Sweet Sixteen, Chapter 9 ~ One Barks, One Bites

Elly found her father standing with Noah and a woman Elly didn’t recognize.  Noah was doing the talking, holding a beer in one hand and motioning with it as he asked the woman, “Did you know that geckos cling to surfaces by actually mingling their molecular structure with the structure of what they are clinging to?”

“Really?” she said with feigned interest.  “Is that so.”

“Yes.  Also, geckos are the only vocal lizards, and they like to lick their own eyeballs.”  He nodded, as if imparting a tremendous discovery.

She nodded in unison.  “That’s fascinating.”

Russ, who had been observing their exchange with an amused smirk, glanced over to see Elly and Sien coming.  The immediate frown that creased his face was not very encouraging, but Elly smiled brightly and interrupted the fascinating gecko lecture with an overly cheerful, “Daddy, I have someone I want you to meet!”

“Oh?”  Russ swept a glance over Sien, taking him in as if they were about to go twelve rounds in the ring.

“Yes.  This is Sien, he goes to my school.”  Elly still had her hand on Sien’s arm, and she patted him with a smile.  “Sien, this is my dad . . . and my dad’s friend Noah, and . . . somebody . . . .”

“Alicia.”  The woman smiled.  “Nice to meet you.”

“It is a very great pleasure to meet you all,” said Sien, smiling.  He seemed to rediscover his charm, and bowed ever so slightly in Alicia’s direction.  Elly and her father both raised an eyebrow in unison.

Sien turned to Russ, and continued, “Especially you, sir, Eleanor’s told me a little about you.”

“Eleanor?”

Elly laughed nervously, “Oh he means me, that’s just a little joke.  You know, Eleanor instead of Eliasha.”

“Funny,” said Russ flatly.  “So just why is it an especial pleasure to meet me?”

“Um . . . ” Sien faltered under the weight of Russ’s unimpressed stare.  Then he blurted, “I’m a fan, well, not so much a fan as an admirer, of your work.  In that band.  Of yours.  I don’t actually play the drums, myself, but I find your drumming, um, inspirational.”

Noah laughed suddenly, and Sien gave him a confused look.  Elly winced, but her father just said, “Really.  Interesting.”

“He’s not the drummer,” hissed Elly.

“That would be the other guy named Markson.”  Russ motioned to where Jake and Kiki were sitting by the pool.  “He’s over there, I’m sure he’ll like being inspirational.”

“Oh.  That’s right.  You play guitar.  I, uh, I knew that.”  Sien’s smile was now weak and apologetic.

He looked at Elly helplessly, and she felt as if she were watching a person drown; a horrible, gasping, helpless death which she couldn’t do anything about because she didn’t know how to swim.  Though Elly actually did know how to swim, so she wasn’t quite sure why that analogy leapt to mind.  Probably the gasping.  She just blushed and grabbed his arm, saying, “Come on, Sien, let’s go meet my mom!”

She dragged him away, and could feel her father’s eyes follow them across the yard.

“Why did you say that?” she asked.  “It’s bad enough when fans pretend to be our friends but when my friend pretends to be a fan it’s really hitting a new low, do you know that?”

“I’m sorry,” Sien said miserably.  “I’ve failed.  I thought I knew what to say and then your father just . . . glared . . . and I forget everything I’d planned.  All I could think of was what we’d just been talking about, and . . . and I had to say something.  There’s no excuse.  I should have been more prepared.  I’ve failed you, Eleanor.  Elly.”

Elly sighed.  “It’s alright.  Don’t go all hara-kiri on me, anyway.”  She patted his arm and he looked at her funny, so she let go self-consciously.  “Anyway, it’s not that bad.  My dad likes to act all forbidding and make guys squirm, but once you get to know him you’ll see that he’s just a big softy.  I mean, trust me, I have him wrapped around my little finger and I’ll get him to like you in no time.”

Sien shook his head.  “Maybe so, but I’m still ashamed at how stupidly I acted.  I’m supposed to be smarter than that.  Calmer.  Everything will fail if I—”  He cut off abruptly and sighed, looking down pensively.

Elly laughed.  “You make it sound like the trenches.  Or international espionage.  It’s not the end of the world, okay?”

“You said it was really hitting a new low.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, it was mean.  Anyway forget it.  That’s my mom right there.  She’ll be nice to you.”

Liseli sat on a lawn chair, poolside, her eyes on Elly and Sien as they approached.  She looked curious, but not hostile, which was always a good sign, and Elly felt confident.  She had not mentioned to Sien that her mother had had some modest publishing success, using her maiden name as a pseudonym, so there was little danger of Sien falling back on complimenting her for the books he’d never read.

“Just don’t try to impress her.  Act naturally and you’ll be fine,” Elly assured her nervous friend, adding a quick, “and don’t do that bowing thing you did with Alicia,” before she stopped before her mother and presented Sien proudly.  “Mom, this is Sien, from school.”

“Hello,” Liseli said, her curious expression taking on a guarded look.

“Happy birthday, Mrs. Markson,” said Sien, extending a hand to shake.  A smile twitched on Liseli’s face, but she shook his hand, glancing at Elly with a hint of a smirk.

“Thanks.”  She returned her attention to Sien.  “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“No, he’s new this year,” Elly interceded, “he and his father just moved here from . . . um . . . .”

“L.A.,” supplied Sien.

“Ah.”  Mom smiled and nodded.  “What does your father do, Sen?”

“It’s Sien,” Elly corrected her.  “See-en,” she pronounced carefully.

“Interesting name.”

“It’s French,” Sien told them.

“Oh.  It doesn’t sound French.”

Sien just smiled and shrugged.  Then he started guiltily and said, “Oh, my father.  Yes, well, he doesn’t really do anything.  I mean, he’s retired.  He’s old.  Very old.”

“And your mother?”

“Dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.  She died before I was old enough to remember anything about her . . . so I don’t know what I’m missing.”  He glanced between Elly and Liseli uncomfortably.  “You know, hard to miss what you never had.  So I’m not, y’know, missing her.”

“I suppose that’s a way to look at it.”  Liseli tilted her head to the side thoughtfully.  “How did she die?”

“Mom!”  Elly bugged her eyes out.

“No, that’s alright,” Sien rushed to calm her.  “It was childbirth, pretty much.”

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  Elly’s right, I’m getting too nosy.”  Liseli stood up and smiled.  “Excuse me.  I’m going to get something to drink.”

As she walked away Elly turned to Sien and said, “I’m so sorry, I have no idea why she did that.  I mean—”

“Did what?  I thought that went well.”  Sien smiled.  “Relatively, anyway.”

“She was rude.”  Elly shook her head.  “I mean, I introduce you and right away it’s ‘what does your father do?’, ‘how did your mother die?’, and then she just walks away; that’s just—”

“Nothing.  Not a big deal.  It wasn’t a secret.”

“Well . . . well you hadn’t told me how your mother died and so I figured—”

“I don’t think you asked.”  Sien shrugged.

Elly looked down, then ventured, “Was it you?”

He nodded.  “But I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.  It’s not that I’m all . . . guilty and torn up.  It just feels tacky to go around saying that.  Like I’m fishing for pity or saying, ‘oh look how dramatic my life is.’”  He smiled and shrugged again.  “But, hey, if someone asks, it doesn’t bother me.”

Elly wasn’t convinced, but she let it slide.  “Okay.  So.  There you go,” she sighed, “you’ve met my parents.  What do you think?”

“About what?”

She laughed.  “About my parents.  I mean, I figured that since you wanted to meet them and all . . . .”  She let the sentence hang and shrugged.

He didn’t look at Elly, just stared off at some other point in the back yard, but Elly watched his face closely.  “Well—” he furrowed his brow thoughtfully.  “They are very young.”

Elly laughed again, only half-surprised.  “Young?  Today is my mom’s fortieth birthday, did you notice the banner?”  She pointed to a sign draped over the patio doors, which read Happy 40th Birthday, Old Lady.  Elly didn’t know who’d put the banner up — certainly not her father or Dori.  She suspected Eric or Marc, but couldn’t be sure.

“Yeah.”  Sien turned his gaze upward.  “I wouldn’t have guessed, though.”

“She’s been lucky.”

“Your dad, too.”

“Some people just are.”

“They’re talking to each other.”

“What?”

“Your parents.”  He nodded to where Russ and Liseli were standing together, alone, talking and glancing their way.

“Ooh,” Elly said.  “The concerned huddle.  You’ve made an impression.”

He sighed.

“Does it really matter?”  Elly raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think I’ve gone about this the wrong way.”

“Sien.”  Elly shook her head.  “What are you talking about?  What’s ‘this’?”

He gave her a funny look.  “Meeting your parents.”

“Okay, see, that’s what I mean.  What is this about?  Meeting my parents.”

“I . . . .”

“Did you want to meet them?  Or did you just want them to meet you?”

Sien smiled.  “Is there a difference?”

“Yes.”

Elly left it at that, and looked away, watching Eric tumble down the half pipe on kneepads.  If Sien couldn’t see the difference she wasn’t going to explain it to him.

He sighed.  “Both things, then.”

“Okay, fair enough.”  She crossed her arms.  “So.  When do I meet your father?”

“What?”  He looked startled.

“Well—” she tilted her head to the side, slightly amused and slightly perplexed “—if it was so important to meet my parents, shouldn’t it be important to meet your parent?”

“Um.  Yes.  Eventually, that would be good.”  Sien nodded.  “But . . . my father is kind of sick right now.  Not really in a visiting state right now.  But later, oh yeah, definitely.”

“Okay,” Elly smiled, though she found his nervousness suspicious.  “I’m sorry he’s sick.  What’s the matter with him?”

“Oh, um, gout.”

“Gout?”

“Yeah.  A really bad case.  Of gout.”

“Oh.  That sounds. . . . bad,” said Elly, wondering what exactly gout was, besides something people in Dickens’ novels were afflicted with.

“But it’ll get better.  And then you can meet him.”

“Good.”

They were silent for a moment, glancing around at the party uncomfortably, then Elly shook her head and said, “But why?”

“What?”

She sighed, continuing to shake her head.  “Why.  Why was it so important to meet my parents?  And why should I be interested in meeting your dad?”

He smiled cautiously.  “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really, unfortunately, no.”

“Oh.”

“Alright,” Elly relented, “I have an idea, of course.  But — and I don’t know about you — but there’s a certain way people go about that in my experience, and this isn’t it.”

Sien just looked confused.

“I mean, the meeting of the parents does come into play at some point, but usually you’d ask me on a date first.”  There, she’d said it, she’d gone and brought up the idea of a date.  She was watching his face closely, and his eyes widened in surprise when she said it.

“Oh,” was all he said.

“Look . . . do you want to date me?  I’m not trying to be really forward or anything but honestly,” Elly took on a weary tone, “you haven’t said anything definite and yet when I try to think of what else this might be about I’m drawing a great big economy sized blank, here.”

“Eleanor, I . . . .”  He looked pained, and Elly’s heart sank.

“No,” she filled the space, “don’t bother.  I get it.”  She turned and walked away, not really knowing where she was headed but just wanting to get away from Sien and all the other people milling around outside.

But Sien jogged after her and came around in front, blocking her path.  “Wait a moment, you’re right,” he said, “I’m not behaving very normally.  I’m weird.  I’m downright weird.  But . . . okay, do you want to go on a date?  Tomorrow?  Tomorrow is Saturday, people date on Saturdays.  Normally.”

“Sien.”  Elly shook her head.  “Don’t do this just to humor me, I don’t want that, I just want to know what you’re thinking.  I mean, if you don’t want to date me, just don’t.”

“But I do,” he said earnestly.  “I mean . . . it’s just . . . I do.”

“You do?  Then why do I feel like I just forced you into asking me?”

“It’s not like that.”  He shook his head.  “Look, I can’t explain exactly what I’m thinking.  It’s complicated.  But I want to.  Eventually.”

“It’s not really that complicated, Sien.  You’re either interested in me or you’re not.”

He laughed.  “I am.  I’m very interested in you, Eleanor, trust me.”

She looked him skeptically.  Something wasn’t quite right . . . but then, he had asked her out, and he seemed determined not to let her just walk away.  “Alright.  I still don’t know why you couldn’t just have said that first, before making this big deal out of meeting my parents.”

“I guess that was just, well, I thought that was the same thing.”

“You are strange.”

“I know.  So, do we have a date tomorrow?”

“Alright.  What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.  No, wait, I know—” suddenly that smile she was used to from school appeared on his face, and the sexy dimples came out of hiding.  “I’ll surprise you,” he said, proud of himself.

“Or we could just see a movie.”

“No, I’ll think of something better than that.”  He looked determined.  “I’ll pick you up around this time tomorrow and you’ll find out.”

“Okay.”

“Great.”  He clapped his hands together and smiled, then checked his watch and said, “Um, I have to go.”

“What?”

“Work.  I have to get to work, so I should be going.”

“Oh.  I thought you’d stay longer.  I mean, you just got here.”

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you, I only had time to stop by.”  He shrugged, taking a step back.

“I see.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

She nodded.  “I’ll be here.”

“Good.  Bye.”

He turned and headed toward the patio doors, and Elly wondered if she should follow him through the house and to the front door.  It was the polite thing to do, see your guest to the door, but she stayed rooted to her spot and just watched him with a curious expression.  His behavior was very odd, even for Sien.  She didn’t understand it.  And she certainly didn’t like the feeling that she had just roped him into asking her on a date. . . .  Ugh.  She rolled her eyes.  This is too complicated!  But that thought came with a little thrill of mystery, and she had to admit that figuring out Sien’s erratic signals would be . . . well, it would be an adventure.  She smiled a little half smile, still staring at the doors even though Sien had gone through them and out of sight.

“Don’t tell me you’re really going out with that.”

Elly sighed, and turned to see Sam strolling toward her, a beer in one hand.

“It’s not any of your business.”

“Didn’t say it was,” he smirked.  “Never really gave a fuck about whose business something is.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Part of your charm, no doubt.”

“Exactly.”  He nodded, pretending to miss the blistering sarcasm.

“Go charm someone else.”

“You’re the only one at this party who owes me money.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.  “Fine, I’ll go get the money and then you can leave, for real this time.”

“Money’s in your bedroom?” he said suggestively.

“Yes, and no, you’re not coming with me, you disgusting ape.  Wait out here.”

He shrugged innocently.  “Whatever you say.  Eleanor.”

“Shut up.  Don’t you ever call me that.”

She turned on her heel and marched toward the house before he could get another cheeky remark in.  What a bastard, she though, going up the stairs to her bedroom, taking them two at a time.  He was getting bolder, too — talking to her and leering at her while her father and mother were nearby.  They were out of earshot and had gone back to speaking with other people, but still, that was more risk than Sam usually took.  For all her parents would know from his behavior in their presence, Sam didn’t hardy even know Elly existed.  He was very careful about that.  Usually.

She grab the money from her purse and balled it up in her fist as she went back downstairs.  Outside, she shoved the crumpled up bills at Sam, pretending she didn’t care that their hands touched during the exchange.  She didn’t plan on saying another word to him; she’d had enough interaction for one day.

Sam had to get another word in, though, and as she turned away he taunted, “See ya later, kiddo.  Have fun with your girlfriend tomorrow.”

Not a word, Elly, not a word.  She didn’t look back.

---

“Son of a bitch.”

Sien sent his motorcycle helmet flying across the parking lot and watched it smack into a tree before rolling to a stop on the grassy median between Mort’s Motorcycle Fix It and the Dog Grooming Palace next door.  He glanced around guiltily, half expecting to see his father behind him, a disapproving witness to his frustration.  Ren Auriel did not allow swearing or bouts of temper in his presence — he considered both to be vulgarities of this world.

His helmet had a few new scuff marks when he went to pick it up.  Most of the marks came from similar circumstances, when the helmet became an impromptu missile of ineffectual rage or frustration.  Today it was frustration.

He’d driven his bike from the impressive upper crust neighborhood where the Markson home stood alongside other mansions, to the greasy little garage in a seedy part of town where ninety percent of the residents were illegal aliens who barely spoke a word of English.  And the whole time his mind had raced with the ridiculous, impossible, idiotic situation he’d maneuvered himself into.  What exactly had he gotten himself into?

He couldn’t be dating the Queen of Seven.  That was number one on the list of Thou Shalt Nots in the Auriel Family Commandments, followed by Thou Shalt Not Swear and Throw Thy Helmet Around Like A Vulgar American.  Only that was just the problem, wasn’t it?  That’s exactly what he was.

Sien didn’t know any other world, not personally.  He’d grown up on a steady diet of stories of Airidan, and believed whole-heartedly that it was the promised land, more his homeworld than this place where he’d been born and lived all eighteen years of his life.  He knew the history, geography, language and culture of Airidan inside out.  But he’d never seen it.  He’d never met another Airidani besides his own father.

He’d always held onto the firm belief that one day he and his father would return to Airidan and serve the Queen of Seven.  But the more years he spent in America the more the idea of Airidan seemed like a distant dreamworld.  As a small boy he’d been better able to imagine himself in that place, living that life.  But as his father had gotten older and frailer and Sien had to shoulder more adult responsibilities in the world at hand, he’d felt the reality of Airidan slipping away.  Not that he ever doubted in the reality of Airidan, but he sometimes doubted that he himself had a place there.  In fact he often had too-vivid nightmares where he found himself in Airidan, but was not accepted as a true Son of Auriel; instead he was turned away because he had been born and raised in a different world and was too much a product of that place.  Despite all his father’s best efforts, they would send him back here because he did not belong anywhere else.

Finding the Queen of Seven would more than secure him a home in Airidan, but now even that seemed to be going terribly wrong.  Not only had he allowed himself to lust after the Queen, but was now actually leading her on.  He hadn’t thought that it would work out that way, the Queen wasn’t supposed to want men.  She wasn’t supposed to be acting like a regular girl, interested in dating, interested in him.

Maybe he was wrong about Elly.  Maybe his father was right, maybe he was mistaking his personal attraction with the sixth sense the Heirs of Auriel had for the Queens.  Maybe Elly was a regular California girl.  Maybe he should give up this silly idea that he, of all the Sons and Daughters of Auriel in all the worlds searching for thousands of years, had finally found the next Queen.

Not that that would makes things any easier with Elly.  Not by a long shot.  He’d have no chance with Elly Markson once she found out what kind of person he was.  Son of Auriel?  Ha!  More like dirt poor trailer trash with delusions of a destiny and purpose in some far flung world that didn’t even exist — a delusion inherited from his poor, old, senile father.

Sien felt guilty the moment he thought it.  Any moment he even came close to doubting Ren and his stories of Airidan he felt as if he’d stabbed his father in the back and twisted the knife for good measure.

And yet, it didn’t really matter at the moment.  He and Elly lived in this world.  Whether or not they had greater destinies in a world neither of them had ever seen did not change the fact that they came from vastly different worlds in this one.  Even if he was mistaken about Elly that made nothing easier for them, there was no hope for there to be a them.  Her father and mother would never allow their daughter to date him if they knew where he lived, that he worked at a dirty old garage, and that he believed in the existence of a fantastical otherworld.

If Elly was the Queen of Seven, as he was almost completely sure, then he didn’t see how the constraints of this world could stop her from coming into her power and ruling over Airidan.  If she was the Queen it was her fate, her destiny, an unstoppable thing like the forces of nature.  If she was the Queen she would be the Queen.  Her parents could do nothing to stop it.  And he should not be able to screw it up.

So why was he so worried?

Well, he shouldn’t have set up the date for tomorrow, for starters.  Queen or no Queen, there was no hope of anything happening between him and Elly.  No hope at all, and he should not pretend like there was.  He should not ever admit that he wanted there to be.  He should have put a stop to that notion right away, not encourage it.  But he didn’t know what else to do, there was no Auriel Family Handbook for seeking out Queens in a subtle, non-threatening way.  He didn’t have the slightest clue how any of the Heirs of Auriel in the past had broached the subject of queenhood to the other six Queens.  The annals just said that they found them and brought them back and everything was hunky-dory.  But then, the annals made everything sound so simple and easy, and it just wasn’t that way.  Not in this world.

“Son of a bitch,” he exploded, throwing his helmet across the parking lot as soon as he got to work.  He knew he wasn’t the Son of Auriel he should be.  There was too much of this world in him.