18 - Flashback: A Wonderful Life

FLASHBACK

Late-morning sunlight playfully bounced around the tiny apartment kitchen, brightening the space and feeding the many decoratively potted plants and tilandsia growing on shelves and in corners. One red, heart-shaped mug sat on the counter next to the coffee machine while the other was in Cerise’s hand as she sat at the two-person table. The room wasn’t big enough for a larger table, but that was fine because Cerise could be efficient when she needed to be. She’d been up early, silently cleaned a bit while James slept in after working the evening shift, and had settled into her chair for a light breakfast of fruit and chilled oatmeal while reading.

When her cell phone buzzed, she put down her novel and picked up her cell from the table. Seeing Pére on the screen made her sigh. Her good mood took a hit. Her father had a place in her life, but it wasn’t always a comfortable one. They’d never been close; he just had never been that kind of father. She’d dutifully endured him as an adult, but all her own love and affection were shared with her quiet mother. Thankfully, her father usually had little time for her, and that suited Cerise just fine. She’d felt even freer once she’d gotten married and had hoped her father would take even less interest in her life.However, he just couldn’t seem to help insinuating himself all-too-often.

“Bonjour, Pére.” At his insistence, she had addressed him formally since she was old enough to speak.

He was not the type to waste time on greetings or chitchat. “Cerise. You’re awake, good.”

Cerise rolled her eyes. It was nearly ten-thirty; of course, she was up.

“Your mother and I have a thing next weekend at the Purple Olive. Semi-formal.” He always had a thing, had always been very keen on networking because of his business, and he almost always dragged Cerise’s mother along with him, even though she hated. Sometimes he tried to drag Cerise along as well. “I was speaking with some friends who will be there,” meaning business clients. “I was telling them about you, and they would love to meet you.”

Cerise bit back the automatic no she really wanted to give him. But she couldn’t keep all of the exasperation out of her voice when she replied, “Why would they want to meet me? I’m not famous. I have nothing to do with your business.”

“Well, it must have been because of how much I talked about you. You now how proud of my daughter I am_”

“Pére, were you showing clients pictures of me again?”

He paused just long enough to prove he was guilty of just that. It wasn’t the first time.

Cerise shook her head, unable to believe his gall. “I am married. Even if I wasn’t, I have told you before that I do not want or need your help to meet people.”

“It’s about meeting the right people—”

“And again — I’m married!”

Her father’s patience, never in significant supply, ran out. “He is just a cook. He has no ambition, no drive. He doesn’t even want to be a head cook or a proper chef. If the culinary arts were his passion, but he wanted to work in a five-star restaurant, or even better, to open his own and make it a five-star—”

“Pére, it’s his life. How he wants to live it is up to him. People like his food! I like it! And what does it matter if he doesn’t work at a fancy, expensive restaurant? Most people aren’t rich, and they need to eat too.”

“Cerise, you’re still young enough to find someone else—”

She gasped, appalled. “I don’t want anyone else! How can you even suggest that?” She silently scoffed. Why was her father like this?

He bulldozed ahead, like he always did. “Divorce is nothing in this day and age. I will pay for the lawyer. James will sign whatever papers we give him; you don’t have to worry about that. The boy is a pushover, exactly why he is not good enough for my daughter.”

Cerise painfully laughed to herself, though she probably couldn’t keep the exasperated amusement out of her voice. He really didn’t understand her at all. “Pére, I don’t care about money or a big house or how much that impresses people I don’t know or care about. I just want to be truly loved by a good person. I don’t want to be in a loveless marriage like Maman.”

“I love your mother!”

She let out a sad sigh. As wrong as he could be sometimes, he was her father, and she didn’t hate him. But her tone was both resigned and bittersweet as she replied, “No, you don’t. You’ve never loved her. You don’t love any of us, not really. We’re just…possessions. Extensions of you that you try to control as part of your image. The only person you truly care about is yourself. It’s always been that way. You don’t think I’ve seen how sad Maman’s been my whole life? Or how scared she gets when I’ve told her to leave you?”

His voice became quieter, calmer, and she knew it was now loaded with danger, “You told her what?”

In a rare moment, Cerise chose to be brave and didn’t back down in fear like she usually did with him. “I told her to leave you. I think the first time was maybe early junior high — no. I think I asked her about it way before that, in elementary school. Like, Maman, why don’t you leave him and be happy? Or something like that. But I definitely remember telling her to leave you when I got older, multiple times.”

There was an extended silence, then a tight, angry, “Why would you do that to me?”

“It wasn’t to you. It was for her. You never loved her. But Maman’s a wonderful person. She deserves to be loved. The way James loves me. You don’t get why I’m with him because you have no concept of real love. You don’t know how much it means to me when he looks at me the way he does. He feels lucky to be with me, and so I feel lucky to be with him. He’s everything you never were to Maman. To me.”

“I am your father. I raised you. I paid for your schooling, your hobbies, your clothes, your food. I paid for everything. You lived under my roof. And this is how you treat me? You try to undermine my marriage to my wife? Attack me?”

Cerise knew her father well. If she allowed him to continue, he would go on a rant, scolding and berating her for an hour or more until he ran out of steam. She was tired of enduring those one-sided conversations, and as an adult, she no longer needed to. She cut him off, though politely, “Pére, I’m not attacking you. You’re not listening. I was only being there for Maman, not trying to hurt you. Please, let’s just drop this. I don’t want to fight.”

Yet again, she’d stood up to him, proved that she wasn’t going to be under his power, and it set him off even more. He shouted, “No. We will talk about it!”

“Please—”

He talked right over her, blaring into the phone, and she was very glad that she wasn’t in the same room with him. She wasn’t a child anymore, living under his roof, forced to listen and suffer him. She was free. So she simply pulled the phone away from her ear and disconnected.

For a moment, she briefly imagined the shock on his face when he realized she’d hung up on him. Would he notice right away, or shout at her for fifteen minutes first? If he did continue his rant without realizing she was gone, the embarrassment…oh, he’d probably completely lose it. He hated being embarrassed or made to look foolish in any way.

For a few minutes, she sat there, heart racing, adrenaline filling her veins, exhilarated. She almost couldn’t believe her audacity at standing up to him. She was both scared and thrilled, afraid and feeling alive. She eventually felt relieved and that she had taken an important step.

Then she thought of her mother and worried that her father would take his anger out on her. Her father was unpredictable and had a temper. Living with him, there was always this…undercurrent of violence lurking beneath his surface. He very very rarely physically lashed out, and if he did, it was elsewhere, as far as she knew, breaking objects and not people, like punching a hole in the wall or slamming a window so hard it shattered, but always that worry was there that maybe he’d snap and hit you.

She quickly dialed her mother to warn her and beg her to stay out of the house for a while until he calmed down. “Mams? Listen, I have to tell you something important, yes? Please don’t freak out.”

Of course, her mother freaked out, but Cerise did her best to soothe her and begged her mother to come stay with her, though of course she refused, scared of angering her husband. By the end, Cerise felt guilty for selfishly standing up to her father, thereby putting her mother at risk. She almost picked up the phone to call her father and throw herself on his mercy. She’d take the brunt of his anger, so it didn’t land on her beloved mother.

But even as she twisted the phone in her hand, agonizing over the idea of forcing herself through her father’s tirade, the image of him telling her how awful she was for doing this to him was too much. She grasped onto the idea that maybe he wouldn’t be angry at her mother after all. There was a chance. Perhaps her mother would escape unscathed. Then she realized she was being selfish again and called her father. She put the phone to her ear.

The call refused to connect. He’d blocked her. She swore and put the phone down. Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe his anger would stay directed solely at Cerise and not her mother. She texted her mother about the blocking to further warn her. Then she put the phone down once more. Hopefully, nothing too bad would happen.

She silently cursed her father. Children and spouses shouldn’t have to live in fear like this. She wished her mother would just leave him. If only her mother hadn’t undergone so many years of awful conditioning under such a domineering husband. If only she had someone to help her and give her courage, the way James had helped Cerise feel stronger and able to stand on her own. Maybe she should start introducing her mother to nice, older men. Her dark mood faded a little, and she giggled at the thought of her mams suddenly being flirted with by cute strangers. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself!

She heard the bedroom door open, and James padded into the room, hair a mess, eyes still sleepy. She smiled at the sight of him.

He blinked and then focused on her. His lips twisted into a smile in return. “Hey.” Almost immediately, the smile vanished, replaced with concern. “You ok?”

She chuckled. How could he even tell she’d been upset? Feeling the urge to be close to him, she slipped out of the chair, crossed the kitchen floor in only two strides, and then slipped her arms around him, snuggling into his chest. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” He hugged her close.

“Just my father being himself. It’s fine. Better now that you’re up.”

“Not for long. Lunch shift.” He groaned. His arms tightened around her.

She tilted her head up and gave him a quick kiss on the corner of the mouth. Before he could respond, she pulled back. “Hungry? I made you pancakes…”

His smile returned in full force. “You did?” He glanced at the table and saw her little bowl of blueberries and oatmeal. He expression turned to confusion. “What about you?”

“I made them for you.”

“But — you didn’t have to do that!” Looking worried, he moved further into the kitchen. “I could have made something for myself. Or had the same as you.”

She laughed at his reaction. “Silly. I did it because I love you. And I know you love pancakes.” She winked at him. “These ones are peanut butter…”

He froze. He looked at the pile of pancakes he could now see next to the stove. “Peanut butter?”

She laughed again. Gently pushing him toward a chair, she told him, “Sit. Eat.”

“Wait. I have to brush my teeth first.” He raced off.

Cerise took the stack of pancakes off the counter and brought them to the table, along with a plate and cutlery for him. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face, and felt all warm and gooey inside, her earlier anxiety almost entirely forgotten.

He returned as excited as a little boy on Christmas morning and took his seat, eyes devouring the pancakes before him.

Cerise placed a bottle of dark maple syrup next to his plate, then eased herself between James and the table, taking a seat on his lap.

He barked a soft laugh. “Uh…are we eating together?”

She wrapped an arm around his torso. “I’ll just watch. Or maybe I’ll feed you?”

He held onto her with one arm, leaving only one to pull a pancake onto his plate and cover it in syrup. He fought to cut with only his fork and get a piece into his mouth, the two of them giggling. About halfway through chewing, he began looking at her a little differently.

She pretended to be all innocent as she squirmed in his lap.

“Dangerous woman.”

“You gonna do something about that?”

“What if I’m late for work?”

“Mmm, better work fast then, huh?”

He laughed. Then he put the fork down, and though his face was happy, and his excitement tangible, he spoke a little more seriously, “Do you think maybe it’s time to start thinking about…” He placed a palm on her belly.

Cerise felt herself heat up. Her eyes met his, and his didn’t flinch. She tried to hold back her eagerness. “Is this a serious conversation or just foreplay?”

“Mmm, serious?”

“James…”

He pulled his hand from her belly and took her hand instead. “Serious. I mean, what’s all that practice been for if we don’t put it to good use?”

Delighted, she threw her head back and laughed. When she focused on him again, feeling tingly all over, she looked for, but didn’t see, even a hint of doubt. She placed her palm against his cheek. “If we do this, there’s no going back.”

He solemnly nodded. “You and me forever. Always was. Always will be.”

She kissed him then. He carried her to the bedroom in his arms. They did indeed put all that practice to good, though hurried and sweaty use. He did have to work, after all.

Neither of them knew it, but once was enough. Cerise lay in bed, aglow in the aftermath and thoughts of the future, while James showered and rushed out the door. At some point, she fell into a nap.

The doorbell woke her. Clawing her way out of sleep she wasn’t finished with yet, she felt grumpy but swiftly threw on shorts and a tee, then a robe over them before running to the door.

Cerise opened it, expecting a salesperson or delivery of some kind, but it wasn’t. She frowned, suddenly uncomfortable and somewhat wary. “What are you doing here?”