I.
Lucia sat on the steps of her home, looking into the street. She crossed her legs, uncrossed them, and crossed them again. All of her friends were gone to college again: another summer's end plagued with boredom and loneliness. It wasn't as though her parents couldn't afford to send her to college, but Daddy said she wasn't ready. Just like she wasn't ready to have a job or a license. Daddy paid for tutors and music and dance lessons to keep her busy, but the most invaluable thing- her freedom- was something he could not afford.
She watched two boys on bicycles ride closer to her house. Their torsos glistened with sweat and their long, thin arms absently guided their bikes as they casually swerved through the street toward her. She waved, though she didn't recognise them from her neighbourhood. They stopped and walked the bikes onto the sidewalk, approaching her porch. Their legs were covered in mud and they filled the air near her with the scent of river water.
"Hey," the smaller boy said as the taller of the two lifted his arm to scratch a hairless armpit. "You see the ice cream truck around here lately?"
"Not while I've been sitting here," she answered. She smiled. Neither boy returned her smile.
"You got any cards?" the taller boy asked. "We wanna make our bikes loud."
"Sorry," she said. They shrugged and rode away without looking back.
"Who were those boys?"
She jumped and turned around. "Jesus, Daddy. I don't know. Just some kids." Her father raised an eyebrow and said nothing. "Daddy!" She looked away from his eyes. "They're twelve. They wanted ice cream and playing cards."
"Why don't you come inside, Luci? It's hot out."
"It's not that hot," she said. She stood and followed him in.
II.
The doorbell rang. Lucia lifted the remote to quickly turn off the television in the den before she ran upstairs. She looked in the mirror next to the door and reached up behind her head to tighten her ponytail. As she unlocked the door, she showed all of her teeth in a smile. "Mr Tomas," she said. "It's nice to see you."
"Good evening, Lucia."
She moved aside to let him into the foyer and closed the door behind him. He stood and looked at her for a few seconds before asking, "Is your father home?"
She laughed. "Oh. I'm sorry, Mr Tomas. My parents went out for dinner. They left maybe half an hour ago. You're welcome to wait."
"No, I just needed to drop off some paperwork. I can leave it with you and come back tomorrow to speak with him."
"I'll tell him you stopped by," Lucia said, still smiling. He smiled back.
"You're very beautiful tonight, Lucia. You didn't want to have dinner with your mother and father?"
"I'd rather watch TV," she admitted, gesturing into the house.
"No college again this year?"
She shook her head. "Maybe next year," she answered.
"By the time you're ready to go back to school, your friends will all have graduated!" he exclaimed. She turned her head away from him. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Maybe for the spring semester?"
"Maybe," she said. "I'll tell Daddy you were here." She moved toward the door and he moved with her. As she closed the door behind him, she felt her eyes fill with tears. She wiped at her face with the backs of her hands and sighed. So Daddy was telling his partners it was her choice not to go to University? It wasn't fair. He wouldn't even let her apply.
The doorbell rang again. She stared at the door, then walked toward it and opened it slowly. Mr Tomas stood with his hands behind his back.
"You're a bright girl, Lucia," he said, smiling into her widened eyes. "Your future will outshine you." He revealed in both hands a single rose. He'd pulled it from Mrs Grosch's garden, she could tell. She reached up to grab it and a thorn stabbed her thumb. Putting the finger in her mouth, she lifted her other hand and carefully held the stem of the rose. For a second, he didn't let go. Then she slowly and gently tugged the rose toward her chest and he dropped his hands. "Goodnight, Lucia. It was wonderful to see you." He pressed his lips to the top of her head and walked toward his car. She stared after him until the car drove away, then she shut the door.
She realised she was breathing quickly and laughed. Mr Tomas was always so nice. She walked slowly into the kitchen and grabbed a small vase from beneath the sink, then carried the flower to her bedroom. She placed the flower in the vase in the middle of her nightstand and ran downstairs to the den. She collapsed on the couch and reached for the remote. The television coated the room in a soft blue dim. She tried to watch the show but her mind could only focus on Mr Tomas. Had he ever kissed her before? Of course he had. The year his wife died, he'd spent that Christmas with them and she was certain he'd given her a peck on the forehead that evening before her father made her go to bed.
Mr Tomas was old, but he wasn't as old as Daddy. And Daddy was always telling Mum about Mr Tomas's girlfriends- not a long series of women since Mrs Tomas died, but a pretty consistent presence. He wasn't bad-looking. He took good care of himself, she knew.
She lifted her dress and pressed her fingers against her panties. Pushing her hand hard against her crotch, she lied down on the couch, facing the back, and began thrusting her hips into the cushion, pressing hard against herself. She thought of Mr Tomas handing her the rose, of his lips against her hair, of his fingers against her breasts... Her eyelids squeezed together and she bit her lip. She humped harder and her heavy breathing made the couch around her hotter and she suddenly convulsed twice and lay still.
She turned around to face the TV and pulled her dress to her knees. Her eyelids fluttered at the screen. Seconds later, she was asleep.
"Honey. Luci, honey." Her mother's fingers rubbed her calf. She woke up slowly, her eyes focused on the halo of light above her mother's head.
"Sorry, I fell asleep," she said. She sat up. "Did you and Daddy have a good dinner?"
Her mother nodded. "He's waiting for you in the kitchen." She walked to the TV stand and pushed the button on the side of the set. The screen went black.
They walked upstairs together, slowly, not speaking. Lucia considered saying something, but she couldn't think of what to say. She could never start a conversation with Mum. Mum never spoke- not much at all to anyone but Daddy.
He waited for her with a small pink box wrapped with a red bow. "Brought you dessert, Luci," he said.
She squealed. "Thank you, Daddy!" She walked to the kitchen sink and grabbed a fork, then sat at the bar and unwrapped her dessert .
"Did you have dinner?" he asked her.
"I ate a sandwich," she lied. "How was your dinner? Oh! Mr Tomas stopped by." She licked cream from the tongs. "I think it was about 7:30. He had paperwork, he said. He'll stop by at the same time tomorrow."
"Yes, he called me," he replied. "He left a voicemail and asked about you going to college."
She licked the fork again. "Well, you said I wasn't ready," she answered.
"And what did you say to Mr Tomas about it?"
"He said maybe I'd be ready for the spring. I agreed."
Her father walked out of the kitchen silently. She continued to eat the pastry as she watched Mum look in the sink and dishwasher, open a cabinet, and finally follow Daddy out of the room. Would Mr Tomas talk Daddy into letting her go to college? That would be a dream. Maybe he'd fall in love with her and take her out of here. Daddy trusted Mr Tomas enough to share a company with him. Mr Tomas stayed in their guest room on several holidays. She was allowed to speak to Mr Tomas. So Daddy couldn't distrust him. And he'd said: she was bright. Maybe he could tell she was suffocating here.
She finished her dessert, licking the cream from the gold platter that held it. After putting the fork in the dishwasher, she ran upstairs to her room. In the drawer of her nightstand was a pad and pencil and she lay across the bed on her stomach and began to draw.
She drew for hours, lost in her head, until her father came into the room.
"Your mother and I have told you many times we don't like you falling asleep in front of the television," he said, sitting at the end of her mattress.
"I know. I'm sorry, Daddy." She wiggled until she was on her back, then sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, sitting on top of the pad and pencil.
"Where'd you get that rose?" He gestured toward the nightstand.
"Mrs Grosch's garden."
He nodded slowly. "It isn't right for you to pick the flowers other people worked so hard to blossom. We've talked about that, too. It's very rude and lazy."
"I won't do it again." The sentence came out as one word.
"I know you won't. And the next time your mother or I catch you sleeping downstairs, you will lose your den privileges. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Daddy."
"Get ready for bed and I'll be in shortly to tuck you in."
When he left the room, she pushed the pad and pencil into the nightstand and went to brush her teeth. After undressing in the bathroom and putting on her nightshirt, she crawled beneath her blankets and waited. Her father came in several minutes later, unplugged her night light, bent over her bed, and kissed her on the cheek. It was a routine they'd had for as long as she could remember. Every night he was home.
"Goodnight, Princess," he said.
"Goodnight, Daddy."
Every night was the same.
When she awoke the next day- Saturday- she was remarkably restless. Her afternoon piano lesson was interminable. Her teacher rapped her fingers so often, she felt arthritic in the evening. She wore her favourite dress and braided her hair and when the grandfather clock in their living room indicated it was 7 PM, she was sitting on the couch next to her mother, watching her knit and eating a croissant.
"Lucia," her mother said, looking at her over the needles. "If you get crumbs in that chair, I will see to it you never sit again."
"I have a napkin, Mum. And I'm not dropping anything."
