s e v e n t e e n
“A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur,
and dreaming is nursed in darkness.”
—Jean Genet
I’m working on some sketches in my room, trying to figure out what I want to submit for my portfolio for the gallery show, but my mind keeps drifting to Zach. He’s charming, sweet, a talented actor. He pushes me to work on my art. He actually wants to be seen with me. For the first time in what feels like my whole life, I finally feel visible.
After destroying all the sketches I had done, I have to start over. I still need to do new sketches and one full painting. The application date for the portfolio isn’t until May, but like Ms. Day said, I have to push myself. I have to find my voice somehow.
What do I want to say?
I pick up my pencil and look at my drawing. It’s of a blue heron, my favorite bird, taking flight. There’s something I’ve always loved about them. The pale translucent blue of their feathers. The graceful curve of their neck. The slash of black across the crest of their heads like the marking of a graceful warrior. It’s said that the heron symbolizes the ability to move between worlds. They keep one foot on land and one foot submerged underwater. They hunt at twilight—the time that is neither night nor day.
I’m thinking about how I’m constantly living between two worlds—the one my family wants for me and the one I want for myself—when there’s a knock at my bedroom door. I close my notebook.
“It’s open,” I say, watching the door crack open slowly.
“Hey there, Honeybee,” Dad says.
He’s been in Washington since the disaster that was our last family conference. I probably overreacted when Dad talked to us about the campaign, but I didn’t want him and Mom to not consider my preferences before they decided to throw our entire family into a high-profile election for the next year.
Dad walks over and sits down on the edge of my bed. He rubs both of his eyes with his palms. “How are you, Liv? We haven’t talked in a while.”
I’m still not happy about the way Dad shouted at me at the dinner table, but I’m willing to make peace with him. It’s not like I’m going to change his mind about running for the governorship now.
“I’m okay. My art classes are going well. English and history are pretty good, but math and chemistry are hard.” I sigh. “Which isn’t surprising.”
Dad runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He looks tired.
“Can’t fault you there. You come by it honestly. Your mother was a better mathematician than I was in school, but neither of us was an Einstein. Sam’s pretty good at all that stuff though. Isn’t he? You should ask him for help.”
I wonder whether to tell Dad about us.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “We haven’t been talking that much lately.”
“I see.” Dad raises an eyebrow.
He’s seen Sam and I on the rocks before, but we’ve never gone without talking this long. Except I don’t want to explain all that to Dad. I don’t want to tell him what a terrible friend I’ve been or that I can’t seem to be straight with Sam about my feelings for Zach.
“But what’s going on with you?” Dad asks. “Anything new?”
I think about my dates with Zach. The radio station. His TV taping. LACMA. All the late-night phone calls and texts. I’m sure Mom told him about us. Is that what he’s here to fish out information about? I call his bluff. “What did Mom say?”
“Just that you’ve been going on dates with a boy from your school. What’s his name again? Zach...”
“Park,” I finish his sentence. “You don’t have to worry about him, Dad. He’s a gentleman.”
“I’m sure he’s a fine boy,” Dad says. “I’m not concerned about his behavior. Your mother and I have taught you how to handle yourself. I am concerned that he’s an actor.”
“Why?” I say in disbelief. “Do you not think that’s a worthy career?”
Dad looks uncomfortable. “It has nothing to do with the worthiness of his career. There’s going to be a lot of media attention on you, Honeybee, with the campaign and all...”
I know where this is going. Dad isn’t used to me wanting to date, especially after what happened with Ollie my freshman year. He’s going to have to adapt.
“You’re not worried about that, or you wouldn’t be running for governor,” I say. “You just don’t want me to cause a scandal. You don’t want me to do something in the public eye that you can’t control.”
“It has nothing to do with my controlling you. In fact, I’d say that perhaps your mother and I have let you make too many of your own decisions.”
“Whatever,” I say, trying not to counter him with something worse. It’s not like he’s actually been around for most of high school to even make decisions for me.
“You don’t understand,” Dad says. “Yes. The campaign will mean that the media will pay more attention to you than normal. But dating an actor will make that worse. You’re not just going to be the congressman’s daughter anymore, Liv. You’ll be the congressman’s daughter who’s dating an up-and-coming actor. There are all sorts of things the media will start rumors about when you’re linked to a guy. You have to be aware of that. Honestly, I thought you would have taken this differently, with your anxieties about the media attention from the campaign in the first place.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I say, getting up from the bed.
Now that I have a shot at a relationship with Zach, I’m not going to let anything get in my way. Suddenly, I remember the painting of the woman on the swing, kicking off her shoe to her lover, that Ms. Day showed us in class. Why should I let Dad’s campaign squash out my joie de vivre? What’s wrong with a little romance?
“I don’t want you going out with him,” Dad says.
Is he kidding? Now he wants to control my love life too?
“I’m not trying to piss you off, Dad. This is the first time I’ve really felt comfortable with a guy I’m seeing. I can’t help that he’s an actor. I actually think you would like him. He’s funny. He’s smart. He’s way better at talking to people than I am.”
“I’m sure he’s a stand-up guy,” Dad says. “But I don’t want you going out with him alone at night. No dates. It’ll attract too much public attention. We’re announcing the campaign in a few weeks...”
“That’s completely unfair, Dad.” I feel sick to my stomach. He’s stalling. If it weren’t for the election, Dad wouldn’t care about Zach. This is totally about him. “This wouldn’t be a problem if we were a normal family.”
“But we’re not a normal family, Liv. We never have been. When are you going to accept that and move on? You’re a Blakely. Them’s the breaks, kid.”
“Why can’t you just let me have a life?” I plead. “Zach’s the first guy I’ve liked in a long time. And he likes me back. I promise I won’t do anything to reflect poorly on the campaign.”
“I don’t think you’re seeing my point, Olivia. This isn’t a good time. And, to be honest, I think you should be focusing on yourself right now. You need to stay healthy. You’re under a lot of pressure at school. You’ll thank me when you get into a good university next year.”
What’s with everyone worrying about my health all the time? They used to praise me for getting skinny. Now they beat around the bush. A fleeting thought flashes across my mind. Just tell him. Tell him that you puke between classes. Tell him that you hide a cup in the shower so you can vomit at night without anyone hearing you. Tell him that you hate your life and Zach is the only thing that’s making it any better.
“Yeah. Thanks a lot,” I say.
I could still probably see Zach outside of school sometimes, but we would have to sneak around and Dad would find out eventually. Then I’d never see Zach again. Tears start to well up in my eyes. I don’t want to go back to feeling invisible.
“Look. You can talk to him or whatever you kids call that these days, but I’m not going to let you put yourself out there to get crucified by the media again. You can see him at school. Maybe even hang out with a group of friends. We’ll see.”
What group of friends? Both Antonia and Sam aren’t talking to me. Does Dad have any idea how isolating this will be? It’ll be just like this summer. I won’t have anyone except for the computer screen. I don’t say anything. He’s already made up his mind.
“This is for you, Liv. You’re my baby girl. You always will be.” Dad squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe. It hurts and I don’t want him to touch me. Fear surges through my body. I don’t want him to know how much weight I’ve lost so far this year. I’m already down twelve pounds. I have sixteen more to go for my goal weight. I’m not stopping now.
“Stop,” I say, almost too harshly. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“No,” he says, letting go. Dad stands up from my bed and walks to the door. “You’re certainly not.”
My stomach is in knots. I don’t know what to do except to call Zach. I tell him I need to talk to him and to pick me up down the street from my house in half an hour.
I pull on some running shorts and a warm hoodie, thinking about how I’m going to get out of the house without having to answer many questions. After a few minutes, I quietly walk down the stairs, but I run into Mom walking to her bedroom.
“I’m going for a run,” I say, nearly choking on my words.
Mom can hear the upset in my voice.
“It’s pretty dark, honey,” she says. “Can’t you wait until the morning? It’s not really safe to run this late.”
I want to ask her whether she knows what Dad said to me about Zach, but I figure they’ve already worked it out between them. It’s their bad cop, good cop act.
“I need to clear my head,” I say, walking past her. “It’ll be quick. Only a mile or two. Half hour tops. I’m taking my phone and staying in the neighborhood.”
“Okay,” Mom says. She hesitates like she’s going to apologize or ask a question, but I’m already halfway to the front door. She calls out after me, “Be safe!”
I slowly start jogging into the night, trotting down our front yard, then along the sidewalk that leads along the golf course by our house. How am I going to break this to Zach? There’s already so little time I can hang out with him one-on-one because of his work schedule. I don’t know how we’ll spend time together. If we can’t go out on real dates or be alone together then will he still want to see me? Will he lose interest?
I’ve jogged two blocks away from our house to the meeting place when I see Zach’s Audi pull up behind me and stop in the street. He rolls down the window.
“Hey, Liv. Are we going for a run?”
He sounds confused. Poor guy. Why do I have to have such a complicated family? I bet Cristina’s father didn’t care whether she hung out with Zach alone or not.
“Hey,” I say. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
We could stay in the car, but I don’t want anyone to see us. My neighbors have been living here for decades and are about as nosy as you can get.
He smiles at me, which somehow makes me feel even worse. “Sure. What’s up?”
“It needs to be somewhere kind of close,” I say. “I can’t be gone more than half an hour. I told my parents I was going on a run.”
“Is everything okay?” Zach asks.
“Sort of,” I say, looking around. “I’ll explain in the car. We just need to go somewhere private. Like really private.”
“Okay...” He cocks his head to the side, thinking. “I know somewhere. Morgan lives in this small gated community near here. I know the code to get in.”
“That sounds great,” I say. My jaw is tight with anxiety. “I really appreciate this, Zach. Seriously.”
“I missed you this week.” We haven’t seen each other since Zach left to film on location last week. “It’s tiring to only be around Hollywood people. When I’m with you, I feel like none of that stuff matters. I’m so sick of feeling like I’m acting all the time.”
He takes a strand of my hair that’s fallen by my face and pushes it around my ear.
God. Why does he have to be so perfect?
It makes having to talk about this so much worse.
Zach drives us to Morgan’s gated community and parks the car at a small park that’s lush with foliage. I feel nauseated. His car feels stuffy. I need to breathe.
“Do you mind?” I say, gesturing to the park. “I need some air.”
Zach and I get out of the car and start walking. We stop under a big gum tree with wispy red flowers and greenish gray leaves, and Zach takes my hands.
“Something’s not right,” he says. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong?”
My stomach is in knots and my heart’s beating so fast. I really don’t want to tell him, but I know I have to. “My dad doesn’t want me to see you. Date you.”
Zach looks taken by surprise. “What? Why?”
I’m sure no girl has ever rejected him before.
“He doesn’t like that you’re a celebrity. He says that our relationship will be too high profile. It’s bad for the campaign. They’re going to announce in early January.”
“That’s ridiculous. Can’t you talk him out of it?”
I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes.
“I tried. He said we could still talk and hang out at school, but that he didn’t want me to be seen with you unless we were with a group of friends. That’s the best I could get from him.” Now I start really crying. “I’m sorry, Zach. I ruined everything.”
It’s dangerous to be sneaking out now. I can’t keep this up. Dad will find out. If I start going on night runs all the time, Mom will catch on sooner than later.
“It’s not your fault,” Zach says. “It’s not like my career doesn’t make things worse too. If I wasn’t an actor... I’m sorry, Liv.”
“You can’t apologize for doing what you love,” I say. “That’s why this is so stupid. It has nothing to do with us. It’s about appearances. Or whatever.”
Zach kisses the top of my head.
“Try not to worry, Liv,” he says, pulling my head to his chest. “We’ll figure a way out. Let’s just be low-key for a while. Give him some time. He might soften up.”
“What does low-key mean?” I ask.
I’m worried Zach will want to date other girls. I wouldn’t blame him. What guy wants a girlfriend he can’t physically be seen with or talk to privately?
“We’ll see each other at school. I’ll keep calling and texting. Maybe I can come over to your house. I’ll even wear a disguise.” His joke makes me laugh a little through my tears.
“Great,” I say. “So my parents can chaperone? I don’t think so.”
Part of me doesn’t want my parents to meet him. It seems like they take over whatever they touch. I don’t want to give them more control over my relationship.
“If I meet him, do you think he might change his mind?” Zach asks.
“Maybe,” I say. “I don’t know.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Liv.” Zach uses his hand to wipe some of the tears from my cheeks. “Try not to worry.”