Sweetness (2 page)

After a few hours,
the three of us climb into my father’s
version of a graduation present; a brand new Mercedes
E350. The three of us are dressed to the nine in our best
garden party attire. Wanda was wearing my new green,
dress, courtesy of Mia, that is fitted with a scoop neck in
the front and a deep V in the back. It clings to her slim
waist and drapes ceremoniously over her hips and
thighs. Her hair is twisted in the back of her head with
long tendrils of curls billowing out of the clip that holds
it all together.

Max has on his designer beige slacks, a white linen
shirt that he tucked in and rolled up to his elbows, and
aviator sunglasses. Max never takes too much time
fussing with his hair because it often has a mind of its
own and hangs perfectly around his chiseled face in
chunky pieces. By anyone’s definition, Max is hot! No
doubt about it. He is usually the best looking one in the
room and people always assumed that he and Wanda are
together.

I am sporting my new blue designer dress in the
same design as the one Wanda is wearing except the back
is fully covered and it has a thick, white belt around the
waist. I finish the look with white strappy sandals, light
make-up, and my golden blonde hair is pulled back in a
high ponytail with my bangs swept over my forehead.

As we leave New York and drive down the New
Jersey Turnpike I see Wanda and Max exchanging
glances out of my peripheral vision. I look over to Wanda
and she gives me a tight smile while searching my face to
see if I’m okay. Max and Wanda know how nervous I am
about going home and they both know why. Max puts
his hands on my shoulders and squeezes them gently to
show his concern.

“Guys, I’m fine,” I tell them, but not even I am
convinced by my words.
“You sure? We don’t have to go. I can call your
mom and tell her you are not feeling well,” Wanda says,
in a you-don’t-have-to-deal-with-this-shit kind of way.
“I know, I don’t have to go but I have been
making the same excuse for over 4 years. My mother
went to all the trouble to throw this party together and I
think I owe it to her. Besides, I miss Mark. I have to pick
him up anyway to show him around before we move to
Manhattan next week. That reminds me. Max? What are
your plans now that you wont be living at the dorm
anymore?”
“I will probably get some shitty apartment that I
can’t afford until I have to move in with you and Wanda.
Or live in a box on the corner. Why?” Max sits back in his
seat so our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.
“Well…nothing is set in stone, but I was going to
see if Mark had a roommate in mind yet. If not then
maybe you could move in and keep an eye on him for
me. Not a babysitter or anything I just figured…two
birds, one stone.” I shrug.
“SERIOUSLY? Do you think your dad would let
me? It’s his place.”
“I am sure he will be fine with it. Let me talk to
Mark first. I am sure my dad will appreciate Mark not
living alone and he likes you so it should be fine.”
Max is squirming a little and I know he is thinking
that it is totally out of his price range. “What do you
think he will charge me in rent?”
“Same as Wanda and me. My dad owns the
building so as long as you keep the place in good
condition and don’t have wild parties he doesn’t charge
us. He says it’s good to have people he trusts occupy it. If
he tried to sell it now he would lose money because the
housing market is still down. That’s why he’s glad Mark
is going to NYU because he can live there now that I am
moving.”
“Sweet deal. Don’t worry about Mark, I will butter
him up to it. I will promise to get him laid often. That
should work.”
“You will do no such thing. Maxwell Reed if you
corrupt my brother I will personally come back to
Brooklyn and kick your ass.”
“Relax baby, I got this.” Max popped his shirt and
gave me his award-winning smile. Max can always make
me giggle. And with that the mood’s a little lighter as we
drive the rest of the way to my mother’s house. Hill
House as it is known in the neighborhood. The wrought
iron gates at the beginning of the driveways have never
been changed. Used to drive Paul crazy to live in a house
with another man’s name on the front gate.
As the surroundings got more familiar I feel
myself tensing up again. It wasn’t until I turned and
drove through the wide-open, white gate and down the
sprawling driveway that leads up to the main house that
I got a knot in my stomach. I can’t do this. I can’t face
these people. How am I going to get through this? OH
GOD, OH GOD. Why did I agree to this? My stomach is
actually churning now as bile rises up into my throat
when I pull up to the front of the house. I sit in my seat
white knuckled after putting the car in park. Max and
Wanda make no attempt to get out of the car. They are
following my lead and I dodn’t have the courage to move
at that moment. My car door is opened by the valet and
my body goes on high alert. FUCK! No turning back
now.
“Are you okay, Emm?” Max asks as he reaches for
my hand to help me out of the car. “We can still leave.”
“No we can’t. I have to do this.”
Wanda walks over to our side of the car after
being ushered out and ogled by the valet. “You stay close
to me. When you see Glen, point him out. I will take care
of his ass. He doesn’t know me but he will if he fucks up
today. I won’t take any shit from that cabrón.” I laugh at
Wanda. As sophisticated and well mannered as she is,
she can be ghetto when she wants to and I love her for it.
“Just stay close guys. I don’t want this to be any
harder than it has to. No one in my family knows about
Glen and I don’t want them to. You guys are the only
two people on the planet that know what a scumbag he
is, so steer clear of him. He is manipulative and I don’t
want you to get sucked into this shit. I am not even sure
he is going to be here. He hates me so I highly doubt he
would want to attend a party in my honor.”
“You got it. If you need us we’re here. Now, lets
go and get this over with,” Wanda says as she turns and
saunters ahead of Max and I to the front door.
When we arrive on the front porch Mrs. Cross
opens the door and greats us with a warm smile. Mrs.
Cross was our nanny for as long as I can remember. Her
husband used to work for my father until he had a heart
attack at a very early age. Mrs. Cross had no children and
was in need of work so my father offered her the job as
our full time nanny when I was about 6 months old. She
never dated and never had children of her own. She is a
wonderful woman with the grace and kindness of an
aunt or grandmother. We have always had a special
bond and she always made sure Mark and I were taken
care of without fail. Especially when things got really
bad. Even as we got older and there was no need for a
nanny, my mother kept her on and made her the full
time housekeeper, although she more of runs the house
then cleans it. She makes sure all the staff does their jobs,
she is the primary cook, and she does all the necessary
shopping.
The main reason why I think my mother kept her
all this time was because she saw her as a friend. My
mother lost most of her friends in the divorce but Mrs.
Cross never let on that she took a side. I always assumed
that this was at the request of my father; so he could have
an inside track on what was happening with us in his
absence. He always seemed to know about everything
Mark and I had going on and I doubt my mother was his
informant; she was clueless as to what went on right
under her nose. Mrs. Cross was my savior and without
her I am not sure I would have gotten out of this house in
one piece.
“Emma, my darling! Look at how beautiful you
look.” She hugs me tight and when she embraces me I
can smell her comforting scent of clean laundry and
floral perfume. My nerves are gone in an instant. She
always did make me feel safe.
“Mrs. Cross!” I pull away and look at her at arms
length. “Looking good yourself.” She flushes, waving off
my compliment as if it is the silliest thing she ever heard.
She is always very well put together. Her black hair with
random grey streaks is pulled into a tight bun; she is a
beautiful woman for 62.
“Oh please. Don’t bother flattering an old woman
like me. Max, always so handsome. Wanda you are
looking as lovely as ever. Love the dress. “ She hugs
them both before we walk into the foyer of the house.
They thank her and return her praises just as my mother
comes barreling out of the kitchen and into the foyer.
“Emma! Look at you, beautiful girl,” My mother
coos teary eyed. “Oh, come and give me a hug.” My
mother wraps her slim arms around my upper arms and
hugs me tight. I hug my mother like I would hug a
stranger. “Congratulations to you all.”
After a moment of uncomfortable silence Mrs.
Cross invites us further into the house and tells us to
head out to the back yard where the other guest are
gathered. My mother escorts us out to the patio where
there is a small group of family and friends, huddled
together chatting and laughing. Her friends, not mine. I
didn’t stay in contact with any of my friends from high
school. Once I graduated I was out of town so fast I
didn’t even bother to say goodbye to my mother or Paul.
Packed as much as I could cram into my car and never
looked back to this hell hole.
I scan the group quickly in hopes that Holly and
Glen would not be here. My body relaxed a bit when I
don’t see them. Max, noticing how tense I am, puts his
arm gently around my shoulder and gives me a friendly
tug into his chest. When I look at his beautiful face he
gives me a small grin, telling me he is still concerned. I
quickly put on the fake smile, I have perfected after many
years of practice, and begin making my way around the
crowd thanking the guests for coming.
About a half hour later I notice my stepfather,
Paul, walking toward me. He is clean-shaven, well
dressed in dark blue slacks and white polo shirt and from
what I can tell…sober. It is only two in the afternoon but
still; I don’t think I have ever seen him look so collected.
Perhaps it is because there are people around, who
knows, but I notice he looks better than he ever has
before.
Paul has always been a very attractive man, no
denying that. I could always see what my mother saw in
him physically. He is not the suit and tie guy that my
father is. Paul is ruggedly handsome with short brown
hair and brown eyes. He has a badass persona and he is
very smooth, especially around women. It’s when he gets
too much liquor in him that all niceties are out the
window and he turns angry. His temper takes him to a
dark place no one should have to witness. Especially not
kids.
“Emma, look at you. You look great,” he gushes as
he gives me a tight hug. I flinch at first because this side
of him is foreign to me.
What the hell is going on? I feel like I’ve entered
the twilight zone. Paul was never really mean or abusive
to me personally but... this is weird. I can count on my
one hand how many times in my life Paul Maser hugged
me and never has he hugged me like this. My mother
was his whipping post not Mark or me. Paul simply
never acknowledged us. Me particularly. We barely
talked. We never hugged. What is his game?
“Hi..i..i, Paul. Thank you. You look nice too.” He
hugged me hard and long. He was hugging me longer
then what was socially acceptable. Why is he not letting
me go? Ok, beginning to feel creepy. I try to pull away so
I can look at him, to read his face.
“Sorry. I haven’t seen you in a long time. You
haven’t been home in what is it four years now,” he
chuckled as he took a step back. I did see my mother and
Mark on holidays but I never, ever came home so I guess
the last time I saw Paul he was leaving for work the day I
left home.
“What?” he says with a smile. I must have a whatthe-fuck, expression on my face. God knows I am
thinking it.
“Oh nothing. I was just shocked to see you, that’s
all.”
“See me sober? Is that it?” He still has a smile on
his face and I am trying to read him to see if it is sincere
or not.
“Well, yea. I mean…you look great.” I am trying
not to sound like a jerk but Paul being sober and
affectionate isn’t something I am used to.
“Sober two years next month. You would know
that if you didn’t stay away so long. Your mother never
told you?” He was speaking with kindness and affection.
Crazies of Hill House indeed.
“Well yeah-“
“But you didn’t believe her?” he says as he reaches
for my hand and clasped it between his. He is being
warm and kind, I feel as if I am being punk’d.
“Well, it’s not that. I just didn’t…” God this is
uncomfortable.
“Didn’t what? Think she was telling the truth?”
“Ummm…yeah. Sorry.” This isn’t going very well.
Way to be a bitch Hill.
“Emma, I understand. Don’t worry. I get that you
didn’t believe her. After all the years of torment I put her
and you kids through, I don’t blame you for not
believing her.” I am seriously confused. Paul is really
being thoughtful and genuine and I feel a twinge of guilt
for looking at him like he is a crazy person. “Look I have
to go and talk to the caterer for your mother but we will
talk later, OK,” he murmurs as he walks away, looking
off in the distance at the large white tent in the middle of
the yard.
“Ooo…kkk,” I said almost silently. Wanda is
watching me about three feet away with her mouth open
in shock from what she just witnessed.
“What the fuck was that all about?“ Wanda asks in
amazement. “Was that Paul?”
“Yeah…uh…I think so…” I’m not sure what just
happened but if Paul is sober and his devil spawns are no
where to be seen then maybe this day won’t be so bad
after all.

The rest of the afternoon
is eerily normal…well, not
normal for us, but normal for most other families.
Everyone is relaxed and having a good time. It is the first
time in a long time I have felt comfortable in my own
home. My mom and Paul are being affectionate and
loving with each other and there isn’t a hint of drama to
be scene.