Chapter 57 Chapter 56:
Chapter 57 Chapter 56:
Alisha:
Anna and I are in a restaurant. We are seated at the VIP section, the place is all soft lighting and clinking silverware, since today is Thanksgiving, the menu is filled with thanksgiving specials, roasted duck with cranberry glaze is what Anna demanded for. Doesn’t hurt her at all because well, I am the one paying.
Sometimes, I think she’s an ungrateful brat. Fuck that, she’s ungrateful all the time.
Anna is busy on her phone, her face concentrated in a way that looks scary when you view it from another angle. As I watch her, I have this dread in the pit of my stomach that Anna is dangerous. I fear that she’s even more dangerous than me.
I can’t begin to imagine the dangerous things she could do just to get what she wants, just because she doesn’t like Arya, she’s willing to destroy her. That sounds so fucking messed up, even from me.
“How are you spending Thanksgiving tonight?” I inquire, but suddenly I feel like I am crossing my boundary. Even though Anna and I have been talking and planning things out for some weeks now, we still aren’t close.
“I don’t know,” she finally drops her phone and stares at me dead in the eye. “I was thinking of having turkey with Theo?” She tilts her head a bit and smiles. Even her smile is creepy, “how about you? I bet you plan to spend it with your awesome perfect family.” There’s an edge to her voice that makes the hairs on my back stand out.
I try acting oblivious to her words, “Not actually perfect.” I choke out a dry laughter and she mutters something. “But I am spending it with my parents and Jasper, he always makes the traditional turkey. It’s like a family recipe from his side.”
I hear something like, ‘so, you’re having your husband be the live-in cook, interesting.’ But I choose to ignore it.
Our order hasn’t arrived yet and I don’t think I can stand being in the same place with her. The restaurant is almost empty, with everyone in their houses, getting ready for Thanksgiving.
“How has it been so far regarding Arya?” I ask, placing my hands on the table. “Have you been able to dig any dirt that will destroy her?”
“I told you I am working on it. Don’t rush the process,” she seems almost annoyed that I asked.
“Yeah, I get it. I really do, I trust you.” I say shakily, staring around nervously. Since when did this low-life made me scared of her? The waiter arrives with the golden platter and I almost bless him.
“To start,” he says with a bit of a French accent, “the roasted duck glazed in cranberry, accompanied with wild mushroom risotto. And of course-” he sets down a small, gleaming ramekin. “Our signature pumpkin brulee for dessert.”
The aroma hits me just in the right place.
“Bon appétit.” He says with a slight bow, before slipping away like a shadow.
Anna doesn’t hesitate, she slices the fork into the duck. “You should eat. It’s rude to look terrified and hungry at the same time.”
Was that an attempt for a joke? Her eyes don’t look like they are smiling, so I frown and pick at my phone. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Was that a joke in the first place?” She slurs, closing her eyes to savour the food. Well fuck her.
My phone pings with a text message and I hurriedly look at it, Jasper’s name showcasing on the screen. I swipe at it to read her text message.
Jasper: Where are you? Are you close to my office?
I almost choke out the duck I am eating. Jasper wants to go out, shopping for ingredients for thanksgiving since it’s in a few hours and I already promised him that we would go shopping together.
“Shit, it’s my husband,” I say to Anna and only then does she glance over to me, her light aqua blue eyes swaying over to me. “It’s Thanksgiving, so we’re going shopping together for ingredients.”
“Okay,” she doesn’t seem amused. “Well, okay have fun.”
“Hmmm.” I hum, standing up and retrieving my bag. Anna turns to look back and I see a mole behind her left ear, which for some unknown reasons, looks a lot like mine.
What the fuck? She looks back at me with a questioning gaze and I laugh nervously, should I say something about it? Well, that’s so weird.
“Are you okay?” Her voice sounds sharp and I gulp.
Do I look okay? Surprisingly, we both have the same shape of a mole in the same position on our body, so is that a coincidence? Because I don’t know what it is.
“You look like you just saw a ghost or something,” I can tell she wants to roll her eyes so I hurriedly say my goodbyes and rush out of the restaurant, speedily dashing to my car. The moment I shut the door; I pull out my phone and call Jasper. He picks up after the first ring.
“Hello, honey.” His deep voice resounds in the speaker, “What’s up?” His voice. Goodness, that voice sounds like heaven wrapped in a ribbon or something, that type of voice that will make you want to lean in. Women don’t even need to see his face, just one word from him, and they’d be his.
Unfortunately, I can’t bring myself to fall in love with him even after many years because my heart belongs to someone else.
“Hey, baby.” I ignite the key, “You are at the office, right? Be expecting me in like twenty minutes from now.”
“Really?” There’s an overall brightness in his voice. “Alright sure.”
“Yeah,” I murmur quietly.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, always seeming to know what is wrong.
“Nothing,” I sigh, keeping my gaze ahead. “I am just excited about Thanksgiving, that’s all.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t sound the least bit convinced and I know that he is going to ask me about it in the office but he’s willing to let it go for now. “I love you.”
It takes a long time before I bring myself to say it back before I end the call.
\--
Barbara:
I have been fuming since morning, it’s Thanksgiving and I haven’t been feeling the grateful vibes, besides what I am thankful for? No husband, I am trying to get rid of the only kid I have. So what’s there to be thankful for?
Anna’s conversation keeps on replaying in my mind. She wants to know her father, I don’t trust that kid, she seems capable of dangerous things, even more dangerous than I. I fear that she might have inherited something so wicked from me. If she wants to meet her father, who am I to deny her father?
“Mrs. Brookes?” One of the chefs comes to me in the dining room where I am sipping my wine. “Will you like the Thanksgiving dinner served now?”
I check the time on my wristwatch, it’s almost eight in the night, I can imagine tables being set at different homes, extended families already arriving with a big, bright smile. For a moment, I let my mind wander away to when I was still a little kid and thanksgiving meant a lot to me.
It used to feel like magic, the smell of sweet potatoes and my mother’s cornbread stuffing filling the different corners, I would play hide and seek with my cousins while my uncles, aunts and mother gathered in the living room to discuss about some stuffs that were termed boring to me back in the days.
But now, thanksgiving doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.
I look at the chef, trying to look as sober as possible, “spending thanksgiving all alone makes me feel like a bitter, lonely old woman.” My voice is remorseful, as though tears are going to spill out anytime soon. The chef’s eyes soften and I know that she is feeling pity for me; damn acting should be my skill.
“Mrs. Brookes, I am so sorry-”
I wave my hand, signalling for her to stop. “What about you? How are you spending thanksgiving? Please don’t tell me you are going to be crammed here making dinner for an old woman like me.” I laugh a bit, but it doesn’t contain any humour.
“Well,” she stutters, flashing her lashes, as she does so, I try to estimate her age, she doesn’t look old, I have no idea what her name is since she is just one of my numerous chefs. “My younger brother is coming back home from college, so we are having a little feast.” When she mentions her brother, her face lights up.
They must be pretty close, I assume.
“You should leave right now,” I say softly.
“Really?” Surprise clouds around her face, makes her look quite young like in her twenties. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course, after all, we’re all human beings.”
She’s nodding her head, smiling so brightly. “You are amazing, Mrs. Brookes.” Her face softens, “I hope you spend your thanksgiving surrounded by your loved ones.”
I smile at her and watch as she skips towards the kitchen, probably to grab her stuff so she can leave early. After sitting on the dining chair for five minutes, I go upstairs to change; I do not actually plan on spending thanksgiving alone.
My plan is to surprise a particular family, the family of the father of my child.
Since I am obviously not going for a murder spree, I dress in my favourite cream white blouse, tucked into a pair of tailored ankle length pants. Done, there you’ve it.
The drive to their house is quite boring, I try to play some sad music, maybe perhaps I will reason with my life, but everything feels incomplete. For the first time, I feel incomplete.
Did I come this far just to spend Thanksgiving alone, without any friends, without any family? My hand stills on the steering wheel and I fear that tears are already starting to gather at the edges of my eyes.
“Barbara, you are becoming too soft.” I scold myself, blinking my eyes rapidly to keep the tears away. Goodness, I hate emotions; it’s what makes us, humans, weak.
Before I know it, the automatic gates are sliding open and my car is already getting into the huge mansion. I am always in awe whenever I come here, today is no exception. I slow down the car, letting the tires crunch over the gravel, and the sound grates over my nerves.
The chill late evening air does nothing to calm me down, if anything, it makes the hair on my arm rise, slowly I open the car door, suddenly feeling like this is a scene where the woman barges into the house, announcing her rightful position as the mother but of course, none of those bullshit we see on TV is actually going to happen.
Taking a deep breath, I raise my chin and start to walk to the direction of the door. The moment I enter, the housekeeper with a wide smile welcomes me and collects my coat. I offer a fake grin and tell her that I am here to spend Thanksgiving with my favourite friends; she smiles more widely and leads me to the dining room.
Here goes nothing.
“Mrs. Brookes,” Jasper, Alisha’s husband, is the first to notice me. I have always disliked her husband, she didn’t pick well, end of discussion.
Everyone- Alisha, Alisha’s mother, Alisha’s father all look up from their food. Alisha’s mother, Catherine, with her face full of makeup and fake smiles hurriedly stands up from her seat and strides over to me.
“Barbara, darling.” She outstretches her arm, kissing me on both cheeks. “We had no idea you would be spending Thanksgiving with us, you should have rang me up. It must be hard for you after Robert passed.” She’s looking at me with pity and I want to scream at her that we are the same age.
“Oh well, things happen. I am sure my husband is looking down at me with one of his smiles.” I keep my eyes fixed on a particular person, the man with the nerdy glasses that is looking everywhere else but at me.
“Of course he is, come and eat, darling. We oldies have a lot to talk about.” Catherine giggles, taking my arm into hers, I hate whenever she does this, but what can I do? Alisha rolls her eyes when her mother says oldies and as she cranes her head to look at me, I realize how much she looks like my daughter.
Half-sisters, they really do look alike in a sense that only I get. They both have that freaking mole on the left side of their ear which they inherited from Julian.
“Julian. Can I speak to you in private?” I say, making sure my voice doesn’t sound hostile. Catherine raises her brows, “Don’t worry, darling. Just business stuff.”
She nods, urging her husband to stand up. Julian stares hard at me and I stare hard at him back. We move to the sitting room, where it’s impossible to hear our conversation.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” He glares at me, pushing out a strand of hair out of his face. Once upon a time, I used to love when he did that.
“Do you think this is what I want?” I fight the urge to yell back, “Do you think that I want to be barging into your house and disrupting your perfect family get-together? You are all eating turkey and drinking wine but not once did you think about Barbara, my husband just died and I didn’t receive a single word from you, even Catherine sent me flowers.”
His face seems to soften a bit, but there are still the hard lines on his forehead. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s high time we talk about our daughter, Julian.”