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I smiled with forced cheer at my mother across the table. She was, as usual, babbling excitedly about inconsequentials. I sighed quietly, shifting my weight and wincing when the chair pressed against a larger bruise on my lower back. Despite Shea's warnings and pleas, I hadn't divorced Charles. Upon my desperate request, she had sworn not to tell a soul. Currently, she was seated to my right, and she shot me a concerned look at my mostly discreet wince. I didn't meet her eyes, once again ashamed.
"John, Charles and Gabriel will be joining us shortly," my mother told me. I nodded absent-mindedly. Charles would behave as he always did around my parents--the poster boy for gentlemanly actions. I sighed, once again wondering what my mother would say if she knew. "Shea, where are Anne and William?"
Shea smiled lovingly as she always did at the mention of her children. Anne was almost two, and William had been born a few months ago. I smiled slightly, too, simply because I couldn't have loved those children more if they had been my own. "Both are sleeping," she told my mother. "Anne was running around all afternoon and was too exhausted to stay awake for dinner." She smiled.
My mother smiled back. "You are so lucky to have beautiful healthy children," she commented. "It's a miracle." I knew what my mother was subtly referring to--the Spanish influenza outbreak that had occured a while back. "Esme, dear, are you planning on having children soon?" I knew my mother wanted me to have children before she passed away--which would be in a few years, according to the doctor.
I lightly touched my stomach, wondering what it would be like. "I guess it's all up to God now," I replied. Secretly, I prayed I never had a child of my own. Not that I didn't love children or want them, but it was Charles. How could I bring a baby into our household? God, please don't condemn a child like that. Not an innocent child.
"I hope He is gracious to you," my mother said, lightly touching my arm. I winced again. Not at her touch, but at the sick irony of it. If only she knew what was really going on in my life.
Shea cut in, rapidly steering the conversation away form what she and I knew to be dangerous waters. "Did John tell you that we bought a dog?"
"No, he didn't. What kind of dog?" I asked, genuinely curious and also grateful for the subject change.
She smiled. "An adorable Border Collie puppy. Anne named him Patches because she likes his patches of white and black. He's four months old and already protective of Anne and William."
My mother and I smiled. I replied, "That's so sweet." It really was. I had always wanted a dog when I was growing up, but my mother had always refused, saying that because my father wasn't around and she couldn't handle one by herself, I would have to wait.
I heard the front door open and my heart started pounding anxiously as Charles entered the room, followed closely by my father and John. He smiled at me, and I flinched away from him slightly as he sat on my left. John took a seat beside Shea, and my father beside my mother.
"Before we begin to eat," my father said. "Let us pray." He took my mother's hand and we all clasped hands, bowing our heads. "We thank you, Lord, for this dinner and the closeness of our family, even those who aren't related by blood. We thank you for the good fortune that you bless us with. In Jesus's name, I pray. Amen."
"Amen," I echoed, silently adding a prayer for God to release me from Charles. I released Shea's and Charle's hands and picked up my fork quietly. I looked around the table wordlessly, wishing with all my heart that Charles wasn't there with me. I wished that it had been another, preferably a man that I hadn't seen in so many years that it was surprising that I remembered his face as if it were yesterday. Wishing sinfully that it could be Carlisle next to me instead of Charles.
I daintily took a bite of my salad and chewed quietly, tuning out the conversation. Charles and my mother appeared to be animatedly discussing some topic that I had no interest in. Beside me, Shea ate in similiar silence, probably contemplating my situation as much as I was.
"Gabriel," Charles said, adressing my father as he helped himself to another serving of my mother's mashed potatoes. "What do you think of this war, eh?"
My father replied, "I think it is highly unnecessary." I smiled slightly to myself. My father always had been a pacifest and opposed war strongly.
"Why is that?" Charles asked, a hard edge in his voice. I shivered.
"I believe it is none of our business what is going on in Europe," my father said calmly. "I do not live in Europe, I am not European, and I do not believe I am willing to fight for Europe."
John smiled. "I think that America needs to be involved on the side of our allies. What sort of ally would we be if we did not help our allies like France and Britain? Besides, fighting in Europe can very easily travel to fighting in the States."
"I agree with John," Charles said. He paused. "And that is why I have agreed to join the army to fight." Silence greeted his words.
"When does your term start?" demanded John.
"God watch over you," my father told him.
My mother and Shea just gaped at him. I was even too shocked to gape. He was fighting in the war. Wait... if he was fighting, he would leave for several years. I would be free of him! Oh, God, thank you! Thank you! I would be free of Charles! I wanted to leap to my feet and sing for joy. I would be in no danger from him. I felt slightly guilty for taking pleasure in this war--after all, I knew many would never return home--but how could I remain truly somber?
"Esme, what do you think about all of this?" my father asked me. I quickly composed my face, wiping the hapiness from it. My family would think that it would be odd if I were pleased.
"I am..." I groped around for a suitable word. "Shocked." That summed it up. They would assume I was shocked because I hadn't expected him to leave me, but truly I was shocked because I hadn't expected a solution to pop up this easily.
"I leave in five days," Charles told my father. Five days? Even better. I could survive five more days.
"Be safe," my mother told him. I wasn't listening. I was spaced out, imagining the freedom, the joy I could feel when he was finally gone.
In case you were wondering, the war they are referring to is World War I. Anyways, Esme is free of Charles for a few years, but not forever. Let me know if you would prefer me to write a couple chapters taking place in those few years without Charles, or just skip ahead to his return. Please review, thanks for reading, and have a great day.
Mel.