Daughter of Darkness by V. C. Andrews
“Step out with me for a while,” he told me, and I did. We were staying at a hotel right across from the beach, so it took us just a few minutes to be there.
He reached for my hand, and for a while, we just walked quietly, the two of us. I imagined that people seeing us might think we were lovers instead of father and daughter. Maybe that was wishful thinking. The moon painted a silvery sliver of light over the ocean. I remarked about it, and Daddy said it reminded him of an old Japanese haiku, a three-line poem about a butterfly that died on the water but thought it had died on the moon.
“You understand?” he asked.
“Yes. It died on the reflected light. Fish out there probably think they’re swimming on the moon tonight,” I added, and he laughed.
“You are brighter than any other daughter I’ve had, Lorelei,” he said. I blushed with pride.
To the right and left of the moon, the stars blinked, and the lights of a commercial jet flickered as it crossed the sky to head east. Toward the horizon, we could see an oil tanker moving so slowly that it seemed painted on the ocean.
“When you were little, you told me the night sky was a dark blanket with tiny holes in it. You said that behind it was this second sky of bright light.”
“I did?”
“It made sense to me,” he said.
We never spoke about heaven and earth, God and the devil, or anything religious that other families discussed or believed. It was part of Daddy’s philosophy that everything just is, and it’s futile for us to try to explain it.
“We don’t need to go to a house of worship or read a Bible to learn what is important to us. There is only one place to get your morality,” he said. “The family. All comes from that. What you do for the family is good. What you do to hurt the family is bad. I am the family,” he quietly added. “It all comes from me.”
“I’m happy with the way you handled our recent crisis, Lorelei,” he said as we walked farther down the beach. “It gives me the faith in you that I need. Soon all responsibility for our survival will be in your hands.”
“Ava will be leaving us,” I said. I was resigned to it now.
“Yes. Her time will come very soon.”
“Where will she go?” I asked. “To join Brianna?”
Was he finally going to tell me that?
“In a way, but that’s thinking too far ahead for you right now, Lorelei. Think only of the near future.”
He paused and turned toward the ocean.
“There is so much out there,” he said. “So much that awaits you. It’s important, however, that you never think of yourself as less than anyone or anything, that you never think of yourself as evil. Everyone out there does things others disapprove of, but they have to battle for their own survival. Everything living does.
“In fact, Lorelei, everything living feeds on something else that lives. No living thing on this earth is above doing that. If that’s wrong, then all that lives is wrong. We all participate in survival of the fittest. We didn’t decide that was to be our overriding rule. We were born into it. Every nation, every people, every tribe or religion, struggles to survive and in the end will do whatever is necessary to protect its own existence. They may pretend to care about some higher morality, but when it comes right down to it, it’s every man for himself. Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He looked at me. The moon made his face look as if it was on fire, with his eyes two hot coals simmering within the flames. Just as a candle flame could hypnotize a moth, I was hypnotized by his glow.
“Do you love me, Lorelei?”
“Oh, yes, Daddy, very much.”
“Do you want me to go on?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Is your heart big enough to conquer anything and anyone who stands in the way, then?”
I nodded.
He didn’t speak. He stared at me and then started to walk again in silence, holding my hand. I walked along, but I felt as if I were trailing behind, caught up in the soft light that came from him and followed us along the beach, to take us quietly back to our beds and our comfortable and contented sleep.
Later the following day, I thought about our conversation on the beach and his questions. Was I wrong to be so confident about myself and what I was capable of doing? Ava didn’t know about my private walk with Daddy. I was tempted to tell her, because I wanted to hear what her answers were when Daddy told her these things and asked her similar questions. Then it occurred to me that he might not have felt the need to ask her these questions. Maybe he was more confident in her. Although he didn’t say it, I also felt he wanted what we discussed and how we discussed it to be something only between us, so I said nothing about it.
Our lives fell back into our regular daily activities. When I returned to school, the other students appeared to have lost all interest in and curiosity about Mark Daniels and, perhaps by proxy, me as well. Very few students said anything to me. I began to feel invisible. When I told Ava, she said I was lucky. She admitted to having had similar feelings and being grateful for it.
“You’ve outgrown them,” she told me, “and they know it, too. When they look at you, they don’t see themselves or someone who cares about the same things anymore. The boys are probably intimidated, and you’ve done a good job of driving the busybodies away. Good for you,” she said.
I didn’t feel the same way about it, but I didn’t disagree with her. The truth was, it was still quite lonely for me, and I hated that I was still someone looking through a window at everyone else. I was like the poor waif who stood outside the ice cream parlor watching the other, more fortunate kids lick their cones and eat their whipped cream. In class, in the hallways, or in the cafeteria, whenever I heard a conversation about parties or dances or dates girls had, I either moved away quickly or tried to close my ears by thinking hard about schoolwork. It got so I hated getting up in the morning to attend school, and some days, if it hadn’t been for Marla having to go, I wouldn’t have gone.
I think Ava either saw the turmoil going on inside me now or felt it. One morning, she decided to come to my rescue. I knew there were many reasons for Ava to concern herself with my happiness and well-being, not the least of which was her concern that I wouldn’t be able to step into her shoes and give her the freedom to leave and fulfill her own destiny. Then, at minimum, she would have to wait until Marla was capable of becoming the daughter Daddy needed.
When Mrs. Fennel left the dining room at breakfast, Ava whispered, “I’m taking you two to school today, but you’re not going.”
“What?”
“You’ll cut a day and spend it with me. I have a class in nineteenth-century American literature we’ll attend, and then a big break until my biology class. We’ll have lunch in Westwood, just enjoy the day, and you can see what it’s like to be in college, not that it’s anything I want to do much longer,” she added. “Daddy thought I needed more background, whatever that means.”
“That’s great,” I said.
“Just keep your mouth shut about it,” she said, watching the door.
I pretended to zip my lips, and she laughed. Marla, who was straining to hear us whisper, looked annoyed.
“Don’t say it,” she quipped when Ava turned to her. “I know. Be patient.”
We both laughed at that, so loudly that Mrs. Fennel popped in again to see what was happening. We quickly returned to our food. She stood there full of suspicion but then retreated. We smiled at each other. It really felt wonderful to have Ava finally thinking of me as a real sister and the two of us being little conspirators.
Later in the car, when Marla heard I was going to cut school and go with Ava, she pouted. “It’s not fair,” she moaned. “I hate school just as much as Lorelei does.”
“I don’t hate school, Marla.”
“Lorelei will promise here and now to do something similar with you after I’m gone,” Ava told her. It wasn’t enough to satisfy her, but she didn’t moan and groan ab
Every time Ava talked about her leaving and my stepping into her shoes, I had a creepy feeling in the base of my stomach. It was as if hundreds of little wires inside me had snapped and were pinging. I knew that any night now, she might decide to take me out with her on a monthly hunt. The time after that, she might accompany me, but it would be my job, as Daddy liked to say, to “bring home the bacon.”
I didn’t know if I would be better off knowing the exact night we would go out together on her regular monthly hunt or not. I didn’t ask her about it, and she still hadn’t said anything specific. I tried to put it out of my mind and enjoy my day with her at UCLA. It was a spectacular California morning, with barely a wisp of a cloud violating the sea of light blue. The breeze was cool and refreshing. It carried the sounds of other students’ laughter as they went to and fro on the campus, and the music from nearby car radios.
Maybe it was because of my excitement about being with her and being on a college campus, but everything looked sparkling and fresh. There was a different energy there. The students were buoyant and loose. Perhaps it came from their being on their own. That sense of freedom was infectious. There were bells for classes and rules to follow, of course, but no one was standing in the hallways ready to pounce on them for not wearing something proper or for talking too loudly. The teachers I saw seemed to be just as casual, too. Why wasn’t Ava happier about being there? I would be, and I hoped Daddy would send me to college, too.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, referring to her class.
“Aren’t you getting anything out of it, enjoying anything?” I asked.
She tilted her head and looked at me askance. “You’re kidding, right?”
I shrugged. Was I missing something? Was I supposed to feel the same way about my education? It was clear to me that I didn’t, but ironically, every difference between myself and Ava only made me feel more insecure, even frightened. Were these differences big enough to cause me to fail Daddy?
“The real school is out there,” she said, nodding toward the street.
“The more you know, the better you’ll be out there,” I said.
“Who told you that? Did Daddy tell you that?” she asked, pouncing on me.
“No. I just thought it was true.”
She smirked. “Get real, Lorelei. Ninety percent of what these people learn and do here has nothing to do with survival, and survival is the only graduation I want to attend.”
Daddy had stressed the importance of survival, too, when we were together on the beach, but wasn’t there more to all of this than just survival? Despite what he had told me, Daddy enjoyed music and art and being with his old friends. What would Ava have after she left us? Where were her old friends? How would she fill her days? What did Brianna have? Was she closer to Ava or to me? I was so tempted to ask her, to continue the conversation, but I just nodded and walked beside her into the building.
One of the reasons I was happy to come here with her was my interest in how the other students reacted to Ava and how she reacted to them. Would it be different from the way things were for me in high school? The moment we entered, I saw how the boys were looking at her and smiling. To my surprise, she smiled back and even said hello to some. Although she didn’t introduce me to anyone, there was no avoiding anyone, either. She could tell that I wondered why she hadn’t introduced me.
“Let them all wonder who you are,” she said. “Mystery is an aphrodisiac.”
The class in nineteenth-century American literature was in a small theater, so there were plenty of seats. Nevertheless, she had us sit away from most of the others. I looked around and saw how so many of the students were staring at us, especially the boys.
“How do you keep those boys from asking you out on dates?” I asked her.
She smiled and showed me her left hand.
“What is that?”
“An engagement ring,” she said. “I slip it on before I come to class.”
“Did you think of doing that?”
“No. It was Mrs. Fennel’s idea,” she said. “I had the feeling it was something she once did, too.”
“I can’t imagine her our age.”
“Oh, she was,” Ava said. She smiled and added, “And for a long time, too.”
Her teacher entered and went to a lectern. He wore a light blue sweater and jeans and had a dark brown goatee, but he was mostly bald with two even strips of hair just above his temples. From where we were sitting, they looked painted on his head. He was giving a lecture on Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn.
“Did you read it?” I asked Ava.
“The first ten pages,” she said. “Boring.”
“Boring?”
I had read it in eleventh grade and thought it was one of the most fun and interesting novels taught that year. How could she call it boring? Despite her attitude, she looked as if she was listening attentively but took no notes. Others were either writing in notebooks or typing on little portable computers. The point of the lecture was what exactly the importance was of Huck saying, “All right, I’ll go to hell.”
The teacher encouraged some discussion then. A tall, very thin girl, with glasses thick enough to be called goggles, raised her hand and pointed out that Huck believed slavery was right because his society told him it was. In his heart, he didn’t think so, and because of that, he was willing to help the slave Jim escape, even if it meant he would go to hell. I had known that and even had the urge to raise my hand.
“Exactly. And so you see,” the teacher concluded, “why I call Huck Finn the most courageous literary character.”
The bell rang. Although she looked as if she had been listening, Ava jumped as if the sound had woken her.
“Is it finally over? What did I miss?”
“A very important point.”
“Really?” she said.
“Yes. What your teacher means is that what’s right and wrong isn’t something for a government to decide. It’s for you to decide inside yourself.”
“I didn’t need him to tell me that. Didn’t Daddy ever tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so,” she said. “C’mon. I’m hungry, and I don’t want to eat what Mrs. Fennel made for our lunch.”
We followed the other students out. Some paused to talk to Ava. She was as normal as anyone else, talking about her vacation, the class, whatever subject was mentioned. How different it was for her, I thought. She was relaxed and not on any special guard, and all because she wore that engagement ring.
“I’ll give it to you when I leave,” she muttered as we continued to walk out.
“What?”
“My engagement ring.”
“How did you know I was thinking about it?”
“Your face is better than a flashing billboard. At least to me,” she added, laughing.
We had started toward the parking lot when I suddenly heard someone just behind me shout, “Diane? Hey?”
Even though my name wasn’t Diane, I turned and stopped walking.
The young man hurried to catch up. For a moment, I thought he was going to join someone else, but he came directly toward me. I recognized him immediately. Ava stepped up beside me. She either didn’t remember him or wanted to get me to ignore him, but he was too close.
It was the young man from Dante’s Inferno, Buddy Gilroy.
“Hi,” he said. “Remember me? Buddy Gilroy. You go to school here?”
“No,” Ava said. “We’re Jehovah’s Witnesses delivering the Watchtower. C’mon,” she said, tugging my arm.
“Very funny,” Buddy said, walking along. “I had a feeling I had seen you before when we met at Dante’s,” he told Ava.
She glanced at him. Suddenly, she stopped us, looked at me, and then turned to him. “What do you want?”
“Hey, I’m just saying hello. I didn’t mean to blow your cover or anything,” he replied, holding up his hands.
“You’re not blowing any cove
“Around,” he said. “Where are you heading?” he asked me.
I was afraid to speak.
“We’re going to Papa’s for some pizza.”
“Honest to God,” he said, raising his right hand. “I was heading there myself. Can I walk along with you?”
“Did you get your flu shot?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” Ava said. “Walk along.”
“Thanks. So what year are you?” he asked me.
“She’s only auditing today,” Ava answered for me.
“You’re not enrolled?”
“No,” I said.
“You didn’t tell us where you were from, Buddy,” Ava said.
“You didn’t ask.”
“Let me guess,” Ava said, pausing again. “Hemet or some other small California town?”
He laughed. “No. Born and raised in Long Beach.”
“Keep talking,” Ava said, continuing to walk. I realized what she was doing. She was making sure Buddy Gilroy was no renegade.
“I’m the oldest of three boys. My father is a dentist, and my mother works as his receptionist now. My father was a dentist in the navy.”
“How patriotic,” Ava said. “Drill, drill, drill.”
“Are you two related?” he asked, his questions always directed at me. I was still afraid to answer before Ava, however.
“Do we look like we’re related?” she fired back at him.
He shrugged. “You’re both beautiful,” he said.
Ava finally smiled. She glanced at me, an impish twinkle in her eyes. “We’re blood related,” she said.
“So, that’s like sisters, right?”
“Just like sisters,” she said, and we crossed the street.
“I can’t believe I ran into you,” he told me. “Ever since that night, I’ve been thinking about you.”