Ella Frank - Veiled Innocence

One, two, three. One, two, three.

I looked at the old antique clock sitting on my desk. As the second hand—tick, tick, tocked—and penetrated my thoughts, I felt myself begin to relax.

Perfection. It’s a goal no one should have to live up to, but after what had happened…how could they love me otherwise?

Pushing off my bed, I made my way over to the oval mirror hanging on my bedroom wall. I studied my reflection and practiced the smile I knew she expected—the one she needed to see. My lips curved and what looked like a smile appeared, but my eyes remained lost.

“Addison!”

Again, her voice found me.

“Coming, Mom!” I finally yelled back.

With a shaky breath, I pulled my hair into a sleek ponytail and headed for the door. Halfway down the stairs I realized several strands had been missed, so I ran back up to my mirror. Knowing she was waiting on me, I yanked the elastic band out with a grimace and once again tied it, this time making sure I caught all of my hair before securing it in place. There, perfect.

Jogging down the stairs, I made my way to the kitchen and found her sipping coffee from her favorite mug. It was one that Daniel had given her for his last mother’s day.

It had I, huge red heart, my mom—and he had.

He’d loved her the most, and she mourned him by pretending it had never happened.

“Addison?” she asked as her eyes ran over me.

It was almost like a spot check.

Hair perfect. Clothes perfect. Behavior perfect.

Check, check, check. Flawless.

“Yes, Mom?”

Lowering the mug onto the black granite counter, her face altered from a frown to a smile so swiftly she would have fooled most, but not me.

“It says here that your time yesterday qualified you to hurdle in the state competition.”

“Oh, yeah,” I acknowledged, having completely forgotten. That piece of information had been lost somewhere around the time I slipped my fingers into my shorts for Mr—Grayson.

“Oh, yeah?” my mother repeated back to me, slowly.

I knew she hated the word yeah.

“Sorry. I meant yes. I was told before we left the meet and after we went to dinner. I must have forgotten.”

In reality, I’d left the school with Brandon, gone to Cherry Hill and let him put his fingers inside me—where mine had been earlier that afternoon for our history teacher.

“Well, young lady, this isn’t something you should take lightly. Your father and I are very pleased with your success.”

Yes, I’m sure he was. So proud that he hadn’t shown up to see me, and so proud he had left early this morning to play golf. The only time my father ever acknowledged me was when I was in his way, so I tried my best to stay out of it.

“We’ll go out tonight. To celebrate.”

The minute the words left her mouth, I knew the idea was a bad one. Family dinners these days consisted of my mother overreacting, my father over-drinking, and me trying, but always failing, to be the ideal daughter.

“That’s okay, Mom.”

“We are going out, and that is that. My baby girl, state champion.”

This side of her always confused me. She seemed genuinely pleased, but at a moment’s notice, her mood could change.

“Mom, I haven’t even run it yet.”

“I know. But you will, and you’ll win.”

I didn’t look away from the eyes as blue as my own, knowing without a doubt that state champion was what she expected. I also knew in my heart, she’d settle for nothing less.

“Yes, Mom,” I agreed and waited, knowing she had not yet dismissed me.

Picking up her coffee mug, she took another sip, and I was reminded again of why I was expected to live up to her high standards—Daniel.

“Tonight. We’ll go to Franco’s. Be ready at seven.”

“But—”

“No buts, young lady. We will celebrate this.”

I nodded, seeing no way out. “Yes, Mom.”

“Good. Good girl.” She paused. “What were you doing just now?”

There it was, the question she always asked. The one she didn't really need answered but inserted into every conversation she had with me.

She saw it as good parenting. That question showed she cared, right?

“Nothing, just read—”

“Good, good,” she muttered, not really listening at all.

The obligatory words had been spoken. I was now dismissed.

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon, and I was standing by my father’s bedside. I tried to remember a time when he wasn’t suffering, a time when he’d been strong, healthy—complete.

I pulled the aqua vinyl recliner next to his bed and sat down facing him. Sometimes, if I was lucky, he’d open his eyes and see—

“Gray,” I heard, and I looked into the face of a tired old man.

“Hey, Dad.”

I took his hand in mine and squeezed it.

“Hey yourself. What’s going on, son?”

Even now, with his world slowly fading, he saw straight through the mask and right into me.

“Nothing’s going on. How are you?”

With his usual dry wit intact, a familiar furrow creased his forehead. “How am I? Really, Gray? I woke up this morning, so that’s a great start.”

“Come on, Dad.”

He chuckled softly, which gave way to a cough. “You asked.”

“So I did.”

“Now, what’s going on, son?”

I knew there was no way I could admit the truth. That was not the man I wanted to be and certainly not the man I wanted him to remember. Fuck.

I couldn’t even look him in the eye as I recalled what happened yesterday.

Too close, I had been too fucking close to giving in.

Instead of being the teacher who inspired the desire to learn, I was the teacher inspiring my students—no, one student—to want me.

As if that was okay on any fucking level.

“Son? What is it? You seem…troubled.”

Erasing the revulsion from my face, I tried to assure him. “Nothing, Dad. It’s nothing.”

He squinted at me and tried a different tactic. “Is it the new school? Are the teachers giving you a hard time?”

I rested my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands between them.

How could I tell him, no, it’s an eighteen-year-old girl giving me trouble. He couldn’t understand because neither could I.

“Nope, just the usual. Oh, and my father is sick, you may have heard.”

With another congested cough, he shook his head on the stark white pillow. “Don’t try and bullshit a bullshitter. I’m sick, not stupid.”

“Dad, just leave it alone. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

There, if I said it was nothing, then it was—

“You’re lying to me. I taught you better than that, son. My students didn’t lie to me, and I’ve never let you either.”

Yes, that was the whole fucking problem. He had taught me better than that, and I was about to let him down.

“Is it a girl?”

Just that word alone had my palms sweating. Girl. Yes, it was definitely a girl.

“What’s the problem? You’re successful, and you take after me, so we both know you’re good-looking. You want my advice?”

For the first time in a long while, my father laughed at what he thought was a lovesick son. He had no idea I was cursing myself on the inside.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

I forced myself to keep the connection with him before he closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Life’s unexpected, Gray. Hearts come and go. If you want hers, then take it.”

I suppose that was easy to say when you didn’t know whose heart was up for the taking.

* * *

Seven-thirty arrived, and so did we. Three pillars of the community, all immaculately dressed and all without a single thing to say.

“Reservation for Lancaster,” Mom announced as though we were royalty.

The girl standing behind the hostess table looked around my mother and waved at me. “Hi, Addy.”

I had no idea who she was, but manners prevailed when my mom pinned me with her answer correctly look.

“Hi.”

She beamed at me as if I’d just agreed to be her new BFF and then returned her attention to my mom.

“Okay, Mrs. Lancaster, right this way.”

We were ushered inside and about to walk past the bar when I spotted him. He was standing at the counter watching the television that was mounted on the back wall.

I stopped in place, and as my father ran into me, he cursed, “Shit, Addison.”

That was the moment that Grayson saw us.

It was the first time Mr. McKendrick met my parents.

* * *

Present…

Doc snaps my attention back to him with a sharp click of his fingers.

“Addison, as adults we become burdened with different kinds of responsibilities. When do you believe we are ready for that?”

Once again, I find myself sitting opposite Doc as he tries to pull from me the answer he seeks. He does this, as always, by asking questions I don’t give a shit about.

Tick, tick, tock.

How am I supposed to know about adult responsibilities when my only examples have been so quick to abandon all of theirs?

That isn’t the real question here. No.

The real question, disguised so poorly by the adult in the room, is age.

There it is.

Only three letters, yet it’s a word so big that it can ruin a career, tarnish a reputation and destroy a life. Forever.

“He was thirty-two.”

His age.

“You were eighteen.”

My age.

“That wouldn’t be illegal, except...”

Tick, tick, tock.

He’ll be waiting a long time for me to finish that statement.

I have time. He doesn’t. Doc needs me to talk. To trust him with all of my secrets and all of his because without those words, they have nothing. I look this adult in the eye, and he knows. He isn’t going to get anything from me.

I know where my responsibilities lie, and it’s nowhere near him.

Past…

I could tell by the way he glanced at the door that Grayson’s first thought was to run. I guess I couldn’t blame him. It was my first thought too. But while he wanted to run to the exit, I felt the irresistible urge to run to him.

He was dressed in dark jeans and a red shirt with his hair pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck. Everything about him appealed to me—including the flash of paranoia that crossed his face, so subtle only I noticed.

Knowing he had no immediate means of escape, I turned to my dad and stated clear enough to penetrate his alcohol-induced mind, “That man over there is my new history teacher. I’m going to go and say hello, if you even care.”

My father, I guess I could still call him that even though he’d checked out of our lives a little over two years ago, stared down at me. “Don’t talk to me like that, Addison.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I paused and looked back to where Grayson was paying for a pizza. “I’m going.”

“Addison, get back…” he tried, but his words faded as I made my way through the tables. I reached the end of the bar just as Grayson turned to exit.

“Well, tonight just got a whole lot more interesting. Hello, Mr. McKendrick.”

* * *

She appeared untouchable. So immaculately put together that she almost didn’t seem real. Her curls hung loosely over her shoulders, and her mouth was painted the same color as the rosy blush tinting her cheeks.

Taking in the rest of her ensemble did nothing to alleviate the heat spreading through my veins. Standing in front of me was a walking contradiction.

Wearing a pink summer dress with short sleeves that cupped her shoulders, Addison should have represented sweet, innocent even. However, the words that left her mouth, and the eyes that found mine, were anything but.

I was losing this battle.

As I stood beside her with her parents making their way over to us, I made sure my focus remained on her face.

“Hello, Addison. I see you’re here with your parents. Hi, I’m Mr. McKendrick, Addison’s history teacher.”

I held the pizza box out in front of me to stay at a distance and angled my body away from hers. Her mother, an attractive lady in her early forties, gave me a much more thorough once-over this time around. When her eyes came up to meet my own, recognition dawned.