Chapter 3: Meeting David

“Oh, here you are! Which napkins should I use?” my mom asked when she entered my room.

I raised my eyes from my painting to look at her. “I don’t know. I like the beige ones a bit more,” I answered, and she nodded.

“What are you painting again?” she asked yet again and came around to check the canvas in front of me.

“It’s just a vase.”

“I bought this vase the other day, and I was about to unbox it. Wait a minute; I was alone when I bought and you couldn’t have seen it, unless you…”

“I dreamed it,” I say confirming her suspicions.

“Did anything else happen in that dream or it was just the vase?”

“It was just the vase,” I lied. She was stressed enough with the upcoming dinner, and I didn’t want to add more to her worries.

“Very well. Come downstairs to help me arrange the table, please.”

I wasn’t sure if she believed me, but I was grateful that she let it slip. I tidied up my room a bit, and then I followed my mom downstairs. The previous afternoon we’ve cleaned the whole house, and my mom made sure everything was perfect. On Saturday morning, we went grocery shopping and at the supermarket. Mom had a rather big list of things she wanted to buy. She had to cook for six people instead of two, and not to mention that one of them was a professional chef. I wasn’t very concerned about her cooking skills, though. She loves cooking and baking, and she spends most of her free time in the kitchen.

“Ophelia, can you help me fold the napkins like this?” she said, and I followed her instructions.

“Are you nervous?” I asked her after a few minutes of silence.

“Ah, well if dad won’t be very strict with David, then we are going to be okay.”

“Grandma will give him the silent treatment, if he upsets you,” I told her smirking.

“Mom is the only woman in this world who can put your grandfather to his place,” she chuckled.

“Are you done cooking?”

“Yes, although I was super worried about this, too. David is a chef. What if he doesn’t like what I’ve cooked?”

“It’s his loss then. Plus, next time he will be the one who cooks,” I said shrugging.

“You are very optimistic, angel. We have to survive this dinner, first…” It seems she was more worried than I’ve thought.

“Everything will be okay. Relax and enjoy yourself. Now can you please let me try what you’ve cooked. It smells delicious.”

I wasn’t sure if I was trying to comfort her or myself. It seems like she had the same bad feeling with me, although none of us admitted it. Once the table was set, we tried the food she’d cooked. It was indeed scrumptious; I couldn’t stop eating.

After that, we took a quick shower and dressed up. My mom paid extra attention to her make-up and her attire. She opted for a burgundy dress and black high heels. The golden details of her dress matched perfectly with her jewelry. On the other hand, I wear my black skinny jeans with a grey blouse, which had a bit more cleavage than I wanted. I let my black hair down in natural waves. My ocean blue eyes made the perfect contrast with my pale skin. I added a nude shade of lipstick and my little diamond earrings.

When the doorbell rung my mom almost jumped half surprised, half scared.

“Go and remember to smile,” I pushed her gently towards the door. She inhales deeply and then disappears.

I stayed in the living room trying to figure out who had just arrived. A few moments later my mother comes back with an unknown man beside her. He’s taller than my mom and well-build. He seems to be in his early 40s. He has dark brown eyes and his brown hair is mixed with a hint of grey at his temples, and stubble covers his chin.

“David, please meet my daughter, Ophelia. Ophelia, this is David,” my mom did the introduction and David extended his hand for a handshake.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” David said, a smile plastered on his face.

“The pleasure is all mine,” I replied politely.

“Your mother has said to me a lot about you.”

“I’m sure she did. Hopefully, we’ll have more time to get to know each other,” I said, and my mom smiled brightly.

“I’d like that, too,” David replied, his lips twitching in a smile.

We sat on the sofa and mom poured David a drink.

“So, you are in the sixth grade, right?”

“That’s right. Junior high school is better than I expected.”

“Ophelia has now more time to spend on her hobbies,” my mom explained.

“If I remember correctly you like to draw, right?” David inquired, interested to know more.

“I draw since forever; it’s more of a need than a hobby for me. The paintings at the hall are mine,” I said proudly.

“Really? Well done, they are amazing.”

“That’s why we hanged them. We keep the ugly ones it the basement,” I joked, and we all burst into laughs.

“I thought Chris was coming, too,” my mom commented when we sobered up.

“He will join us in a while. He had practice at the gym and couldn’t miss nor postpone it,” David explained.

The doorbell rang once more, and mom went to open the door.

“My grandfather usually doesn’t bite. I'm sure they’ll like you,” I told David, and he seemed relieved for a second.

My grandparents came into the living room followed by my mother, who did the introductions once again. My grandpa had a straight face and barely said three words, while my grandma being her usual talkative self, kept bombarding David with questions.

“When I hired you, I’ve never thought that you’d court my daughter,” my grandpa finally said.

“Dad!” my mom exclaimed; her face as red as a tomato. David went paler than before, and my grandma gave her husband a pointed look.

“I’ve never thought that I’d open my hurt to another woman, again, sir,” David said, trying to look composed.

“If you ever hurt any of them,” said my grandfather pointing a finger at me and mom, “I’ll make sure you...”

Grandpa was interrupted by David, “I won’t, sir. You have my word,” he said with a determined look in his eyes.

“Very well then,” grandpa mumbled, looking pleased with David’s answer.

My mom sighed relieved, since this informal duel was over. It seems that grandpa approved their relationship.

“We haven’t been at Rosa Bianca, for a while now. Ana mentioned that you changed the menu,” grandma said, changing the subject.

“You must come sometime soon then. People responded well to the revised menu; they liked the new dishes,” David informed us with a bright smile.

“I hate to say that, but I told you so,” my mom chuckled.

“I saw some pleasing criticisms posted in the local magazines and newspaper. You both did a very good job,” my grandpa admitted. Mom and David thanked him looking proud of themselves, and I was also very happy for them.

The conversation kept flowing; grandma asked me about school while the others talked about work. Mom insisted to wait for Chris before we start eating. Almost an hour later, David had to call him, and he informed us that he was on his way to our house. David seemed displeased with his son’s attitude, and I wondered if it was going to get any worse.

I helped mom bring the salads and the plates with the food in the dining room. We were all set when the doorbell rang for the third time that evening.

“Ophelia, open the door, please,” yelled my mother from the kitchen.

A bit unsure I headed to the door and yanked it open. My eyes winded a bit at the sight. On the doorstep was standing a boy a few years older than me, that looked a lot like my mom’s boyfriend, although his eyes were lighter and his hair messier than David’s. He was cover in sweat and his clothes were wrinkled. He was checking me out, too.

And then it was like my brain started working again. “You must be Christopher!” I said, trying to sound excited.

“And you must be the bastard daughter,” he hissed through greeted teeth.