Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,30

a mattress and plastics manufacturer traveled so much, but as I got older and visited him at the factories, I understood that they relied on outside resources for materials. Most of my life I’d been told I’d inherit those companies, something that after I left I knew would be improbable, and then years later, when my mother called me one day and told me my father had sold the company to another family and handed out severance checks to longtime employees who had decided to quit, I mourned.

I never wanted the companies, but for some reason it hurt me that he trusted someone else with something that had been handed down to him and not his own daughter. Part of me thought it was because I wasn’t a man. If I’d been a man, I was sure I wouldn’t have been humiliated or kicked out of the house or banished. If I’d been a man, my father would have been proud. But I wasn’t a man. I was just a woman with a problem between her legs.

The latch of the trunk was tight, as if it had never been opened, but I managed to pry it. What I found inside made me fall on my ass. Literally. Well taken care of was one thing, this was . . . a lot. There was a diamond necklace that looked like something only the Queen of England would have in her armory, set over a silk red fabric that glistened in the little light reflected in the room. I’d never worn a necklace like this. I wasn’t sure I wanted the responsibility of one. I could barely bring myself to set it aside to look through the rest of it, but I managed to pick up the silk and set it on the floor beside me carefully before going back to the trunk. The first thing was a dark red dress. I stood, the red silk of the dress, so similar to the fabric on which the necklace was on, hit my forearms as it fell open. It was exquisite. Again, something unlike anything I’d ever worn before.

I was a skinny jeans and Converse or sandals kind of girl, combat boots when I felt like I needed an extra kick in my step. I didn’t do jewels or fancy dresses or heels, much to my mother’s dismay. The dress hung low between the breasts and the back was exposed. It was long and had a slight train. Just looking at it made my pulse quicken. Would I wear this to the gala? Was that what River intended? Would I stay? Would he actually drag me back here tonight as he’d said? I kind of wanted to find out. Maybe it was because I’d never been the person people chased after. Maybe it was because the idea of someone like River—handsome, rich, powerful—going out of his way to look for me was thrilling.

I recalled the memory of my dream, so vivid, so scandalous, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The mere thought of it made me blush. My grandmother would be so ashamed. According to her, sex was something you waited for a husband to experience with. Even in a dream it was wrong. Even unwilled. She’d probably make me drink one of her concoctions to drive the Devil out of me and make me pray twelve Hail Marys. I set the dress down on the bed and went back to the trunk. The rest was more casual—beige trousers, beige and white button-down shirts, white T-shirts, black loafers, different color cardigans. It was all very classic, very Audrey Hepburn-esque. I would probably never buy myself any of this, but I found that I actually loved it. There were underwear and bras in one section of the trunk, differing sizes, so I knew they hadn’t been spying on me or anything. It was all very delicate yet sexy. Lace and pearls and mesh that once again was unlike anything I owned. The pajamas were also made of silk, pants and button-downs that I’d only seen in magazines.

I grabbed what I would wear now and set aside the rest inside the trunk, placing each piece the way I’d found it, neatly folded and compartmentalized. When I was finished getting ready, I looked at myself in the mirror. The lighting in this bathroom was atrocious, but even still, I felt pretty. I felt . . . classy in my preppy beige outfit. Instead of putting on the