Lunch was disgusting. The restaurant was lovely, the service great but the food was practically inedible. To me anyway, it turned out I had assumed correctly all these years - I really did not like sushi. But that didn’t stop me from shoving a few pieces down my throat when Rachel was looking. As soon as she turned away, I dropped them on the floor or slipped them into the napkin laid neatly on my lap.
After lunch, Rachel insisted we stop at the bar next door. She ordered a bottle of white wine and a plate of french fries. As they arrived, I couldn’t help but dive in. By then I assumed Rachel knew that I hadn’t been impressed by the sushi, she laughed but left me to eat in peace.
We finished a whole bottle of wine and then she ordered a second. By the time we’d made it halfway through, I was starting to reach my limit but I’d been enjoying myself. There had been no pressure for us to talk but we had, about everything. She had asked me countless questions, using our time alone to fill in the gaps from all the years we had spent apart. She expressed heartache at my misfortune and relief at my small number of joys.
She played the part of the doting mother well. It was just a shame I wasn’t the perfect daughter anymore. I thought that maybe it was a timing issue, but maybe it was my heart learning to be resilient. After everything we’d been through...
Rachel called us a cab claiming that she’d have someone come get her car. At home, I fell onto the sofa almost immediately. Rachel sprawled out next to me, kicking off her heels and making herself comfortable.
I was exhausted and I’d barely done anything all day. I’d never been a good drinker, that was why I didn’t make it a habit.
Much later that evening, Rachel and I were watching a movie in the living room when the front door banged open and then slammed closed again. I jumped up in my seat, immediately alert and looked into the darkened hallway from my seat.
Ugh. It was just Ambrose.
“It’s you.” His slurred words are barely discernible as he looks down at me bleary-eyed.
Rude. But it seems we have the same reaction to each other, even if mine is markedly more subtle.
Ambrose stumbled into the living room and fell into an armchair. Rachel looked up at him, startled from where she was drifting off to sleep on the couch. “Ambrose?” She asked, drowsily. “Is that you?”
He didn’t respond as his eyelids fluttered closed. She rushed to his side. “He’s fine, just drunk.”
She makes a vague humming noise, a mixture of agreement and disappointment. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
Rachel left the room, sleepiness swaying her steps a little. Which left me alone with a struggling-to-be-conscious Ambrose. I rolled my eyes as I resumed watching the movie. I didn’t bother pausing it for Rachel, she had been asleep for most of it anyway.
“Why are you even here?” Ambrose mumbled. Considering there was no one else in the room, I automatically assumed his words were directed at me.
“I’m watching a movie.” I didn’t bother looking away from the television. I knew that wasn’t the answer he wanted. I knew I was being obtuse. I didn’t care. He wanted to poke me, wanted a reaction so that I was the bad guy. I wasn’t going to give it to him, certainly not that easily anyway.
“You crawl out of the woodwork just to sit and watch a movie with mummy dearest? Let me guess, you just want to get to know us, for us all to be one big happy family.” He sneered, snorting at the chance that I could actually be here to genuinely get to know my birth parents.
I didn’t answer. I knew nothing would satisfy his jealousy. I was a threat to him and everything he’d grown up believing he deserved. Instead of being glad to have a family member return to the fold after a kidnapping, he hated me without even giving me a chance.
But anyway, family time? That was not what I was here for. Not at all. I didn’t need another family. From my experience, they only set out to hurt you anyway. I’d seen it multiple times. While Rachel and Kaleb certainly seemed like nice enough people the more time I spent with them, I hadn’t come here looking to adopt new parents.
Ambrose was just an obnoxious prick from all that I’d seen. Being jealous and bitter wouldn’t get him anywhere.
Rachel was still clattering away in the kitchen when Ambrose spoke again. “You would leave this house if you knew what was good for you. You’d leave and never return.”
I looked over at him, keeping my face impassive, and saw that he was glaring at me through slitted eyelids, head tipped back on the armchair. When I still didn’t answer, he snorted and turned his face away. By the time Rachel came back with the coffee, he was snoring.
“Oh…” Rachel placed a steaming cup of coffee with cream down on the side table beside me. “I thought he would still be awake,” she said sadly. Sitting down and sipping from her own mug, she looked at me.
“I did hope that the two of you would bond. That you would be close allies. But I see now that that was never going to happen. I really am sorry about him.” She finished on a disappointed sigh.
I didn’t know what to say except that I felt bad for her. She was a nice woman; she probably didn’t deserve how either Ambrose or I were treating her. She had one child who wasn’t ready to accept her true family and another child that was revolting against his only sister.
Ambrose had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with me. That he resented me for returning. But I wonder if she realized the true extent of his hatred towards me. Did either of us?
