Past And Present

The last night in Lizzie's house was quiet and uneventful. Everyone was ready to be freed from the presence of each other. I stopped Wesley when I came across him at the top of the grand staircase. I was glad Thomas had gone to Mildred Brown.

"Did you know Victoria is Mikhail Lebedev's daughter?" I handed him a cigarette.

I wished for him to say no, although that'd be futile.

"I did," he accepted the cigarette and flicked the lighter. After briefly lowering his eyes, he lifted them and stared into mine. "I didn't think to tell you because I didn't think it mattered."

If I were to be fair, he couldn't be blamed. However, for the first time in my life, I doubted if I was wrong to trust him unconditionally for all these years.

"What do you know about Victoria and Neil?" I asked blandly.

He shook his head as he took a drag.

"What else haven't you told me?" I was upset. I had no reason to feel betrayed, but I felt that way still. "Why did you leave the Chang clan and work for the Lebedev family?"

"I've told you the reason before. I left because there was no future for me with the Changs," he didn't raise his voice, nor did he sound irate. He was disheartened and disappointed. "They'll never accept me. I happen to speak Russian. So, it was only natural for me to try my luck with the Lebedev family."

"Was it truly a freak accident that you killed Mikhail Lebedev?" I carried on with my accusation. "Why did they put a bounty on your head?"

"Anne," he frowned and scoffed deprecatingly, "what's this about?"

"How did you learn Russian?" I kept going. "I know nothing about your past. I…"

"Yes, you do," he cut me off. "You know I was born in Joseon. My mother, sister, and I fled to Manchuria when I was seven. They died from the plague in 1911."

"And what happened after?" I demanded. "Where did you learn Russian from? How did you manage to come here?"

He looked hurt. Wesley had always been composed and collected no matter what had been said. But now, he looked broken, like his deep, old wound was ripped open when he was least guarded. 

"If you must know, then I guess I have no choice but to tell," he said vacantly as he smoked. He was no longer staring into my eyes. "Our neighbor took me in. He was a good man. We migrated up to Russia. During the Great War, he went west to work on construction in the hope that we could make ends meet. I received a letter shortly after that he was killed in a railway accident. During the civil war in 1919, I left on a boat for America. And here I am."

He took a long drag before extending his hand and offering me his cigarette.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized meekly as I accepted it. 

He pursed his lips like he was attempting to smile: "I won't tell you anything more than what I just said. I don't like thinking about my past, and I beg you not to ask any further."

I nodded. Guilt had consumed me, and I stuttered: "Wesley, I…."

"I have never lied to you, not even once in the past thirteen years." He took his cigarette from my grasp and puffed. "And I never will. I'm disappointed in you for doubting me."

"I…"

"What's the matter?" A familiar voice came from the side and caused me to step away from Wesley reflexively. "Why the long faces?"

Laurie was standing halfway on the grand staircase without us noticing. Seeing my reaction, he walked up and stood close beside me.

"Nothing serious," I was frazzled. "I asked Wesley if he's ready for the party next week."

"I'm not too keen on parties," Wesley shrugged and went with my lie.

Laurie squinted, clearly didn't believe a single word he heard. Fortunately, he chose not to press on. 

-----

The following week, Thomas hosted a party in the Bel Air house. It was said to celebrate Emma and Wesley's engagement. He was eager to announce it to the public and put the wedding plans into motion, all while knowing that his sister was still troubled and mourning over the death of the man she truly loved. 

Emma asked him to postpone the party. He denied her plea.

She looked dead. Her skin was translucently grey, and her eyes were hollow as if she was already a corpse and was reanimated just for the show.

"How fragile and pathetic," Thomas smacked his lips. "I wish she had a mind like Lizzie's."

I was present when Thomas gave his speech, clasping my hands next to him and smiling with all my might. There was no stage, but all was theatrical. I was an extra, a prop, like a tree. If I spread my arms, I could stand like a cross and pray for forgiveness of all my transgressions.

I lied. I wasn't present. My physical form stood like a statue while my soul was detached. I was seeing myself from above, contemplating leaving the damned shell behind. At last, I figured I wasn't ready to face judgment yet.

Then there was the feeling of being watched. I was being observed, studied, and silently examined, like what that shrink did when I went to him. Lizzie said I could be helped if I spoke freely of what burdened my mind. And I did. The shrink turned in my confession to the cops, and I had to have Lindley drive him out of the county so he wouldn't cause any more trouble.

There was dancing, singing, and drinking. Lots of drinking. I wasn't too pleased with the chaos. It was a different kind of chaos than those in Lizzie's parties. Those pretentious and superficial aristocratic men who had their pinkies up even when drinking water were now rude and loud. They'd approach and lure the women they had laid eyes on; the kind of women deemed scandal worthy. The women let them, dolled-up and scandalous, betting on the chances to land in the beds of some wealthy, influential men, competing to become their mistresses. Being someone's side piece was still better than not knowing if there'd be bread for tomorrow.

The night fell, and I went out to smoke on the terrace. The heat lingered in the air. It had become hard to breathe amongst the music and the noises.

I had to get away, I thought. So, I walked through the crowds, being watched, and got out of the front door. Closed with the door behind me was the long-waited isolation from a world I didn't choose for myself.

I caught sight of Emma sitting on the ledge of the white marble fountain. A nearly empty bottle of whiskey was in her hand.

She didn't notice my presence until I sat down next to her.

"I won't ask if you're ok; I know you aren't," I said, "but you've got to get your shit together."

"I'm a goner," she said, "I can't do this anymore."

I didn't respond right away. She turned to me and waited for me to say something nice, to reassure her and tell her to live on and that everything would be fine.

That would be lying. A white lie. The kind of thing people would say to make someone feel better when nothing could be helped. The sort of thing I hated.

"Look, everyone thinks Laurie is the sensitive one, and even he's slowly maturing and getting his shit together." I took a puff. "I don't see why you can't do it too."

"He probably thinks if he acts like a man, he'll get you back," Emma joked, just for her grief to return promptly. "That's his hope. Having hope gives him a will. Unlike him, I have no hope left. What's the point of staying alive when I'm nothing but a shell? I'd better off being buried six feet under."

"Wesley's a good man," I said earnestly. "He'll be kind to you. You'll love him. You'll be fine with him."

"It has nothing to do with Wesley," she was flustered. "I can tell he's a good man. You don't need to emphasize that to me. It's just…I don't want to be a puppet for this family. I'm not Lizzie, who willingly walked into her misery. I'm not Laurie, either. I won't agree to marriage so hot-headedly because I couldn't get what I wanted. I don't want to be Thomas' token."

"I can't help you, Emma. No one can," I sighed after a long pause, "not even God himself. You are the only one who can save you if you want to be saved."

"I see," she was devastated yet eerily calm. She finished the rest of the liquor and threw the bottle on the ground. There was a sharp, crisp sound when the glass shattered. Shakily, she stood up, bent down to symbolically peck me on the cheek, "I hope you can get out of this fucked family one day."