40 - Dean
When I walk into my father’s office it’s like nothing has happened. Everyone says hello to me as if I’ve been working there for the past two months. I’m led to the big corner office and I slump down in a chair with my head in my hand. My mother and father are looking at me expectantly. All I can do is nod. My mother claps her hands in front of her face.
“Good! That’s settled.”
She smiles at me and a shiver runs down my spine. My father’s face is impassable, so I just stare at the carpet in front of me.
With that nod, I’ve agreed to their terms. I feel empty. I feel numb. I’ve just agreed to break up with Sam and to marry Victoria.
It’s the only way to keep Sam safe. If I don’t do what they say, they’ll kidnap her exactly like me, except they won’t let her go. My heart sinks even more and I take a deep breath. I have to do this.
I keep telling myself that I have to do this over and over. Even so, I still shudder when I hear the clack-clack-clack of heels in the hallway and I see Victoria’s face turn the corner into the office. There’s a hint of panic inside me and I take a deep breath to calm myself.
I don’t know if I can do this.
I close my eyes for a moment and think of Sam. I see her smile and the way she was with the kids at the organisation. I see of the way she hops up excitedly when she’s really happy about something. I map her body in my mind, remembering every freckle, every curve, every bone and muscle in her body. I'm anchoring all those memories in my mind. I might never see her again.
When I open my eyes again, all three of them are staring at me. I turn to Victoria and shake my head.
“I get why they’re doing this,” I say, pointing to my parents. “They’ve been wanting to go into politics since before I was born. But you?? What have you got to gain? Why are you doing this?”
She takes a step towards me and reaches her hand towards my face. I flinch away, not letting her fingertips touch my cheek. She grins.
“Poor, sweet, innocent Dean. You have no idea how rich you are, do you?”
“Is that what this is about? Money?”
“What else would it be about?” she snarls. “You think I’d actually want to be with you? Come on, Dean, grow up. You dress up like a fucking clown on the weekends.”
The words sting. I’ve always known that none of them understand why I do the children’s parties. I’ve always known that none of them have a generous bone in their bodies. But to have it thrown in my face like it’s something to be ashamed of?
Sam’s face appears in my head again. I see how happy she was when her boss agreed to let me give clown classes at the organisation.
She gets it.
Not only does she get it, she lives it. Her whole life is dedicated to doing what I do for a couple hours a week: helping kids. She lives to give them just a bit of joy in any way she can.
“Right, so, the lawyer is almost done with the papers,” my mother says, taking a step towards us. “We’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” I exclaim, turning to my mother. She sighs and rolls her eyes at me.
“Did you think you’d have time to change your mind? Yes, tomorrow. You will be married and you will do as we say, or else that sweet girlfriend of yours will pay the price.”
I stare at my mother and feel something I’ve never felt before. I think it’s hatred. I look at her perfectly manicured nails, her made-up face and her impeccable hair and all I see is fakeness. All I see is lies.
Hatred feels different than anger. It’s stronger and more calm at the same time. My mother snarls and then relaxes. The heat of my hatred crawls down my spine and resting in the pit of my stomach. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins as my eyes swing from my mother to my father to my fiancee.
All three of them are completely relaxed, completely confident in their total victory over me. The blood pumps through my veins and my hatred curls from my stomach and expands in my chest. My father reclines in his chair and takes a deep breath that feels like a slap in the face. Victoria leans on the desk and my mother pats her hair down for the thousandth time.
I could scream. I could flip the whole desk over and smash this chair through the window. I could knock every book off the bookshelf and trash this entire office. I could go berserk and not calm down till the police came and tasered me.
I could, but I don’t.
I think of Sam, and I know I can’t. I think of Sam, and I know I have to stay here, sitting quietly, learning what true hatred feels like. I think of Sam, and I know that if I let go of her in my heart then that hatred will consume me.
I close my eyes and they start to fill with tears. I hear Sam’s voice and hear her laugh. I can just about smell that perfume that I came to love. I hang onto every detail that I can remember, hang onto it before I’m overcome by my own hatred.
A deep, raking breath brings me back to the present. My father is saying something, and Victoria is looking at some papers of some sort. I should be listening, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll sign whatever they tell me to sign, I’ll do whatever they tell me to do as long as I know they won’t hurt Sam.
They have me where they want me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
All three of them turn to the door and stand up when it opens. I don’t have the energy. I don’t care who’s there or what they have to say. It doesn’t matter.
It’s not until I take a deep breath that I smell the faintest hint of that floral perfume. My eyebrows draw together ever so slightly and something wakes up inside me. And then, like a breath of fresh air, she speaks.
“Hi, Dean.”
I turn around slowly and see her silhouetted in the doorway. She looks as fierce as a lion, standing tall as she faces my parents and Victoria. My voice is just a croak as I say the name that’s been on my lips for the past two months.
“Sam.”