Chapter 1 – Virginia

I had a stack of books, mostly on the history of the slave trade in North Africa, which I had carried with me to the campus coffee shop. Casey and I had just got out of Professor Simmons’ sociology class, and she had dragged me here.

“Aren’t you going to return them to the library?” Casey asked as we sat down at our usual table by the large windows. I knew why Casey liked to sit there; it gave her the perfect vantage point to spy on all the “cute” guys she was drooling over. Personally, I couldn’t care less.

“Yeah, once I’m done reading them,” I remarked and deposited the books in a pile on the floor by my feet. There wasn’t enough space for them on the table.

“I thought these books were just for the essay we submitted today,” Casey asked and shook her head like she was disappointed in me.

“But I’m not done reading them!” I said with a laugh and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re too intense, Virginia. You need to relax! We’re in college, look around you!” she exclaimed and took a dainty sip of her coffee, conscious of not letting her lipstick rub onto the edge of the coffee mug.

“I know, we’re in college . . . here for the education, remember?” I said, still laughing. This wasn’t the first time that Casey and I were having a conversation like this. This wasn’t the first time that she was telling me to get a life, by which she meant a love life.

“Anyway, can we talk about something other than the slave trade in North Africa for a moment? I think I have a headache coming on from the last lecture,” Casey said and I sat back in my chair and nodded my head. In these situations, it was best to just go with Casey’s flow.

“So, I have to tell you what Nathan did yesterday,” she began. I vaguely remembered this new guy she was dating; she’d told me about him on our last coffee date but I usually tended to zone out when she droned on about her boyfriends for too long.

“Did you catch him with Suzie Chapman again?” I asked, who was Casey’s archrival. Casey rolled her eyes and made a claw shape with her right hand.

“I’ll pluck her eyeballs out the next time she throws herself at my boyfriend!” she squealed and we both laughed, even though I knew that my friend was totally capable of doing that.

“No, he actually turned up right on time for our date. Can you believe that? After six dates, he finally made it on time. Virginia . . . he may be the one!” she squealed with joy this time and I laughed and smiled and nodded my head. I’d heard it before. Every guy who was even remotely sweet to Casey automatically turned into the guy of her dreams.

I gulped at that thought. What about the man of my dreams? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him. Was it at my parents’ Christmas party the previous year? I could feel my muscles stiffening at the thought of Carl.

Casey must have noticed the sudden change in my demeanor because she leaned towards me over the table.

“Have you thought about what I said the last time, Virginia? You need to put yourself out there; you need to get into dating. College isn’t all about burying your nose in books and churning out the perfect essays!” Casey lectured and I looked away from her and shook my head.

“That’s just not me, Casey, I don’t date,” I said and when I looked back at her, she had her eyebrows arched.

“So, you’re just going to sit around, waiting for the one to turn up?” she asked, and I knew she was laughing at me in her head. The truth was that the one had turned up, he’d been a part of my life since I was a little kid. He’d kissed me on my eighteenth birthday when he got too drunk and didn’t know what he was doing and since then, he’d avoided me. He stopped visiting our house. I couldn’t even be sure if he remembered the kiss . . . chances were that he didn’t. After the kiss, Carl had acted like nothing had happened. It was a short kiss, but he was gentle and masculine, unlike the other two awkward kisses I had shared with the guys from my high school. Kissing Carl was different – it was a fantasy come true and within a few moments it was over, and now sometimes I wondered if it had even happened.

“Yes, I’d rather just wait for the right man than date every guy who comes my way,” I said to Casey and she shook her head in disappointment again.

“Such a hopeless romantic, you are,” she said, almost to herself, like she couldn’t even believe that she was friends with me.

“I can’t change who I am, Casey,” I argued. It was the truth, I couldn’t change who I had feelings for. Even if that man was out of my reach and probably didn’t even remember that I existed. I couldn’t stop feeling for him what I truly felt.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry that I keep bringing this up, we can stop talking about it now,” Casey said with a wave of her hand. Even though I hadn’t confided in her about my feelings for Carl or what had happened with him on my eighteenth birthday, I had a feeling that she knew something was up – that my love life wasn’t as simple as I made it out to be.

“Okay, good. So tell me more about Nathan. Six dates huh?” I smiled widely at her and picked up my mug of coffee.

Casey flipped her long golden hair back over her shoulders and settled down in the chair to start talking again. My friend clearly had a very active love life, and I was happy to just sit and listen.

***

My parents and I always had dinner together. It was a family tradition that my mom had introduced since I was a little girl and no matter how busy dad was, he always made sure to join us for this meal.

Dad was a busy man. He was the captain of a biker club, and even though I didn’t know much about the businesses he was involved in, I knew that he didn’t exactly belong in our neighborhood. We lived in an ordinary suburban neighborhood with white picket fences and golden retrievers in the yards.

My parents were an unlikely couple as well. Dad was a gruff biker who rode noisy Harleys and parked them in our driveway. Mom was a petite blond who played bridge with her friends.

I’d always been amazed by their love story, of how they had met at the hotel lobby where mom used to work and she had instantly fallen in love with this “bad boy” with tattoos, and dad had swept her off her feet.

So, mom always knew the life that dad was involved in and she had been supportive and nonjudgmental of his choices. She loved him for them in fact, but she had also made him promise that he would try his very best to keep that life away from me. She didn’t want the family to be affected by his business and dad had done a pretty good job of that.

I had led a relatively normal life: got good grades, had normal friends and always ate dinner with my family. To me, my dad was a hero. He was tougher than all the other dads I knew and he had instilled in me good values of courage and standing up for what was right. I was grateful for my parents. No matter how much other people might have judged my dad’s lifestyle, I didn’t. I knew what he was made up of and I was proud of him for it.

We were sitting around the dinner table now, eating in relative silence. It was usually dad who did all the talking, but tonight he was quiet.

“How were your classes today, honey?” mom asked, breaking the silence and I looked up at them and smiled. Just like dad, I had some things on my mind. Ever since my conversation with Casey, I couldn’t get Carl out of my mind. Now, sitting at the table with my parents, I was guilty of thinking about him in front of them.

“Good, Mom. I submitted my essay on the slave trade in North Africa,” I replied, averting my eyes from them. It had been two years since that fateful kiss on my eighteenth birthday, two years since I had a conversation with Carl. Even though he had pretended like nothing had happened, what was the explanation for his absence from our lives?

My dad and Carl were best friends, I knew they met often and spoke even more often. Carl had just made it a point to never visit the house anymore just so that he could avoid me.

“And Mike, how was your day?” mom was the one trying to rally the conversation. Dad cleared his throat before he answered.

“Fine, fine, everything is fine Abby,” he said, in a low grumbling voice and I knew instantly that something wasn’t fine. Dad was always cheerful at dinner. Because he was so busy during the day, and rarely ever had time to spend with his family, meal times were precious to him.

“No, actually, everything is not all fine. We’ve been receiving threats,” Dad said and his spoon clanked against the plate when he dropped it. I flinched and looked up at him. Dad’s eyes were bloodshot and he was gritting his teeth. Mom was staring at him, too, and she had a worried expression on her face.

“Threats? What kind of threats? Threats to your life?” Mom asked, and her voice had turned screechy. My mother was a dainty delicate woman, and I knew that my dad did his best to keep her shielded from everything that went on in his life at the biker club. So, for him to admit that there was something dangerous going on in his life meant that it had to be something very serious.

“No, not threats to my life . . . forget it Abby, forget I said anything,” Dad growled and he threw me a quick look before toying with the food on his plate.

“What’s going on, Dad?” I asked, peering at him.

“Now, Virginia, you stay out of this honey. If dad doesn’t want to talk about it, let him be,” Mom said turning to me. She had always desperately tried to shield me from dad’s lifestyle, but I had always been curious.

I had known that there was an element of danger involved in his business, and I didn’t think that some knowledge about it could really hurt.

“But Dad should be allowed to discuss it with his family. Who else is he going to talk about it with?” I argued with her.

I could see Dad clenching his fists like he was trying to control his rage.

“He can talk to me, honey, you don’t need to know,” Mom argued in a soft voice and Dad banged his fists on the table. Mom and I both fell silent at that. I had never seen Dad react like this. I was fully aware of the violence he was capable of – his work required him to be like that – but he had never behaved like this in front of us. Something was seriously wrong.

“Your mom is right, mouse, please just forget about it. Forget I said anything, baby,” dad said and started chewing his food angrily.

I couldn’t argue with him. I glared at him though, trying to persuade him to spill the beans, but Dad wasn’t about to budge.

So, the three of us went back to eating our meal in silence.