Blossom in Winter

by Melanie Martins

  I’m radiant, but not for the same reason. Andrew out? Oh, thank God! I won’t miss him here for sure. My last week will feel like heaven on earth.

  He glances around the room. “Jess!” And he suddenly throws the ball at her. She manages to see it coming and grabs it tightly. “Hope you’ve got your passport ready for Rome next week.”

  Her face beams with excitement. “Oh yeah!” She sends him the ball back. I’ve never seen Jess before, but I barely know anyone here anyway. She has medium dark-blonde hair, is a bit taller than me, and is dressed in a navy pantsuit with a white shirt and black heeled sandals—probably an MBA student.

  He looks around for someone else.

  “Luke?” he calls before passing the ball to him.

  “Oh boy, that’s amazing. Thanks Andrew.” And Luke sends it back.

  Andrew plays this little game with three other male interns, all impeccably dressed, people I’ve never seen before.

  Finally, his eyes dart to the door where Rach and I are standing.

  Say Rach, say Rach…

  “Rach!” he shouts before throwing the ball to her.

  Phew!

  “Yes!” All excited, she stares at Jess, apparently her work bestie. “Passport ready as ever, Andrew!” Rach sends him the ball back a bit more abruptly than the rest.

  There’s only one person left.

  Tension is rising in the room. Every intern follows Andrew’s eyes attentively, ready to catch their ticket to Rome at any time.

  “Williams!”

  What? I still manage to catch the ball right before it hits me in the face.

  The crowd is as astonished as I am. After all, I’m the most antisocial and introverted intern. Indeed, after nearly three months here, I’ve barely spoken to anyone except to Rach, who’s also part of Andrew’s team.

  Oh God, why me? I’m speechless. Everyone is expecting me to be excited and smiley, or to say something fun and cool, but nothing. I just roll the ball thoughtfully.

  “Williams?” I look up at Andrew. “Is it a yes or a no?”

  I send him the ball back with a strength I didn’t know I had.

  After a few seconds of pondering, I say one word, uttered with no visible excitement. “Okay.”

  I wait near the door as the interns are leaving the conference room, the majority quite disappointed. I don’t understand why he picked me. I always see him hanging out with his other interns, like John and Rob—I call them his cheerleaders—they would’ve been perfect candidates. He even used to invite them over for drinks after work…

  “Why did you choose me?”

  Andrew glances around the room—there’s no one left but me. He hesitates to reply, but he knows I’m not leaving without an answer. “Because you’re stubborn, strongheaded, show no respect whatsoever for the authority—”

  “I thought those were the reasons why you didn’t like me,” I manage to interpose.

  “Indeed, but I could’ve also added bold, determined, perseverant, focused… and those are the reasons why we make it in finance. So, good for you.”

  I frown, my mind still dazed and confused. Does Dad or Alex have anything to do with it? I don’t know, but one thing is for sure—I’ll figure this out at home later tonight.

  At least once a week, Dad makes sure to free his agenda so he can have supper at home with me. It’s the perfect occasion to catch up, one would say, but for him, this means inquisition time to find out how I’m doing and how I’m performing at work. “How was your week at the office?” Dad starts. “Your internship is nearly over.”

  “Quite good, actually,” I reply, my tone enthusiastic. “Did you know Andrew picked me to be part of his group for the conference in Rome?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. But I’m not surprised.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, he was only going to pick the best interns. I’d have been surprised if you were not among them.”

  My face glows with a smile of joy and pride. “By the way, Mom asked if I could take a plane and go to Rotterdam after Rome. Is it alright if I spend the weekend there?”

  “Sure. I’ll ask my assistant to book you one for Rotterdam and another back to New York on September second. Don’t forget the fourth is your first day at Columbia.”

  “Thank you, Dad.”

  We continue to enjoy our supper in silence, but I keep playing with my food thoughtfully.

  “What’s going on in that mind of yours, Petra?”

  I pretend I didn’t hear him and continue twirling my pasta for a few more seconds, until my curiosity takes over. “Dad, I need to know the truth.”

  He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “About what?”

  But I don’t reply immediately. I’m still pondering if I should go ahead…

  C’mon, Petra. Ask him.

  Indeed, after so many weeks thinking about it, it’s time to gain some courage. I take a deep breath, and, for better or for worse, I jump right in. “About why Alexander stopped visiting me when I was seven. And please, no lies.” I pause. “I know he came to New York many times.”

  Dad doesn’t seem surprised. He probably knew it was just a matter of time until I’d ask him about it. “I see.” He puts his cutlery down. Then he wipes his mouth, staring off, trying to find the best words. “Very well. Let’s just say you were slightly… too attached to him.”

  With a furrowed brow, I ask, “What does that even mean? He is my godfather. I considered him my best friend.”

  Dad leans back and exhales loudly. Despite it being ten years ago, he doesn’t seem to be as comfortable as he might have expected. “Petra”—his tone sounds heavier than usual—“are you sure you want to know about this?”

  Damn, I’m getting anxious. Is it that bad? “Yes. Tell me.” I feel my heart pounding so fast and so hard that it’s wounding my chest. I’m not sure if I can handle the truth, but I want to hear it. I have to hear it.

  “Well,” he starts cautiously, “when your godfather brought Amanda for supper here the very first time, you were not happy, to say the least. In fact, throughout the whole dinner, you looked quite upset. Alex asked you why and you ran to sit on his lap and told him out loud in front of all our guests that he…” Dad takes a deep breath but remains silent. It seems quite painful to remember. My heart keeps thundering as I look at him searching for words. “That he couldn’t love or marry anyone but you,” he spits out.

  My jaw drops to the floor.

  “Oh, and you also said Amanda, his dear girlfriend, was a witch. All of that in front of ten guests! Everyone stared at him, wondering what he had done for you to say such things. The poor guy felt so embarrassed. He’d always been nothing but kind and supportive, treating you like his own daughter, teaching you how to ride horses, how to paint, how to ski, and this is how you thanked him? Humiliating him in front of his friends and girlfriend?” he shouts, enraged at the simple memory of it. “Anyway, I took you to the pediatrician, and the doctor told me young children can develop deep affections and emotions toward adults. So, Alex and I decided the best way to handle this would be for him to keep his distance from you.”

  Now it’s my heart that falls on the floor.

  “Dad, I was only seven! How could you take this so seriously?”

  “Petra, did you imagine the consequences of your words? It could’ve seriously damaged his reputation and our company. This is New York. People make up stories based on anything. It was in the best interest of everyone,” he snarls.

  Breathing feels so hard. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time wondering why Alex had left, blaming him for his absence, but the ugly truth is now right here in front of me. I had been the embarrassment, the one to blame, not him. “I can’t believe this…”

  “Oh really? Do you remember the first painting you did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you recall what you painted?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Well, you should go to your atelier and find
out. You’ll see why I never gave your ‘gift’ to him. I know you’ll understand. It was painful but necessary. You had caused enough trouble for your godfather and his girlfriend.”

  “I’m not gonna check.” My tone remains low and broken, my mind still in shock. “I feel humiliated and embarrassed enough. I’m… I’m so sorry to have brought up this conversation, Dad.” I let out a sigh. “I won’t do it again.”

  It’s my last day in the office before leaving for Rome. Classes at Columbia will start right after my European trip. I feel strangely sad. To my surprise, I’m actually enjoying working here at Gatt-Dieren Capital, managing my fund, leasing my artworks to galleries, and collecting steady revenues. In fact, the monthly income has far surpassed my forecasts. Based on my new estimates, some of my paintings will be paid off within a year. It feels amazing! I can picture myself growing the fund, reinvesting the capital, and acquiring many new pieces. But how would I combine this with Columbia? I might have to hire someone to negotiate the future leases…

  “I heard you’re also coming to Rome?” I look up at the person speaking. “I’m Jessica Clarkson, by the way, but everyone calls me Jess.” We shake hands. “We should all celebrate after work and go to a bar. Tomorrow we’re finally off to Italy.”

  “I've heard good things about Ward III,” adds Rach, stepping up. “It’s like two blocks away. Andrew went there with Rob and John once.”

  Jess smiles, seeing her bestie. “Hi, Rach. Glad to see you.” I notice how the two women look way older than me, maybe ten years more, sporting fancy suits with heels. “I heard about that one too. Let’s go, all three of us.”

  “What do you think, Williams?”

  I want to decline. I’m not dressed to party. “I’m okay, but please enjoy for me.”

  “No way, girl. You’ve got to join us. It’s not far away. Just have one drink to celebrate,” insists Rach.

  I consider her suggestion for a moment. After all, it’s my last day as an intern. I glance at my watch. Seven p.m. Not a time Dad can censure anyway. “Alright, but no alcohol for me.”

  I check my fake ID discreetly to be sure what age I have on it. I smile. Twenty-one. Perfect!

  The bar is mellow, cozy, and casual. I don’t feel underdressed. Actually, maybe Rach and Jess are slightly too dressed up for the establishment.

  We are enjoying our cocktails while discussing our future plans. The women are finishing their MBAs in finance, specializing in asset and fund management.

  Suddenly, Jess’s phone beeps with a text. She reads it, and Rach is curious enough to peer over and read it too.

  “Williams, what about heading to Et Al? My friends are there. There’s a private party until ten p.m. Atmosphere is dope, with a selective, older crowd, mostly finance and banking folks. Should be great for networking.”

  I have no idea what they are talking about. “You girls can go without me. It’s already eight o’clock. I’m gonna head home.”

  “Williams, are you crazy? You are over twenty-one, right?”

  “Right.” At least my fake ID says so.

  “Then why not come along with us? It’s alright—our friends will handle the guest list. You can come dressed as you are.”

  If the first bar was chill and perfect for me, Et Al is something else—a selective, high-class lounge, rented out for a private party. The crowd is older, more sophisticated and distinguished, but with a pretentious air and stylish supermodels in attendance. A show of red-and-blue dark lighting creates a nightclub environment. But the lounge music, although quite sensual, is not too loud. I feel utterly underdressed as I make my way in.

  “Oh yeah! Much better,” shouts Jess, taking in our surroundings.

  The lounge is not too big, but has semi-open curtains to give a more intimate atmosphere to the corner tables spread around the room. Jess and Rach are probably feeling in their element. Jess leads the way through the crowd, heading toward a table with two gorgeous women wearing short but elegant black dresses and heels who are sitting on a sofa, cocktails in hand—ready to take Manhattan by storm.

  “Hey, Jess!” screams one of them. She seems to be in her mid-thirties, older than Jess and Rach, for sure. They greet each other cheerfully. “So, are these your friends from Gatt-Dieren?”

  “Yep. Rach and Williams. Or shall we call you Petra?”

  “Williams is fine.”

  “I’m Sylvia.” She shakes our hands. “I work at GS. Private equity. What do you think of the party? Nice crowd, huh?”

  Jess looks around. “Oh yeah. Much older, exactly what I needed.” Sylvia whispers something in Jess’s ear that causes her to stare across the room and gasp in surprise, quite excited. “You are right. It’s really him. Fuck, first round on me, then,” she says to Sylvia.

  I don’t get what’s going on between the two of them, but I take a seat beside them anyway.

  “Do you know any of the women he’s with?” continues Jess, intrigued. “Why am I not there? I should be at that table.”

  “Not sure, but you need a plan,” replies Sylvia.

  I have no idea what table they are talking about. “What’s going on, Jess?” I finally dare to ask. “So much mystery.” Jess leans closer to me and discreetly points her index finger toward a corner table in a two-step elevated private room—separated from our area by a semi-open velvet curtain.

  I gasp at the sight of him.

  “Van Dieren,” I breathe.

  “Yep, the one and only.” I stare at him for a few more seconds and exhale louder than I should. “Such a heartbreaker, right?” teases Jess. “Can you imagine being in there?”

  Definitely not! I feel extremely embarrassed to see my godfather in such a private and intimate venue without his knowledge. After all, neither he nor Dad know I’m here. And I’ve got the firm intention of keeping it that way. It’s hard to shift my attention to somewhere else though. I can’t stop wondering what he is saying to make those girls beam with joy, laugh, and grin so much. I notice how their gazes are drawn to him, to his blue eyes, to his sun-kissed skin contrasting with the crisp white of his shirt... A glass of whiskey in hand, Alex is sitting with three flirty models and another male friend—definitely not Dad, but he looks to be fifty-something.

  “Rach! He’s looking over here,” shouts Jess.

  Oh God… I turn my back and face away as much as possible.

  A waiter holding a tray stops at our table. “Did you order five tequila shots?”

  “Yeah! That’s for us. Exactly what we needed.”

  “Jess, I told you I’m not drinking.”

  “Oh, Williams, it’s just one shot to celebrate. It’s nothing. You need to chill. You know, a lot of interns do way worse than this to keep up with the pressure.”

  “Well, I don’t…”

  “Just one shot. To toast to our new friendship and our upcoming trip to Rome.”

  How can I possibly decline? I stare timidly back at Van Dieren’s table, hoping he would’ve left with someone. I wince instantly. Shit. I think he saw me.

  We all clink our glasses in excitement, and I close my eyes to drink the shot all at once—just like my new friends. I don’t dare to look around. Alex might still be at that table, maybe even staring at me!

  “Hey, next round on me,” orders Rach to the waiter.

  A few moments later, another round of tequila shots are being served.

  I feel like I should decline. “I can’t drink anymore.”

  “No way! Please. Just one more for me, Williams,” she implores, handing me a new glass. “You can’t cheer on Jess’s toast and not do the same with mine. That would be super rude. Plus, we are on the same team.”

  I sigh, accepting the new tequila shot. I can only hope my godfather is otherwise too distracted kissing some random mouth at his table to notice. I take a quick sip then drink it all at once. I frown at the strong taste going down my throat. Yuck!

  My iPhone beeps.

  Probably a WhatsApp message. Must be Emma shar
ing envious pictures in the south of France to tease me. But this time, I’m also having fun and ready to fight back with a photo in this lounge with my new friends.

  I know you are here. I can see you right in front of me.

  Not Emma. Nope.

  I’m instantly paralyzed. Glancing over, I can see Alex glaring at me and shaking his head. He’s not happy.

  Another text. Go outside. We need to talk.

  I swallow hard. It doesn’t sound good at all.

  “I’m sorry, girls. I’m just going to the bathroom,” I say before standing up, my heartbeat pounding anxiously. I walk through the lounge and make my way out.

  “I’m sure your father will be very proud of you.” I know he’s being sarcastic. “Drinking tequila shots? Really? Let me guess, you’ve also got a fake ID in your purse for the next round?” How does he know that? “I’m tired of keeping secrets from Roy; he needs to know about your behavior. You’re not yet an adult, Petra, so don’t act like you are.”

  “If you tell him, I’ll share your private number with all the interns, including Rach and Jess. They were quite explicit about what they would do to you.”

  “Oh, great. Now my goddaughter is threatening me?”

  “Correction: I’m negotiating. That’s what you always told me to do.”

  His scowl softens with a suppressed laugh. “Alright, I won’t tell him, but now it’s time for you to go home.”

  “I’m not gonna spend another evening alone.” There’s some sort of sorrow in my tone that I wasn’t expecting. “I’m with my new friends, and I’m enjoying it.”

  He lets out a sigh. After all, he can’t blame me. At my age, I know Alex had an amazing mother, siblings, and lots of friends to keep him company. But for me, the house is empty, like most evenings. We both know Dad’s at a dinner and will come home late as usual.