Her face relaxes somewhat, “So you did not ask Callum to help you financially?”
“Let me reiterate one more time. No, I have not and will not ask for his financial help. I am not in love with him for his money, Mrs. Hughes.”
Instantly she sits back in the chair, crossing her legs effortlessly as she stares at me with her cool, liquid eyes, “You love my son?”
“Yes,” I utter softly, wishing that my heart didn’t.
“Why?”
“Excuse me?” The furrow between my eyes deepens as I am taken back by her question. Adjusting in my seat I lean forward, making myself clear, “He is your son. I would hope that you know all the reasons why someone would love him…”
“Breanna, don’t bloody patronize me. I know all of Callum’s great qualities…”
“Do you? Because I distinctly recall you asking if he was the father of my child like he is some heartless bloke just spreading his seed everywhere. He could have run from Noah and me, but he didn’t,” the heat within my core pulsates out, quickening my breathing as I choke out each word.
“Why is he so drawn to you and your son, anyway?” she did not ask facetiously, putting down my appearance, but sincerely wanting to know. “He is bloody irresponsible. He cannot fanny around anymore like a rebellious child. It is time for him to grow up.” Mrs. Hughes’ features remain in complete control, guarding her every action as if the mere idea of losing her temper is something a lady cannot afford to do. The only indication she is getting upset is the occasional drop of a British swear word and slang.
“I am not completely sure why he is drawn to us. When I went into labor in our class he rescued me, staying with me the entire time. I knew no one here and he was willing to be there for me. He is not being irresponsible or messing around.” My mind slowly gets lost remembering that day, as my voice twirls with sincere love and respect, “Perhaps we formed a bond that day, or perhaps it’s because he and Noah come from a very similar situation.”
A sharp, disbelieving exhale pushes out of her nose, “How is your fatherless son anything like Callum?”
My eyes narrow in response to her sudden demeaning statement. A bubbling force pushes through me, causing the bile in my stomach to increase. “He is not a fatherless child. He had a wonderful and loving father, my late husband, whom my son will never know,” my voice is thick with an acidic edge as I spit the words out.
Stillness pushes through the room as if someone has hit a pause button, freezing everything and everyone. The thick air envelops the both of us as her eyes widen with a horrific parallel memory. Silence looms between us, when suddenly Mrs. Hughes walks tenderly over to Noah’s crib. Her shoulders relax as she gazes down at Noah. A heavy air of reminiscence washes over her normally rigid appearance, revealing a softer side. Her eyes transform, divulging a painful memory.
She reaches into the crib, tenderly stroking Noah’s head, “Callum hates me for the things that I have done. Though a mother will do anything for her child.”
Regret mingled with an aching need for understanding ripples on the soft surface of her skin. A shimmering tear glistens in the corner of her firm eyes. Compassionately I add, “Callum doesn’t hate you.”
A tremor of irritation crawls across the floor vibrating up her legs and through her spine, causing her body to stiffen back up. Turning towards me again she utters in a controlled tone, “Breanna, you may think you know about Callum and my situation, but you don’t. If I want your words of encouragement then I will ask for it, but as of now you need to mind your own bloody business.”
An offensive jolt rips through me, “Mrs. Hughes, I was just trying to help because I know where you are coming from."
Her eyes instantly narrow, causing her liquid caramel eyes to solidify, “You know nothing about where I am coming from.”
Placing myself on the same defensive level I stand up, meeting her gaze head on, “Callum told me about how his father passed away before he was born. I also heard you and Callum talk about it the other night.” An instant regret of what I had just divulged consumes me. I had accidentally revealed my apparent eavesdropping.
Taking a few steps towards me she looks up into my face firmly. Though Mrs. Hughes is several inches shorter than me, her self-assurance and tough personality make her appear like she is overpowering me, causing a sudden surge of anxiety to roll up my spine. A gleam of vexation explodes within her eyes, revealing a frightening side to her. The furrow between her eyes narrows, causing her face to match the anger within her eyes, “You were bloody listening in on a private conversation!” The air within the room drops several degrees, causing a shiver to roll up my spine.
“I am sorry. I just needed to know the truth. Callum had already lied to me and I thought this was the best way to discover the truth,” a soft strain takes over my voice, causing my breathing to increase.
Though I knew my actions were wrong that night I held firm to my decision, pleading my case. The cold that had been radiating off of her, transforming my flat into an icebox, slowly dissipates. She forcefully shuts her eyes, blocking out any visual communications. A heavy sigh rips through her, causing her chest to heave. Her soft, full lips form a gentle pucker while her breath escapes out her mouth. Composure flows down her body, allowing all of her muscles to slowly deflate.
Gradually she opens her eyes, revealing a soft liquid caramel appearance. My heart leaps slightly as I gaze into Callum’s mirror image. Her expression now imitates Callum’s perfectly. Her once cold demeanor has shattered, revealing a sympathetic core. A capricious tone comes over her, “Did you discover the truth?”
A heavy weight pushes down on me, deflating my puffed up appearance, dropping my shoulders in defeat, “Yes.”
“And may I ask what the truth is?” Her voice is now soft, exposing a deep understanding.
Closing my eyes, I try and fight back the tears now knocking on the doors to my eyes. The once cold environment now has transformed, sending warm currents to push through me. The tension that had been surrounding us evaporates, leaving a sincere empathetic comprehension. Slowly I open my eyes, still fighting the tears attempting to invade my eyes, “The truth is I can never be with Callum. He is bound by obligations.”
Another forceful sigh rushes through her, dropping her protective shield even further. Her soft face now exposes a crippling pain. She walks back over to Noah, compassionately checking on him. Her gaze stays locked onto him as her mind gets lost in thought, “Before I met Callum’s father there was someone that I loved, but it would have been a public disgrace if I would have divulged my feelings for him. I had to let him go. It destroyed me. For years I wondered what would have happened if I had chosen him instead of my social responsibility.” Turning back towards me, her eyes are full of emotion, yet expose a stern recognition, “If I would have acted on my impulse I would have been a fair worker’s wife.”
Shock explodes over my face, setting me back slightly, “You told Callum that Harry was just a childish crush.”
A corner of her mouth pulls up, giving a disdainful smile, bringing recollections to her mind of my apparent eavesdropping, “Do you think I was about to give him fuel to throw on his fire…not bloody likely. Besides, the truth is, if I would have not walked away from Harry then I would have never met Callum’s father. Though my family still disapproved of our union, Neil, Callum’s father, came from an aristocratic history. So you see, Breanna, it may be a hard thing for you to comprehend, but leaving him is the best possible scenario.”
My tears now are betraying me, falling freely down my cheeks. Understanding rips through me. Though Callum’s mother has been harsh towards me, I suddenly realize her true motivation. She is just trying to protect her son from public ridicule, which will inevitably come if he were to stay with me. I have been looking at his situation through naive rose-colored glasses, refusing to see how things work here in the upper class of England.
“Mrs. Hughes, I have already told Callum we can no longer b
e together. I understand that I am not only from America, but I come from a very different world. The only heritage I have to offer is an alcoholic mother and a non-existent father. I have no idea what I was thinking, falling for Callum. I will never escape my destiny. The sooner I grasp it the better.”
“Breanna, you are an American, where anybody can become what they want to be… in America,” she states flatly, with a subtle persuasive hint, which is as subtle as a bomb going off.
“What are you saying? Are you asking me to leave and go back to America?”
Her voice lowers in respect, “Yes. As long as you are here Callum will never let you go.”
My heart drops deep into the pit of my stomach. Everything I have been trying to run from suddenly catches up to me. I have no idea how I can go back and face everything. My life in America is empty. I have nothing to go back to, no house, no apartment, no belongings, no family, I have nothing. Everything I owned I have gotten rid of. I hired a realtor to sell Andrew’s parents’ house, and when I left to come to England I donated all mine and Andrew’s belongings to the next tenant. I can’t humiliate myself even further by knocking on my mother’s trailer door. I will not put my son or myself through that kind of life again. I left that world. It will kill me if I am forced to go back to it.
The air within the room thickens, making it hard for me to breath. Anxiety pulsates throughout my chest as I try and grasp the reality of my life. The faster I run the harder my past pulls on me, like a mouse attempting to free an elephant from quicksand. Looking up into Charlotte Hughes’ eyes I notice a glimpse of remorse streaming through them. My breathing intensifies as a chill runs up my neck, causing the hair on my neck to stand erect. Slowly I go to give her a response, when suddenly there is a loud knock at my door. My body jumps at the sudden sound, breaking the silence. Quivering jolts vibrate throughout my body, causing me to tremble slightly.
Hastily I walk over to the door, trying to avoid answering her question. Swinging the door open I am suddenly taken aback, “Breanna, we need to talk. You cannot bloody run away and then avoid me. I am going off my trolley right now.”
“Callum, is that you?” Charlotte Hughes echoes from behind me.
“Mum?” he replies in complete shock.
An instant wave of irritation slams against me. Of course Callum would have to show up when his mother is here. Let’s just make the prospects of my life a Hughes family decision. Looking up at Callum’s face I notice his eyes narrow, causing the liquid caramel color to solidify like his mother’s. A firm expression now consumes his face, holding his once soft countenance hostage. He gazes down at me, translating his apologies with his eyes.
Firmly pushing the door open he stomps aggressively into my flat. “Mother, what in bloody hell are you doing here in Breanna’s flat?” his voice is firm with a thick layer of acid spewing off of each word.
Charlotte’s eyes harden, mirroring Callum’s, “Callum, do not talk to me like that.” Her voice is firm as she spits out her demands like an angry parent correcting a willful child.
“I will bloody speak to you as I damn well please, Mother. You have no right coming here, putting your bloody demands and qualifications on Breanna!”
Suddenly Noah begins to whimper slightly as Callum and his mother continue arguing. I feel like an intruder in my own home as a sea of angry comments, laced with a now heavy British accent, rolls out of them. A continual rapid fire of incoherent slang, swear words, and rebuking flows out of their mouths. I can now see where Olivia gets her tempestuous nature from. Callum’s mother had been able to control her emotions with me, but now both Callum and his mother have given in to the gutterick speech, causing their accents to thicken into a garbled mess.
Tenderly I pick up Noah, cuddling him close to my bosom. His soft, yet wiry features melt into me as a significant amount of arguing continues behind us. Holding Noah against me I attempt to soothe him when suddenly a clear statement vibrates out of Callum, “I know she is American trailer rubbish, but I don’t bloody care, I still love her.”
Though Callum knows where I come from, he has never made me feel like trash…until now. I have never heard him refer to me in a derogatory way, even if he is just repeating what his mother had stated. His words pierce my heart with a sting that can never be repaired. Words don’t leave your body black and blue, but they bruise the soul and taint the mind. His words definitely bruised my soul. My mind spins rapidly as the atmosphere within my flat intensifies. The heated anger expelling from them matches my own heated rage, causing the tension to affect Noah’s mood. He is fussing and fidgeting with aggressive jerks, as if his body is mimicking the contentious atmosphere.
Walking over to the dresser, I grab a diaper and persist in freshening him up. Neither Callum nor his mother is aware of me or Noah. They are still consumed in their heated debate. My flat has transformed into the one thing I always resented, my mother’s home. Growing up our home was filled with yelling and contention. It was never a place to escape to – it was what I always tried to escape from. A resolute awkwardness presses down on me as I listen to them fighting about me and my disreputable history. This environment is becoming poison for both Noah and I. Instead of throwing them both out, I decide to flee. Remembering to grab Noah’s diaper bag this time, I rush out my door.
Heading out of the building’s main exit, I am hit by the cool, twilight air enveloping me as it begins extinguishing the raging fire that burns within me. A heavy mist delicately falls, tainting the surroundings with a coruscating sparkle as it sticks to everything like glitter being poured over the entire city. The roads are quiet, as usual. Most people walk or ride bikes from place to place, despite the weather. This night is no different. The roads are dotted with groups of people intermingling with each other, a perfect backdrop for me to get lost in. Wrapping a blanket tightly around Noah, I abscond through the crowds of people, hoping to intertwine with the throngs of individuals.
The twilight sky mingles with the delicate mist, covering everything, setting the city ablaze. The black shadows of buildings and trees invade my vision with their colorless images against a lit backdrop. The fading skylight washes away everyone’s details of their faces, leaving only their silhouettes. The darkening street suddenly is brought to life by the illuminating power of street lamps and interior lights radiating out from all the windows. The lights heighten the crystal appearance caused by all the millions of droplets over everything. The brilliant lights delicately dance on the surface of the River Cam with a glistening kaleidoscope of bright yellow lights.
Peace begins to envelop me, shedding the tension and heartache of tonight from me. Standing on the edge of the River Cam, I watch as the light bounces off of my mirror reflection. The girl within the water echoes the call uttered by Callum’s mom – leave. Staring down into the reflection I catch sight of someone approaching me. Abruptly I spin on my heels, facing the invader of my respite.
“Callum, what are you doing here?” I utter in breathless surprise.
Callum apprehensively approaches me. Though the twilight sky has dissipated into darkness, the glowing lights from all the buildings bounce off of his face, revealing his incredulous expression. Sweat glistens around the top of his forehead like he has been ardently running, trying to find me. Grabbing hold of my shoulders he utters, “Please tell me that my mum is wrong,” though his voice is firm, it is laced with an almost pleading demand.
His hands grip tightly onto me, holding me firmly in front of him. His fingers dig into the soft hollow spaces on the tops of my shoulders, causing my arms to tingle in pain. The lights shimmer off of his heavily shadowed face, exposing his tortuous expression. The torrid nature of the argument he and his mother had been in shines vibrantly off of him, like red hot coals left smoldering.
“Callum, let go of me. You are hurting me,” I state firmly, as I gaze at several bystanders looking in our direction.
“Tell me Breanna, are you leaving?” He continues holding onto
me but loosens his grip slightly, allowing the pain in my arm to dissipate.
“Why do you care anyway? I am just American trailer rubbish, remember?” I utter vehemently.
A disconsolate exhale rushes through his full lips, causing his body to deflate. Relinquishing his grip on me, his eyes lose their luster as he looks down upon me apologetically, “Breanna, I didn’t mean…”
“Stop,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear a frivolous apology, “What I do is no longer your concern.” A heavy sigh rolls off of me, “I come from trash. I have always known it, and now I know you believe it, too.”
Turning my back on him I begin hastily walking away when suddenly I hear him softly utter my name. It rolls along the surface of the mist, slamming against my back, piercing into my core, revealing his internal pain. Ignoring his pleading call I continue to walk away from him, leaving all my hopes and dreams behind. My decision is made. I am leaving as soon as my classes are done.
Apologies
A monotonous routine has ensued this week. I attempt to avoid Callum in every situation. It has been very difficult to achieve that goal when he is in my class. He has tried to talk to me on several occasions, but has been stopped by either our professor or Emily. She has managed to weasel her way into every aspect of his life, though he tries to avoid her persistent advances. I have locked myself back into the iron-clad vault I had built around myself after Andrew’s death, allowing me to focus solely on the things that can’t hurt me, like Noah, school work, and packing. Gratefully I have been able to retain the services of Miss McNally at a greatly discounted price. She has agreed to sit with Noah during my class time only, thus allowing me to finish the last two weeks of schooling for this Easter term.
Never Forever Page 19