Oppression (5 page)

I kept my eyes on him as he spoke to our waitress.

“Can I ask you something else?” he asked, turning back to me. “Getting back to our date.”

“Sure,” I shrugged, biting into my burrito.

“If you could sum up your whole life into a single flavor, what would it be? What do you think your life would taste like?”

I laughed. “I don’t know. That’s a strange question.” I thought about it though. It would have to be something bitter, but still sweet in a way, something that looked better than it tasted.

“Maybe . . . semi-sweet chocolate?”

“Only semi-sweet?” he observed.

“I have my reasons,” I defended. “What about you? Something sugary and delicious?”

“Hmm, I have to rethink it. It’s definitely changed since I met you.”

He smiled at me, and I recoiled a little into the cushion seat of the booth, throwing my eyes immediately in a different direction—away from his.

“Peanut butter,” he decided.

“Why peanut butter?”

“I have my reasons,” he mocked.

“It’s not very sweet.”

“No, but it goes well with chocolate.”

“Oh,” I said as my face flushed with heat and I took another bite to try and hide my obvious smile. “I like peanut butter.” I wasn’t used to these sorts of flattering comments.

“You know,” he said. “I might have to change it to carne asada tacos . . . these are pretty good.”

It was already dark outside when we left the restaurant, even though it seemed like we had just come from my house. The hours had flown by unaccounted for.

“I just want to make one more stop,” he said, putting on new soothing music. Every once in a while I’d glance over at him, tapping his hand on the steering wheel and bobbing his head to the beat. It was hard not to enjoy myself. I didn’t really care where we went, but I wasn’t expecting it to be the grocery store.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Sure,” I said. At least this would give me some time to think.

I needed to decide what to do. The earlier I ended things the less it would hurt, so I would have to say something tonight. The knot formed in my stomach again. It wasn’t fair. I felt tears of frustration begin to form, and the constant battle between head and heart raged through me. I had no choice. I would tell him at the end of our perfect night—I would be the one to ruin it all. At least it would be done, and I wouldn’t be tempted to continue things after the morning.

“It’s not semi-sweet or anything, but I hope you actually like chocolate,” he said opening the car door with a box of ice cream cones in his hand.

“Who doesn’t like chocolate?” I answered cheerfully. His charm was revitalizing. All the conflict seemed to melt away with a single glance and a smile.

“So what now?” I asked. “Where should we go?”

“Feel like stopping by Cearno’s?”

“Are there a lot of people there?”

He seemed excited. “Yeah, I’m sure there are.”

“I don’t know,” I said, hoping to get out of mingling with people I’d have to avoid befriending.

“Okay. Then, I have another secret place I want to show you.”

We found ourselves at a park, left neglected in the night. The jungle gym and picnic tables were the only company it kept. The moonlight filtered down through the clouds lighting the ground with a peaceful glow.

“Do you want to get out?” I asked.

“Yeah, let’s crack open the ice cream before it melts.”

The large rooted trees that hovered over the weathered picnic tables and swings had littered the ground with dried leaves that crunched under my feet. William handed me a chocolate dipped cone, and I sat on the worn tabletop letting my legs dangle off the side.

“So, aside from working at Cearno’s, do you go to college or anything?” I asked.

“I guess you could say I go to school,” he answered.

“San Francisco State or what?”

“No, you haven’t heard of it. It’s more of a private institution.”

“What are you majoring in?”

“Greek Mythology,” he answered, trying not to smile. Maybe he was embarrassed about it. At least now, last night’s reference to the
Homeric Hymns
made more sense.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight. For not being a people person you are pretty easygoing.”

“For a bribe, yeah,” I teased. “It’s actually been a good time.”

“Hey, at least I’m winning you over.”

“We’ll see.” Winning me over wasn’t an option. “Once you’ve delivered on your side of the bargain.”

“The suspense is killing you, isn’t it?” I could tell he was having fun with this. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

I worried about our goodbye all the way to my apartment. I had to draw the line, cut him off, or shut him out. This was the first and last wonderful night we would have together. After tomorrow morning, I would make a point to avoid him. He walked me to my door. This was it.

“Listen William, I just want to say that . . .” When I turned to look at him, his eyes were piercing, as if his gaze could penetrate all boundaries. All of a sudden a sense of euphoria clouded my judgment, and I felt completely vulnerable. My eyes shifted quickly to his mouth as the edges curled into his dimpled cheeks, and my heart began to race making my body warm. The warmth was overwhelming, not like heat, not like anything I could describe.

Something was happening.
He is doing this to me
, I thought, but all the confusion seemed to drift away as the euphoric feeling spread. I hadn’t looked away from his lips, still wearing a faded smile. I couldn’t. I imagined brushing them with my own. I wanted to be closer to him. The warmth had spread to my head, leaving an empty feeling in my chest. I needed him. The emptiness was a hole that only he could fill. He was the relief. It pulled from every direction, this yearning for him. All he needed to do was speak the words, “kiss me,” and I would obey.

I found his eyes again, that penetrating gaze. I was desperate, searching for any sign of reciprocation. His expression fell, but it was there. He felt it too. I knew it.

Suddenly his lids closed, and the fog began to lift. Only fuzzy remnants of the feeling lingered as proof of my short-lived intoxication.

“Sorry,” he said in a low voice. I waited for him to continue, but he turned to leave instead, and rushed off down the street.

“William?” I asked after him, but he didn’t look back.

I wanted to chase him down or scream after him,
what was that
, but my head, now clear of his strange hypnotic hold, told me to be smart and go inside.

As I lay in bed that night, I relived each moment over and over again, hoping to pick up on something I might have missed, but always, it was the same inconclusive ending with his unexplainable goodnight. I tried considering the idea that maybe
I
had caused the strange euphoric rush that made me need him more than the most addictive of drugs, that had me willing to do anything he asked in return for his approval, but the vivid image of his intense eyes made me certain it was him.

I wanted more than anything to be straightforward and simply ask him what happened. Maybe there was a perfectly good explanation for the incident. I imagined how the conversation would go: “So, last night when you cast some sort of debilitating love spell on me . . . what was that?”

Realizing the absurdity of my question, I pictured his puzzled expression as he thought,
this girl is crazy
.

It was too risky. I was curious, but not willing to make a complete fool of myself. Maybe he’d explain in the morning. If not, I would have to be subtle, not come off too insane.

5.

IT WAS STILL DARK outside when I woke up to the sound of somebody in my apartment. The noises were faint, someone’s unsuccessful attempt to keep quiet. My mind immediately became aware and defensive, like an animal that knows it’s being hunted. Careful not to make a sound, I quietly crept out of bed and tiptoed my way to my desk, hoping to find something to use as a weapon. Without much luck, I grabbed the only thing that seemed somewhat feasible, a heavy square edged jewelry box the size of my palm. Deciding I could throw it at the intruder or maybe use it to pack a heavier punch if there was no chance of escape, I grabbed the piece and clutched it tightly in my trembling hand. My heart began to stutter, stumbling unevenly with each beat as the thuds became so loud I was sure they would give me away.

I moved on to the door, turning the knob soundlessly with gritted teeth hoping that the hinges would refrain from their sporadic creaking. They did, but even so, the panic began to take hold of me as I inched along the hallway wall that led from my bedroom. The noises had stopped.

There were only two viable scenarios. The first, it was a burglar, and with this place being so small, he would eventually find me, and then who knows what? The second and most probable thing that crossed my mind made me seize up with fear as I considered it. I was being followed, and whoever was behind it had sent someone to collect whatever it was they wanted, maybe even my life.

There was no telling what would come of me. I breathed quickly and silently, trying to decide whether I should wait or run. Sweat began to stick to my cotton pajamas as I listened for any hint of a sound. Nothing.

I moved closer, almost ready to make my move when a hand covered my mouth from behind, and my whole body tensed up from the inside. With a finger to his lips, William let go and moved to peer around the corner. I held my breath as he turned toward the kitchen and out of sight, leaving me alone in the hallway.

One second the place was silent, the next Kara was diving into William, knife drawn and ready. They rolled and scuffled on the floor of my living room, while I watched, too stunned with shock to scream.

She had him pinned beneath her, the blade pressed up against his neck.

“Wait,” I shouted, but she didn’t acknowledge me. Seconds passed, minutes. Then with a careful hand, Kara handed the knife to William and kissed him on the mouth.

“What the hell?” I said aloud.

“Jesus, Kara,” he said, shoving her off. She huddled shyly against the wall.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “She was trying to kill you and then . . .”

“I wasn’t trying to kill him,” Kara answered defensively. “He was going to attack me. It was self defense.”

“Well if you weren’t creeping around her apartment, I wouldn’t have to attack you.”

“Look who’s talking. What are
you
doing here?”

“Don’t turn things around. You know why I’m here. Answer the question.” William paced back and forth between the two of us, like a wolf guarding its den.

“I was looking for proof,” she answered. “I want to know if she is who you
think
she is.”

William glared at her. “Get out of my head, Kara.”

“I know you’re curious. Let’s see her prove it.”

Kara stood and William took a defensive step toward her. “I don’t need her to prove anything, and neither do you.”

She ignored him and kept her eyes locked on me. “OK, so
I’m
curious. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

“Careful,” he warned her. “Don’t test me.”

I waited in silence for one of them to make a move.

“Do they know?” he demanded.

She shrugged. “They know what I tell them.”

“So, what have you told them?”

I had no idea what they were talking about, but the way Kara looked at me had me ready to defend myself.

“Nothing. Yet.”

“Told who what?” I spoke up with force. “I’m tired of being talked about like I’m not here.”

That’s when the tiny blade went flying through the air, sticking me in the leg. I let out a cry of pain, and grabbed my right thigh. William had seen it coming, and pinned Kara to the wall in a matter of seconds.

“Not okay,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

She didn’t struggle, but her words were fierce. “Let me go.”

“Do yourself a favor and keep it to yourself.”

“Don’t threaten me,” she choked.

“Get. Out,” he spat, releasing her.

She fell to the floor and scampered toward the stairs, staring daggers at him. “Do
yourself
a favor and don’t get on my bad side.”

“Dammit,” he cursed as she slammed the front door behind her. Then, realizing I was still frozen from shock, he returned to me. “Are you all right?”

“No!” I shouted, letting him escort me to the pile of blankets on my floor.

“Just thought I’d ask.”

He knelt down beside me and straightened out my leg, gripping the edge of the blade with his strong fingers. “One, two . . .”

“Ouch!” I yelled at him as he pulled the metal from my flesh. “You didn’t even say three.”

“Three is for wussies.”

He gently rolled up the loose cotton of my pajama pant to examine the cut.

“Who are you people?”

“Well,
she’s
apparently a raging lunatic,” he said with a smile, “and I’m just the guy trying to keep you safe.”

After looking carefully at the cut, William took Kara’s knife and slid the sharp edge against the pad of his thumb, cutting deep enough to draw blood.

“What are you doing?” I asked, appalled.

“Always with the questions,” he answered, shaking his head. “Just hold your horses, Ellie.”

He moved to press his thumb against the cut on my leg, and I almost stopped him, but didn’t. He knew. Somehow he knew it would heal me.

“How do you know?” I whispered the secret question.

When he lifted his thumb, both of our cuts were gone. He wiped the fresh blood with his shirt, and stared at the flawless skin.

“I know what every Descendant knows,” he answered. “That there is a girl, the last healer, who has been hidden. The one we’ve been waiting for. The one who will change everything.”

“But I’m—”

“I know that makes no sense to you,” he interrupted. “There are others, Elyse. You’re not alone. That’s the first thing you should know.”

My mind picked out the one word that had meaning. “Others?” He was right. I didn’t believe him. “I want proof.”

“All I have right now is a picture my dad gave me,” he said, coming to sit next to me on the blankets. “I’ve been carrying it around just in case. He told me your parents had the same one, but I’m not sure you’ve seen it.” William handed me the photo. “If you need more proof, I was planning on showing you, but we have to wait until the morning.”

I couldn’t register the words he was saying, or maybe I just refused to believe them. William’s face was nervous, and he stared hard back at me. I tried to read the reason behind all of this, tried to understand how it could be true. I was so stupid, so naïve to trust him, to trust anyone, but I did.

I looked down at the picture I had been holding but not really looking at, and to my surprise, I
had
seen it. It was black and white and old, just like the one I had in my gold box, but this one was in much better condition. A group of people stood outside against a wall as if to take a class photo. All the faces were smiling, including my mother and father.

“There next to your parents, that’s my dad,” he affirmed.

I couldn’t believe it. Things like this didn’t happen to me, couldn’t possibly happen, but the evidence of it was right in my hands. I had no words, no thoughts, no reaction, or maybe just too many of everything to clearly define an emotion. It took more than a minute for my first real thought to surface.

“And you, you’re . . . one of them?” I asked with quiet hopefulness. My skin flushed hot and red as my pulse quickened. I prayed he didn’t notice.

He flashed his brilliant white smile at me. “A Descendant? Yeah, of course.”

Suddenly all of the misshapen pieces of my life that never seemed to fit clicked into place. There were others. I wasn’t alone. For the first time, I felt like anything was possible, like my future could be full of all the things I thought I would never have.

“A Descendant,” I repeated the word. It didn’t sound familiar. I turned to him, seeing everything through different eyes. “How old are you?”

“Three hundred and sixteen.”

“Really?” I asked in amazement.

“No. Not really.” He laughed to himself. “I’m ninety-two, but this is going to be a lot of fun.”

I felt myself smile. I couldn’t help it.
Please don’t let this be a dream
, I thought. It certainly seemed like one. There were too many thoughts racing through my head to process anything other than pure joy.

“What did you mean, I was the last healer? Don’t you heal too?”

“No, we all have different abilities. Yours is healing.”

“Abilities?” I scoffed. “What like super powers?” The question was a joke, but he took it more seriously than I expected.

“Well, kind of. Some abilities are a little too strange to be called a super power. Each family line has the power of their ancestors, which is why we call ourselves Descendants. My dad says you have the power of your mother, descendant of Asclepius, known as the god of healing.”

“The god of healing?” I asked in astonishment. A stifled laugh escaped my lips. This had to be a joke.

“We’re not gods though,” he added. “In fact, neither were any of the gods in Greek mythology. They’re our ancestors, and they were just like us. We’ve been around for a while. Sorry. I’m assuming you don’t know any of this, right?”

I laughed. “You’ve got to be joking. Gods?”

“Correction.
Not
gods.”

“Right,” I said with raised eyebrows. “You don’t really expect me to believe you?” I looked him straight in the eyes, calling his bluff, but he only smiled.

“I figured you wouldn’t. It’s like trying to tell someone unicorns exist or something. It’s hard to believe unless you see for yourself.”

“So you can prove it?” The picture was convincing, but I needed more.

“Yes. Tomorrow, okay? I’ll make sure you get a complete history lesson.”

“Well, can’t you tell me now, about the history?”

“I thought you didn’t believe me?”

“Well, say hypothetically I did.”

“So, if,
hypothetically
, you did believe me, I’d explain that we’ve had to live in hiding since the exposure of our race in Greece back in B.C. Our ancestors thought they could live in peace with humans so they tried to integrate—”

“Wait,” I interrupted, thrown off a bit. “Humans? What are you saying? We’re not human?”

From the look on his face, I could tell he hadn’t really considered my reaction to that seemingly small detail of his explanation. “Well, yes and no. Obviously we have similarities. In appearance, we’re the same, but no, we’re not humans, we’re Descendants. We’re different.”

I sighed in place of a response. Not because I didn’t believe him, but because it was actually starting to sink in. My whole life, I’d never felt normal, but maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe I was normal. I’d just never felt like a normal human, because I wasn’t.