Sweetness

by S Gonzalez

  As my father says, what good is money and power if you don’t share it with the ones you love? And boy, does he love me. I have never been all that interested in material things. I would much rather be sitting on the beach at the Jersey Shore with just my father and me then on some fancy vacation. I love my dad; his love and acceptance mean everything to me. It’s hard being a kid of divorce but my dad has somehow managed to keep in the loop with everything Mark and I do. Martin Hill is a great man and a wonderful father. I am privileged to call him my dad.

  After a few hours, the three of us climb into my father’s version of a graduation present; a brand new Mercedes E350. The three of us are dressed to the nine in our best garden party attire. Wanda was wearing my new green, dress, courtesy of Mia, that is fitted with a scoop neck in the front and a deep V in the back. It clings to her slim waist and drapes ceremoniously over her hips and thighs. Her hair is twisted in the back of her head with long tendrils of curls billowing out of the clip that holds it all together.

  Max has on his designer beige slacks, a white linen shirt that he tucked in and rolled up to his elbows, and aviator sunglasses. Max never takes too much time fussing with his hair because it often has a mind of its own and hangs perfectly around his chiseled face in chunky pieces. By anyone’s definition, Max is hot! No doubt about it. He is usually the best looking one in the room and people always assumed that he and Wanda are together.

  I am sporting my new blue designer dress in the same design as the one Wanda is wearing except the back is fully covered and it has a thick, white belt around the waist. I finish the look with white strappy sandals, light make-up, and my golden blonde hair is pulled back in a high ponytail with my bangs swept over my forehead.

  As we leave New York and drive down the New Jersey Turnpike I see Wanda and Max exchanging glances out of my peripheral vision. I look over to Wanda and she gives me a tight smile while searching my face to see if I’m okay. Max and Wanda know how nervous I am about going home and they both know why. Max puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes them gently to show his concern.

  “Guys, I’m fine,” I tell them, but not even I am convinced by my words.

  “You sure? We don’t have to go. I can call your mom and tell her you are not feeling well,” Wanda says, in a you-don’t-have-to-deal-with-this-shit kind of way.

  “I know, I don’t have to go but I have been making the same excuse for over 4 years. My mother went to all the trouble to throw this party together and I think I owe it to her. Besides, I miss Mark. I have to pick him up anyway to show him around before we move to Manhattan next week. That reminds me. Max? What are your plans now that you wont be living at the dorm anymore?”

  “I will probably get some shitty apartment that I can’t afford until I have to move in with you and Wanda. Or live in a box on the corner. Why?” Max sits back in his seat so our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

  “Well…nothing is set in stone, but I was going to see if Mark had a roommate in mind yet. If not then maybe you could move in and keep an eye on him for me. Not a babysitter or anything I just figured…two birds, one stone.” I shrug.

  “SERIOUSLY? Do you think your dad would let me? It’s his place.”

  “I am sure he will be fine with it. Let me talk to Mark first. I am sure my dad will appreciate Mark not living alone and he likes you so it should be fine.”

  Max is squirming a little and I know he is thinking that it is totally out of his price range. “What do you think he will charge me in rent?”

  “Same as Wanda and me. My dad owns the building so as long as you keep the place in good condition and don’t have wild parties he doesn’t charge us. He says it’s good to have people he trusts occupy it. If he tried to sell it now he would lose money because the housing market is still down. That’s why he’s glad Mark is going to NYU because he can live there now that I am moving.”

  “Sweet deal. Don’t worry about Mark, I will butter him up to it. I will promise to get him laid often. That should work.”

  “You will do no such thing. Maxwell Reed if you corrupt my brother I will personally come back to Brooklyn and kick your ass.”

  “Relax baby, I got this.” Max popped his shirt and gave me his award-winning smile. Max can always make me giggle. And with that the mood’s a little lighter as we drive the rest of the way to my mother’s house. Hill House as it is known in the neighborhood. The wrought iron gates at the beginning of the driveways have never been changed. Used to drive Paul crazy to live in a house with another man’s name on the front gate.

  As the surroundings got more familiar I feel myself tensing up again. It wasn’t until I turned and drove through the wide-open, white gate and down the sprawling driveway that leads up to the main house that I got a knot in my stomach. I can’t do this. I can’t face these people. How am I going to get through this? OH GOD, OH GOD. Why did I agree to this? My stomach is actually churning now as bile rises up into my throat when I pull up to the front of the house. I sit in my seat white knuckled after putting the car in park. Max and Wanda make no attempt to get out of the car. They are following my lead and I dodn’t have the courage to move at that moment. My car door is opened by the valet and my body goes on high alert. FUCK! No turning back now.

  “Are you okay, Emm?” Max asks as he reaches for my hand to help me out of the car. “We can still leave.”

  “No we can’t. I have to do this.”

  Wanda walks over to our side of the car after being ushered out and ogled by the valet. “You stay close to me. When you see Glen, point him out. I will take care of his ass. He doesn’t know me but he will if he fucks up today. I won’t take any shit from that cabrón.” I laugh at Wanda. As sophisticated and well mannered as she is, she can be ghetto when she wants to and I love her for it.

  “Just stay close guys. I don’t want this to be any harder than it has to. No one in my family knows about Glen and I don’t want them to. You guys are the only two people on the planet that know what a scumbag he is, so steer clear of him. He is manipulative and I don’t want you to get sucked into this shit. I am not even sure he is going to be here. He hates me so I highly doubt he would want to attend a party in my honor.”

  “You got it. If you need us we’re here. Now, lets go and get this over with,” Wanda says as she turns and saunters ahead of Max and I to the front door.

  When we arrive on the front porch Mrs. Cross opens the door and greats us with a warm smile. Mrs. Cross was our nanny for as long as I can remember. Her husband used to work for my father until he had a heart attack at a very early age. Mrs. Cross had no children and was in need of work so my father offered her the job as our full time nanny when I was about 6 months old. She never dated and never had children of her own. She is a wonderful woman with the grace and kindness of an aunt or grandmother. We have always had a special bond and she always made sure Mark and I were taken care of without fail. Especially when things got really bad. Even as we got older and there was no need for a nanny, my mother kept her on and made her the full time housekeeper, although she more of runs the house then cleans it. She makes sure all the staff does their jobs, she is the primary cook, and she does all the necessary shopping.

  The main reason why I think my mother kept her all this time was because she saw her as a friend. My mother lost most of her friends in the divorce but Mrs. Cross never let on that she took a side. I always assumed that this was at the request of my father; so he could have an inside track on what was happening with us in his absence. He always seemed to know about everything Mark and I had going on and I doubt my mother was his informant; she was clueless as to what went on right under her nose. Mrs. Cross was my savior and without her I am not sure I would have gotten out of this house in one piece.

  “Emma, my darling! Look at how beautiful you look.” She hugs me tight and when she embraces me I can smell her comforting scent of clean laundry and floral perfume. My nerves are gone in an instant. She always did make me feel safe. />
  “Mrs. Cross!” I pull away and look at her at arms length. “Looking good yourself.” She flushes, waving off my compliment as if it is the silliest thing she ever heard. She is always very well put together. Her black hair with random grey streaks is pulled into a tight bun; she is a beautiful woman for 62.

  “Oh please. Don’t bother flattering an old woman like me. Max, always so handsome. Wanda you are looking as lovely as ever. Love the dress. “ She hugs them both before we walk into the foyer of the house. They thank her and return her praises just as my mother comes barreling out of the kitchen and into the foyer.

  “Emma! Look at you, beautiful girl,” My mother coos teary eyed. “Oh, come and give me a hug.” My mother wraps her slim arms around my upper arms and hugs me tight. I hug my mother like I would hug a stranger. “Congratulations to you all.”

  After a moment of uncomfortable silence Mrs. Cross invites us further into the house and tells us to head out to the back yard where the other guest are gathered. My mother escorts us out to the patio where there is a small group of family and friends, huddled together chatting and laughing. Her friends, not mine. I didn’t stay in contact with any of my friends from high school. Once I graduated I was out of town so fast I didn’t even bother to say goodbye to my mother or Paul. Packed as much as I could cram into my car and never looked back to this hell hole.

  I scan the group quickly in hopes that Holly and Glen would not be here. My body relaxed a bit when I don’t see them. Max, noticing how tense I am, puts his arm gently around my shoulder and gives me a friendly tug into his chest. When I look at his beautiful face he gives me a small grin, telling me he is still concerned. I quickly put on the fake smile, I have perfected after many years of practice, and begin making my way around the crowd thanking the guests for coming.

  About a half hour later I notice my stepfather, Paul, walking toward me. He is clean-shaven, well dressed in dark blue slacks and white polo shirt and from what I can tell…sober. It is only two in the afternoon but still; I don’t think I have ever seen him look so collected. Perhaps it is because there are people around, who knows, but I notice he looks better than he ever has before.

  Paul has always been a very attractive man, no denying that. I could always see what my mother saw in him physically. He is not the suit and tie guy that my father is. Paul is ruggedly handsome with short brown hair and brown eyes. He has a badass persona and he is very smooth, especially around women. It’s when he gets too much liquor in him that all niceties are out the window and he turns angry. His temper takes him to a dark place no one should have to witness. Especially not kids.

  “Emma, look at you. You look great,” he gushes as he gives me a tight hug. I flinch at first because this side of him is foreign to me.

  What the hell is going on? I feel like I’ve entered the twilight zone. Paul was never really mean or abusive to me personally but... this is weird. I can count on my one hand how many times in my life Paul Maser hugged me and never has he hugged me like this. My mother was his whipping post not Mark or me. Paul simply never acknowledged us. Me particularly. We barely talked. We never hugged. What is his game?

  “Hi..i..i, Paul. Thank you. You look nice too.” He hugged me hard and long. He was hugging me longer then what was socially acceptable. Why is he not letting me go? Ok, beginning to feel creepy. I try to pull away so I can look at him, to read his face.

  “Sorry. I haven’t seen you in a long time. You haven’t been home in what is it four years now,” he chuckled as he took a step back. I did see my mother and Mark on holidays but I never, ever came home so I guess the last time I saw Paul he was leaving for work the day I left home.

  “What?” he says with a smile. I must have a whatthe-fuck, expression on my face. God knows I am thinking it.

  “Oh nothing. I was just shocked to see you, that’s all.”

  “See me sober? Is that it?” He still has a smile on his face and I am trying to read him to see if it is sincere or not.

  “Well, yea. I mean…you look great.” I am trying not to sound like a jerk but Paul being sober and affectionate isn’t something I am used to.

  “Sober two years next month. You would know that if you didn’t stay away so long. Your mother never told you?” He was speaking with kindness and affection. Crazies of Hill House indeed.

  “Well yeah-“

  “But you didn’t believe her?” he says as he reaches for my hand and clasped it between his. He is being warm and kind, I feel as if I am being punk’d.

  “Well, it’s not that. I just didn’t…” God this is uncomfortable.

  “Didn’t what? Think she was telling the truth?”

  “Ummm…yeah. Sorry.” This isn’t going very well. Way to be a bitch Hill.

  “Emma, I understand. Don’t worry. I get that you didn’t believe her. After all the years of torment I put her and you kids through, I don’t blame you for not believing her.” I am seriously confused. Paul is really being thoughtful and genuine and I feel a twinge of guilt for looking at him like he is a crazy person. “Look I have to go and talk to the caterer for your mother but we will talk later, OK,” he murmurs as he walks away, looking off in the distance at the large white tent in the middle of the yard.

  “Ooo…kkk,” I said almost silently. Wanda is watching me about three feet away with her mouth open in shock from what she just witnessed.

  “What the fuck was that all about?“ Wanda asks in amazement. “Was that Paul?”

  “Yeah…uh…I think so…” I’m not sure what just happened but if Paul is sober and his devil spawns are no where to be seen then maybe this day won’t be so bad after all.

  The rest of the afternoon is eerily normal…well, not normal for us, but normal for most other families. Everyone is relaxed and having a good time. It is the first time in a long time I have felt comfortable in my own home. My mom and Paul are being affectionate and loving with each other and there isn’t a hint of drama to be scene.

  Mrs. Jones and I catch up and discuss my move to Manhattan. She seems pleased that I will be working at my fathers company and we make plans for her to come out and stay with me for a short vacation once we are settled. As the day goes on I realize I haven’t yet seen Mark. I went in search of my mother to find out where he was. She tells me he is at a friend’s high school graduation party and he would be here soon. She said that since he is going to be leaving with me today, and wouldn’t be home for a while so he wanted to see his friends one last time before they all got split up and went to college. I guess I understand that.

  I am in a good mood and begin to wander away from the party. I just want to enjoy some peace and quiet at a place that never allowed it before. By the time my head comes out of the clouds I find myself standing in front of the playground. “How’d I wound up here?” I say to myself, swallowing deeply and pushing back the memories the start to flood my mind. I loved the playground and used it quite often when I was little. It was my own personal sanctuary. Mrs. Cross would take Mark and me out here when things got intense in the house. My father had the playground put in for my 5th birthday. It was the last birthday we spent together as a family.

  The playground covers a huge area of the yard, comparable to any public park. It has a large jungle gym type structure in the middle composed of tunnels, bridges, slides and poles to slide down. The whole area has a color scheme of bright yellow, red, and blue. Off to the far left side of the area is a tree house that stands about four feet off the ground on wooden stilts. There are stairs at the back of the tree house. A grey, plastic climbing structure that resembles rocks on the front to gain access to the wide platform that holds up the brown, wooden, log cabin type house. It was Marks favorite place to play when we were younger and he rarely let girls in there. I giggle at the thought of him wearing his Superman cape telling me to get off his rock. On the far right side of the area there is a merry-go-round, an empty sandbox, and a line of swings that are swaying in the breeze. I doubt anyone ever comes
out here any more but judging from the newly planted flowers the area is still kept in pristine condition. It is every kid’s dream…until it became my nightmare.

  CHAPTER 2

  I close my eyes and drift back as though it is happening right in front of me. Mom and Paul are arguing again…Ugh…I can’t stand to hear any more of this. It is the same argument every time, Paul gets drunk and tells my mother how worthless she is and my mother cries and apologizes for having done nothing at all. Paul and alcohol are a dangerous combination sometimes and I honestly can’t bear to listen to a grown woman grovel over a worthless piece of shit like Paul Maser. Him and his screwed up kids can fuck off. I hate living here, I hate the Maser family and I especially hate that my mother married a low life like him when she had all the possibilities of a wonderful life with a strong, powerful, man like my father. I gotta’ get out of here.

  Since I was ready for a relaxing night at home I am dressed in my comfy, grey sweatpants, and fitted black t-shirt but as the nights are getting cooler I figured I would grab my grey sweatshirt in the closet near the front door. As I descend down the stairs I stop in my tracks by glass shattering against the wall in the study and I can hear Paul cursing something about how my mother doesn’t appreciate him. I continue down the stairs, into the foyer and get my sweatshirt out of the closet before picking up the pace to the back door.

  The coolness of the fall air hits me in the face as I step out onto the patio. The dim patio lights create a warm glow leading up to the pool area and you could see that the newly planted mums in full bloom around the perimeter. I walk down the patio stairs and along the brick walkway to the pool area with every intention to sit quietly and enjoy the sound of music until Paul drinks himself unconscious. In the distance I see the guesthouse is black inside and I take a sigh of relief. A dark guesthouse means Glen is out for the night. With Paul’s whore daughter out with the scumbag who picked her up on his busted crotchrocket, there will be no one to interrupt me. As I get closer to the pool area I can still hear shouting coming from inside the house, I turn on my IPod as I approach the seating area near the pool, damn it…it’s dead. The moon is so full and bright it lights up the property enough so I can see the trees, flanked all around our vast yard, in the distance. The trees are nude this time of year due to the leaves falling sporadically as the wind blows. I decide to walk toward the far left corner of the property to where the playground is in hopes the voices will be drowned out by the distance.