Chapter Eleven – The Present (Part One)

Sarah

“Sarah, come on! We have to go!”

“Hold your horses,” I mumble to myself.

My dress is on. My makeup is done. My hair is perfect. My diamond necklace almost rivals the one the old lady threw into the ocean at the end of Titanic. I'm just reaching up to put my diamond earrings into my ears, and it catches my eye in the mirror.

A ring. On my finger.

Up until last night, I hadn't really let it get to me. It was more of a joke than anything. You know, Oh, haha, look at us, we're “engaged”. Actually, the whole thing felt sort of childish, like the kind of thing the two of us might have done in high school to screw around with our friends. We totally would have done that.

But now that the ring is on my finger, even though technically I know it means nothing, it makes me look at myself completely differently.

The whole thing was actually very sweet. I had never really pegged Lance to be one for tender gestures of romance like that – the candlelight dinners, the slow dances, the proposal he planned. I guess for so long I got used to him being such a hard character. To me, he always seemed sort of like my father in that way.

In fact, in a lot of ways, he reminds me exactly of my father. With the one exception being that so far Lance hasn't tried to sell me as a possession, but that's neither here nor there. In all other ways, he is so much like my father. I have heard before that women tend to gravitate toward men that remind them of their fathers, and I had never bought into it given my circumstances – but now I think that even in the case of women like me with callous bastards as fathers, it might hold some salt.

“Sar-ah!”

I hear him yelling up the stairs impatiently.

“We've got an hour drive into the city and the party starts at eight. Your hair is fine, you look great – can we just go?”

I can't help but chuckle as I finally put the last earring into my ear.

“Chill your shorts, I'm coming!” I yell down.

“It's good to know that a swanky society ball can force the lady within you to show herself.”

I smile as I do one final check of my hair to make sure that all the bobby pins are securely in place and I won't have a mess of hair falling out halfway through the night. I know the agitation and snide tone he's throwing around tonight is caused by jitters – for some reason, he's convinced that my father will have him done away with. I haven't really figured this mindset of his out yet, and it's had me perplexed from day one. Even with all my father's misgivings, he's never expressed any bad blood toward Lance.

It almost seems like there's something I don't know, but that could be paranoia. After all, my father does stand at a good six foot and change, with a build that could take Lance down in one carefully-planned clothesline.

When I'm assured that everything is securely in place and nothing – hair or otherwise – will fall out of place unexpectedly through the night, I grab my silver clutch from my bed and leave the room, turning off my light and closing the door as I walk out.

“Don't have a coronary,” I say as I reach the top of the stairs, finally. “I'm ready now.”

He's turned away from me, all the way on the other side of the living room as if he's been pacing around waiting for me. He turns to me as he hears my voice, and I know he's prepped to say something, but then his eyes hit me.

The fact that he stops dead in his tracks and his jaw drops gives me quite a confidence boost.

“Holy crap, Sar,” he says.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” I say as I hold the fabric of my dress up to walk down the stairs. “You look quite good yourself – it's a nice touch matching your vest to my dress. I like it.”

He looks away from me to look down at the vest under his tuxedo, which is about the same dark blue of my gown, as if he's completely forgotten what he was wearing.

“Are you ready?” I ask him.

“Uh...yeah,” he says, grabbing at his keys.

“Let's jet.”

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Lance

The night has barely begun, and I've already stuck my foot so far in my mouth that I'm about to choke on it.

Actually, that was about the reaction I had when she showed up at the top of those stairs. I knew she would look good, because she always looks good to me; but I guess I'm so used to her wearing simple blouses and slacks, or a demure dress for going to work, I hadn't quite expected her to come down in a gown that would knock my socks off.

But that's exactly what it did. She's wearing a dusty blue strapless gown that hugs her upper body tightly, but flares out in the skirt. She has a silver belt of some sort wrapped around her waist, and it's studded with diamond and sapphire gemstones. She has her hair curled and carefully swept up in a way that, as a guy, I can't even begin to understand how she's gotten it to stay that way.

The only other time I've seen her this way is the night of her sweet sixteen birthday party. And that's why I reacted the way I did when she came down the stairs.

It felt like I was sent back through some cruel wormhole, right back to another time and place to be knocked down a notch and reminded me that she's not now and will never be truly mine. And as we get closer to the city, I think that's what this whole party tonight comes down to. A cruel reminder that she's as untouchable to me as ever.

“Sweetheart?”

I turn and Sarah is looking at me, with the huge, fake smile she's been wearing all night.

“You remember Mrs. Laporte don't you?” She grabs my arm and nods her head towards the older, red-haired woman standing next to her. “She's the district manager of all the Staten Island branches?”

I smile and reach my free hand out. “Of course, it's great to see you Mrs. Laporte.”

The woman shakes my hand and smiles back. “James. I haven't seen you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Sarah squeezes my bicep with her hands and we smile at each other again. I think she can tell by the look in my eye that I don't remember ever seeing this woman in my entire life.

“I haven't seen your mother in years,” Mrs. Laporte says. “How is she doing, darling?”

“She's great,” I respond.

“Is she still teaching?”

The look on her face and the tone in her voice when she says it – with an empathetic, pitying attitude, almost peels the smile right off my face.

“She is,” I say, standing tall – if only for Sarah's sake. “Actually, she's taking a position as head of the English department at Thornhill this coming fall.”

“Oh, that's great. You know, I always did worry about her teaching at those other schools.”

Sarah looks at me, but makes sure to look away so only I can see the way her lips purse and her eyes almost roll. My family never did fit into this crowd, and both of us knew it. Even though my father is one of the best lawyers in the entire state, my mom was always “just” a teacher. Instead of working in a private school sector, she always chose to dedicate her time where it was needed more, at less privileged schools...the other schools.

Instead of letting it get to me, I smile and scrunch my nose.

“Tell me about it,” I say with a modicum of sarcasm. “I mean – the Bronx.”

I hear Sarah cough, but when I turn to check on her I suspect from the smile on her face it was only to carefully disguise a laugh.

“Your parents must be thrilled to hear about your marriage,” Mrs. Laporte says.

We launch into the act we've been feigning all night. Sarah turns back toward Mrs. Laporte with a big smile on her face; I grab her hand and give it a squeeze, making sure to modestly show off the big diamond ring for effect; and we briefly look at each other like we're the happiest couple in the world.

“We're all just...very happy,” Sarah says with that smile.

We could have been actors – we're just that good at this.

“Congratulations, to both of you,” Mrs. Laporte says.

After a few moments of, as Sarah has put it, hobnobbing with Mrs. Laporte, she looks away and looks back quickly and gives us a gracious exit when she sees her brothers with each other. After politely saying goodbye, she nearly drags me over to the side of the ballroom where they're standing.

“I thought you'd never get away from that pretentious old bag of stuffing,” Jude says when we're within earshot.

“This is the worst party that Dad has ever had,” Sarah says, finally having a chance to drop her society girl act. “My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. If I have to tell the story of how he proposed to one more person...”

“If I have to hear the story from one more person,” Calvin says, lowering his voice as people walk by. Then he looks at me. “No offense man, it's a wonderful story, but come on.”

“Are you kidding?” I ask. “If I have to hear her tell it one more time I might walk out. I don't know how you guys do this all the time.”

“Don't you think you guys are laying it on a little thick with the honey, sweetie, darling act?” Jude asks. “You aren't afraid that someone will see through it?”

“Oh please, these people are buying right into it,” Calvin cuts in. “All I've heard all night is 'Oh look at James and Sarah, look how happy they are, aren't they great together'.”

“Speaking of – where's Jackson?” Sarah asks, looking at Jude.

Jude looks away when she brings up the subject of his boyfriend for the last three years.

“Dad didn't invite him,” Calvin says quietly.

“What?” she asks.

“Not only did he not invite him, he told us that if Jackson showed up anywhere within the general vicinity he'd have security take him away,” Calvin says, nodding his head toward the area where Sheldon's hired hands would be guarding the doors.

“Why?”

“Apparently, we have a former Republican senator as a guest tonight,” Calvin says, not bothering to hide his distaste. “Very conservative, very old-fashioned...very homophobic.”

I feel Sarah's hand tighten around mine. Looking over at her, I see her cheeks reddening, even under her makeup.

“It's alright,” Jude finally says. “I have to be here because I'm family. It's par for the course. If Jackson were here, he'd be miserable. Maybe it's better that he's not.”

“You might be right,” Calvin responds. “Whatever Jackson is doing right now, it has to be better than this. If there's any cosmic balance, he's probably the happiest of all of us.”

Even though her brothers try to pass it off – and they're probably all too right that Jackson is better off sitting at home than being here, having to put up with her father and his friends – I can tell that Sarah is angry. She may be the baby of the siblings, but she's always been very protective of her brothers – especially Jude. Even from afar I've seen that she's had to put up with her father's mistreatment of Jude for the past five years.

“Hey, why don't you go take a break?” I ask, turning toward her slightly. “I'll hold down the fort.”

“I can't,” she says.

“Sure you can.” I pull her away, even though I know we have no secrets in front of her brothers. “Sneak out the back and sit in the car and take a breather. I know you need it.”

She visibly relaxes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “Don't worry, I'll babysit your misfit brothers and make sure they don't get into any trouble.”

I pull the keys out of my tuxedo jacket pocket and hand them to her so she can unlock the door.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“You're welcome.”

“I guess I should give you a goodbye kiss, so we look good, huh?” she asks, smiling.

“A big one,” I respond. “Knock the pants off these uppity assholes. In fact, where's that senator...”

I jokingly start to look around, but she reaches up and pulls me toward her by the neck. When she presses her lips to mine, I'm surprised by the affection she actually puts into the kiss. Her lips part slowly for a moment, but she breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes.

“I'm so glad you're here tonight,” she whispers. “I love you.”

I'm surprised when the words slip out of her mouth; that's the first time I can ever recall hearing her say 'I love you' to me.

“I love you too, Sarah,” I whisper back.

She smiles at me and brandishing my car keys, she walks away.

I take a moment to catch my breath before I take a few steps back over to her brothers, who are staring at me, not trying to hide their amusement.

“Who are you trying to impress again?” Jude asks me, lowering his voice. “Because you could have won an Academy for that one.”

“All for show, man,” I tell him. “All for show.”

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Sarah

Lance was right – I did need a breather. I'm not sure it's actually doing me any good though.

I knew when I didn't see Jackson with my brother that something was up. They're almost always together. I had hoped that Jude had decided to spare him the torture of a Kennedy family party, but I should have known better. When something in this family is not the way it should be, it usually has something to do with Dad.

It always comes down to Dad.

Lance was right about that too. The moment we walked into the party and met up with my family, my father gave him the look. Even to me it showed that he'd rather wipe him off the face of the Earth than acknowledge his presence.

My mother, on the other hand, was a level beyond thrilled that I couldn't put it into words. She smiled the moment she saw him, and scooped him up into a hug that would welcome anyone into the family. Of course, my brothers were also thrilled to see him, since the three of them have been friends longer than him and I have.

But as always, my Dad is a different story. There is something there that I don't know; some secret between Lance and my father that no one has told me. It has to be bigger than a simple rivalry or a few unkind words that were exchanged. But I'm sure I'll never know. That's how it works in this family.

I'm startled out of my thoughts when I hear the car door open.

“Hey, you've been out here a while,” Lance says, peeking in on me. “Everything okay?”

I turn the accessory of the car over with the keys and when the dashboard clock lights up, I see that I've been sitting here for forty-five minutes.

“Sorry,” I say to him as he climbs in the driver's side and closes the door. “I've been thinking. Have you been talking to Jude?”

“Jude and your mother,” he says. “Since they'll soon be my in-laws and all.”

I elbow him, and he just laughs.

“Do you think everyone is buying it?” I ask.

“That we're madly in love and getting married?” he asks. “I don't know about your dad, but your mom seems to be. I think when we come clean we may have to get married anyway, so we don't break her heart.”

“Well, that'll kill Daddy for sure,” I respond.

“You know, if that doesn't do the trick, I can always drive you to Vegas to elope in my Ferrari,” he says.

I look at him and smile. “Oh my God, please don't tell me you still have that thing.”

He laughs. “Baby, you never get rid of a Ferrari. It's a Ferrari.”

“A shitty 1993 Ferrari with the ugliest paint job known to man.”

“That hurts,” he says, putting his hand to his heart.

“When I'm your wife, that's the first thing I'm going to do – make you get rid of that thing.”

I smile at him, but he looks away from me. I expected him to laugh at the joke, but his smile fades.

“Hey, what's wrong?” I ask.

“I just can't do it anymore, Sarah,” he says, his voice lowering. “I can't lie to you anymore. It's killing me.”

“Lie...to me?” I ask.

“When I was eighteen, I only loved two things,” he says. “That stupid Ferrari...and you.”

He pauses a moment before he looks at me.

“But you were only sixteen,” he says. “You didn't need to be sixteen and tied down to a boy, while I went away to law school and left you here all alone. You needed to be sixteen – date boys, make me jealous, break their hearts, get your heart broken while Calvin and I sat back and plotted where to bury the bodies.”

“What are you telling me, Lance?” I ask.

“I thought I'd come back after a summer or two, after you had graduated, and if you hadn't started dating anybody else, I'd tell you how I felt,” he says.

“You never did.”

“Your father is to blame for that.”

I narrow my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You remember the night of your sweet sixteen party?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“You remember what happened that night?”

It's been sixteen years, but I can scarcely forget.

“I was wearing that horrible ballgown.”

“You were beautiful,” he says.

“I came down the stairs and there you were, waiting for me,” I say.

“I couldn't keep my eyes off you.”

I can't help but smile. “Later that night, we danced.”

“'I Swear', by All-4-One.”

“You've had all of that on your mind for the past sixteen years?” I ask.

“Sarah, you never forget the night you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with your best friend.”

I can hear myself suck in a breath of air.

“Your Dad must have sensed the air change or something,” he says. “He pulled me aside after that and told me if I ever touched you, you'd be the last girl I ever touched. That's the only reason I ever pushed you away. That's the only reason I never came back for you.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?” I ask, feeling angry.

“Because you didn't need this,” he says. “You didn't need to know that your father was doing things like that. You had enough problems with him as it was – you and your brothers all did. You didn't need me adding to it.”

I can't help myself. When I feel the anger rise inside my chest, it completely envelopes me. I barely hear Lance calling my name out while I'm opening the car door, closing it with a slam as I storm back into the dance hall.

I see him there, across the hall, chumming it up with a couple of other business men. I no longer care if it's uncouth or impolite, or if I'm going to cause a scene in front of all of New York society, my entire family, and all their pompous friends.

Betrayed doesn't even begin to describe the way I feel.

When I push him and he falls to the dance floor on his back, even I'm shocked at my strength.

“I don't believe you!” I scream. “You had my life planned out from the day I was born, and you've never passed up an opportunity to completely fuck it up!”

“Just what is the meaning of this, young lady?” he asks me.

His tone – God, it's like being put in front of a ruthless dictator. He just booms over you. His voice alone frightens you into doing whatever he wants.

But I'm done letting him rule over me.

“I could have had an amazing life,” I say. “I was in love. But it didn't fit into your perfect damn picture, so you used your power to ruin it all for me.”

I've earned a crowd, all of New York's highest class gathered around to watch the scorned Kennedy heiress assaulting her own father so they can gossip about it over tea tomorrow morning. My mother has taken to my father's side, helping him up from the floor, and I feel a pair of arms pulling on me.

“Sar, come on now,” Jude says.

“No, Jude,” I say, ripping my arm away from him. “I'm tired of it. I'm tired of living under his thumb. I'm tired of living under his rule, and I'm tired of him thinking he can dictate my whole life!”

I hear my voice reverberate through the entire domed hall and bounce off the walls. I'm screaming. And then Lance comes to stand in front of me, grabbing my arms.

“Stop, Sar,” he says. “It's fine. Just stop.”

“It's not fine!” If it weren't his arms around me, I'd push them away. “It's not fine at all! We loved each other. We were happy with each other. He ruined it! He ruins everything. He puts himself in the middle and he always ruins everything!”

Jude, Calvin, and Lance are all surrounding me, holding me back from my father even as I fight them. I don't even stop fighting or back away as my father starts approaching me.

“This behavior,” he says to me, his voice a low, angry growl. “It is not acceptable.”

“Your behavior is unacceptable,” I hiss at him, unable to control myself. “Treating me and Jude like dirt. Making our choices for us. Threatening the only guy I've ever loved. Setting me up to marry someone who only sees my worth in dollar signs because he's who you want me to be with.”

His eyes widen and he glances around at the crowd of his guests before he looks back at me.

“You haven't told the inner circle about that one, I guess,” I say. “You'd rather they believe that I'm the shame of the family. You'd rather them believe that than look down on you for the shame you bring to this family.”

“Leave,” my father says to me. “Now.”

“Gladly.”

My brothers throw their hands up in the air when I push all of them away from me, but Lance doesn't step away. He wraps his arm around my waist as I turn to leave.

“Get me out of here,” I tell him even as he's ushering me away. “As fast as you possibly can.”