The Luckiest Girl of All
The room was unnaturally quiet for a change. The students were busy taking their midterm exams, and Maria paced the aisles, searching for cheat sheets and wandering eyes. She had warned them sternly to turn off their cell phones before the test, so when hers started ringing loudly from her desk at the front of the room, every eye was on her. Some clucked their tongues, and others giggled. Her face grew hot as she rushed to turn the thing off.
“Sorry,” she whispered while fumbling for the phone. She silenced it and returned to her pacing.
On her lunch hour, as Maria drove home to let her dog out, she remembered the call and punched a few buttons to retrieve her messages. Without a raise for a few years due to faculty struggles with the board over contract negotiations, her budget had become uncomfortably tight, and she assumed the call would be from one of the many bill collectors who loved to phone daily to threaten her. Instead, she was surprised to find a message from her mother.
Maria and her mother rarely spoke. They’d never been close; her mother had worked long hours to support her and the twins, and she’d often come home weary and in no mood for chatting about anything except how tired she was or how much she hated her job. It seemed the only joy her mother’s life was contained in the bottle always by her side. Maria had learned early on that she was on her own, and she looked after her younger brothers as if she were their parent. On several occasions, they’d even called her “mom” by mistake. She’d never really known differently, so resentment wasn’t an emotion she experienced at the time. Later, maybe, but in those days, that was the reality. Acceptance was her only choice.
Her mother’s gravely voice said simply that she’d received some news she thought Maria would want to know about, and she should call back at once. As Maria watched her dog in the yard barking with others across the fence, relishing the rare February sunshine, she dialed her mother’s number.
The slurring wasn’t something she had heard in awhile and it made her cringe. It was only , and her mother had already been drinking heavily. She’d finally retired, and apparently her favorite pastime had become her main pastime.
There were no pleasantries. There never had been. Maria’s mother got right to the point. “Some woman called today. Said she was your father’s assistant.”
At the mention of her father, Maria’s stomach tensed. “Oh? What did she want?”
“Said your father died yesterday. Gave me the funeral information. I didn’t know if you’d want it, but I have it if you do.”
It was as if her mother were relating the day’s weather report. No emotion where her father was concerned. Then again, who could blame her? He’d said he had to get a pack of his cigarettes, Lucky Strikes she vividly remembered, and he never came back. That was the day before Maria turned ten. She’d kept an empty pack he’d tossed on the counter for a long while in a worn shoebox under her bed. She’d discovered it when packing her things for college, and she finally threw it away. There was no use holding onto something empty like that.
Maria sighed, her mind churning. Did she really want to go to his funeral after everything? Did he deserve that? Did she have any respects to pay him? Unable to arrive at sufficient answers, she copied down the information just in case. She returned to the school lost in thought, and while the students in her afternoon classes hunched over their exams, she tried to busy herself with grading the set from that morning. Yet, her mind got to wandering about things she’d thought she buried pretty well, and for her last class, she begged a colleague to sub for her.
She raced home and quickly swallowed a sleeping pill, anxious to hide from the memories. Yet, they haunted her, as they always did, even in her dreams.
***
***
The story of her father’s death was in the papers the next morning. Maria’s father had become a local hero, tirelessly crusading for better policing of child predators. He had prosecuted a few high-profile cases, one for a serial rapist who preyed on children, another for a leader of a kiddie porn ring, and he even took down a daycare center owner who was accused of molesting some of the children in his care. He gained a reputation that moved him up the ladder of success quickly. He had started an organization that targeted those who lured children on the Internet. Recently, Maria had read that he’d been involved in a sting featured on the local news to entrap men posing as teens online to arrange dates with young girls. No matter how much Maria tried to avoid her father, he was everywhere. Well, of course, except with her. He hadn’t been with her since she was young, when she was “Daddy’s lucky girl” and he made her feel special and confused and ashamed all at the same time.
Back in high school, she’d been curious about his new life. She’d found he had remarried shortly after leaving her mother and had another daughter and a son. One time, when she was out with friends, celebrating the end of her junior year, she’d run into him and his new family at an amusement park. He’d said hello, but it was if he’d forgotten her name. When he said it, he stumbled a bit, calling her Mary. She remembered crying that night as she burrowed under her covers, missing him desperately as shame rose with the bile in her throat.
Maria had worked so hard to suppress those toxic and confusing feelings. She put herself through college, taking on loans and part-time jobs, and she tried to never look back. She wanted a normal life, free from the pain she’d known, but no matter how far she ran or how hard she tried, the pain was always lurking about, waiting to greet her with open arms.
***
The chapel was packed with spectators, reporters, co-workers, and the new family. Maria’s brothers were in college now, and she had called them to let them know of their father’s passing. They’d been only five when he left, so they didn’t remember him much. Neither seemed interested in accompanying her to the funeral, so she attended alone. She was surprised at the large turnout, and even more so when a woman came rushing over.
“You must be Maria,” the woman said.
She nodded, wondering how this woman knew her.
“I recognize your picture. Your father had a snapshot in his office of you at your college graduation.”
Maria’s brow crinkled with confusion. “Of me?”
“He talked about you sometimes. And your brothers.”
“Really? What did he say?” Maria noticed people were starting to file into the aisles, settling in the pews. A pastor had walked to the podium, shuffling papers in front of him.
“Just every now and then, he’d mention he had other children from a previous marriage. I was his assistant, by the way. Name’s Cheryl. I’m the one who called your mother.”
Cheryl extended a hand, and Maria shook it. “May I ask how this happened?” The papers were somewhat vague about the details of how her father died. Just said something about heart failure.
“Oh, you mean about your father’s passing? His wife found him in the hot tub. The coroner said his heart was weak, probably from a bad diet and too much stress knowing him and the long hours he kept, and he stayed in too long. His heart just gave out on him.”
Maria had hoped there was more suffering involved. She did not share her sentiments with the woman.
“Why don’t you sit with me up front? That area is reserved for family, and you are that, aren’t you?”
“I guess so,” Maria said, and she followed the woman past all the others clad in black who were lined up to view the casket. She averted her eyes, not wanting to see her father again. As she sank down next to Cheryl, she couldn’t help but to stare at his peaceful face looking up from the coffin. Somehow she hoped to see something other than peace; she resented that even more than her decision to come there that day. What had she been thinking? She had worked so hard to put it all behind her, to move forward, but as she sat there staring at her father’s smugly peaceful face, she realized he had the pleasure of the last laugh. And it was at her expense.
***
As the pastor started the service, Maria tried to keep her eyes on him, but they tended to wander. At the angle she had to look to see on him at the podium, they couldn’t help but land on her father’s other family. His wife wore a simple black suit, her short blond hair obscured by netting attached to a garish hat, her eyes rimmed in red as she dabbed at them with a tissue. Adjacent to her was a boy, probably around 15, who slumped in his seat and stared intensely at the floor. But, what really caught her eye because it stuck out like a sore thumb was the daughter, whose voluminous stomach protruded past the other two. Maria had learned her name was Connie, and she hadn’t resembled Maria and her brothers when she’d seen her all those years ago at the amusement park. However, now that Connie had aged a bit, her oval face, olive skin and smooth, straight hair mirrored her own appearance. Doing some quick math, Maria realized the girl was around seventeen now, and she glanced again at the girl’s swollen abdomen. She looked to be about six months pregnant.
Just then, Connie’s eyes met hers, and she quickly looked away, a blush of humiliation spreading across her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to stare. They landed on her father, and Maria realized she couldn’t avoid him. It was his funeral after all.
A man took the podium then, and his voice was halted as he struggled to form the words he intended. He began to describe his association with Maria’s father. Once he got his footing, he talked faster and faster, praising her father for all the work he’d done to help prosecute the man who had raped his daughter.
Another woman got up there afterwards, and she told another story of how vigilant Maria’s father was in catching the man who’d posted her young son’s naked pictures on the Internet. As each person took to the stage with glowing praise, the anger that had seethed within Maria all this time bubbled to the surface.
Suddenly, she was eight and back in her room, trying to fall asleep while the rain pattered at the window. She hadn’t been able to stop reliving the day, the most exciting in her life so far, when her father had taken her to get a new bike for her birthday and had bragged on and on to the saleslady about how special she was. He’d never paid her much attention before, so his complete reversal surprised and delighted her. He usually left for work before she awoke and arrived late at night after she was asleep. On the weekends, he tinkered in his garage mostly. So, the fact that he got her the bike and took her to lunch, just the two of them, had been the most amazing feeling in the world. No one had ever done such a thing for her, and she relished knowing someone thought something of her besides that she was just an annoying kid.
Maria had known when her father came to tuck her in because she could smell sweat mixed with his cologne as his heavy footsteps approached. It surprised her when he snuggled beside her, stroking her hair and telling her how pretty she was. He rubbed her shoulders then, and as night whispered with its cricket-laden silence, his hands slid down to parts no one had ever touched. “You’re Daddy’s lucky girl,” he’d said over and over as his rubbing increased in intensity. She remembered feeling lucky that he wanted to touch her in special places because she was special to him. He left that night, and the next day, when she was riding her new bike down the driveway, he gave her a big wink when no one was looking. It lifted her spirits to know they had a secret just between them. He came to tuck her in regularly after that, and she began to look forward to it. For the first time ever, she knew that someone actually cared for her, and the sensation increased as he introduced her to his special places too.
For two years, Maria was her father’s lucky girl. Then, three nights before her tenth birthday, he came to tuck her in. Her mother was on a trip to see her sister a few towns over, so Maria knew she and her daddy would have extra special time together. He started the usual way, unbuttoning her pajama top, feeling her small breasts, murmuring in her ear. He worked his way down, telling her that her most special part was his favorite. Suddenly, he jerked his hand back, and Maria would never forget the look of revulsion as the moonlight streaked across his face. She looked at his hand in confusion, his fingers dripping with a thick red substance, and she started to cry.
Maria has started her first period three days before her tenth birthday. The next day, her father wouldn’t even look at her. When she tried to get his attention, he glared and then took off in his car, arriving long after she’d retired for the night. She’d lain awake, praying desperately for him to come in and reassure her she was still special, but he stayed in the living room, the sound of a football game drifting through the house. She finally fell asleep with tears caked her eyes.
The next day, while menstrual cramps besieged her, he left to get a pack of cigarettes and never returned.
As Maria stared at the casket, she relived the crushed hopes and pain and shame she’d felt for those two years and all the years after when she learned she wasn’t so special and her father was a sick bastard who preyed on her vulnerabilities. As the crowd applauded for a woman who had just spoken about how her father’s efforts had led to her daughter’s rapist getting life without parole, Maria jumped up and ran down the aisle, slamming through the doors and out into the parking lot. She found her car, and as she fumbled for her keys, hot tears burned down her cheeks.
A dam constructed of heavy stone gave way after years of being pummeled by an onslaught of gushing water. Maria cried pitifully, slumped over the hood of her Civic, unable to contain the emotions as they surged forward.
After awhile, she was able to regain some modicum of composure and focus. She found the key to her door and with shaking hands, tried to insert it into the keyhole. Just as she opened her door, she felt a light tapping on her shoulder.
Maria spun around to find Connie staring at her with concern.
“Are you alright?” the girl asked.
Maria’s face flushed as she blew her bangs off her forehead. “Yes, I think so. It’s just a hard day, you know?”
The girl nodded. “I’m Connie. I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” She extended a thin, bony hand, and Maria shook it briefly. She tried to let go, but Connie held her hand firmly and covered it with her other, staring intently into her eyes until Maria had to look away. “I know you very well. Better than you realize.”
Maria’s face contorted with confusion. The meaning the girl intended was lost on her.
“I’ve often thought of you. Especially at night.” Connie sighed, her eyes finally releasing Maria’s and landing on something in the distance. “I think you were an early bloomer. I’ve wondered about this quite a bit. That’s why Daddy left you so much sooner.”
“What are you talking about?”
“With me, the doctor had to induce my first period. The day after I turned seventeen, my mother took me to see him. Said she was worried because mine hadn’t started yet. That was just six months ago.” Connie rubbed her swollen abdomen. “I was Daddy’s lucky girl a lot longer than you.”
Maria’s mouth fell open as the girl’s meaning hit her smack in the face. Her eyes revealed she understood, and the corners of Connie’s lips turned up slightly.
“So, recently I found this stuff online. In fact, it was the very day the doctor told me I was having a little girl.”
“What stuff?” Maria whispered.
“They guaranteed it would be completely untraceable. A paralytic, they called it. The site said all you had to do was introduce it into someone’s drink, and you can make them totally helpless. So, when Daddy went to get changed for the hot tub, I slipped it into his martini. No one was the wiser.”
Maria’s eyes were riveted on Connie’s belly as the girl stroked it gently.
“You and I were Daddy’s lucky girls. But this one here,” she said, pulling Maria’s hand to her stomach. “Well, she’s the luckiest girl of all.”
The baby kicked, and Maria smiled. Connie squeezed her arm and turned back towards the chapel.
As Maria rode away, she avoided the rearview mirror. Staring forward at the road as it widened in front of her, she realized Connie made it possible to really start her life.
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