Chapter 75q: Patience Rewards Itself (13 June 2003, experiencing a cease-fire in the apartment of the Heel family)
It is common sense that after a good bout of rain the sky eventually clears up. And after hardship comes better times. If only it hadn't taken a whopping two years to get to this point!
"Come son, just put on a neat tablecloth. I'll hold this end, but if you can smooth it out, it will be a lot more homely."
Cain gives me a roll of his eyes, but see? Even that damn kid understands how important today is for me. And for our family. Together, we are slowly managing to smoothe out the tablecloth and put all the things for lunch on the table: plates, cups, bread and buns, the works.
"You know, I had never expected that you and I would actually be getting the old relic back out of storage. Imagine that, huh?"
He grunts. Is that positive?
Okay. So I am reaching for conversation. I can't help it. If he's going to be this silent through all of Setsuka's visit later, then there's never going to be a repeat. I can't have that. It needs to be perfect.
Their stated intentions aside, who knows when those two court-appointed surrogates will change their mind again. Which they probably will unless I give them undeniable proof that I am the best parent for my little girl. Unfortunately they have shown their disdain for the meaning of blood and genetics and true parental bonding time and time again.
Change doesn't happen overnight, so I have to keep trying.
There needs to be a second time. And a third time. And whenever they change their mind for good, I need to have woken my darling girl up to the meaning of sticking with her real family. She's been growing up so fast…
I clear my throat. One step at a time.
"See that stain? Your mother was never quite able to wash out that tomato soup." I joke lightly towards Cain, who cracks a bit of a smile. It is a shared memory. One of few good ones, come to think of it. The worse she got, the more … no, not now.
Today is not a day for self-pity.
He looks at me. Those dark eyes.. what is he thinking?
"She still dislikes tomatoes. But once upon a time, someone began to order pizzas while hanging out with her. So now she tolerates them like butter on bread."
The corners of his lips twitch. I find myself grinning. "What do the English say again? Attaboy. Right?"
… Too awkward. If only he wasn't standing on the other side of the table, I'd complete the joke with some physical encouragement. A slap on the shoulder. Or probaby his back given how much he's been growing up. Some shared chuckles. For bonding.
Bonding requires closeness. Ugh.
But at least he's now smiling. I see his eyes light up just a little bit. That's good. Encouraging.
"Yes. That's the word, but you use it wrong. Shall I get the orange juice you made me squeeze out earlier?"
The tone of his voice betrays that he's nearing his capacity to tolerate. Ugh. It's not like I could have squeezed those oranges myself while sitting in this wheelchair..!
"Yes, please do."
I bite my proverbial tongue to keep the barb out of that response, but I can't help remind him of why he did it. Maybe he forgot, maybe he didn't, but I am the parent in this house.
"You know your mom used to swear by natural orange juice compared to the storebought additive-filled cartons that hold more water than orange."
He wanders over to the kitchen to take the big carafe of orange juice he prepared this morning out of the fridge. As he wanders back a minute later with some glasses in his other hand, he smiles. Yet.. it lacks warmth.
"It wasn't me."
I raise an eyebrow. "What'd you do? Break something?" A small sigh escapes me; glass on the floor is the last thing I need when Setsuka's coming over for a long visit.
He rolls his eyes as he passes me and puts the things down on the table. Whew. Good. Nothing broken, then.
"It was Jenny who got her to try those little mini-pizza things at a bakery. She dislikes the obvious texture and notable presence of the tomato slices, but has come to admit it works well with the bread, cheese, olive and other spices. I had always thought it would take junkfood like pizza or spaghetti to make her come around on the tomato subject, but she still has no interest in those."
His eyes come to meet mine again, but this time it is a cocky gloat. The pride of mutual defeat.
'It might not have been me, but it definitely wasn't you.'
Something like that. I'd be pissed if I didn't just hear more about Setsuka's thoughts than either of those two would usually share with me. I'll take this glass window into her life over the Berlin-inspired iron curtain any day.
"Well, that's good. It might be a bit expensive and chic of a snack for a child her age, but it beats junk food! I'll have to see if I can get some for tomorrow."
His expression betrays a bit of surprise. Did he expect me to come at him for his disrespect? Or is it because I've stopped buying cookies for us since there's better uses for the money than wasting it on treats that are just going to go stale anyway? Or are those little mini-pizzas that expensive? Even if…
RRRRRIIIINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
The doorbell. Finally!
"Go wash your hands. I'll go open the door."
I hurriedly wheel my way to the hall to open the door, not paying any more mind to Cain who looks about ready to complain and offer to do it in my stead.
Not today, son.
My little princess has come home!
And even if it is only for a couple of hours… she's here!
I'm not missing out on anything; not even the greeting at the fucking door!
As it opens, I greet her. Our eyes are practically at the same level, and they meet.
"Hello love."