BEDROOM MEMORIES
1302 Words
MELANIE
“Thank you, mummy! I love you so much! Mwuahhh!” Penelople’s arms lock around my neck as she showers me with lots of kisses.
She’s so happy to see him again, and I can’t even blame her.
To her, Brandon was the man he pretended to be before I had her.
The one who loved to tell stories about people, places, and lots of things. The one who had no problem inviting you into his world and making you believe you were the center of it. The one who made me feel like he was “home”, a place I knew I hadn’t had for a very long time.
He could be any and everything you wanted to be.
Now that I think about it, I shouldn’t have been so surprised by his switch up.
He is a professional actor after all. A C-list one, sure, but a professional still.
Pen turns to Xavier, her eyes bright and filled with hope.
“Are you coming to see daddy too, uncle X?” She wears a thoughtful look on her face.
“Mummy, why did uncles never come to see daddy and me before?”
Now, how in God’s name am I supposed to answer that?
I look up at Xavier, hoping he has something to say, but when I do, he is staring at me with the same question in his eyes.
They never knew where I was, I made sure of it. And after that night…
I knew they'd never try to find me or reach out if I didn’t first.
I let go of everyone and everything—friends, family.
“Well,” I clear my throat.
“We lived very far away, you know. And as you’ll come to see, your uncles are really busy people.”
Xavier holds back his snort. The side of his cheek where I just hit him is slightly darker now.
I didn’t mean to, and I am ashamed of my reaction. But what he said… he shouldn’t have said that, or even thought of it.
I make a mental note to apologize later.
“But you’ll come from now on, won’t you?” She tugs the hem of his shirt.
“When mummy and I go back home go daddy, you’ll come visit us, right?”
He brushes her hair with his fingers.
“Sure, of course. Now, get ready quickly, okay?”
“Yes!” She turns around and sprints out of the room in glee.
His attention returns to me.
I expect him to say something about what I’ve done, or tease me about how quiet I got once Penelope stepped in, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he speaks very calmly.
“You should get ready too.”
I push my chair backwards, but I can’t stand up fast enough before he turns his back.
“If he does anything to hurt me or my child, I’ll never forgive you.”
What is wrong with me? I should be apologizing for hitting him. What is it about him that makes me lose composure? Focus? My f*****g manners?
Xavier doesn’t turn back, doesn’t look at me. He tucks both hands into his pockets.
I notice how his dark blonde hair stops just below the collar of his moss green jacket.
“He won’t,” he says the words like it’s a threat.
“Not unless he wants to die on the spot.”
There it is again, the death threat.
I won’t be the least surprised if he’s killed someone before.
He could be a hitman for all I know. He certainly has the eyes of one.
But he’s right. I have to trust him.
If Pen is ever going to stop asking me painful questions about her father, this is necessary.
He leaves the dining room, and I do too, heading up the stairs when Alfred stops in front of me.
He still has the same strange way of looking at me.
He’s the butler, the one under the payroll of the Alistairs for over thirty years—as my mother had made me understand— yet, he looked at me like I was some sort of impostor, a gold digger.
“Uhm, is there a problem?”
“Of course not.” He forces a smile that makes my stomach turn.
“I’ll show you to your room now. Please come with me.”
I have no idea what to expect as I haven’t been here in years. However, I never imagined seeing my “childhood” bedroom just the way it was when I left, especially with how much the rest of the house has changed.
The purple Victorian wallpaper, the circular dark brown bed frame, and the purple curtains that fall over it are still there.
My reading shelf, vanity table, and even the frames in my room: the one of myself and my childhood best friend, Emilia, hugging each other in front of a ferrous wheel, the one with my dad…
I such in a deep, painful breath. I turn away, trying to hide the tears in my eyes.
“The Alistairs insisted your mother didn’t touch the room.” Alfred says, like he can hear all the raging thoughts in my mind.
“What? Why?”
“They believed you’ll come back soon. Consistently argued you had a knack for leaving things exactly as they were. They said…”
I scoff, “they.”
“The young masters,” he continues, slightly irritated by my rude interruption.
“They said if you returned and found the room in a different way than you left it, you would be… disoriented.”
They might have been right six years ago, but I’ve had enough disappointments not to care about a silly room.
“That’s silly. It’s just a room.”
Nothing except his eyes look in my direction.
“Is it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He hesitates, before looking away from me.
“I’ll leave you now, ma’am. If you need anything, I’ll be down the hall.”
“Where is my daughter?”
“Her room is just two doors away from yours. She’s getting dressed.”
Then he leaves.
It’s almost impossible to focus, but I’m able to take a shower and put on a grey cashmere sweater and a flowing black denim skirt.
I run a brush through my hair and apply a bit of lipgloss on my lips, before stepping out of the room.
“Mummy!” Penelope screams and waves at me, her other hand locked in Xavier’s.
“Hey,” I say, unable to meet his eyes.
“Let’s go.”
When I stop in front of them, my heart is beating so fast and loud, I’m afraid he can hear.
“Come here.” His voice is a soft whisper as he beckons to me.
Heat fans my cheeks. He teaches for my face, slowly wiping the left side of my lip.
“You had excess lipgloss.”
I swallow hard.
“Thank… thank you.”
Minutes later, we’re in his car.
Penelope is in the backseat, Xavier and I in the front.
She has her headphones on, as she’s quite sensitive to loud noise, especially on the road.
Her eyes are fixed on her story book, giving me enough time and space to look— really look— at Xavier.
His hair is loosely tied in a bun at the back of his head, loose strands falling down his face and the back of his ear.
The black sleeves of his jacket are rolled all the way to his elbows, and his right fingers tighten around the steering wheel while his head rests on his left hand.
He’s thinking of something, but what?
- Writer
