She stared at me for a few moments, her eyes softening. “I thought we had this conversation once,” she said in a calmer tone.
“I know, but I liked him. He was different, Ava. Maybe he’s someone I could love and who could love me.”
“Never.”
“Is that really impossible, Ava?”
“Of course it is. I told you that love was poison for us,” she said.
“I remember, but I didn’t think you meant it. Or at least meant that it was true forever.”
“Why not?”
“You’ve never been in love, never had that feeling?”
“Been in love?” Ava said, laughing. Then she grew serious, even angry. “Of course not. Think, think, Lorelei,” she said, poking her temple with her right forefinger so hard I thought she’d drill a hole. “How can we fall in love? What, do you dream of Daddy giving you away at a big, beautiful wedding? Damn your stupidity. I hate that you make me think of this now.”
“Why? Why can’t you at least think of it?”
“Why? Why? What is it I do?” she asked, more of herself than of me. She rose and went to my bedroom window to look out for a moment. I thought she wasn’t going to say anything else. “I’ll tell you what I do and what you will do,” she said with her back still to me. “I make Daddy happy.
“I keep Daddy alive.
“I ensure my own survival and my own happiness and pleasure.
“I participate and will continue to participate in the most exciting adventures and travel and see things few young women my age see and always in the most luxurious style.
“I serve lustful, arrogant men a platter of just deserts.
“I grow more beautiful every day, and that beauty gives me more power.
“What is it I don’t do?” she continued, now turning to me. “You may have noticed, Lorelei. I don’t have or make any lasting friendships.
“I don’t think of a career for myself or think about the future much beyond tomorrow.
“And yes, Lorelei,” she added, “I don’t fall in love with anyone. And all this is and will be true for you as well.”
“But shouldn’t we be sad about that?” I asked softly. Even during these past few weeks, I had never heard her sound so intense, so revealing about her own thoughts and feelings.
“Sad about it? Ha,” she said. “You make me laugh. Like we have the privilege of being sad, ever.”
“How can sadness be a privilege?”
“It leads to other things, things that will be very destructive.”
“I thought Daddy was in love once.”
“Yes, and what did it bring him?” She thought a moment and shrugged. “Actually, I thought about these things, too. I once asked Mrs. Fennel about love.”
“What did she say?”
“‘Love,’ she said, ‘is an unnatural attachment to another living thing. It’s the root cause of most personal problems people have. From this egg is hatched jealousy, which you will learn is the green-eyed monster that mocks the meat it feeds upon.
“‘Also hatched from this egg are unrelenting passion and a drive toward possession. Men and women of high intelligence will do the most foolish things in pursuit of passion. Because their passion is so all-consuming, they will want to possess the object of that passion. It will drive them to sell out their own family, their own children, in fact, and it will motivate them to steal and to kill, to lie and deceive, to connive and reject their other basic needs.
“‘Love, in short, is the most dangerous emotion humans can experience. But,’ our Mrs. Fennel added, offering me one of her infrequent slight smiles, ‘you will use it as a fisherman uses his bait.’ That’s exactly what she said, and as you can see, I not only never forgot it, I memorized every word.”
“How did that make you feel?” I asked, and held my breath. Would she keep talking, keep telling me these most intimate things about herself?