Scarlet

 

Sitting at my old desk in my old bedroom, I worked on my old computer and sunk back into my old life. Everything was exactly the same as before I left. My mother hadn’t changed so much as a throw pillow in my absence. In a way, it was flattering that she wanted to keep my room the same, but it was also depressing.

The more I fell back into my old routine, the more New York felt like a dream. There were days when I wasn’t sure I’d ever moved away. If someone told me my time in America was all just a fairy tale I cooked up in my head, I would have believed them.

When I arrived back home, my mom and I didn’t speak for a while. We exchanged pleasantries, and she filled me in on what I’d missed: her fashion business was thriving, the neighbors to our left moved away, and my old dean agreed to let me resume my classes. I would have to finish some classes online, and for the most part, my entire schedule would be online. Next semester, I would be allowed to attend two classes on campus, but that was all. Everything else would be done within the confines of my childhood bedroom.

As much as I hated to admit it, there was a certain comfort that came with being back home. My room’s decorations were just the beginnings of the things that stayed the same. Without trying, my life became normal again. I slipped back into my boring self: shy and awkward, living vicariously through book characters and never arguing with my mother.

After a few days, I could see how happy my mom was to have me back. Her relief was palpable every time we came face to face. I tried not to let it upset me, but it was hard. While she became happier, I grew more miserable.

I tried to focus on my schoolwork for a few hours a day. It was more time than I needed to devote, but it kept me busy. At least my grades wouldn’t suffer. The rest of my life might have been spiraling into a black hole of despair, but my schoolwork was going great. That, more than anything, kept me sane. It gave me something to focus on, so I wouldn’t spend every second missing Grandmother and Lucien.

Lucien. It was impossible not to think about him. I tried to erase him from my memories, but I couldn’t. Whenever I had down time, I remembered our time together. I replayed that weekend in upstate New York, having sex down by the lake and talking late into the night.

My mind traveled over every conversation we shared, right up to that last one in the park. Whenever I landed on that, my heart would ache painfully, and I would feel tears brimming in my eyes. That was my cue to study or read or clean. I was willing to do anything to keep myself from shedding another tear over Lucien Wolfe.

As I sat at my computer, typing away and trying to keep my mind focused, there was a soft knock on my door. I turned to see my mother standing in my doorway. This was a new development since I’d returned home. While I was still made to keep my door wide open, my mom would now knock before she entered. It wasn’t exactly progress, but it was a step in the right direction. Her relief was so strong that she was willing to compromise in the tiniest of ways.

“May I come in?” she asked, though I didn’t know why. If I said no, she would just do it anyway.

I nodded. “Sure.”

I closed my computer and turned back around to face her. She sat down on my bed slowly, her eyes never leaving my face.

It was strange how much she resembled Grandmother. Before, I thought they were polar opposites, but after spending time with Grandmother, I saw the similarities they shared. All three of us had the same emerald eyes and sharp cheek bones. While I was the only one with bright red hair, Grandmother and Mom both had auburn locks that were the exact same shade. In a way, it was nice. It was like my own little reminder of Grandmother, who I missed desperately.

“I wondered if we could talk,” Mom said. She patted the bed beside her, asking me to join her. I tried to keep my impatience hidden as I walked over to her. When I sat down, she touched my knee gratefully and cleared her throat. “I just got off the phone with your grandmother.”

“Is she okay?” I asked frantically.

“Yes,” Mom assured me. “She’s just fine. The nursing service is taking great care of her. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I will,” I argued. “I will worry about her.”

“She’s okay,” Mom insisted. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about. Your grandmother made me realize that I never explained myself to you.”

“Explained yourself?” I asked blankly. All my life, my mother had never once explained herself. She’s barely spoken three words about my father and her younger life, why in the hell would she start now? “About what?”

“About the reason I made you come home,” she said simply.

“Oh,” I said.

The reason she made me move back wasn’t a secret. She was disappointed in my choices and this was my punishment.

“I know it seemed harsh,” she began. Her voice was calm and even. Her expression was softer than I’d ever seen it, making her look even more like Grandmother. “But there are some things you don’t know. Some things that I think it’s time I told you.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“The party you went to,” she said. “The Delta Pi party?”

“Yeah?”

“I know about that party,” she said. “I probably know more about it than you do.”

“How?” I asked. I couldn’t make sense of her words. How could my mom possibly know anything about the Delta Pi fraternity?

“Your grandmother went to it many years ago,” she said. “Back when she was a student at NYU, one of the brothers invited her. He said he’d always had a crush on her and wanted to show her off to his friends. She was flattered, so she went. It wasn’t until later that she found out the real reason she was invited.”

“The real reason?” I asked.

“That party,” Mom continued. “The first Delta Pi party of the year is called the Virgin Party. Its sole purpose is to deflower girls.”

I blinked, unable to comprehend my mother’s words. What she said didn’t make sense. No one tried to deflower me at that party. In fact, Lucien refused to take my virginity that night.

“I think you’re confused,” I said slowly. “Mom, I didn’t lose my virginity at that party. No one tried to sleep with me.”

“Well,” she said. “Then you’re one of the lucky ones. Your grandmother wasn’t so lucky. She was taken advantage of that night. One of the brothers got her drunk, and they had sex. That was the night I was conceived, Scarlet. That’s how your grandmother got pregnant with me.”

“What?” I asked.

My mom nodded. “She was forced to drop out of school to raise me on her own. Back then, it was more than just frowned upon. Having a child out of wedlock was shameful. It ruined her.”

“But she was married,” I argued. “To Grandpa.”

“She was,” Mom nodded. “But that wasn’t until I was almost seven years old. Grandpa wasn’t my father, not biologically.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” I said. “That party wasn’t like that. No one tried anything.”

“Listen,” she said. “They all make a deal. The first brother to successfully deflower a virgin and bring back her panties wins. They’re presented with a ceremonial headdress that’s passed down each year. It’s their oldest, most disgusting tradition.”

I froze. Suddenly, I had a flash of the Delta Pi common room the night of that party. There was a giant wolf headdress sitting on a shelf. I saw it that night but didn’t think anything of it. Now, everything began to click into place. My mother was telling the truth.

“I don’t understand,” I said, speaking more to myself than my mom. “Lucien rejected me that night. I wanted to have sex, and he said no.”

“What?” she asked. “What do you mean he rejected you?”

“Lucien,” I said, turning to face her. “The guy I was seeing back in New York. I went to that party because someone else invited me. Bryan. This Delta Pi brother in my Lit class. He invited me, and I knew Lucien would be there, so I went. I got drunk and was dancing with some people when Lucien came over and pulled me upstairs. He seemed upset. He asked why I was there. Then, I tried to sleep with him, and he said no. He said he wouldn’t take my virginity while I was drunk. He said no, Mom. Why would he do that if the entire goal of the evening was to deflower a virgin?”

Mom’s frown deepened as I spoke. I knew she was upset that I drank and that I threw myself at a man, but I didn’t care. Her opinion of me no longer mattered. I just wanted answers.

“Maybe he really cared for you,” Mom said softly. She sounded reluctant. “I don’t know, Scarlet. I just know what that party is about. If Lucien protected you from those guys and even made sure your virginity stayed intact that night, then maybe he really did care about you.”

“He didn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “He ended things without a care. He said we were just having fun, that he wasn’t someone I should waste my time with.”

“He said that?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “After you told me to come home, I went to him. I told him I didn’t want to leave him, and he said I should go. He said he didn’t want me to stay for him, that he wasn’t the guy I thought he was.”

Mom paused for a few seconds, her frown slowly disappearing. She reached over and grabbed my hand gently.

“It sounds like he was trying to save you from him,” she said softly.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t know him,” she said. “But from what you’re saying, it sounds like he just wanted to protect you. Like he didn’t want to hurt you.”

“He did hurt me,” I snapped. “He led me on. He let me believe I mattered. We had sex, and I fell for him, Mom. I really fell for him.”

“I know you did,” she said with a soft smile. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this.”

For the first time, my mother stroked my hair and held me against her. Her comfort was all I needed. I didn’t realize how much I’d been craving this kind of attention. I didn’t know what came over her, what made her suddenly stop being so strict, but I’d never felt safer.

“I thought he wanted me,” I said weakly. “I was stupid.”

“You weren’t,” she said firmly. “Scarlet, I think he did care about you. I think he just got scared and wanted to protect you both.”

“Everyone said he was a player,” I said. “Everyone told me he would break my heart, but I didn’t believe them. I didn’t listen.”

“Which is probably why he ended things,” she said. “He has a bad reputation, and he didn’t want to hurt you. He didn’t think he was good enough to really be with you.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“If you really like this boy,” she said. “Then it’s not too late to make it work. It’s not too late to fix things.”

I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t. Lucien made himself clear that night in the park. Whatever else he may have felt for me didn’t matter anymore. He lived in New York, and I lived in France. We were separated by an entire world. Whatever my mom said about our feelings for each other, one thing was clear. It was too late.