Chapter 4

ALMA’S POV

His words rang clear and clean throughout the hall. Firm. Everyone paused for a moment, taking that in, then resuming what they were doing.

Moving away this time. All those silent listeners, close by investigators, all of them departing to various places in the house. Doing what they came for; housewarming.

“I got held up at the office, mom. Reason why I’m arriving now." He said beside me, reason flowing with ease. "You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Mad at you? Of course not!” Mom chuckled out, hugging him affectionately. Mother-in-law and son-in-law smiling at eachother. Epic.

“You’re very much welcome, don’t listen to them please.” She turned to Aunt K and co, who had been quietly retreating. “He got held at the office, working. Working, Melly. Did you hear that??”

Aunt Melly recoiled. All three of them evidently displeased but one look at him, they just turned away.

"Come, let me introduce you!" Mom pulled him instantly. His hand wrapping around mine, taking me along. Smiling and holding me like everything was fine.

“I got this for you.” He said to mom, after we rounded the hall for good 40 minutes. His assistant showing up, handing over a black gift box.

“May you shine as bright as the marble floors of this splendid living room, mom!"

“Awwwww,” mom gushed childishly, hitting his arm as she blushed. Happy. “A jewellery! Diamond pieces. Diamond pieces!”

That last one was for them to hear. Aunt K and the rest. Another bragging material.

“Put it on me, put it on me!” She urged him, chuckling. Himself doing so. Smiling like the perfect son-in-law he was. Entertaining her.

Just as he'd always done. Just as he's always been whenever we were out, together.

Looking at him now, I couldn't help but ask myself if this was real. If all the times in these past 3 years were real. His smiling, laughing, mingling with my family, with me ...if they were all just part of his 'tolerating coping mechanism.'

If he was tolerating it all just as they said last night that he was!

All this time I'd thought we were good. That we were okay, getting there but just slowly. That I could stir up things if only I put in more effort...

But I was wrong. I was so wrong. Now I didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"You made all these? Yourself and no help?? No wonder it's so delicious! You poured your heart into it, mom!"

"Awww, my sweet boy, take more!" Their voices and chuckles filled my ears. Burned my feet, so I moved away just then.

Moved far, outside where warm fresh air stayed. Where peace stayed and that was something I was sure of without any doubt in my heart.

There was a little corner to the left, a garden, luscious and green. I went over, took a breath and enjoyed the silence.

But not for long.

“You've come out?” A voice paused me after a moment. Startled me.

“Was wondering when you would." He said, "Lasted ...10 minutes? 10 and half. Pretty high, Sweatpea. Pretty high.”

“Dad.” I laughed, looking at him. "What are you doing out here? I didn't even see you." I moved over to him. His average body sized relaxing on the comfy looking wheelchair. Blankets around him, coffee table by the side.

"Nice wheels." I complimented, "Mom got a new one?"

"Meh...got it last month." He shrugged, kissing me on the cheek before I sat beside him. "How you doing? Haven't seen a lot of you these days and now you're here. Today of all days."

"Today of all days." I repeated, sighing as we chuckled. "Mom's ... she's a lot on a normal day. But mom mixed with Aunt K, Melly, Aby and…Ughhh.”

"Hmm." He shook his head, agreeing. “It's the worst. Just the worst I tell you. But don't tell her I said that though, we're supposed to be supportive.”

"Of course." I chuckled, "It's our secret.”

“Like always." He cheered with a mug, I joined.

We drank in silence. The smooth taste of vanilla mixed with cream, sweet in my throat. Soothing. Dad's favourite tea. If you could still call it tea at least. But it was good. Sitting outside here with him.

It was one of my favourite things about him. This calmness. Quietness. Where mom was chaos, pure chaos, he was just calm.

The voice of reason around here. Lord knows how many issues he'd addressed between mom and us ever since he came to us.

Yes. Came to us. He fell in love with mom's chaos. He's

our stepdad, but more than a dad. I appreciated him.

“You know, your man did good this time.” He said, pouring himself tea. “He did all this, made all of this possible, this garden we're looking at right now. And your mom back there, living the dream.” He chuckled.

“He did well, Sweetpea. Let him know we're grateful okay?”

Err...okay?

“But I don't understand." I said, "What do you mean he made it all possible? He just showed up here like anyone else."

"Yeah he did, but he's the reason we're in this house in the first place."

What?

"He got the house. There'll be no housewarming without it."

"Wait." I turned, "Didn't mom start making down payments for-

"The car, yes." He said, "But even that has also been taken care of by Damien. He got the house, paid, set it all up. Got the car. Including these new wheels I'm on here."

"What???" I stood up, shocked. Dad's face confused.

"What? I thought your mom told you- didn't she inform you when she asked for the building months ago??"

What?

"She didn't tell you he got us the car and helped Billie's husband??"

Double what?!

"You didn't know. She didn't tell you."

Oh my God.

Oh my God!!!

"Why will she do this?? Why will she go this far?!" I blasted, furious. "I've told you guys before, stop asking them for stuff, stop going over there and trying to fit in!I'm married into their family but we're not beggars! We're not less privileged, we're doing fine! I'm doing fine. I take care of every need, don't I??"

"Sweetpea, I didn't-

"Of course you didn't know! You didn't go there, she did! This mess is all her, all her!" My voice echoed everywhere. Blood boiling hot. Memories and emotions of last night clashing with the current.

"Just last night they were saying all sorts, they were saying tons of shits! Things that weren't true. Imagine when they find out about this."

"Find out about what?"

"This! Mom! She had the nerves to make all sorts of fuss, throw this unnecessary party in the name of housewarming, when she didn't even pay for the house herself!!"

She made him pay, invited countless others, him, just to come brag about the very same house. But under the guise that she got it herself!

Where was the sense in any of this? What sort of twisted, irresponsible irresponsible behaviour is this??

"Imagine what they'll say..." I trembled, voice breaking. "Imagine the things they'll say after this, dad."

"Sweetpea..." he rolled over to me, worry and concern written all over. "What is going on? Who said what, w-why are you crying?"

I wiped my eyes, turning away. Emotions everywhere. "It's nothing, dad."

"It's not nothing. What is going on?"

"It's nothing." I said, turning back around, grabbing my purse. "I'll go speak with mom. See you later, dad." I kissed his cheek,

"Wait. Alma," he called, but I didn't look back. Didn't stop. I head back into that hall. Scanning for mom.

It didn't take long to find her. Her echoing voice was more than enough, I stomped over. Pulled her away unceremoniously, people looking but turning away.

“What sort of behaviour is this, Alma?” She spat as we reached a corner. Eyes glaring. “What's wrong with you?”

“I should ask you that, mom.” I retorted, leaning closer. Cautious of people listening. “How could you? How could you ask Damien for a building, this building. How could you make him pay for a house and then come do this.”

She scoffed. Rolling her eyes at me. “Is this the issue? This is why you pulled me away, Alma?”

“Isn't this serious enough??”

“It's not.” She said, firm. “A man does stuff for his wife's family, what's the problem?? In fact you have time over here worrying about this, why don't you spend it dwelling on what you're doing wrong.”

“What??"

"Yes." She pulled out her phone, scrolling and pushing it to my face. "Look at that. Look at all that."

I took the phone, looking carefully, Damien in front of my eyes. Damien and her. Ella.

A picture of them leaving the lounge. Several pictures actually, their arms wrapped around eachother. Him looking like he was helping her but it was all too comfortable and close to be ordinary.

"You haven't gone online, have you? You haven't seen this." Mom criticised, "This is what those evil bitches were pestering you about earlier, look at the headlines! Instead of dragging me about for meaningless things, put that energy on fixing this, whatever's going on with the both of you!"

She took her phone after that. Leaving me standing cold in the corner, the pain in my chest raw. Like it was being pulled on over and over.

"So this is how you spent your night." I whispered, eyes finding him in the hall. His perfect face nodding and interacting with others. "You went home with her. Took her home."

Whereas I couldn't even remember how I got to Rosie's place. Or how my night ended.

"What a joke."

My whole life was turning into a joke. A one big ball of fakeness, foolishness and waste of time. A big joke!

*******

I couldn't drown myself in drinks again like I did last night. It was my mom's party after all. So I stayed there. Stayed there and watch it all play out, counting the minutes to leave.

Eventually it was time, I rushed out. Having no choice but to share a car since everyone was watching.

But inside that car? When it was back to just us? I saw the truth for what it truly was.

"How much was it?” I asked, breaking the silence. “How much was the house, wheelchair, everything you paid for. I'll pay you back.”

“What?” He faced me. Finally faced me. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you paid for the building.” I said, “I know my mom made you do it. I'm sorry. I'll pay you back. How much is it?”

My studio wasn't much but it was surely earning. I could completely refund him if I arranged the payments into installments.

"You don't have to refund me. We're married, we're husband and wife.”

Husband and wife.

“Are we though?" I questioned, "Are we husband and wife?”

“What do you mean by that?"

“I didn't feel like your wife yesterday." I said, "I didn't feel like your wife while you and your friends sat there to berate and insult me, my family.”

“You're still on that??" He looked at incredulous. "It was a joke, Alma. Can't you take a joke??”

“It's not only about that! You make it sound like I'm being unreasonable.”

“You are unreasonable."

“This is about your attitude, Damien not me! The way you treat Ella and the way you treat me. That's what this is about."

“What?” He scoffed, adjusting. “There’s no comparison between the two of you.”

“I know that. You and your group made it very clear last night.” The car came to a halt. Home.

We stayed a moment, “Be honest with me," I said, quiet. "If she didn’t leave back then, would you have married me?”

Silence.

The whole car silent.

He looked at me. I looked at him. Heart heavy and shuddering. Dreading the answer but still asking it. “Would you have married me? Would you?"

He didn't say anything. Didn't give me the reaction I wanted. He unbuckled his seat belt rather, pushed open the door and out he went. “Stop mentioning her. I've already handled today’s news. It was my mistake. It won’t happen again.”

*Bam*

The door shut after that. His figure disappearing, myself still on the leather seat of the car. The vivid image of him and her in those pictures replaying before my mind.

His arms around her, helping her into the car, holding out the door for her, practically carrying her into it, whereas... whereas I was getting doors slammed in my face.

The difference was clear, wasn't it?

The difference between she and I.

"Maybe it is time to let go."