She looked somewhat like her father, who was a handsome man. She had more delicate features and was beautiful, though she had none of the smoldering, exotic appearance of her mother. That was a relief to her father. He never wanted to see that face again, even on his child. But Antonia was nothing like her. She had her own elfin appearance and beauty. She took French in school, in honor of her mother, and her father questioned her about it. She lied and told him the Spanish class was full. He didn’t want her idolizing her mother in any way. She still dreamt about her mother at times, and remembered her raven-haired, striking looks and dark eyes. But often they were frightening dreams of her mother screaming at her. Antonia had no gentle memories of Fabienne. There had been no happy times. The best her mother had ever done for her was ignore her. When Antonia had caught her attention, it was never for a good reason, and ended in a jealous rage.
When Antonia was twelve, her father dispensed with Mrs. Schmidt’s services. He told her she was too old for a babysitter now, and Mrs. Schmidt was getting older and becoming frail. Their housekeeper still came to clean the house daily, while Antonia was in school. She left things for Antonia to eat, and she knew how to cook enough simple things to feed herself if necessary. When her father went away, a neighbor looked in on her to make sure she was all right, and wasn’t sick or getting into trouble. She was used to being alone now, and most of the time, she went to bed before her father came home. Or he didn’t come home at all. She felt obligated to take care of herself and not be a burden to him. She always felt like an uninvited guest in someone else’s home. Fabienne had imprinted that on her early and the impression hadn’t changed. With Brandon busy with his own life and successful businesses, he had little time for a child. It might have been different if Fabienne had stayed, and Antonia thought they might have had a home life then, but it hadn’t worked out that way. She missed the idea of it, but it was something she had never known. She existed in a solitary world and always had. Babysitters had provided the only affection, and they were gone now.
She wrote her stories at night after she finished her homework. In many ways, she was an exemplary child. Brandon’s friends told him he was lucky, and wondered how he had achieved it, but Antonia knew she had no leeway to misbehave. Who knew what he would do if she did? He might send her away forever, since she knew he didn’t want her around.
When he was home, she read late into the night sometimes with a flashlight, so he didn’t know she was awake. The stories she wrote all had happy endings. They were the books and movies she liked best. She liked the ones where everyone ended up safe, and loved, and happy, and left you smiling at the end. It was what she wanted her life to be, not the solitary one she led.
At thirteen, she felt as invisible as she tried to be. Even at school. The boys had no interest in her, since she was small and had no womanly attributes yet. Some of the girls in her class were fully developed by then. She looked more like nine or ten than thirteen, so they paid no attention to her. And the “cool” girls at school had formed cliques by then, and never included her. They acted as though she didn’t exist, and she tried to pretend she didn’t. Even some of her teachers paid no attention to her as she sat quietly at the back of the class. The taller students in front of her blocked her view. She didn’t care. She listened to the classes carefully and took precise notes to study later for tests, at which she excelled.
She saw less and less of her father then. His businesses were booming. The eighties were good to him.
A year later, when she turned fourteen and started high school, she heard him come home late at night several times, and she heard a woman’s voice. He hadn’t done that in a long time, and it sounded like the same woman every time. By breakfast the next morning, the woman was gone, and Antonia wondered who she was. She finally saw her one Saturday. She was at the breakfast table, and her father introduced her as Lara, and offered no explanation as to who she was. Antonia didn’t ask. The three of them sat together in silence at the breakfast table. Antonia was about to leave and go back to her room when Lara spoke up. She was an attractive blonde and was slightly older than the girls he used to bring home. She looked like she was in her mid or late thirties. She wore her hair in a stylishly cut bob and had green eyes. She was wearing blue jeans and a crisp white shirt, and was appropriately casual for a Saturday. She had big gold bangle bracelets on her wrists. Brandon didn’t seem enamored with her, but he appeared comfortable with her, as though he knew her well. She had a warm smile when she spoke.