7 years earlier
–
'Goddamnit Charles, look at your hair. And what happened to the crease in your pants? It’s getting worse and worse every day.’
The once beautiful woman moves fast and purposefully. Her silver dress fits like a glove, her hair is artistically sculpted into a monumental tower, not a strand or even a hair out of place. Pearls. Lots of pearls. The skin on her face is so tightly strung that she can hardly move her lips, her skin color just a bit too orange to be natural. Only the brown spots on her spidery-hands betray her true age.
She looks disgusted, as if her favorite Gucci is burning in front of her eyes.
'Maaaarrrrrriiiiiiaaaaaa!!!!!!' She shouts to the door. Turning back to the boy, shaking like a leaf in front of her, she hisses. ‘You are doing this on purpose. I know you do. Never helping. Always messing things up. You know how important this diner is for your father. We cannot allow your sulking bored ugly face, messing everything up. Not this time. The stakes are too high. We need the money. MARIA! Where is that b... ah there you are. Good, you have ten minutes to make this presentable. If he’s not downstairs by then, consider yourself fired. Do you hear me!’ Even now she’s got help, she keeps complaining, more to herself than anyone else. ‘Give, give, give, and nothing in return, if only...’
She stops abruptly mid-sentence and turns a paler shade of orange when from downstairs a dark commanding voice calls. Her tone transforms within a fraction of a second, gaining a few pitches. ‘Yeeeesssss dear, I’m coooooommmmiiiiing. Everything under control here. He will be ready in a few seconds.’
She turns back to the boy a last time and whispers so close to his face that can smell her favorite liquor on her breath and feels her spit hitting his cheeks.
‘Believe me, if this ever happens again, then it will not be difficult to convince your father to put you in a foster home. You didn’t think he really loved you, did you?’ After this last remark, she leaves the room, but even after she has closed the door behind her, he can hear her talk to herself.
‘Trophy child? Don’t think so.’
And then, it’s all silent. For a moment he’s alone with his fear, frustration and grief, but then he feels the arms of Maria embracing him. His muscles relax immediately when his tiny body leans into hers, his head resting in her neck.
‘Don’t worry Charlie, you know how she gets right before an important diner. It’s the pressure. You know that, right? Come here, give me a hug, dry your tears and we will get you in perfect shape in no time. Can you do this one more night? Of course, you can.’ She pulls him against her and hugs him without any reservation, ignoring the shocks going through her body.