The Story of Lansing Lotte (30 page)

“Here,” I said to her and I picked up the flattop so she could stand between my thighs.  She faced away from me and I returned the guitar to my lap, caging Fleur in. I held the neck and told her to place her hand on the neck under mine. Her little hands couldn’t handle a guitar this big, but I would show her how to play each string. I moved her tiny fingers to the A, then followed suit through to G. We repeated a few times before she pulled her hands back and I took over. I began to hum softly as I gently played a song The Nights normally rocked out. 

It was slow in tempo and the melody was sad. I was reminded of how Lila had described the song.
He wants her and he’ll do anything for his one chance. He wants to freeze time.
What would you do? What would I do? I continued to hum until the words slipped out that were the refrain and my addition to Arturo’s voice while we performed. Fleur struggled between my thighs, and I slipped the guitar upward without missing a beat to allow her escape. She turned to face me immediately, as I continued to play in earnest then. She began to dance slowly, swaying side to side with her little hips, then bending her knees and finally she began to twirl, moving her arms from left to right.

Would you stay in this place?

Give me strength for a million days.

Be the only one to fill the space.

I looked up as I sang to find Lila standing in my open doorway. Her face showed her shock and I wasn’t sure if it was that Fleur was dancing around my room or that I was playing the guitar, but her eyes scanned my face and a tear escaped her. She wiped it quickly and her lips twitched into a crooked smile. I’d never seen her look so sad, and yet her smile showed she was happy. Happy for me.

I didn’t acknowledge Lansing after seeing him outside the coffee shop days ago. I couldn’t face him. As a matter of fact, I had ignored him as much as I could over the days afterwards, except for his moment with Fleur. I didn’t have tears for anything anymore, but somehow tears had escaped my eyes. The way he held the guitar. The peaceful look on his face. Playing was what he needed, and seeing Fleur dancing to the sad melody that Lansing hummed, broke my heart a little.

I didn’t believe what he had done with Guinie was right. It took me days to accept that it wasn’t my place to judge. I was human, too. I knew as well as anyone that we all made mistakes. Mistakes that I hadn’t learned to forgive until it was too late. Lansing was suffering in more ways than I could imagine, but most of all I sensed his heart was breaking for a girl he could never have. He saw Arturo; I knew he had. He also had to know, that Arturo saw them. Their secret would be exposed and the whole story would go up in flames.

On Thanksgiving morning, I was surprised when Lansing entered the living room as I was buttoning up Fleur’s coat. 

“Hey,” he said sleepily, rubbing the back of his head and making his hair stand up in a fresh-fucked sort of way. I felt the bile rise in my throat thinking that Guinevere had been in the apartment and I hadn’t even known. I’d heard him come home, but I hadn’t heard any other noises, or voices.

“Hey,” I mumbled. 

“I haven’t seen you much lately,” he said softly. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I’ve been busy. Fleur and I have a ritual for today.”

“You hadn’t mentioned. Do you have family, or friends, that you spend the day with?”

“Both,” I blurted out. It was a lie of sorts, but I didn’t feel like explaining it to Lansing.

“Plans yourself, I assume,” I said, as I pulled a hat onto Fleur’s head. 

“Actually, no,” he sighed. He slid his hands into his front jean pockets and stared in the direction of the dark television.

I didn’t want to ask about Guinevere. It would be polite, but I just didn’t want to know. I had already caused enough damage. I didn’t want to add to their situation. Too many things had been my fault, even if I wasn’t found guilty of a crime. I needed to pay my penance on that day, of all days.

“What time will you be back?”

I was surprised by his question, but then I realized he was only trying to plan his day. If I was out of the house, he could have the place to himself for a little rendezvous. My thoughts flashed to Arturo King standing outside the car the other day. His clenched jaw and hurt face.  I felt sorry for him and as Lansing accused, I would defend him. Arturo had done nothing wrong.

“Later,” I said, attempting to walk past him.  He stepped in front of me.

“What time?”

“Later,” I said, trying to pass him on the left. He blocked me again.

“When?”

“Look. I promise to stay away all day, so you can do whatever you want in the apartment,” I said on a deep breath.

“So I can…,” he stopped and straightened up, looking down at me. “What do you think I plan to do today?”

“See Guinevere,” I said on a sigh. I didn’t have the energy for a fight. Not that day of all days. I had places to be. I looked at my watch. Fleur and I had fifteen minutes.

“I’m not seeing Guinevere today,” he replied. “I’m not seeing her any day. Where are you going in such a rush?”

“I have to…be somewhere…at nine,” I said, as I made a move to walk around him again. I bumped into him as he stopped me with the force of his body. My breasts rubbed into his chest. I hated that I reacted instantly to the contact. I couldn’t be attracted to him, especially when he was attracted to someone else. I needed some alone time, with myself, to take care of the growing ache of desire for him.

“Where?” he said softly.

“Church,” I blurted out. “Church, okay? Fleur and I go to mass on Thanksgiving morning and I’m going to be late.” My anger was clearly rising. I didn’t want to play games with Lansing. The day was for other things, not him.

“I could go with you?”

I looked at him confused.

“What?”

“I said, I could go with you. I’ll drive. Where do you go?”

“Trinity Church.”

“Be ready in five,” he said, his mouth quirking up in a smile, but my face was still stunned and I couldn’t respond.

After mass, I was sure Lansing would part from Fleur and I. He said he wasn’t seeing Guinevere, but he must have plans of his own for the day. I hoped he had plans for the day because I didn’t want him with me. I didn’t need him to know any more of my secrets, but mass ended and he asked me where he could drive me next.

“We’re good. We can take the train,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

“You mentioned family. I can take you to their home.”

“It’s not…Fleur and I will be okay. I’m sure you must have other plans today.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” he said, as he slipped his hands into his jean pockets again. He looked off to his side and waited for me to respond.

“I just assumed you would have plans with the band, or your mother, or…” I couldn’t say her name again.

“I don’t have plans with Guinie, I already told you this.” 

We were quiet for a moment as we stood outside the church. The air was cold and Fleur hopped back and forth to keep her legs warm.

“I need to go,” I said again. We had to catch the train to make it there and back by noon.

“Tell me where you’re going. I’ll take you. I have nothing planned and I could use the distraction.”

I sighed deeply and looked up at the cloudy sky. The traffic was crazy due to the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Fleur and I always were going against the stream, trying to get out of the city as so many were trying to enter for the special occasion.

“Okay, fine,” I said, as I looked at my watch again.

We rode in silence out of the city limits. I directed Lansing when I needed to, but I didn’t speak otherwise. My thoughts were not my own. They never were. At last we pulled up in front of the wrought iron gate that stood a story high, standing guard over the family members inside. Lansing glanced sideways at me, but he didn’t speak as he followed the curving path until he came to the necessary lot.

When the car came to a complete stop, Lansing looked at me.

“Family?” he whispered. I opened my door without acknowledging him and helped Fleur exit the back seat. She held my hand as we walked slowly up the slanted slope to the two small headstones marking the spot. Vance Lovelourne. Sara Lovelourne. My father had been forty-five, my sister only twenty-two. I silently stood for a few moments, my mind wandering to images of Sara and I as children, then images of us as teenagers. Finally, I concentrated on the visions of us fighting on that fateful day. I could hardly remember her clearly. Sometimes I think I merged snapshots of her anger and the sweet face of Fleur together, and confused the two in my head. She had been so mad at me that day, but I had been just as angry with her. For years.

When Sara slept with Josh, and then found out she was pregnant, Josh refused to recognize their night together. He said he had been with several other girls, as he was sure that Sara had been with several other guys, and he couldn’t be convinced she was carrying his child.  He tried to return to me, begging me to forgive him, but I just couldn’t. She was my sister, my best friend, and he slept with her when he said he loved me. He even used that in his apology.  He said he loved me, but if he loved me, he wouldn’t have done that to me. And neither would my sister.

My anger was long gone, though. I had let it go years ago.

An arm slipped around me as I stood at the grave and stared at Sara’s name. I jumped in my startle and squeezed Fleur’s hand. She flinched and I let go of her. She walked toward the grave stone and traced the letters over her mother’s name. Lansing’s arm tightened around me. I continued to follow with my eyes the little fingers of Fleur as she looped over the S and outlined the A.

“Fleur isn’t my daughter,” I said softly, “and she’ll never know her mother.”

“You’re her mother, now,” he said. “What happened?”

I swallowed hard, not wanting to tell the story. Yet, knowing that it had to be told.

“My sister and I had found a truce. Fleur had forced us to do that. When Josh Tucker denied his paternity, my father allowed Sara to continue living in the apartment until the baby was born. I couldn’t handle living in the same room as her and had been spending the nights on the couch. My father finally decided to get Sara her own place in
Dolores Guard
.  She would be close enough that we could give her help, but on her own enough to learn her role as mother.

When Fleur was born, I fell in love.” I smiled weakly.

“She wasn’t mine, but she connected Sara and I, as Sara did need help raising her. We both had school to finish and work schedules. We were like that old saying, ‘it takes a village.’  We worked together to take care of Fleur. When Fleur was almost two, I learned that Sara had been in contact with Josh again. They hadn’t seen each other, or so I had been told, but on Thanksgiving Day, I found out they had. They had been in contact off and on throughout the years of Fleur’s young life. My sister had actually slept with Josh again in attempts to make him see he should be with them. I knew from experience, sleeping with Josh wasn’t the way to keep him. I could have spared Sara her attempts, if I had known, but when I found out, I went ballistic. I was screaming at Sara that she couldn’t just leave well enough alone. I told her I hated her for what she had done to me. I yelled at her that she had ruined my life. I would never forgive her if she got back together with him. He didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t deserve him. And Fleur didn’t deserve either one of them.

I ran out of the house on that Thanksgiving morning in my anger without a coat, but I never felt the cold until my energy was spent. I slipped down the stairs and out the front door of the building and ran. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. Then, I stopped and walked aimlessly through the city. I don’t remember what I thought about. Being angry takes lots of energy, but I couldn’t remember one bit of my thoughts. I wandered, I strolled, and I stewed. When I got home to find Fleur with Clare, I was told that my family was dead.