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She inhales deeply, looking like she might cry. She really is a mystery to me. Time to give her what I really came here for.
“I also have one more gift.” I hand her the gold box, and Francesca takes it slowly. “But don’t open it until you’re alone.”
She freezes. “Why?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” I straighten up and head for the door. “I better go before your sister sees me and whacks me with a broomstick.”
Francesca smiles, but I still haven’t gotten a full-on laugh from her yet. There’s still time. I whistle as I leave her to her present. I’m sure it’ll surprise her, hopefully in the best way possible.
As I drive home, another memory of my parents invades my mind. I have to slam on the breaks and pull over to prevent running into the person in front of me. Why the hell am I thinking about my parents lately? First, I was thinking about how cute Francesca looked in her dress this afternoon, and now, I’m thinking about the day my dad slammed his fist into my mom’s face.
I was a kid when it happened. Kindergarten, I think. I just remember I was sitting at the kitchen table with my mom.
She set a plate filled with crackers before me, telling me to eat my snack. “Dinner won’t be ready for a few more hours, honey.” She ran her hand over the back of my head, smiling down at me with her calm eyes that everyone told me where just like mine. With her blonde hair, she glowed in the sunlight that entered the room. Like a halo around her, she was my personal angel.
“Thank you,” I told her, stuffing a handful of crackers into my mouth.
“You’re my sweet boy, Leo.” She leaned down to kiss my head when the front door banged open. We both jerked up as my dad stormed into the room, reeking of alcohol.
Mom pushed me behind me as she carefully approached my dad. “Tom, where have you been? You’ve been gone for the past day.”
“Stop nagging me, Kate,” he growled as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, gulping it down in one go. Mom glanced at me, worry in her eyes. I slunk down into my seat. For some reason, I didn’t want my dad to see me.
“Tom, you’re drunk. Why don’t you go lie down?”
“Why don’t you go lie down?” he mocked in a higher pitched voice. “Why don’t you stop telling me what I should do, huh? Or is that impossible for you? Bitch,” he muttered.
“Ok.” She turned to me and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go into your room, Leo. Time to work on homework.”
“Oh, don’t protect the boy,” he shouted as we hurried down the hall. I could hear my father’s footsteps pounding after us. “He should know what kind of woman his mother is.”
Mom nudged me into my room, but before she could shut the door behind us, my dad barged in and …
… smacked her across the face. The force from it was so hard, she fell over.
“Mom!” I cried, rushing over to her, but Dad stopped me. He picked me up and made me look at him.
“You’re my son,” he growled. “You’re my blood, boy. Remember that. Your mother is trouble. All women are.”
She groaned as she sat up, clutching at her face. “Give me him, Tom.”
“No.” He carried me out of my room, leaving my mom alone. Even though we didn’t leave the house, I felt like every step my father took, took me farther away from mom.
“How is Mom trouble?” I finally managed to ask after Dad settled on the couch with another beer and blasted the TV at full volume. I sat on the floor, staring at the cover of one of my picture books. I was learning how to write in school, and the books really helped. Mom would read them to me every night. I hoped she would still.
He grunted. “Just always nagging. She can be worthless at times. When you’re older, Leo, consider who you make your wife. You don’t want to be stuck with someone who tries to boss you around every day. Trust me.” He took another swig of his beer before falling silent, his eyes watching the TV intently.
I got up and found my mom in my room, curled onto my bed, crying. I didn’t know what to do.
So, I went back into the living room with my father.
* * *
I shake my head,trying to dispel these memories. Why now? After all this time?
I have no fucking clue. But I’m not about to psycho-analyze myself. I have more important things to think about.
Like seducing Francesca.
