Page 2 of Tempted
I sigh in response, choosing the path of least resistance. There’s no point in arguing the matter of how hard I worked to earn my own spot just to spite her. I’ve never simply accepted handouts or had my way paid. I earned my place and as much as I’d love to scream that from the rooftops, it would fall on deaf ears with this woman. “Yes, mother. I’ll do better.” I give her an empty promise, wiggling my freshly painted turquoise toes in my saltwater sandals, barely stifling a laugh thinking about the coronary it would give her to see my silver anklet or matching silver and turquoise toe rings. I’ve gathered a few antique pieces of jewelry over the years but I have a small obsession with my handcrafted native pieces that I commissioned from a young girl I met that lived on a reservation we stayed at when my mother was asked to help with a project amongst a native American tribe a few years back. Their culture is beautiful and it’s reflected in the delicate elements of my hand-crafted rings, bracelets, and necklaces.
The line holds dead air for a solid minute, my mother has clearly decided that she’s done now that I’ve conceded to her nonsense. Just when I’m about to offer my goodbyes so I can pull up the directions on how to get into my off campus housing, my dad finally decides to partake in the conversation.“Sorry, sorry, my girl. I didn’t mean to get distracted. This artifact your mother found is just so… enticing to the eye. How are you settling into your new house?”
“Well, I haven’t yet. You guys called me while I was still traveling via buggy cart. I’ve been standing on the path outside of my cabin for ten minutes while mother admonishes—I mean,discusseswith me all the things in which I should be aware now that I’ve stepped more than ten feet onto the island,” I quip sarcastically, knowing my not so subtle dig hasn’t gone unnoticed by the small huff of indignation that travels through the line.
It causes me to smile for the first time since answering this terrible phone call and makes my dad chuckle slightly before he coughs to cover up his mistake. “Your mom only wants what’s best for you. You know that.”
I mumble something in agreement to keep myself from grunting a response. Yeah right, what’s best for her perfect image maybe. I wonder how exhausting it must be to maintain the facade of perfection all the time. I couldn’t imagine being able to live without having the opportunity to make a mistake or fall apart and learn from my mistakes.
I guess I’m about to find out now that I’m here living in her shadow. You’d think that I’d want to get far away from anything related to my mom, but I’ve honestly always looked up to her for creating a name for herself and working hard to bring history to life. The one thing we all share as a family is a deep passion for historical artifacts, documents, and the like. I mean, you can’t get where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve been, right? There are so many tangled webs throughout the course of time and I’d like the opportunity to maybe unweave one or two of them in my time; to find the truths that have been lost to time and circumstance.
“I know dad,” I concede. “Anyway, I should probably get in the house and start unpacking. I got an email saying my things arrived two days ago, and the instructions for getting into the house are a little convoluted since the property owner was only here long enough to let them in and lock the keys up somewhere in the back after they left.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Felix!” my mother scoffs incredulously. “I hired people for that. They’ve come and gone already and they moved the lockbox to the front porch, attached to the bottom of the porch swing. There will be two sets in case you lose yours.”
“Wow…” I trail off, completely caught off guard that my mother thought to be mindful of me for the first time, maybe ever. “T-thanks mom, uh, mother. That was thoughtful of you.”
“Oh, it’s no bother. You have more important things to focus on. You’ll need to get to your studies immediately. I’ve also had the kitchen fully stocked, along with toiletries, and the like. Cleaners will be by once a week, though will be available at a moment's notice if you need them for any sort of gathering on the off chance you make contacts with those in high places. I may be able to set up a tea or two for you but I’ll not come coddle you through anything.”
“No, thank you. You’ve done more than enough. It’s time I take the reins and handle these things for myself. At this point, I have no desire to have anyone else here,” I say, though internally I’m screaming. I don’t want cleaners here that will report any and everything back to my she-devil mom-ster. “I’ll let you go though. I know how busy you are and I’d love to shower after all my travels, then I can start my studies as we’ve agreed upon,” I tell her, hoping she’ll leave well enough alone even though we agreed on nothing because like I’ve told her, I already completed all of my required coursework and reading.
“Yes, you’re right. Your father and I have a gala to attend tonight and my stylist should be here any moment. We’ll talk again later. Don’t mess this opportunity up. I’ll not fix it for you.” And with that lovely departing message, she hangs up. She and I both know we won’t be talking anytime soon. Before I can hang up though, my dad’s voice travels down the line.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Tozi,” he says, calling me by my middle name. To him that’s as good as wishing me luck. It’s my small reminder that he loves me. “You’ll be great. Oh, and when you get the chance to check out the garage, I had a gift delivered for you.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything, dad.”
“Of course I did. I know buying you things doesn’t make up for being… well, you know, gone all the time. But you work hard and you think I don’t notice but I do. And I want you to know that you’ve earned more than a measly gift, you’ve earned the right to this college experience, and the wealth of knowledge coming your way. I may not have been the best father, but you’re the best daughter and I am so proud of you. I-I’ll let you go. I just wanted you to know.”
The line goes dead, and I pull my phone from my ear to stare at the now dark screen, while hot tears start to stream down my face.
My dad is proud of me. Mydadis proud ofme. My dad is proud of me? I don’t believe it.
I was going to shower but I can do that later. What I really need is to feel at one with the earth—I need the summer’s sun on my face, the salty breeze blowing through my hair, and the sand between my toes as the water ebbs and flows over my feet and legs. Hell, I’d give anything to dive into the ocean right now, if only to reconnect with the nature of the island that’s been calling to me since I was a young girl.
I’ve been studying maps of Catalina for a long while now and learned a few secrets thanks to my extensive research. There’s several hidden cove’s along the island begging to be explored. My cottage, a little tucked away piece of paradise, also known as my new home for the foreseeable future, is on the Eastern point of Catalina Island midway between SCU’s campus and the ruins I’ve been itching to explore on the Northern point of the island. As it stands, I’m smack dab in between Paradise Cove and Pirate’s Cove.
My understanding is that Pirate’s Cove is amongst Buttonshell Beach, which stays fairly secluded because it doesn’t attract the surfers of the island near as often as some of the more hidden gems. Sounds perfect to me and it’ll be an awesome opportunity to find the small towns around here—the shops and things—and maybe I’ll even check out the campus while it’s still ghosted. Most students won’t show up for at least another week, so it’s really the perfect time if I get the chance. First things first though: check the garage for the gift from dad and pray it’s a bicycle or motorized scooter or something. Not that I’m opposed to walking but the island is twenty-two some odd miles long and I’m not trying to run marathons every day.
Then, hit up the coastline and clear my head, maybe explore some of the island’s native plant life and animal species. Not only am I curious as hell, but research and discovery bring me a whole other level of comfort on top of simply existing in nature’s beauty.
Grabbing my hair tie from my wrist, I plop a fat messy bun on the top of my head, grateful to not have to worry about appearances as I make my way downstairs and through the kitchen and out to the connecting mud room, where I find the door for the garage.
I’m finding that I love everything about this place. It’s an adorable little cottage house that’s tucked away in the less traveled brush that’s unlikely to be found by anyone unless they were actively searching for it. Though it’s nothing like a cabin you’d imagine in, say, a forest or to camp away in or something. No, this humble abode is quaint and off the beaten path, with a beachy vibe that soothes me down to my bones, done up in neutral colors of sage and creams with the occasional pop of navy or burnt umber that remind me of the calming effects of the earth and sea.
There are two floors, the downstairs being a wide open floor plan with large bay windows at the front, and a cute little fireplace mantle as the focal point of the living area. There’s a bathroom and guest bedroom, along with the kitchen, laundry room, and the mudroom as well.
Upstairs is fairly simplistic with an office and the master bedroom, along with its ensuite bathroom and a balcony that overhangs the back porch leading down to a stretch of beach that goes on for miles. It’s beautiful, and all mine for the remainder of my collegiate years.
I’m a little hesitant to open this door, not sure I want to take anymore favors than are required from my parents. I know my dad had some sort of short circuiting of the brain or something earlier that made him say what he said, but it doesn’t really excuse eighteen years of absentee parenting. Neither does buying me gifts. Even worse, I’d hate to believe him when I know deep down it’ll all be at my own expense when he inevitably forgets all about me all over again. I am out of sight even more than usual, so why not out of mind more than is typical as well?
Flicking on the light, I see two things I’d not have imagined, my jaw drops and my eyes widen as shock takes over my system. The first thing causing my current state of being is a custom black and purple Polaris RZR. It’s shiny and shimmery, yet still manages to look like the rugged UTV it is. The second being another custom colored vehicle. A beautiful black on black, Yamaha WR 250F. It’s perfect.Theyare perfect.
What the actual hell?
Recognition flickers and I can feel the tears welling in my eyes. Not because of the extravagant gifts themselves, but because the realization that my father has clearly been paying more attention than I ever knew or noticed hits me in the heart like a freight train. The acknowledgement of how important my exploration here will be in order to achieve my goals, even if he hasn’t verbalized it, means the world to me.
The dream has always been to get accepted here at Santa Catalina University. I’ve known from an early age that it would take a whole hell of a lot to impress my mother, and what better way than to earn my own place at her alma mater and then crushing it so hard that I beat her at her own game. I’ve been researching and preparing and planning for this day since we came here for the first time when my mother gave a lecture on her latest archeological find and how it wouldn’t have been possible without the education she’d been provided by Santa Catalina University itself. I had probably been about ten years old at the time, and the moment we stepped foot on this land I felt at peace—at home—for the first and only time in my life. This place calls to me in a way I couldn’t hope to explain and I knew then that it was vital that I find my way back here.
