with someone you don’t know, Dorothy. That’s not true love, it’s just a passing fancy. A crush. Lust, if you will…I’m sorry to be coarse.”

But how could I make her believe I
did
know Arash? The thirty-six questions. Our adventure in paradise.

I’ll never see him again
, I thought glumly.
He didn’t even fight for me
.
He has his own problems, and I’ve just made them worse. It was a beautiful fantasy, but that’s all it was and all it ever will be.

The door opened, and my father walked in. He hadn’t cooled down in the slightest.

“You’d better make that boy’s number disappear from your phone,” he said. “And I’d better not see any calls or texts either
from
or
to
an out-of-area number on your phone. And that goes for Facebook. Your mother will be checking. There better not be any contact or the police will be involved.”

“Calling someone on the phone isn’t against the law, you know,” I said in the strongest voice I could muster to match my father’s. “I seriously doubt the police are going to come arrest him for just calling me on the phone or texting me.”

“Don’t test me right now,” was all my dad said. “Just don’t push things, Dorothy. You’re in big enough trouble as it is.”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard, I could taste blood drizzling down the back of my throat. I wanted to scream at him so badly, but I knew I was the one who had made everyone sick with worry. I wasn’t in a position to argue, but I was furious at what I perceived was the unfair control he had over my life.

What gives him the right to tell me what to do? Eighteen. Just wait until I’m eighteen, and then I’m out of here and I’ll never have to listen to this bullshit again.

“Steve,” my granny said, “Dorothy’s learned her lesson. Go easy on her.”

Learned my lesson? What lesson?

“Mom.” My dad shot her a warning look, and she didn’t say anything more.

That’s the effect he had on all of us. Except maybe Chester, who had the ability to let things roll off him. As soon as Dad left my room, I collapsed in tears again. My phone was plugged into the wall charging at that point. But it was silent. Nothing from Arash that necessitated lying to my dad.

How could you leave like that? Without even saying good-bye?

***

Two hours later, we were packed into the rental minivan ready to leave for the airport. My dad was paying the valet guy, and I was mentally preparing for the longest most depressing flight of my life back to Reno. How could I ever be happy again? How could any of those boring guys at my school measure up to Arash? And why did he leave without saying good-bye?

My forehead was pressed against the window of the third row of seats where I wanted to be, as far away as possible from the rest of them. Usually I made Chester sit in this spot. That day, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

I saw Troy van Pumper-Dodd rolling his suitcase to the valet pickup area where my father was still standing. Troy was wearing the same clothes from the night before. His suit looked rumpled, and his hair was messy and sticking up in the back. His face looked old—older than he looked just hours before. He was smoking a cigarette and slumped over like he’d lost his best friend. Or girlfriend. Last night Troy and Betsy seemed so happy. Last night
we
seemed so happy. Now, I guessed we were both going home alone. He looked as bad as I felt.

Love.

My dad got into the driver’s seat and pulled the seat belt over his shoulder. “Everyone buckled up?” he called over his shoulder. When none of us answered, he signaled to pull into the through-traffic lane.

And then he slammed on the brakes.

“What in God’s name?”

That was cursing for my dad, so I turned away from Troy just as Chester called out at the top of his lungs, “Arash!”

And there he was, exactly the way I’d permanently fixed him in my memory bank. Careless, dark curls. Intensely focused eyes behind glasses ever so slightly off balance. A t-shirt just tight enough to reveal the muscles of his chest and arms. An expression at once both pleading and demanding.

Standing in front of our car.

Not moving out of the way.

My father leaned on the horn, stopping only when the stares of the valets read more annoyed than sympathetic.

“Roll down the window, Dad. Please.”

My window didn’t roll down in the back. It pushed out a little, but I couldn’t even figure out how to do that.

“Honey, stop. Just pull over,” my mom said. “You’re going to run over him.”

My dad let out the biggest sigh possible and made a huge deal of putting his arm up to see the time on his watch. “We’re going to be late,” he announced.

“We have plenty of time,” my mom said. “Pull over now.”

Which he did.

And then the window came down with my father staring straight ahead, my mother focused intently on Arash, and Granny, Chester, and I craning our necks to move as far forward as possible in order to hear and see what was about to happen.

“Dr. Dorothy’s Father, could I speak with you for just one minute?” Arash said, and I cringed inwardly at the way he addressed my dad. “I’m sorry, Dorothy, I don’t remember your last name.”

“Patmont,” my granny said loud enough for him to hear.

“Dr. Patmont. I want to see Dorothy again, and I don’t want to wait one year and three and a half months until she turns eighteen. But I will if I have to.”

My dad didn’t turn his gaze from staring straight ahead, but I saw the corner of my mom’s mouth kind of twitching like she was struggling not to smile.

“Please, Dr. Patmont. I respect your daughter. She and I have seen something in each other that we’d like to explore further.”

“Oh my God, how cheesy!” Chester blurted out, but my granny poked him in the ribs.

Finally, my dad looked right at him. “I’m sorry, young man, but it didn’t seem like you respected her enough to not have her out all night without her parents knowing where she was. What if something serious had happened? If you want to see her again, you can wait until she’s eighteen and making her own decisions. But not while she’s under my care and supervision.”

My dad pushed the button, raising the driver’s-side window. He signaled to pull out into traffic. I noticed a car idling next to us. A woman who looked like she was in her thirties. Long, brown hair. Kind eyes. Pretty. Yes, she was very pretty. And she was watching every move we were making. Mrs. Coburn.

“Mom!” I said pleadingly. “Do something. Say something.”

“He’s really nice,” Chester said. “I know him.”

“Is that so?” my dad said. A hotel shuttle blocked our way while some passengers disembarked. “I don’t even want to know how.”

Arash didn’t move. His eyes met mine through the glass, and mine met his. Yes, we’d be together, I knew that. If I had to wait until I was eighteen, I would wait. I knew he would too.

“Steve, roll down the window right now. You can’t make this decision unilaterally, and I’m not sure if I agree,” my mom blurted out.

“Should I remind you of your own youthful indiscretions like the time you climbed up to the water tower with the Jenkins boy and—” Granny said before my dad cut her off.

“No, Mother, you don’t need to remind me. And if you can kindly refrain in present company.” My dad slammed the car into park. “Since everyone has decided to gang up on me, I guess I have no say in the matter.”

“Yay!” Chester cheered, which probably didn’t help matters with my dad but succeeded at least in making
me
smile.

“Now roll down the window, please, so we can hear what Arash has to say,” my mother instructed more forcefully than I’d ever heard her speak to my dad before.

He did as she said, and Arash approached cautiously, looking first at my father, then me, and finally my mother.

“Where do you live?” was all my mother wanted to know.

“San Francisco.”

“What’s your last name so I can google you?” My dad wasn’t about to give up too easily.

“Atkinson, sir. Arash Atkinson. You should find enough on me to put your mind at ease.”

“Do you have your own car, Arash? And are you permitted to drive long distances?” my mom asked.

“The answer to both those questions is a resounding yes,” Arash answered.

“Do you know how to get to Reno?” Granny strained to be heard. She was leaning so far forward, she practically bumped the back of my dad’s head.

“Three and a half hours with no traffic,” Arash answered, his cautious expression turning cheerier with each question.

“He can stay with us if he comes to visit. Right, Mom?”

“Just give us a week’s notice,” my mom said.

“In the guest bedroom,” my dad added. “And I’ll be watching.”

“Can I give my week’s notice right now?” Arash asked, straightening his glasses, which were sliding down his nose.

“Duly noted,” my mother said.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dorothy’s Mother.”