Blossom in Winter

by Melanie Martins

  “Yeah… thanks,” she confirms, stirring her tea.

  But Petra seems distant, lost in her own thoughts. I bring my chair closer to hers. I can’t help noticing the red mark on her cheek. Fuck, he must’ve slapped her quite hard. That bastard is going to regret it. I’ll take care of him later.

  “What’s going on, Petra? Is it because of him? That guy is a total bastard. Don’t even think about him anymore. I should’ve never introduced you to him. I’m so sorry. I never thought—”

  “No, it’s not that…” she cuts me off. “It’s just…” Petra sighs, looking absently at her tea. “Every time I’m interested in someone, I get deceived.”

  “You mean you already met guys like him?”

  “Once. And that’s my entire romantic life.”

  “So you had a boyfriend before?” I ask, my tone coming out more worried than I expected.

  She giggles. “No. He was just a crush from high school, and I saw him at Emma’s party. He was so cute and nice. But anyway…”

  “What happened then?” Yep, now it’s my turn to be curious, Ms. Van Gatt.

  “Hey, are you gonna tell Dad?”

  “Well, I’m already hiding from him your little trip to jail, so I bet I can hide one more thing.”

  She studies my face for a moment with narrowed eyes and pressed lips. “Okay, fine. His name is James, and we were together in a bedroom when—”

  “Wait. In a bedroom? You mean… doing it?” I have to ask.

  Her jaw drops at my question. “Of course not,” she replies, nearly outraged. “I’m not like that.”

  I raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “Not like what?”

  She breaks eye contact instead, her cheeks flushing as she looks down at her tea. “You’ll make fun of me if I tell you...”

  I escape a wry smile, intrigued. “Try me.”

  But the Miss doesn’t open up further.

  I put my hand on hers, searching for her gaze. When she finally meets mine again, I add, “I’ll never make fun of you, Petra. You can trust me.”

  We keep quiet as we stare into each other’s eyes.

  “I...” she mumbles.

  Nothing but silence remains.

  “I just want to do it with the right one… Like in books, when they truly love each other... It’s stupid, I know. Call me old-fashioned,” she teases with an ounce of embarrassment, her eyes darting down again.

  “Petra.”

  She instantly looks back at me.

  “I think it’s very wise and noble. I’m sure one day you’ll find someone who will love you that way.”

  Her face softens with a corner smile, and I find myself returning it. “So,” she proceeds, “James and I were kissing on the bed when Emma stepped in, telling me she caught one of his friends recording us. They wanted to use the video to blackmail us for money.”

  “Wow. Disgusting.”

  “Indeed. I thought he had morals and standards despite his humble background, but I got it wrong.” She lets out a sigh. “And when I met Jimmy, I kind of trusted him because he was your brother… Anyway, I should’ve listened to you.”

  I hold her hand tight. “I’m truly sorry for this, Petra. I should’ve never brought you to that stupid party in the first place.”

  She smiles broadly at me, interlocking our fingers. “It’s not your fault,” she reassures with a warm voice, but I can’t help feeling it is. “I’m the one who met him in his bedroom while you were distracted.”

  “Alright, enough about bedrooms.” I leap out of my seat. “You deserve a mojito… Virgin mojito,” I tease.

  She folds her arms across her chest. “Ha ha. Very funny, Mr. Van Dieren.”

  I go to the bar area in my living room to prepare the promised cocktail. Meanwhile, Ms. Curiosity can’t stay still and decides to stroll around my entire apartment. The condo I’m renting is quite spacious, with a modern design, minimal furniture, and a big terrace for dinners outside. Just enough for my usual booty calls. Petra goes a bit further down the hallway, curious (as always) to explore. I can’t help but shake my head.

  With her cocktail in hand, I find her inspecting a framed contemporary abstract oil painting on the wall. She doesn’t recognize the artist. I stand beside her, glance at the artwork, and say, “Your mom painted it.” She gasps in surprise. “Tess gave it to me when I became your godfather. You were maybe seven months old.” A smile settles on my lips recalling such memories, and I give her the mojito. “It was a real honor when Roy asked me to be your godfather.” But as I recall what I’ve done, I lower my gaze and my smile fades away.

  I hear her swallowing hard.

  After a silent minute, my eyes meet hers again. “I owe you an apology,” I declare. “I’m sorry to have been absent for so long, Petra.” I feel a deep pain in my chest simply at the thought of it. “Now that I’m back, I promise I’ll make up for it.”

  She takes a sip, and her face beams with a cute little smile. “I must say, I couldn’t have dreamt of a better godfather,” she replies in a low, tender voice.

  “Thank you,” I murmur.

  Her grin gets wider. “The mojito tastes great, by the way.”

  The corners of my mouth instantly curve up at her words. She opens her arms and gives me an unexpected hug. With her head resting on my shoulder, I stroke her long, wavy hair—I love the jasmine smell of it—and briefly close my eyes, treasuring this moment. It reminds me of the hugs she used to give me ten years ago. They always feel the same to me, profound and genuinely warm.

  After she releases me, I reach down and give her small hand a kiss. Her lips spread apart as she observes mine touching her skin. But to my surprise, my kiss is slower, tender, and deeper than usual. It’s probably only a millisecond longer, and yet I felt the difference. “Well, it’s getting late,” I say, glancing at my watch. “It’s already one o’clock.”

  “I see…” She looks around, probably trying to find a viable excuse to stay longer. “I’m hungry. Do you have something to eat?” And she trots toward the kitchen.

  I shake my head in amusement. I know her so well. “I don’t eat much here. Maybe some toast and yogurt,” I reply.

  “I can cook something for us.”

  “Petra, yogurt or home, now.”

  “Okay, fine. What kind of yogurt do you have?”

  “I don’t know, but I think Maria brought some.”

  “Maria? Your new girlfriend?”

  “The maid, Petra.”

  She opens the fridge. “Hmm, looks like Maria loves raspberry yogurt. You want one?”

  “I’m good, thank you.”

  Leaning against the doorframe, my arms folded across my chest, I let my eyes dwell on her for a moment. A hint of a smile plays on my lips. Petra can’t help but look exactly her age despite her heavy makeup, her black hair, her leather skirt, her choker necklace—all useless embellishments to my eye. She’s so beautiful without all this rubbish. Natural, angelic, pure… Why on earth would she put all that makeup on? Her skin is already spotless. I can’t help but chuckle: here she is, standing in my kitchen acting like a little girl, her eyes closed as she eats—or devours—a raspberry yogurt. “Mmmm...” I laugh, hearing her voice. Does she know how cute she is? “This is really good,” she says while I remain looking steadily at her, quite entertained. “Can I ask you something?”

  But I blink at her question, straighten my posture, and clear my throat. “Sure.”

  “Why did you disappear for ten years?”

  My heart skips a beat. I didn’t see it coming. “Your dad told you. I moved back to Amsterdam for work.”

  “But you didn’t even call…”

  “Petra, you were seven,” I snap.

  “So what? You think kids don’t have feelings? I considered you my best friend. I trusted you.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d even remember me afterward.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Her voice comes out loaded with sorrow. “Why did you abandon me? Why
didn't you ever call? Or ever attend any of my birthdays? I know you came to New York on many occasions. Why didn’t you ever want to see me? I… I missed you, for God’s sake!” Her pain is so palpable that it stabs my chest. She sighs heavily, crossing her arms, and turns her face away.

  “Petra.” I move in her direction, trying to reach for her, but she takes a step back. Nevertheless, I pinch her chin and keep it up, forcing her gaze to meet mine again. “First, I missed you just as much, if not more. And second, ask your dad—he’ll tell you why. But believe me, it was in your best interest.” I find myself a bit lost in the infinite blue of her eyes; they look like two big, bright sapphires staring back at a flawed human… Okay, enough. I break eye contact, checking my watch. “Time to go, Ms. Van Gatt.”

  “I can call Anthony, Dad’s driver. Don’t bother,” she snarls, her arms still folded.

  “I told your father I would drive you home.”

  “And? You always do what you say?”

  “For the Van Gatts, yes.”

  Jimmy Van Dieren

  I wake up with a huge headache and someone pressing his finger nonstop on the doorbell. Goddammit! Make it stop! I try hard to stand up and stay steady on my feet. Fuck, I can barely see with so much darkness. I drag myself to the hallway of my suite and open the door. Mercifully, it’s Alex... with another man I don’t recognize.

  “Oh, bro! You have no—”

  Alex grabs my neck so hard I can barely breathe. He and his friend make their way in, closing the door behind them.

  “How are you, Jimmy?” he asks, his fingers tightening on my neck.

  I nearly faint from the lack of oxygen. WTF is wrong with him? My mouth remains wide open as I try to drag some precious air into my lungs. Since I can’t even talk, he releases me. And when I finally take a breath, he punches me in the face with so much strength that I fall down. “Fuck!” Finding my nose bleeding, I scream in pain. “Goddammit! Stop!”

  But he grabs my T-shirt in rage and lifts me off the ground, his face deadly threatening. “Wasn’t that what Petra told you when you tried to rape her?” Another punch. This time in my stomach. That’s it—I throw up my entire night on the floor. “Argh! Disgusting!” Alex takes a step back, avoiding the vomit.

  My body is exhausted. Shaking, I collapse on the carpet behind me. “I don’t know! Leave me alone!” I keep sobbing, my face scarlet and with tears streaming down. Jeez, I feel my head’s about to explode.

  “You’re so damn lucky she’s not gonna report you. Now get up. We’ve got paperwork for you.”

  He’s insane! I can barely stand on my feet, my nose is bleeding, I’ve got a terrible headache, but he expects me to read and sign papers?

  Since I’m not obeying, Alex grabs me by the neck again, dragging me like I’m some sort of trash bag to the dining area of the suite. There he forces me to sit on a chair.

  Fucking asshole.

  “You’ll delete her phone number. And never ever try to get in touch with her again. Are we clear?”

  I nod, swallowing the rest of the vomit stuck in my throat.

  His friend takes a stack of papers from his briefcase and puts them in front of me. It looks like a contract.

  Alex takes a seat beside me and hands me a pen. “Since you are no longer fit to be part of this family, you’ll renounce our father’s name and his heritage. You’ll change your name to Jimmy Visser.” That’s my mother’s last name. WTF? “You’ll also renounce your right to his nobility title and to his inheritance.”

  Pfff, I might be half dead but I’m not dumb. Renouncing my father’s title and his fortune? Yeah, right... “And what if I don’t accept?” I dare to ask.

  He gives me a side smile that’s enough to scare the hell out of me. “I don’t think you have a choice.” He pauses. “Unless you consider death an option.”

  My jaw drops in horror. This man has nothing but evil in his eyes. Terrified by his threat, I remain still and quiet in my chair. After all, I’ve heard some rumors about my brother and his family when dealing with enemies—or anyone they deem threatening—but, damn, would he be capable of going that far?

  “Would you go as far as killing your own brother?”

  “I no longer have a brother, Jimmy. To me, you are dead,” he announces so stoically that I shiver. “Now, if you want us to handle this as diplomatically as possible, kindly sign the agreement.”

  At that instant, I want to throw up what is left of me on the table. But instead, I swallow my fear, reach for the pen, and sign the fucking contract. “Here. All signed. I’m no longer part of your stupid and crazy family. Now, can you leave me alone?”

  His friend, probably a lawyer or something, takes the contract, verifies my signature, and nods to Alex.

  “I have no intention of staying any longer,” he adds, standing up. “Goodbye, Jimmy.”

  Petra Van Gatt

  I sit in the shower, my legs bent to my chest, letting the water fall over my hair and body. It feels like déjà vu. I had the same disgusting taste in my mouth following Emma’s farewell party. I put my head down and let myself cry for a brief moment. What a useless waste of time and money spent on this bastard. My overpriced clothes are lying on the floor. I wash off my makeup, feeling angry, deceived, and furious, but mainly with myself. I should’ve seen this coming. Damn, Petra. Even my godfather warned me. Pfff, what a dumbass I was to think Jimmy liked me. It’s time to stop listening to my stupid hormones, which are just landing me in dangerous situations. From now on, I’ll follow Dad’s advice—no more boys for me. I’ll remain focused on my internship and my studies at Columbia.

  After getting out of the shower, I observe my naked figure in the mirror. Pale, fragile, too skinny, curveless are just some of the words that come to mind. I can see my collarbone sticking out. My cheek is still marked, but thankfully I’m not bruised. There’s one thing I particularly like about my body though: my breasts. They are small, but fully circular, round, and firm. My areolas are not big either, and they’re of a warm pink that perfectly matches my fair tone. My nipples are pointing outwards. I’ve realized that they become harder and more pronounced with fear. I take my jasmine moisturizer and rub some on my neck, my shoulders, my arms, and the rest of my body. Afterward, I put on my white cotton pajamas and go to my bedroom, plunging inside my fluffy, warm bed. Ha! There is no place like home.

  That Sunday, Janine is not here to wake me up, but the sunlight is strong enough to pierce through the curtains and cast light across the room. I open my eyes gently—the light is so bright. No wonder. The clock screams eleven thirty a.m. I gasp. It’s so late. I leap out of bed, take my clothes from the floor, and put them back in the bag. I will ask Janine to wash them and give them to a shelter tomorrow. I never want to see them again.

  Speaking of tomorrow, it’s Monday tomorrow. My first day as an intern. Oh God! I trot to the kitchen to prepare some tea.

  “Good morning, Petra.”

  What is he doing here? “Hey, good morning, Dad. What are you doing here? It’s not usual for you to be in the kitchen. Are you feeling alright?”

  “Well, it’s not usual for you to go to a concert either. I just wanted to know how your evening was.”

  My heart begins thundering nervously. I put the water on to boil. I swear if Alex told him anything, I’ll never talk to him ever again. Dad’s drinking his usual espresso, the journal closed on the table. “Indeed. It was fun,” I say while choosing my tea for this morning. “Do we have more matcha?”

  “I don’t know, since I don’t drink tea. Just fun? That’s all?”

  “Yep. That’s all. Ah, I found it.”

  “Petra, I only want your happiness and your well-being, you know that,” he starts. “If there is anything you want to tell me, or ask me, I won’t get mad or angry…”

  Is that some sort of hint? Does he know about last night? Did Alex tell him? Of course he did! They are best friends. It’s obvious he would report the incident to him. I take a deep breath, trying
to control my nerves, and pour the boiled water in my mug. “I know.”

  I hear only silence. He’s probably expecting me to open a bit more, but nope. Sorry, Dad, not happening.

  “You like Jimmy, don’t you?” My eyes widen in shock. That’s all he knows? I turn back to face him. He looks thoughtful, lost. I can’t stop giggling. “Why are you laughing like that? It’s alright. You don’t need to feel embarrassed. You are not a child anymore.”

  “Dad, please stop,” I say, still laughing. “This talk doesn’t fit you at all.” I try to calm myself down. “I have no feelings whatsoever toward Jimmy. Nope. Just forget him, okay? And as you said before, boys are a stupid and useless distraction. I’m focused and looking forward to my internship. It starts tomorrow, remember?”

  He smiles proudly, maybe also in relief. “Of course I remember. So, are you still sure about hiding your identity?”

  “I am. I’ll be Petra Williams, as we agreed. I want the managers to assess me fairly.”

  “As you wish. Well, don’t forget to be at the office at nine o’clock sharp. Andrew will greet the new interns.”

  “Yes, Dad. I’ll be there at nine on the dot.”

  He stands up, moves toward me, and gives me a hug. “I’m proud of you, Petra, so proud,” he adds before kissing my forehead. “Your godfather told me about the fund he opened for you to invest in emerging artists. I’m sorry I didn’t support you before. He’s a better listener than I.”

  My face beams with joy. “It’s alright. I’m happy you like the idea.” Then I promptly ask, "By the way, may I invite Emma over for lunch?”

  Dad smiles back, glancing at his watch. “Sure. I have to go, actually. I have lunch in Greenwich. See you later.” And he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out.