Sun In The South

Three

"Thank you for your time," Yvonne said in an obnoxious manner. What was his time compared to hers?

He'd resign home to have a good sleep now, wake up tomorrow to his simple luxury—with cars still parked in his garage, an office still giving him prominence, while she, Yvonne, was still going to perform her motherly duties tonight and wish to die in her sleep because there was no firm to look forward to.

Closing the door to the Mayor's car, Yvonne held her purse firmly and waved him goodbye, even though she couldn't tell whether he could see her or not.

It felt awkward.

Speaking of awkward, nothing on the list of awkward things could take precedence over their ride here, not even the ride to his apartment. And it made Yvonne more convinced that the mayor was a cocky bastard.

He hadn't spared her a word nor a glance. He'd just gaped out of the window and worked on his phone while she thought if she was being too naive again or more desperate this time.

The car zoomed off and it was her cue to go inside the apartment. Even if she wanted to, the Grand Avenue wind wouldn't let her remain outside. The breeze was chilling her skin and the gentleman that had dropped her didn't leave his jacket behind.

Gawking at her southern home, at the window of her daughter's bedroom, she finally made a move to go inside, locking the door afterwards.

She hesitated at the head of the stairs as she watched her daughter's opened room with a determination to pass by without being spotted.

It was an epic fail, because as soon as she took her second step and her shadow was cast into the girl's room, Clarissa's voice stopped her next step.

"Why so late?"

Peering at the wristwatch around her wrist, Yvonne sighed. "I had no idea I was this late, Clarissa." She took a spin and walked into the room. "Did you have dinner tonight?"

"Yes, fixed myself rice." Clarissa rose and went on a sitting position, crossing her legs over the bed. She put her phone away. "Fixed you something, too. I'm surprised you didn't show up for dinner, which was why I called initially."

They had an unbreakable routine, especially at night time, Clarissa wasn't overreacting because her mother should have at least ditched whatever was up for her.

Sighing, Yvonne closed their gap and sat on the bed. She picked Clarissa's hand up and rubbed it soothingly. "There's a lot I wish I could say to you, baby. And there's a whole lot I have to do to keep you safe."

"Like staying out late?"

"Like staying out late." Yvonne nodded. She wanted to end it at that, so she asked, "What is your issue with Danny?"

Yvonne could tell that her question was off limits with the way Clarissa rolled her eyes and met the headboard with her back. "You can talk to me," she cajoled, stroking Clarissa's palm.

"He's being a little kid and I'm tired of waiting for him to grow up."

"What did he child over?" Yvonne moved closer as a concerned look blotted her faced.

"Something as simple as my desire to be skinny."

"Is this even still an issue? I thought you talked to him about it?"

Clarissa almost didn't want to strike the conversation about Danny with her mother, but who else could give her pointers, even if they were bad ones? "Yes, and he's still being stubborn, giving excuses that I look better chubby."

Yvonne nearly laughed. "You look better however you want to be. You've never been chubby, why would he say that?"

"He's body shaming me," Clarissa yelled subtly.

"Look," Yvonne said softly and went on her knees so she could have her eyes wholly on Clarissa's. "He just feels like you shouldn't obsess over losing weight, and it's probably why he's trying to flatter you by saying you'd be better as a chubby woman. I personally think you're beautiful as a size eight. But if your desire is a six, then Danny can meet you there. It's your body, not his. And if he's still having a problem with it, tell him you love really well-built men, so he should try hitting the gym. Tit for tat, it's simple."

Clarissa laughed. "You're so mean."

"I know," Yvonne wryly smiled. "Let me take a shower and I'll call you downstairs so we talk while I eat, I'm starving. What you say?"

"I'm game."

* * *

"Javier will drop by tomorrow, while I'm away."

Clarissa, eyeing her mother's straight face, placed her chin on her palm, elbowing the table. "I don't want Javier around."

"Why?"

"Not wanting him around is already enough reason." Clarissa shoved a fringe of her mousy hair off her face and glanced away from her mother's bedazzled expression.

Why was she surprised? Clarissa was fourteen and felt old enough to look after herself. On her own, she had even made the rice her mother was now eating with relish. Asides coming to bore her with the talks about rule of law, Javier did nothing.

"Well, that's new," Yvonne confessed, munching on her dinner. "I don't like you being alone here, so visit Danny," she hissed, remembering there's unsettled problems there. "No, visit some other friend."

"And what's my curfew?" She wiggled a brow eagerly. It shouldn't be 8pm, f**k no.

Of course Yvonne could not be harsh with her all the time. She smiled and said, "Once I'm home, I want you back here before I blink,"and Clarissa jumped off the table with excitement pulsating through her.

Sending Clarissa away from the house was more than necessary, Dave Collin had her address. The freak had never visited, Yvonne was in no position to say it could stay that way forever, especially now that she was ready to ignore his demands and tell him off. Who knew, he could show up at the house to do more than ripping her off. God forbid he would swing by with black gloves to slice someone's throat.

The thought made her lose her appetite at once. She cleaned her mouth with a napkin and pushed the plate forward. "If you don't mind."

Yvonne's new demeanor didn't go unnoticed, though Clarissa thought it was not a good idea to tackle it. She got off the table with her mother's half empty bowl of rice and went straight to the kitchen to tidy up for the night.

The kitchen window overlooked the neighbor's garden from the side of their house. As Clarissa was doing the dishes, she saw the back view of the guy that had been making 'looking outside the kitchen window' an excellent view.

She ignored her mother's voice as she spoke to Javier over the phone, and then put all her senses on garden guy. He looked no older than twenty three, and it was weird because he spent half his day in the garden, on his phone.

And now, Clarissa had been spending more time washing plates than she should have, but spying was exhilarating. It got better each day, but tonight was the first night in two weeks that he felt someone was watching him.

Before Clarissa could catch on, the guy had turned and looked directly into her eyes with his solid sable eyes—from his unfenced and well-gardened compound, and the only plate she'd been rinsing for five minutes slipped out of her hand.

She backed him immediately, warmth assaulting the back of her neck as she begged for composure. Her breathing was uncontrollable, recalling the guy's built frame.

Clarissa should not have turned away, she admitted this, moments after she already did. She hoped she would be able to turn back to say that it was a mistake and that she was washing, not watching. Instead, she marched away and didn't go back to check on her guise that was still in the sink, begging to be put with the rest on the rack.

After drying out her hand, she made her way upstairs to tell her mother goodnight but she stopped in front of the door and listened. Yvonne was just telling Javier that the Mayor tried to kiss her. Clarissa felt disappointed. Was her mother so desperate to the point where she now exploited a politician?

Sheesh.

She needed justification for her to believe that she wasn't babied tonight because of a silly kiss.

Clarissa didn't want to hear more, but Yvonne wasn't exactly whispering because she'd gotten used to Clarissa spending her day downstairs in the kitchen.

Without any effort, Clarissa heard her mother saying she was dying for the mayor to put his hands on her with the same desire his eyes invaded her. Their conversation took an official turn real quick.

At the slight taste of bile, Clarissa backed away from the door and went to her room. She picked up her phone to text Danny, needing the only thing he was mature about—glorifying her mother. Anytime she couldn't believe in the woman, it was Danny who helped her see Yvonne better.

There was a slight hesitation in her fingers as she wanted to hit his name, it was that slight hesitation that made her toss the phone back on the bed and she went back to the kitchen, remembering her guise was still in the sink.

The mystery guy was gone, she'd probably scared him off with her creepiness, she thought to herself as she placed the plate in the rack.

For the first time in fourteen years, she wished she had an active father, maybe then, her mother would not be talking about kissing the mayor. Clarissa had never liked any one of her mother's boyfriends. They either looked to young or too old to be her father and she'd always scared them off with her forced naughtiness.

Despite her knowledge of who her real father was—a scum—she preferred her mother found him and loved him, instead of prowling herself around town in dresses that looked like a second skin, all in search of a man that could love her. The cycle was never ending and had started exhausting Clarissa.

Frankly, she was tired of meeting new men that never said goodbye but somehow never showed up at the house again.

Did she sleep with them all?

Clarissa cringed, not wanting to be able to answer that question. There was no way in hell she could get off on ever living normal again with the answer to that being a yes. Not because of how long the list was, some of them looked like escapees of a madhouse.

A touch of sadness came to her eyes and she held herself from letting daddy-issues make her cry this year. It wasn't even the first quarter of the year yet.

"Let her kiss a mayor or a model, it's none of my goddamn business," Clarissa said with very little faith that those words would heal her from the ache.

The straightforward cause of the ache was a very melancholic story that may or may not have been true. Her father denied he ever slept with her mother a few weeks after she got pregnant. He didn't stick around even for the first trimester. One morning in the first month of her pregnancy, he woke up and fled the city, after so much pestering from Yvonne's family for him to take responsibility, after he'd begged her to terminate the pregnancy. He left his scholarship—the most important thing to him at the time and never showed up again. If he had given up his dreams to avoid fatherhood, he probably never had any intention of ever coming back to Monterey to meet Clarissa.

Yvonne had told her daughter how crazy fourteen years ago was. She had even called him a lot after he fled, he never responded. Finally, he threw away his last dignity with the known SIM card. That was the last time he was heard from. He could even be dead right now.

He was nineteen when it happened and Yvonne was barely an adult. She almost couldn't go to college and law school because of the shame. Anton Perez looked after Clarissa, his granddaughter, and he died doing a good job.

Clarissa would hear from her grandmother in Veracruz once in a while, and even her aunt, whenever her mother thought it was long overdue, but those bonds were nothing tangible. Her beloved grandfather who loved her unconditionally had been gone for three years now, leaving her alone to deal with the emotionally damaged woman that was mothering her.

She indeed needed to hear from her father, to ask him why he couldn't stick around for her, to know if he wanted her in his life now. Her heart had been bleeding for so long and it felt like her deadbeat father was the only bandaid to the giant hole.

None of the men her mother was forcing to father her could do half of what her real father didn't need to do to make her better.

Not Javier, not Mr. Mayor, not Danny, but a man she didn't even know his name...yet.