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ATTENTION: Stories marked with an * may contain material which would be better appreciated by those over 18. Parental Discretion is advised. This is your responsibility, not ours.
The night air is unusually warm for San Francisco, even in June, but a welcomed breeze sweeps through the city tonight. Despite the lateness of the hour and the overwhelming amount of activity over the last few weeks, I find sleep elusive. Part of me is still humming with excitement over the knowledge that I am now a full-fledged high school graduate and that in just a few months I’ll be heading off to the freedom of college. It’s cliché, sure, but this whole new world of possibilities now lays before me – future so bright, insert rest of overplayed 80’s song and all and I can’t wait to take advantage of it all. However, my future and all its stupendous glory isn’t the only reason I can’t sleep.
I watch my dad from behind the screen door in the kitchen, surprised he didn’t hear my approach. Over the years, since Dad has come back into my life, his incredible skills of observation have never ceased to amaze me no matter how many times I’ve seen it in action - especially when used to catch me in the act of misbehaving. Tonight, then, he must either be completely lost in thought or he is pointedly ignoring my presence. Either way, I plan on totally disregarding his need to be alone tonight because I know why he is out here. Why all through dinner he barely said a word and why the minute he thought Victoria and I went to bed he slipped out onto the deck. He’s thinking about her.
He doesn’t think I remember Nikita or that I know he still has one photograph of her tucked away amongst his private files. I saw it once, by accident. It sat carelessly on top of a pile of scattered papers on his desk in his office here at home, left as if it were afterthought; unusual for my detail-oriented (read: anal-retentive) father. At first glance, I didn’t think anything of the photograph. I figured it related to one of the many projects he was constantly developing for work. But something made me pause, gut instinct maybe, to look at it and that’s when the memories began to return.
Soap. The fresh scent of soap; pure, clean, perfume-free soap was the first memory to hit me. Slowly the rest of my memories fluttered to the surface – perusing my baby book; being read an unending number of stories to distract me from my parents’ absence; a stoic face standing beside my mother as we watched them lower (what we thought was) my father’s body into the cold ground. For a moment I couldn’t breathe. Who was this woman, I wondered. I had all these memories, but couldn’t place her or them. I couldn’t even remember her name, yet I knew instinctively that she never perfume, yet smelled clean like freshly washed laundry and that her strong, husky voice always made me feel secure. Then a noise from the hallway had alerted me to Dad’s presence and so I quickly exited his office, somehow knowing that being caught staring at this woman’s picture would not be appreciated at all.
Several nights later, after endlessly contemplating her image and the memories her photograph invoked, I finally remembered her name. It came to me in a dream - or rather a dream of a memory. I dreamt of the blonde woman and my father saying a tearful good-bye in some non-descript train station. I couldn’t hear their words specifically, the sounds of the busy station whirled by, filling in the space, but I could see them, my Dad and this woman, clearly. And what I saw was how much she loved my father.
I woke-up before anything else happened. Disappointed, I tried to grasp on to the elusive threads of the dream quickly fading from my mind once I was conscious, but it was useless and the memory slipped away. Except for one thing – her name. Nikita. I never told my father about my memories or about seeing her photo, but I’ve never forgotten about her either. Over the years I’ve perfected my skills of recognition, noting the signs in my dad when his mind would return to her, even if it was just for a moment, and I quickly learned to leave him alone during those times. I don’t think I really ever understood, until recently, why he needed to be alone at those moments; I just instinctively knew. Then a shocking thing happened. Dad began dating Victoria
Don’t get me wrong. I think Victoria is great. I love having her around and I love that my dad has someone in his life again. I just didn’t ever think it would ever happen. He seems to really care for Victoria, if not love her, and most importantly he has been happy with her, which makes me happy for him. I have a feeling all that may change now.
Dad doesn’t know it, but I know Nikita was at the park today. While walking back to the car with Victoria, I took a moment to glance back at my dad and saw him standing there, looking out across the water at some undisclosed point. That in and of itself wouldn’t have been a big deal except he had “that” look on his face – the one he gets when thinking about Nikita. A look I had not seen in a long time. Distracted by a tug on my arm from Victoria I momentarily forgot about my father and his behavior. It wasn’t until we were all at the car and I casually looked behind me, down the road, and noticed a large, black Mercedes Benz with tinted windows. The driver stood along side it, appearing to lean nonchalantly against the driver-side door. Yet there was something familiar to me about his seemingly relaxed manner. He reminded me of the stance my father often takes when we are out in public, relaxed, yet somehow ready to do battle at the same time.
Then in a blink of an eye, the driver stood at attention, almost militarily, as an elegantly dressed blonde woman clothed all in black approached the car. No words were exchanged as he opened the door for this woman. Up until that point I was intrigued by the rather ‘spy game feel’ of their interactions and hadn’t given much thought to the woman herself, but then she paused at the entrance to the car and appeared to look directly at me. Recognition was immediate. Whether she meant to be discovered or not, I knew who she was with complete and utter certainty. This was the elusive Nikita. However, before I could even blink she slid into the Mercedes and the car drove off and a calling of my name from Dad in the front seat pulled me away from the departing car altogether.
Which brings me back to why I am standing in the kitchen at the screen door leading to the back deck the Sunday after my high school graduation close to midnight. I think it’s time I confronted Dad about the enigmatic and elusive Nikita.
***
The city has graced us with one of her perfect summer evenings as I lay resting one of the lounge chairs sitting out on the back deck. My eyes gaze out at my view of San Francisco, soaking in the beauty of the place I call home. I have never regretted our relocation to this city. For once, in those difficult early years after my release from Section and reunion with Adam, I made the correct decision with regards to our welfare. The constant moving and instability in our lives, especially for Adam, made for great hardships and there came a point where I realized there was no place safe enough, no number of times we could move that would protect my son from the evil of the world. So I moved us to San Francisco and made a permanent home.
Everyday I wake up and send a prayer of ‘thanks’ to The Powers That Be for the second chance I was granted and not just in regards to my freedom, but the chance to live my life as a good human being. The last decade has been good to Adam and I. There are no words of thanks or gratuity strong enough to express my feelings at being able to not only watch my son grow-up, but to be a part of his life and have a hand in raising him. I only hope that Elena, wherever she may be, is pleased with the results of my work. Adam is an amazing person and everyday I marvel that he is part of me. He makes me extremely proud, as I know he would his mother.
I still think of Elena every so often. No longer with only pain and regret, but also with joy and appreciation for the time I had with her and for the son we created together – despite the circumstances surrounding our relationship. She was a good woman whom I cared for deeply and if life had been different, maybe someone with whom I would have chosen freely to love and build a life together. Thankfully, Adam resembles his mother in so many ways. He has her sparkling, warm brown eyes, her generous ability to laugh, and an incredibly gracious heart. Over the years I’ve done my best to help Adam know Elena through the few pictures I managed to salvage and from my memories of our time together. He knows what a good and loving person his mother was and that is what is most important.
Still, Elena is not the reason I am out here, despite my exhaustion from the endless ceremonies, celebrations and graduation related-events that have filled our calendars the last several weeks. No. That honor is reserved for another woman entirely…Nikita. My thoughts are so entangled at this moment that I cannot even begin to fathom as how to unthread them into separate ideas. Our brief meeting early today, if one can even call it that, has shaken me to the core in a way that only Nikita can do…could ever do. And somewhere, deep inside the secret place in my soul, the one forcefully buried while in Section, the one only Nikita has ever truly had a glimpse of, burns with joy that she has so flagrantly disrupted my life once again. Only out here in the darkness of this anonymous night, safely ensconced away from those I love, can I admit to myself, for the first time in an exceedingly long time, how much I still desire Nikita.
Too quickly, my contemplative musings are interrupted as the squeaking of the screen door being pushed open penetrates my thoughts. I glance over my right should and see Adam teetering in the doorway, his emotions indiscernible to me as the shadows protect his normally expressive face. He seems to hesitate for a split second, but then steps down from the house onto the deck and plops into the lounge chair next to mine. He doesn’t speak immediately, just gazes out at the view that held my attention earlier. I can feel him struggling with some decision, but I have no idea what that might be, what might have brought him out here tonight. Eventually, he shifts his body to the left and looks over at me. In the ambient city light I can now faintly make out his expression and in his eyes I see such a sense of maturity that I have never witnessed before. Then he speaks and his words stun me more than I could have ever believed.
Staring directly at me, Adam releases a long breath and says, “It was very nice of Nikita to come to my graduation. Don’t you think?”
***
Wow! I think someone should contact the Pope in Italy because a miracle has occurred here today in my Dad’s house. I’ve rendered him speechless. I laugh quietly to myself at that thought, still observing my father and wondering if he heard my laughter. It seems he didn’t, still not having quite recovered from my stunner of a question. Just as I start to wonder how long before he is going to answer me, he replies.
“How did you know?”
Now it’s my turned to be the surprised one. I didn’t think he was going to be so forthright about the situation. My dad has this uncanny ability to answer a question without really giving you any information, unless he *actually* wants you to know something. I figured I would have to pry a little harder to get the truth out of him.
“I saw her. At the Palace today. As we were getting in the car. I saw her walk back to hers.”
Dad doesn’t reply. He just seems to go deeper into himself, so I wait. I know he will respond when he’s ready.
“You remember her then?”
“Yes,” I reply and then proceed to tell him about finding the picture and the slow return of my memories from that time.
Again, he says nothing. So I decide to forge ahead and tell him what it is I really want to say. Turing even more onto my left side, so I am facing my dad completely, I jump in and take the plunge.
“Look, Dad, I realize there is a lot I don’t know about you. About your life before you came back to me, but I am also not blind. I know there are moments when you drift away. When you are lost somewhere in the past, remembering it. Remembering someone,” I state, emphasizing the “someone.”
“I’ve always pretty much assumed you were thinking of her. Of Nikita, and that’s okay. Because it seems to be something you’ve needed and I can respect that. Dad,” I pause for a beat, forcing him to really listen, “What I can also see…is…is how much you love her. Whenever you go to ‘that’ place – wherever it is – you get this look on your face…this look…that I can’t describe….”
I stop speaking. Frustrated with myself, unsure of where this conversation is going or what I’m trying to accomplish. Silence fills the spaces and I huff out a breath of frustration, flopping back in the chair and feeling verbally inadequate at the moment. That’s when my Dad begins his story.
***
“I’m glad you can remember Nikita,” I tell Adam, “She is an incredibly special person who loved you…still loves you, very much.”
Immediately, I have his full attention. He has resituated himself once again to face me, his whole being focused solely on me and my words. To say I feel shock at his initial question is a gross understatement and yet, somehow, this conversation seems not unexpected. And maybe it isn’t. Maybe in the back of my mind I’ve expected that one day I would eventually be having some sort of conversation with Adam about Nikita. So, how do you explain your secretive past and the person you love the most in the world to the other person in your life whom you also love the most? In reality, I suppose the best place to start is with the truth. So I turn my eyes to my son and speak of a time in my life that has been silent for the last twelve years, my mind drifting back in time as I tell my story.
I begin simply, stating an absolute truth, “Nikita was…incandescent. Radiant.”
Memories wash over me in a rush, bathing me in emotions and moments I had not allowed myself to recall in years. I think back on our first meeting, how terrified and alone Nikita was…a caged animal in the sterile, white room. I remember her outrageously loud ensembles that screamed defiance and the smacking sound of her bubble gum that she never seemed to be without during those early years in Section. As the years pass rapidly through my mind, like the pictures of a child’s nickelodeon, I realize for the first time in ages that it is all right to remember. The past no longer has a chokehold on me as it did for what seemed liked forever; that time and distance granted me a kind of freedom I never expected. So with that understanding I continue on with my story, for Adam, who has by this time begun to get restless, shifting and twisting on the chair, waiting for more.
Smiling ever so slightly at him, I resume my narrative. “There is so much about my past you can never know Adam, for which there are valid reasons. For reasons of your safety. And others’ as well,” I inform him, wanting him to understand my reasoning, “I can only give you pieces. I hope you can understand and accept this.”
Adam nods his head in understanding and agreement and I wonder again how I was ever so lucky to be blessed with such an incredible child.
With his acknowledgement, a door opens and the words tumble from my lips without forethought, completely contradicting my traditionally taciturn nature. “Yes, Nikita was incandescent…radiant. She flaunted child-like innocence with street-girl toughness. She could charm you with a mere glance one moment then be cursing you out with a vocabulary that would impress a sailor the next.”
Laughing out loud at my last comment, I could see Adam beginning to form a picture of Nikita in his mind. I only hoped that my words would be accurate enough to truly capture her.
“She was life,” I pause, breathing deeply for a moment, overwhelmed by her presence. For I can feel her as strongly as if she were sitting here on this deck with us and I feel consumed once again.
***
I stare in awe at my Dad. I have never seen him like this before – this revealing or this overwhelmed. I am pleasantly surprised and a bit frightened at the same time. I never really guessed, before tonight, that such depths of emotion live inside my father. From this glimpse I slowly begin to put the pieces together of just who this woman called Nikita is and her relationship with my father. I want him to continue, but sense that it is better not to push, to allow him his own pacing in telling this tale. So I wait and attempt a sense of patience I’ve never really had.
His eyes have glossed over with that far away look again, the one I recognize from past experience, but he doesn’t withdraw from me entirely, rather he faithfully returns to his story.
“Nikita reawakened me. That is the most accurate description of what her entrance into my life did. We met in a dark world. In a place where human connections were shunned and yet that never stopped her. No, she was too stubborn.” He shakes his head at this last comment and adds, “Looking back, I don’t believe I ever stood a chance against her.”
Now my curiosity is beyond peaked, causing me to take a chance and interrupt my father to ask him a question. “So what happened? Why aren’t you with her now,” I inquire.
At my question my dad’s face goes blank and for a moment I am frightened that I have gone to far, pushed to quickly, but then he seems to pull himself together and looks at me when he answers, “Because she made incredible sacrifices for me so that I could be where I am today and I have chosen to honor those sacrifices by living my life. By being your father.”
I don’t know what to say. I have no response to such a heart-felt answer. Coming from any other person that reply would have sounded melodramatic bordering on ridiculous. However, my normally reserved and emotionally conservative father has made it sound so incredibly noble and beautiful. Still, I don’t really understand and tell him so.
This time my father shifts in his seat so his body is turned towards mine and our positions now mirror one another. As I watch him sitting there I can see his mind processing a response like a computer calculating an equation, formulating the correct input in order to receive the precise output. I have to admit to wondering if this period of open honesty isn’t coming to an end. But I am not through pushing. I am my father’s son after all and he is most definitely known for his keen persuasion techniques.
“I don’t know if there’s an answer that will satisfy you, or me for that matter, Adam,” he eventually answers, “Maybe the simplest one is that it was never meant to be.”
I laugh hard at that; I can’t help it. My father has never been one to believe in fate. Quite the opposite in fact. He has always taught me that life is what you make it and you have to take responsibility for all the choices you make in life, good or bad. So I call him on it.
“Dad, that’s such a load of crap,” I humorously reply. He doesn’t seem at all amused, evident by the scowl currently on his face. I rarely use derogatory language in front of him, but I got his attention.
“You love her. And from what I remember and from what I saw today, she definitely loves you. So what’s the problem?”
He starts to object, but I continue on before he gets a chance to speak. “Granted, I don’t know most of what’s happened in the past and what I do know of it still confuses me most of the time. I’ll always be sorry that Mom’s gone, but I’ll never be sorry that you came back into my life. You’ve been the best, Dad. I hope you know that. But I think I’ve also begun to realize that it’s not enough. That I’m not enough.”
My dad starts to protest once again, but I don’t let him complete the thought. “It’s okay,” I quickly amend, raising my hands in front of me as a gesture of peace and continue, “Why should it be? You have ever right to have someone in your life that you love and who loves you equally in return. And if that’s Nikita….”
Once again I believe I have rendered my father speechless. Wow, twice in one night. That has got to be some sort of record. I chuckle silently to myself once more at this thought, hoping that my dad has taken my words seriously.
Dad finally asks a question of his own. “So what exactly are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is be happy. I love you and I will always need you, but God, if there is someway, however minute, for you and Nikita to be together and you want to, then do it. It’s okay. I give you my permission, my blessing…whatever you need. I just want you to be happy. And if I’m wrong and Victoria is the person who makes you happiest then that’s okay too. I just don’t want you to settle for the merely acceptable. You’ve never let me. So I’m not going to let you.”
He quietly sighs as I finish and comments, more so to himself, “It’s not that simple….”
I just roll my eyes at my father and wonder what it will take to convince him otherwise. “I’m sorry Dad, I just don’t see what the problem is. If you want to be together, then make it happen. I….”
Interrupting, he says, “Adam. It really isn’t.”
“Yes…it…is,” I state emphatically. “Look, all I’m saying is give it a try. See if you can make it work. What have you got to lose really? Nothing. That’s all I’m saying.”
And with that last thought I rise from the chair, reach over to my father and give him a long hug. When I pull back he smiles ever so briefly at me and I grin right back. Then I straighten up, give one last look out over the city and head back inside to bed. I’ve said all I wanted to say and hopefully my dad will take my words to heart and make the right decision. It’s the best I can hope for.
***
I remain outside on the deck for at least another hour or so after Adam has retired, his words circling over and over in my mind as I ponder the possibilities. Sometimes I am amazed at how someone so young can comprehend and see so much beyond his youth. I’m very glad we had this conversation tonight, no matter how difficult it was to speak of Nikita and my past with her. Tonight Adam has reminded me of all the good moments I spent with her and why I fell in love with Nikita in the first place. My son has certainly given me a great deal to think about and I will do him the honor of just that. Maybe he is correct. Maybe a future with Nikita is possible. The question is: is it still a possibility we both desire?
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