Forbidden Sister

  Would I guard my virginity because I thought that was right to do or because I was afraid of what would come afterward, afraid of what sort of woman I would become? Was it wrong to think of myself as someone special, and was it naive to believe that if Evan thought so, too, he would respect me and not want me to be just another girl in the pack? How long could our relationship last?

  Of course, there were high school sweethearts who went on to get married. I didn’t know anything about statistics, but it seemed to me that most of those relationships didn’t last. One or the other was always wondering if he or she had missed out. I imagined one might even come to resent the other for trapping him or her.

  I had no illusions about myself and Evan. It was very possible that we could have a high school romance that would last for years, but when he left high school, he would meet other girls, and I would meet other boys. Was it possible in today’s young persons’ world to have a romance that wasn’t completely intimate? Now that I thought about it, would a boy, especially a boy like Evan who was so good-looking and popular, tolerate that? I liked him. I really liked him, but deep inside, I knew that he probably wouldn’t be that tolerant. I knew that if we didn’t become intimate, he would move on, and other girls would look at me as being the dumb one, not him. That was just the way it was.

  Whatever I eventually did, however, I wouldn’t do it simply to please others and fit in. I really didn’t care about their opinions of me. Girls who worried about belonging and being accepted were very insecure, I thought. They were girls like Chastity, and in the end, they would be very unhappy no matter what they decided or did. I was sure of that, but all of my brilliant thinking didn’t keep me from falling asleep with confusion. I was almost as afraid of tomorrow as I was excited about it.

  I tried to do as much of my schoolwork as I could in the morning, but at around ten, Chastity called to ask me how my dinner was. She sounded different—calmer and more accepting of my relationship with Evan. She even sounded excited for me and very interested in all I described.

  “You never explained how to drink wine when I was at your house for dinner,” she whined when I told her about that, however. “As I remember, your father didn’t let your mother serve us.”

  “He wasn’t sure your parents would approve.”

  “Well, we could do it ourselves, drink wine, and you could show me, okay?” she asked.

  “It’s best enjoyed with food, Chas. Tell you what. One of these nights when my parents are going out, you’ll come over to have dinner with me, and we’ll drink a good wine.”

  “Just you and me?”

  “Probably,” I said. I knew what she was hinting at.

  “Probably,” she repeated. Then she told me about some of the gossip she had picked up from Carol Lee. Nothing passed through the school as quickly as news about a new romance, and with Evan’s popularity, ours went right to the front page. From what she was telling me, it sounded as if most of the girls were just plain jealous.

  “I don’t care what they say,” I told her. “You don’t have to bother telling me any more you hear them say, either.”

  “Whatever. So what are you doing today? I can come over later, and we can take a walk up to you know where.”

  I told her about Evan coming to take me to lunch and going to the park. She was very quiet and then suddenly burst out, “See you someday. ’Bye.”

  Less than an hour later, Evan was at the front door. Papa put his newspaper down and got up quickly to greet him.

  “Good morning, Mr. Wilcox. How are you?” Evan asked. “I mean, comment allez-vous?” He smiled at me.

  “Bien,” Papa said. “So, I understand your father is going to run for Congress.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mama came into the entryway, and Evan greeted her completely in French.

  “You’re learning well,” she told him.

  “I have the perfect tutor,” he said, nodding at me.

  “When is your father going to announce his candidacy formally?” Papa asked him.

  “Very soon.”

  “You have to be right on everything now, son. Nowadays, when someone runs for a political office, the whole family runs.”

  “Yes, sir,” Evan said. “We already discussed that, sir.”

  I didn’t think that Papa could see how Evan was pretending to be military in his posture and his voice, but I knew that if Papa sensed he was being mocked, he would be very, very angry.

  “We’re going. I want to get back to finish my homework and study for a math quiz,” I said, more to impress Papa than anything else.

  “Have fun,” Mama said, and we left.

  “It’s funny,” Evan said as we started walking toward the park, “but I can’t help feeling like I should salute your father.”

  “He has that effect on people,” I admitted.

  “He doesn’t blow a bugle in the morning, does he?”

  “Practically,” I said, and he laughed.

  “I like him. I like both your parents, and you know why?” he asked, taking my hand.

  “Why?”

  “They made you,” he said, and leaned over to kiss my cheek.

  Would I ever be happier with someone than I was with Evan at this moment? Maybe all of those risks and dangers I was envisioning last night were foolish after all. Maybe I could be intimate with him and not regret it ever because this was very special. I was so pensive that he asked if I was all right.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just enjoying the day.”

  “I hope because you’re with me,” he said.

  “What do you think?”

  He widened his smile. We entered Central Park. The city was still experiencing a bit of Indian summer, so the park was crowded with women pushing carriages and talking, couples like us just walking and enjoying the weather, and younger kids on skateboards. There were many people from foreign countries there, too. Papa had explained that because of the currency-exchange advantage that foreigners had with the American dollar, places like New York were experiencing greater tourism. Evan asked me what the languages were whenever we heard people talking. I was able to recognize Italian, Spanish, and German easily, but some of the Slavic languages were difficult. I wasn’t sure about the Asian languages. I suspected some Vietnamese.

  We sat on a bench, and he put his arm around me. For a while, we did what many people do in the park, people watching. The sun felt warm and soothing on my face. I lowered my head to his shoulder, and he kissed my hair and sucked in his breath.

  “You smell fresh and sweet,” he said.

  “Mama gets our shampoos and perfumes from my aunt in France.”

  “Tell me more about your family in France,” he said.

  I explained that I didn’t know that much, because I had been so young when we were there, but I told him as much as I could remember. I was very tempted to tell him about Roxy. At one point, it was on the tip of my tongue, but before I could do it, he decided we should get something to eat.

  We did, and then we walked to the zoo and fed some of the animals. On the way back, he told me he had never been as happy or as comfortable with any girl as he was with me. We made all sorts of plans for the week and the next weekend. At my front door, he kissed me as passionately as he had the night before and then stood there looking as though he might burst into tears because he had to be away from me until the morning.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said. “Before you go to sleep.”

  “You’d better,” I told him. He gave me another quick kiss and walked off. I watched him disappear around the corner.

  While I was still standing there, I had the sense that I was being watched, too. I looked around slowly but saw no one in particular looking my way. Even so, the feeling persisted. It even made my heart beat faster.

  Roxy, I thought, are you out there? Have you always been?

  Finally, I gave up searching the block, studying every corner and alleyway, and went in to do my schoolwork, but I
couldn’t help peering out my windows occasionally to see if anyone resembling Roxy was out there watching our house. When I told myself that my forbidden sister was haunting me, I guessed I meant it in more ways than one. I was sure Papa would be furious if he knew how much I thought about her.

  He was very talkative at dinner. I was pleased to hear how much he liked Evan. He said he was surprised that there still were young boys who could be as refined and polite. He said it restored his faith in the future. Mama and I exchanged looks, both of us hiding smiles. We were like two teenagers who couldn’t wait to be alone to giggle.

  Evan called in the evening as he had promised. He told me he had rarely had a day like the day we had.

  “I can’t remember when I spent so much time in Central Park. None of my friends thinks it’s all that cool a thing to do. Their girlfriends want more excitement.”

  “I would have gone someplace else if you wanted to,” I said, afraid he was saying these things just to please me.

  “Oh, no. They think like that because they don’t have you,” he said.

  It made me feel wonderful to hear him say it. I wondered if he could sense it through the phone, hear it in the softness of my voice. It really took a specially trained person to hide his or her feelings completely, I thought. Whether you intended to or not, your voice, your eyes, or little gestures you made betrayed you. Maybe that was why Roxy never cried or spoke when Papa yelled at her or punished her. She kept herself well locked up inside. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how she really felt. How it must have frustrated him to be unable to get her to react. How strong she must have been to resist someone as strong as Papa. Surely, it was that strength that enabled her to survive on her own.

  The older I became, the more interested I was in Roxy. Every time I had a new experience, I wondered how she would have reacted to it. But wasn’t that only natural? Surely, everyone who had a brother or a sister measured himself or herself against them at one time or another. Children were always crying something like “She did it, too!” or “You let him do it!” It was easier to defend yourself by implying they favored one of you over the other. An only child didn’t have that same advantage, and like it or not, I was an only child now.

  I tried to put these thoughts aside and concentrate on what Evan was saying. He went on to talk about the commotion now in his house because of his father’s decision to run for Congress. He told me how excited his sister was about it. He said it was her secret ambition to run for a political office someday, too, and their father’s success would help her in the future. Finally, he sounded excited about it himself. I told him so, even though I knew he had been trying to be aloof and cool about it.

  “It’s impossible not to be,” he admitted. “You heard them. It’s going to take over our lives for months and months. That’s why I’m glad I have you to help me keep my feet on the ground,” he added.

  I told him I was happy about that, too, and then he said, “Bon nuit.” He added before we hung up, “I’ve been practicing this in the mirror.”

  “What?”

  “Je t’aime.”

  I didn’t speak.

  “Why is it,” he asked, “that ‘I love you’ sounds better in French?”

  “It sounds wonderful in any language,” I said. I wanted to add many things, but I didn’t. I didn’t tell him I loved him. Maybe I would come to say it. Right now, I liked him a lot, and he made me feel good, but I believed people shouldn’t say Je t’aime so easily or quickly. What made things special in this world was how rare and precious they were. Maybe I was like my French grandfather, whom I had never met. Maybe I was a true romantic at heart. Love was too deeply felt and too large an emotion to be tossed about loosely. Save it, hold it in your heart, and cherish the day you really believe it, I thought.

  But I did go to sleep thinking and dreaming about Evan. Perhaps I was on the doorstep of real love. Could it really happen this quickly? I wanted to believe it, but I had the feeling that if Roxy were there with me and I had told her all of this, she would smirk and say, “Relax, sis. This is just your first romance. You haven’t experienced anything like it, so you don’t know exactly how to act and think.”

  “Does it get better?” I would ask her.

  “Better? Sure. It’s like anything else you enjoy. The more you do it, the better it becomes.”

  “But didn’t you ever love anyone more than anyone else, Roxy?”

  She just would look at me. And then she would slowly disappear with the question still ringing in her ears.

  I fell asleep before she could return, and once again, I was up before Papa in the morning. He looked surprised but also still groggy, which was unusual for him. I had the feeling my enthusiasm was a little too much for him this time.

  “Watch yourself,” he told me, as if he believed I was already so lovesick I might be careless crossing the street.

  It was true that there was more of a bounce in my steps as I hurried to school. I anticipated that Evan would be waiting for me near my locker. I know I was at school earlier than necessary, but I was hoping he would have the same enthusiasm and be there, too.

  He wasn’t. Students began arriving in large groups, their voices loud, their gestures overly dramatic. I had my books and was slowly making my way to homeroom, looking everywhere as I walked, hoping to see Evan. I lingered as long as I could and then thought that maybe the excitement about his father running for Congress had overflowed. Maybe he had to be somewhere to take pictures with his mother and father. All sorts of possibilities streamed through my brain.

  I saw Chastity arrive. She was almost late. I waved to her, but she either didn’t see me or ignored me and joined Carol Lee Benson and Dawn Miller as they rushed to their lockers to get their things before the warning bell rang. A sudden cloud of dark disappointment rushed over me. It was like a blanket being thrown over a fire to smother it. I had my head down as I approached the doorway to my homeroom. Just before I entered, I felt a hand on my right elbow and turned to see Evan. He was like Superman swooping down to pull me up out of a pool of depression.

  “I thought you weren’t coming to school or something,” I said, rushing my words, realizing the bell was going to ring any moment. “I thought there was some sort of family political thing you forgot to mention.”

  “No, nothing like that yet,” he said, but he didn’t smile.

  “What’s wrong? You look like you just lost your best friend or something.”

  “Maybe I did. Don’t go to the cafeteria for lunch. Meet me at the west entrance. We need to talk,” he said, and the bell rang.

  “But why—”

  Before I could add another word, he turned and hurried to his corridor. Chastity, Carol Lee, and Dawn came up behind me.

  “See that look on Evan’s face? What did you do, tell him you’re pregnant?” Dawn asked, and to my surprise, Chastity joined in the laughter.

  I gave her a cold look and then walked into homeroom and went to my desk. My heart was thumping like a blown tire on the highway. I kept my eyes forward, listened to the announcements, and said nothing to anyone until the bell for class rang. Chastity hurried out ahead of me. She even joined Cathy Starling.

  What’s with her? I wondered. Suddenly, she was best friends with those girls? Cathy Starling, who compared her to a blimp? I didn’t rush to catch up. Chastity never looked back for me, either.

  When we sat at our desks in our first class, Chastity leaned over to whisper, “How was your day in the park?”

  “It was very nice,” I said. “We went to the—”

  “I’m glad for you,” she said, interrupting, and then turned around to talk to Carol Lee.

  It was the same during all of my morning classes. Chastity and the other girls were always whispering behind my back or even directly in front of me, and Chastity did her best to avoid me as much as possible. It caused me to lose my concentration, and Mr. Kendal bawled me out in math class for not hearing his question and n
ot paying attention. By the time I finished my last class of the morning, I felt like bursting into tears. The only thing that buoyed me was knowing that I was going to meet up with Evan. He was waiting at the west entrance. I smiled and hurried to him.

  “Let’s go outside,” he said, opening the door.

  I followed him out, and he walked down the path that went around the building. There was a low cement barrier between our school and another building. He sat on it and looked up at me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “My mother got a call last night from Carol Lee Benson’s mother. They go to a Pilates class together.”

  “So?”

  “Seems somebody told Carol Lee that you have an older sister,” he said. “Not an adopted older sister and not a half sister, either.”

  It was as if I could feel my heart drop into my stomach.

  “And it seems she’s a prostitute, a famous prostitute.”

  “She’s not famous,” I said. It was all I could think to say.

  “She has a French name, something about a flower?”

  “Fleur du Coeur. Flower of the heart.”

  “So it’s all true? Your sister’s a whore?”

  “They call it an escort,” I said so dryly that it sounded as if I was talking in a tunnel.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this? Why did you pretend you were an only child? I even asked you what it was like to be an only child. And your father’s such a . . . correct, spit-and-polish man. What an act.”

  “He’s not acting. That’s how he really is. I didn’t lie about him. His father, my grandfather, is a real Army general, and he was brought up—”

  “And has a prostitute for a daughter?”

  “You don’t understand. My sister left our family when she was young. My father threw her out, actually, and . . . I can’t even mention her name in front of him now.”

  “But you know her? You want to be friends with her?”

  How easy it would be for me to say no, but I didn’t need someone to tell me where lying got you. Evan’s face said enough.

  “I want to know her, yes. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her for nearly ten years, Evan.”