Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  Hopping into my car, I pulled out of the parking garage attached to our building and called the house. If I was going to be late, I wanted to be sure I warned them instead of incurring Gina’s wrath. I did not want to endure cold cereal again.

  “Hello?” my mother answered.

  I was about to say something when I turned the corner and saw a man. Words were stuck in my throat. He was familiar, but I didn’t know him. Our eyes met and locked together, causing me to stop in the middle of the intersection until the sounds of horns blaring jolted me out of my stupor. My heart was beating frantically, and I shook my head.

  Briefly, I peered into my rearview mirror and then through the windshield again to make sure my path was clear before I pressed on the gas. I didn’t allow my eyes to drift to my right again until I was moving, but the man was gone. I quickly searched, scanning my surrounds, but did not find him and released a pent-up breath. Maybe I had imagined him. Then again, anyone could get lost in the crowd that had swarmed the area.

  Him. Ha! There was no him. He was nothing more than someone my imagination conjured to tempt me, or if someone had indeed been there, he was merely someone passing by. I’d never see him again…if there was a him. He was nobody to me and would continue to be nobody and nothing.

  “Maximillian, if you don’t say something right now, I’m calling the police!” my mother shouted.

  Shit! I’d forgotten I’d called the house to inform them I’d be late. “Hi, Mom. Sorry, I was having trouble connecting and hearing you. I think the buildings were blocking the signal.” It seemed plausible, right? “I’m here. I wanted to let you know I had to finish some things up at work before I could leave. I’m on my way now, but I might be a little late.”

  “And you want me to tell Gina not to give you a bowl of cereal?” she snickered. That woman knew me well.

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t even know that we have any in the house, so it might be oatmeal.”

  “Mom,” I begged in a whiney tone.

  Her laughter echoed through my car’s speakers. “I’ll cover for you.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

  “On one condition,” she hedged, and I clenched my jaw. My father was ruthless in business when he needed to be, but my mom could be just as shrewd.

  Hitting the onramp, I rolled my eyes and accelerated. “What?”

  “Now, I realize how busy you are going to be this week, but next week, I want you to take Mrs. Jeffries’ nephew out to show him the sights.”

  “Mom,” I groaned. “I thought you said after the fireworks debacle, you wouldn’t try to set me up with anyone again.”

  “I’m not. I actually don’t even know if he is gay, but he is new in town, and you two are close to the same age. Put yourself in his shoes. Would you rather have your aunt take you around town, or would you rather it be someone you could actually relate to?”

  She had a point. “Fine, Mom. I’ll find some time in my schedule.”

  “I’ve already talked to Eve, and she informed me you have nothing urgent on your schedule the week following the party. In other words, you are in the clear. She always makes sure you have a clear schedule the Monday and Tuesday following just in case you are exhausted and need to take a day or two off—not that you ever do.”

  I should have known better. Of course, my mother already talked to my secretary and cleared my schedule. “Mother—”

  “Did I mention we are having roasted chicken, garlic cauliflower, cheesy broccoli, stuffing, and for dessert, she made her apple pie?” Bribery would get her everywhere.

  “I’ll meet with him the Monday after the party since I’ll probably sleep all day on Sunday. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Let me go talk to Gina. I’ll see you in a little bit.” I could hear the smile in her voice. Maybe she was more ruthless than my father.

  Pulling up into the driveway fifteen minutes past six, I got out of the car and instantly felt someone watching me. I scrutinized the area, and no one could be seen. Nothing moved or made a sound. I didn’t even hear the chirping of the crickets on this chilly night. Not that I could worry about that right now since I was a little late. My speeding when I wasn’t surrounded by other cars hadn’t helped me arrived on time.

  I ran into the house, threw my jacket on the floor near the door, not bothering to pick it up and hang it since that would take extra time I didn’t have, and rushed into the dining room where I found…no one. What the hell? I smelled the food wafting in from the kitchen, noticed the table set for four people, and yet, the room sat devoid of life.

  “Dear, you know better than to throw your stuff around haphazardly,” Mom chastised behind me.

  I took the three steps to the door from the dining room and spotted her picking up my discarded coat and hanging it on the hook on the wall. The house I grew up in was large and opulent with a lake in the backyard. To the left, a spacious living room with a giant fireplace, and to the right, a very formal dining room with an immense chandelier, which had been flown in all the way from Germany. A grand mahogany staircase greeted anyone who entered the home. Up those stairs, six bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms could be found. Gina had her own set of living quarters off the kitchen where a full apartment had been built and designed for her. Despite all of its grandeur and richness, it was still warm and homey, and I had loved growing up here. I’d shifted for the first time in the living room and attempted to fly, almost falling before my mother caught me. When I was a child, still caught up in the newness and amazement, before I learned of consequences, I thought transforming into a swan was magical. I could fly and be free, I thought it was a gift instead of a curse. I’d been wrong.

  Immediately after graduating from high school, I moved east to attend college. Part of me never intended to return to Chicago, but I had to. My father beckoned and claimed he needed my help as soon as I had my MBA. I’d escaped for only seven years, and during the time I was gone, I felt more trapped and afraid of someone learning my secret than when I lived in my parent’s home.

  Instead of returning to this house, I got a penthouse apartment in the city where I could live without anyone nagging me, and I didn’t have to look at my parents or the way they flaunted their relationship. My sanctuary was where I could be by myself and didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me transform whenever my swan fought to escape. My grand tower, alone and wishing for a prince to come and kiss me to break the spell cast over me. It worked for Sleeping Beauty and Snow White. Hell, even Cinderella and Rapunzel had been rescued from their towers. Of course, for all that to happen, I had to actually believe in love.

  “What happened to dinner?” I asked, ignoring her greeting, or lack thereof, and pushed aside my depressing thoughts.

  “We are eating at seven now. Didn’t I call to tell you?” Her words sounded innocent, and she did appear sweet and virtually angelic, but the twinkle in her eye gave her away.

  “No, you didn’t.” I pursed my lips together and almost laughed, but I refused to give her the satisfaction.

  “Honestly, Max, I had every intention of calling you.”

  “So, Gina just postponed dinner?” I found that hard to believe.

  “I didn’t postpone anything. Your mother said she visited you earlier today, and you were busy, so she said we should have dinner at seven instead of six,” Gina ratted out my mother from the dining room.

  Unable to hold back, I laughed. I’d rushed here like the hounds of hell were nipping at my feet only to discover I shouldn’t have bothered.

  Narrowing her eyes, my mother threw her hands in the air and dramatically cried out, “Give him bread and water.”

  If I had been late, I wouldn’t put it past Gina to do precisely that, but since I arrived punctually—even if I didn’t realize it at the time—she wouldn’t dare, especially since she’d made my favorites tonight.

  “Son, I need to talk to you after dinner,” my father stated from the doorway of the living roo
m.

  I turned to him. “Why?” His face was blank, and I couldn’t get a read on him. He hadn’t said we need to talk to you, he said I, which gave me an idea of what he wanted to discuss.

  “It’s important.” He spun on his heel to return to his seat in the other room. I couldn’t recall a time when he appeared so serious or stoic. Something was wrong.

  Following him, I asked, “What’s going on?” Was he sick? Injured? Was something wrong with Mom? It couldn’t be the company since I ran that and kept a close eye on everything with the help of key people I trusted explicitly.

  “We’ll talk after dinner,” he said casually.

  He dropped a bomb on me and then had the audacity to brush it off? Oh hell no. “Dad—”

  When his blue eyes met mine, they were hard, and demanded I shut up right then and there. “After dinner.” Something really was wrong.

  “Dad—"

  He held up his hand to cut me off. “No.”

  Before I could say anything else, not that I’d said much, my mother floated into the room and asked, “Would anyone care for a cocktail?”

  “No, Mom, I’m fine,” I answered, never taking my gaze off my father.

  Dad grinned at her. “No, Willow dear, I still haven’t finished the first one you made me. I think you’re trying to get me drunk.”

  “I would never! Christoph!” she gasped.

  “You would, and you did on our first date. I passed out drunk on your couch, and your father told me I needed to make an honest woman out of you.”

  “What?” I questioned a little too loudly because they both looked at me with that patented parent expression. The one that made you shy away from them or made you wonder if you had done something wrong…or what you had done wrong.

  “Oh, we didn’t get married for another year, but we were engaged after our first date. Your father is exaggerating. My father did not tell him anything of the sort.” Mom plopped herself down on Dad’s lap. They appeared to be so in love, and they were, I didn’t doubt that. I just doubted that particular emotion existed for me. No prince would be climbing up to my tower any time soon.

  Wrapping her in his arms, Dad insisted, “He most certainly did. You’d gone to make coffee or something, and he told me I needed to either do right by you or he would shoot me and make sure I didn’t father any more children. I tried to tell him there was no way you could be pregnant and that nothing happened, but he didn’t believe me. So, when you came back with a tray, I got down on one knee and proposed. I didn’t have it in me to argue because I had a hangover, and I liked you.” He winked at her, she kissed him, and I checked the time on my watch to see if it was seven yet. Fifteen more minutes.

  As we sat down to eat, all I could think about was what my father wanted to talk to me about. The fact he didn’t choose to include my mother in the conversation bothered me because they did almost everything together. When they gave me the sex talk, they both tried to explain the birds and the bees, and they both failed at it, spectacularly. It was the day I told them I was gay, and they came back the next day and attempted to explain anal sex. They could barely say the word much less describe it. I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard. When they asked me if I’d lost my mind, I informed them they didn’t need to bother since I’d done my own research, but I did thank them for trying.

  The only time I ever remember talking to my father alone about anything important was when I sought him out, and it almost always ended in a fight. Like the time I was eighteen and asked how he could subject me to such an existence. That he had doomed me and my life. He didn’t appreciate that and got in my face. I pushed him, and he pushed back. I threw a punch…needless to say, we got into a knockdown drag out. In the end, we made up, but that didn’t mean everything was smooth sailing. Other than my childhood, there was always some strain after I realized the hardship my other self would cause to my life.

  A gentle nudge—in other words, a hard kick—to my shin had me jumping out of my chair and glaring at Gina, who sat across from me. “What the he…” Hearing my dad clearing his throat and seeing him arch his eyebrow, I stopped what I’d begun to say and corrected myself, “What did you need?”

  “Wasn’t me. Your dad was trying to get your attention,” she snickered.

  With a heavy sigh, my dad tapped the tabletop with his finger. “I asked whether you were done eating.”

  Glancing down at my plate, I noticed I’d finished everything and couldn’t recall eating anything. I tasted nothing. When had that happened? Normally, I savored Gina’s cooking, and she had specifically made my favorites, yet, I didn’t even remember putting a single bite of food in my mouth. “Uh…” My gaze shifted from my plate to my father to Gina to my mother and back down to my place, completing a few laps around the table before I found my words, “Yeah, I am.” For a brief moment, I thought about loading my plate with more food, hoping this time I would actually be able to enjoy it, but I wasn’t hungry. It also meant I could no longer put off the inevitable.

  “Actually,” Mom spoke up, interrupting my father before he could say anything, “You can talk after dessert.”

  “Yes, dear.” Dad hardly ever overrode Mom, and today was no different.

  I almost laughed…almost. She was probably trying to delay the inevitable also or suspected, once the talking began, yelling would follow, and I was liable to storm out of the house. It had happened before, except the previous times, I’d left before the meal, or during the meal, and sometimes never made it to the door. Gina said I acted like a spoiled little prince, but while she knew the secret my family carried, she had no idea the burden weighing on my shoulders. So excuse me if I behaved in an assholish way.

  Gina and my mom got up, and within moments, an apple pie with a crust so golden, it could rival the sun was set on the table amid of the other dishes. Breathing in deeply, I could smell the butter, cinnamon, and fresh apples. My mouth watered, already tasting the yummy treat. I may have missed the way the flavors of dinner wrapped my tongue, bathing it in the explosions of flavor and tenderness, but I refused to allow myself to ignore the crisp, sweet deliciousness sitting less than a foot away.

  Mom pulled it to her and made the first cut. The crack of the crust, the flakes giving way under the knife: pure perfection. Slipping the triangle pie server down the back of the slice, the scrape against ceramic sent tingles up my spine. No matter what else was going on in my life, Gina’s apple pie was Utopia, and that sound signaled the first piece was being served.

  My eyes followed the dessert like a damn dog watching its favorite toy in the hands of their master. Dogs and I never got along, but I’d studied them enough to know how they acted. At one time, I wanted a dog, until I went duck hunting with my mother’s brother, and looked on in horror as the duck had been shot and the dog retrieved the innocent animal. At eight, I had nightmares for a year about the dogs coming to get me. It was a year before my mother let me visit my relatives again with the strict rule I was not allowed to go hunting at all.

  The heavenly treat slid in front of me, causing my mouth to water and my brain to forget anything to do with canines and their atrocious behavior. Stabbing the pie with my fork, I lifted the bite to my mouth, and goosebumps broke out all over my skin as the flavor exploded over my tongue. Sliding my eyes closed, I moaned in delight, savoring the way the crisp sweetness from the apples mixed with the cinnamon and nutmeg. But one of my favorite parts was the crust. Golden and flakey. Nothing beat Gina’s pies, except maybe the dinner she’d cooked for tonight, but I had already missed out on that.

  “Good,” Gina asked snickering.

  Narrowing my eyes, I glared at her. “It’s subpar at best,” I declared, snidely, and stuck out my tongue, fully aware of how childlike and immature my actions were.

  “Uh-huh. That’s why you sound like you are having an orgasm in your seat,” she retorted, her damn smirk never leaving her lips.

  “Well, I have to make you feel better about yourself.” I
tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn’t hold back, and my grin twitched at the corners of my lips. “Okay, it might be the best one you’ve made.”

  “That’s good to hear. I was starting to get worried since you shoveled your dinner into your mouth without stopping to breathe. You didn’t say anything about it, and I know it’s your favorite.”

  I swallowed hard. “It was…great.” My compliment came out hesitant and unsure, giving my lie away. I wasn’t going to take it back or tell her the truth, tell her that I didn’t taste anything before this slice of pie. Instead, I stuffed my mouth with another colossal bite and moaned again.

  All too soon, the pie was gone, the tabled cleared, and Gina kicked me out of the kitchen when I attempted to help her clean instead of meeting with my dad in his study. I shouldn’t fear anything he had to say, and yet, something had me hesitating. It wasn’t that I was afraid we would get into another fight, it was something else.

  “Son, come into my office,” my dad ordered from the foyer, his tone brooking no argument.

  “Shit,” I cursed under my breath. Louder, I said, “Coming.”

  It was time, and I could no longer put it off. Straightening my shoulders, I held my head high as I walked into the foyer and turned right, moving past the staircase to the rear of the house where my father’s study was located. My inner animal wanted to fly away and fought to get out, but I pushed it down. My father was also a swan and no predator. This house was a safe haven, even if I chose not to stay here any longer.