by Wilde, Ora
“And here I thought that you never cared,” I said, with a mocking grin.
“I don’t know if that was sarcasm or honesty,” he shot back, his voice a little louder. I was getting into his skin. Again.
“It was an observation,” I uttered, still with a smile that was loaded with loathing and anger.
He retreated to the farthest side of chair and rested his back against its support. He let out a deep sigh.
“You still think that it’s my fault why your mother is gone, correct?” he asked, his brows - aging and grey - meeting in the middle, signifying his displeasure.
“You said that, not me,” I answered with simulated apathy. The fifth lie. In my heart of hearts, I hated him for what happened to my mother.
“I don’t know how I can ever change your mind,” he stated with a tinge of resignation. “You weren’t there during the days that led to her... her... her death. You don’t know. You will never know what really happened... how it really happened. All you have is my account, and you can’t even trust that.”
It’s not the first time that we were having that discussion. That subject has come up several times before. All of them ended with me walking out on him. He knew what to expect, hence, he immediately continued to speak before I could even get up from my chair.
“But that’s not the reason why I invited you for dinner,” he disclosed.
“What then?” I asked, doing away with the civility of patience.
“I want to tell you that I have moved on...”
“Yes. You mentioned that earlier.”
“... and I have found someone who can love me the same way your mother did a long time ago.”
“What?!”
I couldn’t believe what I heard. I couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of this man. He was actually telling me that he has replaced my mother. He was actually suggesting that I should forget everything about my mother so that I could move on like he has.
“You heard me, Hayden,” he proceeded to say. “I have found someone... and we’re getting married.”
No. No. No...
“Well, I wish you and your wife-to-be a good and happy life, father,” I responded, gritting my teeth as I tried my best to restrain my anger. “Oh, and kindly tell that bitch that I said hi.” I stood up and threw away the table napkin that I have earlier placed on my lap.
“Hayden! Mind your manners, boy!” he shouted. He was furious, too. He didn’t care if other people heard him... which was quite a rarity.
A satisfied grin formed on my face as I started to walk away.
“The wedding is next week,” he informed me before I could leave the table. “And I expect you to be there.”
I clicked my tongue in disgust. Not only was he more than willing to forget about my mother, he was so eager to replace her as well.
“Why the fuck should I be there, father?” I jeeringly asked.
“Because you’ll be my best man,” was his simple reply.
Fuck!
Chapter 12
PHOEBE
“Phoebe, we have to talk.”
I swallowed some air as I expected the worst. My mom’s voice was unwaveringly stern. She only used that tone whenever she was dead serious about something... like when she discovered that I only got a B+ for one of my exams in junior high (“how would you be able to get to an Ivy League school with a score like that?”), or when I skipped a class in my senior year because I had to finish a project for another subject (“it starts with a simple act of delinquency, and it quickly escalates into something worse... soon enough, you’d be robbing convenience stores.”), or when she discovered a torn entry from my diary about my secret high school crush Kevin, who I have never even spoken a word to in all of four years (“tell me honestly, and trust that I won’t love you less. Did you have sex with him?”). She has been a strict disciplinarian who was overly protective of me ever since the divorce, when I was just five years old. I always tried to understand her. The rigors of being a single mom might’ve pushed her to extreme ways of parenting, though she has mellowed down a lot in the span of the fifteen years that followed.
I wondered what was the cause of her consternation that Tuesday evening as she greeted me at the door of our single-floor house in the suburbs of Van Nuys as soon as I got home from a very, very tiring and emotional day from school.
Oh no...
Did she find out about Hayden Summersmith and his phony advances? Who could’ve told her? She knew no one from UCLA except Cindy...
Cindy...
Oh crap! What kind of traitorous act did she do?
“What do we have to discuss, Mom?” I asked her, trying my best to hide my nervousness.
She led me to the living room where she asked me to sit on the couch... a telltale sign that what she wanted to talk about was, indeed, very serious. She went to the kitchen and prepared two cups of coffee. She went back to the sofa and offered me a mug before settling beside me.
Tension continued to grip me as I took a sip of the coffee she made.
It took a couple of minutes of silence before she started to speak once again, taking a deep, deep breath before opening her mouth.
“Phoebe... it’s been years since your dad and I parted ways,” she told me, almost mechanically as if she has long rehearsed that line. “I took good care of you, didn’t I, sweetie?”
“Yes, you did, Mom,” I answered. Her words were tender, but I felt that something else was lurking behind her affectionate question. “You’ve been a great! And I appreciate everything - everything - that you’ve ever done for me.”
She smiled at me, thankful for my response.
It’s true. She went through a lot just to ensure my good health and proper development. There was a time, when I was seven, that she’d leave me with Aunt Tessie, her best friend, from early morning until about midnight because she had to work three shifts just to make ends meet. She’d go home exhausted, yet, she always found time to read me a bedtime story or to sing me a song until I fell asleep... and even as a child, I didn’t fall asleep easily, which made things doubly hard for her weary body. When I made it to UCLA, we left our small home at Chalfant just to move over to an even smaller home at nearby Van Nuys, a few minutes away from campus. She had a difficult time obtaining a bank loan for that purpose. I told her that moving to a new house wasn’t necessary, that I could just get a dorm room, that renting a place for myself would be a more affordable option. She dismissed my suggestio. This is for your future, she said, the closer we are from your school, the more time you can spend studying and resting.
“You’re nineteen now...” she continued.
“Twenty, Mom!” I corrected her.
“Oh, yes, sorry... twenty. Please forgive me. I never really wanted you to grow up so fast. I always wanted you to be my baby forever.”
“I’ll be your baby forever,” I reassured her as I held her hand and placed it on my lap. “But aren’t we digressing, Mom?” I was still anxious about the seriousness she showed earlier.
“Yes, yes... well... you see...” she swallowed some air, as if she was afraid to continue. “Well... you’re twenty now, Phoebe... soon enough, you’ll start a family of your own...”
“Mom!” I interjected. I wasn’t really comfortable about topics like that.
“It’s true. We can’t deny it. All I want to say, really, is that I’m afraid, Phoebe. I’m afraid that once you move out to have a life of your own, I’d be lonely. For all these years, I’ve always had you to go home to. And when you move out, when you’ll have your own family... well... I’ll just be by myself.”
“You can always live with us,” I told her, refraining from arguing with her hypothetical assumptions. She was being highly emotional, and I had to provide her comfort.
Comfort which, as I would eventually find out, wasn’t really needed.
“Okay, okay... I’ll get straight to the point. Phoebe... I’m dating someone.”
What the hell?
I belatedly realized that I bombarded her with questions that were too many to remember, more so to answer with a single response. To my surprise, she enthusiastically tackled each and every question I asked.
“We’ve been dating for close to six months now. I met him at a charity event that I organized, his company was one of the major sponsors. He’s fifty-eight. As for who he is... well... I’d keep that a surprise because you’ll be introduced to him very, very soon. He’s been bugging me to meet you.”
Wow! That was an overload of shocking information which was almost too much to process. They left me with a weird sense of bafflement. It’s not that I felt betrayed by my own mother’s surreptitious affair. I was genuinely happy for her. She deserved the best kind of happiness in her life, for everything that she has sacrificed, for all the heartaches and pains she had to endure.
It’s just that... well... I think I’ve become protective of my mom, as well, and the uncertainties surrounding that new chapter in her life made me a little worried.
“Fifty-eight, huh?” I said as I fixed my glasses because they almost fell off with all the head-shaking I did in response to her revelations. “Oh my God!” I yelled, as a frightening realization dawned on me. “Are you sure he’s not married?”
My mom shrugged off my concern with a grin.
“He was,” she answered. “But he’s been single for many, many years now.”
“And he has his own company?” I continued to press. “He must be filthy rich, Mom...”
“He’s well-off,” she confirmed. “But it’s all because of decades of hard work and clever planning. His wealth isn’t filthy at all.”
I paused to contemplate on everything that my mom shared. The joy on her face was undeniable. That was the happiest I’ve ever seen her since, well, since like forever. I was just a child when she and my dad separated, but I could still remember the years before that... and she never looked this happy. There was something about this man, who she refused to name for the time being, that jumpstarted her heart and reminded her about the gaiety that has long been missing in her life.
“I’m really, really, really happy for you, Mom,” I told her as I squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back, just as tightly as I did.
“There are two more things I want to tell you, Phoebe...”
Oh no. There’s more? Would they be as earth-shattering as the one she just divulged?
She took my enlarged eyes, brimming with shock, as a sign that she could continue with her night of disclosures.
“We’re... we’re getting married.”
“What?! When?”
“Next week.”
“That soon?”
“Yes.”
Oh my God! OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!
What’s happening? It’s like I was just away for school for one day, and when I got back home, the entire world has changed.
“I-I’m sorry, Mom.... all of these... they’re just too much to digest...”
“I understand, sweetie. It’s okay. I know you have some fears about how things might be different from hereon in. But I assure you, nothing has to change. We’re gonna welcome a new man into our family, and that should be a good thing, right? He’s a nice man. A nice, wonderful man.”
I just nodded. Indeed, I had my reservations, but she was happy... and I shouldn’t take that away from her. I love her so much that I wanted nothing but the best for her.
“What’s the other thing?” I asked her.
“Other thing?”
“Yes, Mom. You said that there were two other things you wanted to share. One was your upcoming, out-of-nowhere wedding. What’s the other one?”
“Oh... yes... thank you for reminding me. Well...”
“Well?”
“Uhm...”
“Just say it, Mom.”
“Okay. Phoebe? I’m pregnant.”
And as if her announcements that night weren’t staggering enough, she dropped another bombshell.
“What? Oh my God! Aren’t you like... menopausal already?”
“Oh no, no, no, sweetie,” she immediately replied. “I’m just forty-four.”
“Okay... but aren’t you too old to have a baby?” I was talking really fast, a sad trait I always had whenever I was taken out of my comfort zone.
“Getting pregnant at my age is an unlikely occurrence... but it’s not completely impossible. And I guess, this...” she delightfully rubbed her tummy, “this is a miracle.”
“H-How long have you been pregnant, Mom?”
“Almost three months now.”
No wonder they scheduled the wedding that soon.
I slumped on the couch, too weak to do anything else. I thought about the things she had said. So, she met a guy and they’re getting married. And he knocked her up. That’s not too bad. A wedding was set and we’ll all be part of a bigger family soon. A baby should be a welcome addition.
“Is he a boy or a girl?” I asked her, a smile started to form on my face.
“It’s too soon to tell,” she answered.
“Well... I hope it’s a boy,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to have a brother.”
Chapter 13
HAYDEN
“The reservation’s all set, Sir. Thank you for your continued patronage. Domo arigato.”
I put my phone down and focused on the road. I had a smooth time securing a reservation at Urasawa Restaurant, Beverly Hills’ most popular high end Japanese dining establishment. I had my family name to thank for that.
Summersmith.
There were times when I was growing up that I wondered why that name... my surname... commanded so much respect and awe, and even fear, from people. To me, back then, it was just a name... a tag by which I was identified. Then I got older, and I began to witness my father in his element. And I started to know... beyond doubt... why our name was held in such high regard.
There have been many words used to describe my father... perfectionist, workaholic, professional, driven, passionate... merciless. Though the people who work, and have worked, for him never questioned his resolve to take our company to the very top of the industry, they were less than pleased with how he ran the business. Many times, he has been labeled as a slave driver... an unsympathetic tyrant who ruled over them with an iron fist, just in his judgement but harsh with his punishments.
They think they had it bad.
My experience with him was so much worse.
It made me ponder, though... what words would people use to describe me? Arrogant? Conceited? Haughty? Cocky? Those are the obvious answers, and I actually revel at the fact that I demanded such adjectives. But what else? What other words can be said to define who I was?
Handsome? Eligible? A good prospect? Those are shallow words that only a shallow girl would say. They’re too inconsequential... too sophomoric.
Silent? Intense? Mendacious? I snickered at those descriptions.
Complicated? That has a nice ring to it.
Bewildering? Too common a term, but a little bit appropriate.
Mysterious? What the fuck am I? A vampire?
Broken?
That last thought made me shiver, a feeling I wasn’t used to, a feeling I always dreaded since the day she said that word. I hated her ever since, and I never visited her again, much to my father’s dismay. She had no right to say that... no right at all! I wan’t broken. I knew the truth. I knew what really happened. She cannot dismiss what I knew by merely designating me as a broken person. It was a very unprofessional thing to say.
My hands were trembling, making it difficult to hold the stirring wheel. I had to park my vehicle by the roadside along Sunset Boulevard. It was a tow-away zone but I didn’t care. I was in no condition to drive. If I forced myself to operate the Hummer, an accident may happen. I might injure someone. I might kill someone. I was selfish and contemptible and foul, yes. But I wasn’t comp
letely heartless. I wasn’t a murderer.
Unlike him.
I closed my eyes and rested my back against the driver’s seat. Happy thoughts, I reminded myself, I must think of happy thoughts.
Of my mother and how much she loved me.
Of my friends, no matter how few they were, and the ridiculous things we did for enjoyment.
Of the girls I have been with; fleeting as those periods may have been, they still provided some amusement and gratification.