by Tory Jane
“He found a house for us. In Mt. Pleasant.”
“Wow, a rock like that and a house? Merry Christmas to you! I want to say congratulations, but you don’t seem happy. Want to talk about it?”
She hesitates and then lets it all out. “Everyone is thrilled. He asked me in front of our families. I felt trapped. I keep thinking about what we talked about the other night. You told me to be bold, be brave, kiss as many people as I want, and to have adventures. That’s what I want. I don't want to be married and to live in some cookie cutter house in the suburbs. I'm only twenty-one. I graduate this spring. There is so much more I want to do. I want to travel, go back to Italy.
“I heard from my friend in Florence yesterday. She’s in town. Her husband is involved with Spoleto Festival and they’re staying with the Mayor. She offered to help. She said she understands and that she would take me back to Italy with her. I’m considering it.
“I don’t want to marry Mark. I can't marry the guy who popped my cherry. Shouldn't sex be fun and exciting? I dread it. He won't even go down on me, but I have to give him oral forever just to get him hard. He's twenty-two. Aren't guys his age perpetually hard?
“He doesn't turn me on. I don't like the way he smells or tastes. I've never had an orgasm with him. I had more fun with boys I fooled around with before. You know, the “everything but” stuff?”
I hug her. She's miserable. “I'm sorry. I know you feel trapped, but you have a way out. You have to be honest with yourself and him.” While I hug her, I catch a familiar whiff of a burnt chemical smell. I try not to react.
“I don't know how. I don't want to hurt Mark's feelings or make him angry.”
“Mark's feelings are not more important than yours. Did you two discuss this before he proposed?”
“Yes. I told him I wasn't ready. Now, look at me. I'm wearing a fucking rock on my finger.”
“It is a beautiful ring,” I offer.
“No, it isn’t. I feel like a rap star or a Kardashian. Too flashy for my taste. It feels like it weighs fifty pounds and is dragging me down.”
She cries on my shoulder. “I don’t want to marry him. I want what you and Jack have. The way you two look at each other. It’s sexy and exciting.”
“Sweetheart, no relationship is perfect. You will go through difficulties. Can you talk to your mother about it?”
She looks horrified. “Talk to my mother about sex? That I want to have adventures, explore, and figure out who I am before I get married? God, no. How embarrassing.”
“Cecelia. Your mother is only ten years older than I am. I suspect she’s more open-minded than you realize. You don’t have to talk about sex. Tell her what you want in life. Do your parents have a happy marriage?”
She scoffs, “They have a civil marriage. They're always polite and proper with each other. I don't know if I've ever seen them hug or kiss? They don't even hold hands. That's terrible.”
I try to make a joke. “You never know. I learned things from my mother yesterday that surprised me. Maybe your parents are smoking hot in private. Go sneak in your parents' room and check out their bedside tables. Maybe they have a fun drawer?”
She squeals. “Eew. I do not want to see my parents’ ‘fun drawer’. I think my mother has a Bible in her bedside table and I know my dad keeps his gun in his.”
“Cecelia, how do you expect to have a great sex life if you can’t talk about it? Have you discussed it with Mark? Told him what you like?”
“I've tried to talk with Mark. You know, like, if he does something I enjoy I make a noise or encourage him. The times I've tried to ask for things or give him suggestions? He gets angry and rougher with me. He likes it rough. He accuses me of nagging and being critical. We end up fighting.”
Well, that’s troubling. I think for a moment. “Is he that way in other aspects of your relationship? Controlling? What do you mean you fight? Are you safe, Cecelia?”
“You know, couples fight. It’s no big deal. I can defend myself.”
“You can defend yourself? Does he get physical with you? Cecelia, has he hurt you? We can get you help.
“Do you think he uses drugs? I only ask because I've been with guys who are similar to what you're describing. The inability to get an erection, the smell, the taste, and the anger.”
“What, you haven’t always been with perfect Jack? Now you sound like my mother. Everyone does drugs. I’m sure you did drugs when you were my age.” There is an edge to her voice, and she’s not answering my questions.
“Not everyone does drugs.” This conversation is starting to make me uncomfortable, and I'm not sure why. There is something about Cecelia's tone, her posture. I'm worried about her safety, and I don't know how to tell her that or whether it's my place to do so. I feel certain he’s abusive.
“Cecelia, I'm sorry you're frustrated. I think you should talk to your mother or someone you trust. Your friend from Florence?
“Maybe you can have a long engagement.” I leave out “Until you get up the nerve to kick his insecure, selfish ass to the curb.”
“It's not my place to interfere. I only commented because you brought it up and I’m concerned. I want you to be happy.”
When she looks up at me, it is as if she has forgotten to put her mask on. Her eyes are flat, cold, and filled with hate. It startles me, and frightens me. I know instinctively that Cecelia is not who she pretends to be. It’s shocking how visceral my reaction is. A red warning light flashing in my brain. A voice screaming, “Get her out, now.”
“You want me to be happy? We can't all be madly in love with gorgeous, successful men. I see you with Jack and can’t help but wonder how you landed him. Wasn’t he in love with a gorgeous Italian woman? They had a baby together, right? Now he’s back here with you. How did you manage that? It must have been your fun drawer,” she winks.
“That is Jack’s private business. Where would you have heard about that?”
“I’m sure I must have heard my mother and Mrs. Cliff talking about it. Do you think he’s over her?”
I stare her down with a cocked eyebrow until she backs down. Once again, her demeanor changes in the blink of an eye and she's smiling. The warning siren is still blaring, “Danger. She’s a fake little bitch.” How did I not see this?
“Cecelia. This conversation is inappropriate. If you can’t talk to your family, there are counseling options.”
“Pre-marital counseling? Like with a therapist or with the church?”
“Whomever. A neutral, non-judgmental party, where Mark doesn't feel threatened. Men have fragile egos. I can’t help you with your sex life. Hell, watch porn together or alone, figure out what turns you on. If you don’t feel safe, please talk to someone.”
“I’m trying to talk to you and you’re dismissing me!” Her voice is shrill and threatening. “Porn? That’s your answer? That’s part of the problem. Have you seen porn lately? He watches it all the time. It turns him on to shove his nasty dick down my throat and gag me. Then he flips me over, fucks me, and slaps my ass. Oh, and anal. He’s way into that. Guys my age all expect anal. He likes to pull out and come on my ass or in my ass or mouth.”
I’m increasingly anxious. I do not want to have this conversation. “And you like all of that? Everything he’s doing to you?”
“No. I hate it.”
“I’m not dismissing you. I am concerned. Try Planned Parenthood. It’s free and you can discuss everything with the doctor. Does the College have a health clinic? Anything you talk about in a health care setting is confidential.”
She calms down. Maybe I’m overreacting. All I know is that my instincts are telling me not to trust this girl. Her eyes. I can’t dismiss what I saw. Then to bring up Jack and Sofia?
“Thank you, Annabelle. I've needed to talk about all of these things forever and haven't known how or who to talk to. It’s easy to talk to you. Like, you’re honest and real. My girlfriends all pretend as if they're ready and their boyfriends are perfect. I kno
w they're lying. One of us should have the courage to be honest.”
“I bet if you did, the majority would support you. You shouldn’t feel alone.”
She stares at me. She’s smiling, but her eyes are flat. “I bet you’re right. Maybe if I plan a party, and get them all drunk, we could have a crazy night.”
“Hey, why don’t you take a break? Walk down and get us coffees and calm down?”
“Thank you.” She holds out her hand.
I hand her a twenty and she saunters out, looking perfectly calm, maybe even proud of herself.
I do not feel calm. My heart is racing. I grab my pocketbook from under the register. It is wide open. I always zip it closed. I shake my head. I’m being paranoid. I take a Xanax and look for my cigarettes. They aren’t in the pouch I keep them in; they’re in the bottom of my bag. Did Cecelia get into my pocketbook to sneak a smoke? Did she take anything else?
When she returns with the coffees, I am on the sidewalk, smoking and examining the window displays. During that unsettling conversation, we managed to design a fabulous window display. “Look what we did. It looks gorgeous.”
“Yeah, it’s great. Can I bum another smoke?”
By the time the store opens at noon, it looks fantastic. The fancy cocktail dresses are on display in the front. They sparkle under the subtle lighting.
We're now stocking gorgeous cashmere sweaters in every shade. I'm feeling calmer. Work helps.
I hear the bell chime as the door opens. Our first customer. I hear a small voice yelling, “Bella, Bella. Where are you?” As I head to the front of the store, I almost run into him. “Up, Bella. Up.”
I pick him up and cuddle him. “Well, look who it is. The fabulous Charlie Cliff.”
“I missed you, Bella.” His eyes are reproachful.
I look over his head at Jack, who seems troubled.
He mouths, “Sorry.”
I shake my head, and respond, staring straight at Jack, “I missed you, too. I’m glad you’re here.”
Jack approaches and kisses me gently, then whispers in my ear, “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Hey, where my kiss?”
“Charlie, you are right. Where is your kiss?” I purse my lips and receive another slobbery kiss full on the mouth. “You give the best kisses, Charlie.” I twirl him around as Jack twirls me and he giggles in delight.
“Charlie, I’d like you to meet someone. This is Miss Cecelia.”
She is all smiles. “Oh, so this is Charlie. I’ve heard a lot about you. Hey, Charlie. You're a handsome boy. I love your blonde curls. You have your Daddy’s eyes and I hear your mother is gorgeous.” She reaches for him.
Jack shoots me a look and I shrug and frown. How does she know about Charlie? There is no way I have told her about him. The comment about his mother? This girl is freaking me out.
Charlie eyes her from my arms. “Hi, Miss Celia,” but he won’t go to her.
“No hugs and kisses for Cecelia?” She pouts.
“No. Just Bella and Daddy.” He ducks his head and clings to me.
“That’s okay, Charlie. I save my hugs and kisses for you and Daddy.
“Will you do me a favor, though? I need some help unloading boxes. If you go with Miss Cecelia and wash your hands, you could help me?”
“I help, I help.”
“Okay, go wash your hands.”
I put him down, and he follows Cecelia to the bathroom with no complaint, chattering away about Santa and Christmas.
When they're out of sight, Jack rushes to me and swoops me up. “Belle. I'm so sorry I couldn't stay longer last night. I am still in shock, and I'm terrified you're going to run from me. Please, please don't leave me. You have to know that I do not want her. Only you. I love you so much.” He kisses me, and I feel the anxiety leave my body.
“I want to hear everything, but, love, are you okay? And Charlie? Has he met her yet?”
“Hell, no. I'm not letting her near him until I figure out what her scheme is. I don't trust her one bit. You've been more of a mother to him in the last two days than she ever has. Do you know why we're here? I wouldn't normally bother you at work, but from the moment he woke up, he hasn't stopped asking when he was going to see you. I tried to call you, but it went straight to an automated voice mailbox.”
I place my hand over my heart. It is entirely open now. “Really?”
He covers my hand with his own. “Yes, really. And bonus, I got to see you.” He kisses me again. “Can I come to see you tonight?”
I nod, “Of course.”
“Jack, remind me later to tell you about Cecelia. She is freaking me out. What she just said to Charlie? I would never tell her about Charlie or Sofia. She claims she heard your mother and her mother talking. Something is off.”
“I thought that was odd. We’ll talk it over tonight. My father and I are meeting Sofia at 3:00 to determine what she wants. The documentation is clear. She has no parental rights. She will not take our son from us.” He holds me. “Please do not be afraid. We’ve waited long enough for our time. We’ll talk more tonight, okay?”
As I nod up at him, I hear Charlie announce to Cecelia, “Daddy loves Bella. I love her, too.”
Cecelia smiles and tells him, “It sure looks like love, doesn’t it?”
Jack smiles at Charlie. “Oh! I forgot. We’re having a do-over Christmas dinner tonight. Your parents will be there. I hear y'all missed Christmas dinner, too. Will you join us? We can put Charlie to bed and then walk to your house?”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll come over after I close at 5:00. Thank god the long holiday hours are over.”
“Bella. Look, look. Clean hands. I help.”
“Awesome. Thank you, Charlie. Do you see that pile of sweaters behind you? Will you bring them to me, please?”
He grabs part of the pile and drags them across the floor. I cringe inwardly but praise him for his help. He runs for another load and starts to drop them again.
Cecelia runs to help. “Let me help you out there, Charlie. Annabelle needs to fold them.” She pulls a rolling cart over and lays the sweater on the cart for folding.
“Not Annabelle. Her name is Bella Belle.”
“Of course. Do you know what bella means? It’s Italian for beautiful. I spent last summer in Italy. In a beautiful city called Florence.”
“Florence? Where you say my mother from?”
Jack’s jaw drops. He is furious. He turns to me, eyes wide. He mouths, “What the fuck?”
I’m shocked, too. I respond to him, mutely, “See?”
“Yes. Florence is molto bella. Your daddy calls her beautiful Belle.”
Charlie tries out the word. “Beautiful. I call her Bella, too. She beautiful. Bella going to be my Mama.”
Cecelia kneels down next to him and catches my eye. She squints. “Really? You think so?”
Charlie pats her cheek. “Don’t worry. You beautiful, too, Celia.”
“Thank you. So are you, Charlie.”
“No. I handsome like my daddy.”
“You’re a smart kid.”
He grins at her. “Smart and handsome.”
Cecelia ruffles his blonde curls. “Absolutely.”
“Come here, you smart, handsome kid,” Jack calls.
Charlie runs over and jumps into his arms.
“We’re going to get some barbecue. Charlie wants mac-n-cheese. Can we bring you some lunch?”
“Yes, please. I’m starving.”
Cecelia responds, although he wasn’t asking her. “Thank you, Jack. Pulled pork platter with slaw and baked beans?”
I roll my eyes. “That sounds perfect. Make it two, please. And some of those yummy muffins they have?”
“My pleasure. We’ll be back within the hour.”
They both lean in for a kiss. “Kisses from two handsome, smart men? I’m a lucky woman.”
Charlie reaches for me. “I love you, Bella.”
“You make my heart happy, Charlie. I love you, too.�
��
He lays his chubby little hand on my chest. “Happy?”
“So, so happy.”
He takes my hand and places it on his chest. “Feel? So, so happy.”
Jack looks how I feel. We’re big saps.
“Have a good lunch. We’ll see you soon.”
I turn to Cecelia. “Excuse me for a minute?”
Cecelia shrugs. Now that Jack and Charlie are gone, any pretense of pleasantness has disappeared.
I grab my pocketbook and coffee and run out the back door.
I smoke and pull myself together. I’m in conflict between feeling love for Jack and Charlie and feeling spooked and furious. Cecelia needs to know what she said was wrong. I need to figure out what her deal is.
I call Jack’s mother. It rings straight to an automated message. “Allison, this is Annabelle. Remind me tonight that we need to talk about Cecelia. Thanks. Love you!”
Once I’ve collected myself, I return to the shop. I wash my hands, and clean up my smeared eyeliner. Staring into the mirror, I remind myself, “You can do this. You are strong. You are not a child. You are not alone. You are loved.”
Positive thoughts do not come easily when it comes to myself. I’m well aware of my faults. If I’m going to move forward, stand by Jack’s side as he fights for us to be a family, then I need to be strong, stable, and consistent.
I return to the storefront and discover that Cecelia has folded the cashmere sweaters and displayed them in a beautiful array of color. She’s helping several customers and seems to have things under control. Nonetheless, I rush in to assist her.
We persuade several women to try on a variety of dresses for New Years' Eve and encourage them to give us a fashion show.
In an hour, we sell six dresses. Expensive, designer dresses, as well as shoes and accessories. I breathe a sigh of relief.
When things quiet down, Cecelia turns to me. “I'm happy I got to meet Charlie. God, that child is adorable, and he is so sweet with you. Are you going to be his step-mom?”
“I don’t remember telling you about him?”
“Annabelle. I told you. My mother and Mrs. Cliff talk. God! Paranoid much?” She sneers.
“Have you met Charlie’s mother?” she asks.
