Fifty-four

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Dinner is a painful affair until Pa arrives. The atmosphere changes, I hold my breath when he pulls out a seat and share a worried glance with Brandon whose discomfort is palpable. Only Ma seems to find the situation funny. Why won’t she when she’s sitting between me and my husband, asking questions about a trip she knows he never went on. My foot drum into the floor, I stir the food in my plate without tasting it.

Behind Ma’s polite smiles directed at Brandon, false interest in every answer he gives to her question is simmering anger. And I am partly to blame for it. If I did not break down, he would have still been in her good books. Casting him another furtive glance, my nails dig into my hips when his eyes remain glued to his plate like he has resigned to his fate.

Defeat doesn’t become him, it breaks my heart to see him this way and I clear my throat to interrupt Ma’s next question. Her head snaps to me, I maintain eye contact and she scoffs. Enough. After dicing his chicken, Brandon swaps our plates with a wink that has my heart stilling. I offer him a smile he reciprocates and my heart resumes its duty.

The chicken disappears into my belly, he swaps my empty plate with his and I gobble his meal. Ma slides a full plate to his front when she notices what I have done to both of our food, we pretend not to notice and for the rest of the meal, everyone eats in silence.

My hand goes over my mouth to muffle my belch, Ma shoots a glare my way and I pout. Brandon watches our exchange silently and I blow him a kiss to frustrate Ma, he must be uncomfortable by the arrangement but I guess it will teach him not to hurt me again. I squeeze Ma’s leg under the table, her frown morphs into an apologetic smile, I don’t like that she hit him. But I have to admit he deserved it. And a lecture on communication.

Though Pa is present, he barely speaks and I feel bad for pouring all of my attention on my husband instead of my father. I flash him a smile, his eyes crinkle with laughter and I slide to the seat beside him. We have not had much time to talk. I don’t understand why he still works when Brandon has him on his payroll. In some way, I get it, that need to be independent but he is old, now is the time to enjoy his hard work. Rest. Go on vacations.

There is a slight tremor in Pa’s hands when he picks his cutlery, I glance at Ma who is speaking in hushed tones to Brandon. She had better not be scolding him. A long look at Brandon and his eyes settle on mine, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. I don’t bother to hide the fact I was staring. His smile is reassuring, I nod, he is handling himself.

Sandwiching Pa’s hand between mine, I ask, “How was work?” He mutters a reply about boring routines. My head falls on his shoulder, I close my eyes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He chuckles. “You have never liked coming home,” he adds in a whisper and shame floods my body. I will be kind enough to admit the truth to myself.

The truth that our financial situation frightened me. It scared me to watch us go broke in only a couple of months. A low chuckle escapes me. Life wasn’t the best with Clarissa but it was my safe place. Pa pinches my cheek, I snuggle closer to him until someone taps me.

“Leave my husband alone,” Ma says in our dialect, her eyes darting to Brandon sitting alone with plates stacked in front of him, he flashes us a smile. “Go to your husband.”

Instead of shooting her a reply, I kiss Pa on his forehead and return to her seat which is still warm. My hand slides under the table to find Brandon’s, I maintain a straight face while guiding his hand under my gown. His fingertips caress my skin up to the wetness between my legs, I swallow. I need him to know. There are no barriers, all I want is him.

The chair scrapes the floor as Ma helps Pa into a standing position. “Goodnight, El,” they chorus in our language before turning to Brandon to repeat the same thing in English.

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