20. Frederick
20
FREDERICK
" I 'm nervous," Rochelle tells me as we walk to my mom's house. "Everything you tell me about your family is hard to understand. I clearly don't relate to them. What if they don't like me?"
I take her hand in mine. "You'll do great. There's nothing not to like about you, and if they don't, we both know it's their issues preventing them." Her face softens. "Think about the kids, they love you, and kids are the best judge of character. They have no reason to pretend to like someone. Tell yourself that anytime you feel nervous."
She squeezes my hand. "Thank you."
I should be the one thanking her. Rochelle has no idea how happy I am that she is here with me. I'm still nervous, but I'm going to do everything in my power not to let the nerves show.
So much has changed since I told my family about Rochelle. Then, it was just an arrangement, a game I was playing to piss them off.
Now, I think this is turning into something. I sure hope this is turning into something. The past week has felt like something. My stomach tingles just thinking about our time together.
We round the corner, and it's a different feeling than the last few times I have been here. Having Rochelle with me makes going to my mom's house ten times better, even if my nerves are causing my stomach to rumble. "You ready?" She nods.
Rochelle jumps when I shut the door. "Don't be nervous," I whisper. "Everything is going to be fine. I promise."
I remove Rochelle's jacket and hang it for her. "You can put your shoes over there." I kick mine off into the designated shoe area. "Frederick, is that you?" My mother’s voice echoes in the hallway.
She rounds the corner before I can answer, sweeping the room with one of her white-on-white ensembles. Her face brightens when she sees who I brought. "Hello. You must be Rochelle. I can't tell you how excited I am to finally meet you." My mom makes a beeline for Rochelle, hugging her like she is an old friend.
“Mom, this is Rochelle, Rochelle, this is my mom.” Good thing Rochelle doesn't seem bothered by the overly friendly welcome.
"Hi, honey." My Mother embraces me, careful not to wrinkle her cashmere.
"I'm good. Where's Theron?" I want to get the introductions out of the way so I can relax a little.
"He's preparing tea in the kitchen. Rochelle, do you like hot tea?"
"Yes, I love it. Thank you."
We make our way to the sitting room. The same sitting room we sat in when I told them Rochelle and I were engaged. Please let this go better than that day.
"Sit wherever you would like, Rochelle." My mom's chipperness is making me uncomfortable.
"Get it while it's hot." Uncle Theron walks into the room carrying a butler tray. Steam rises, and I can smell the lemon. "Hope everyone likes lemon," he says as he sets the tray down in the center of the coffee table.
"You must be Rochelle." Theron extends his hand. "It's nice to meet you." He gives her a firm handshake, and she smiles.
"It's wonderful to meet you, too. Both of you. I have heard so much about you. It's great to put your faces to your names finally."
I sit beside Rochelle as my mom and uncle waste no time with the questions.
"So, Rochelle, what do you do?" my mom asks.
“I’m a hostess at Le Printemps.”
"Oh, that's lovely. I've never been there. Have you been, Theron?"
"I haven't, but I would love to go. Frederick, we should go in one day when Rochelle is working."
Yeah, Uncle Theron, I'm sure she would love to seat fancy rich assholes right in the middle of her shift.
"I would love that," Rochelle says. I shoot her a smile, knowing full well that she's taking one for the team right now. "It's just a job. I dream of being a professional musician one day."
"Rochelle is extremely talented," I chime in, feeling the need to make that known.
"I'm lucky. Le Printemps has a piano, and I play there twice a week."
"That's lovely," my mom says. "Where does your love of music come from?"
Rochelle's face lights up. "My grandfather. He taught me how to play the piano when I was four, and I haven't stopped."
"What do you like to play?" Theron asks her.
"I love Schumann. Clara, that is." She looks at me and winks. All I can do is smile. She impressed me then with her music knowledge, and she's impressing me now with her confidence, even though I know she's nervous.
"Rochelle isn't just a talented piano player. She writes music, too." Shut up, Frederick. Let her talk.
She laughs. "That's true. I love writing scores for plays. If I could do that and play piano for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest woman in the world."
I'm sure my mom and uncle are confused. Happiness to them means money and assets. They will never understand what it's like to have dreams. They have purchased all of theirs.
"That's wonderful, Rochelle. It sounds like you have a true passion for it. I'm sure you will make your dreams a reality with your positive attitude."
I can't tell if my mom is authentic or fake, but I feel a surge of pride for what Rochelle has been able to accomplish already. If they only knew what she has been through just to get to where she is today.
When my mom finishes with her potentially fake praise, there's an awkward silence, which gives me the perfect opportunity to sip some tea.
"So, what else is new?" It seems Uncle Theron is just as uncomfortable with the silence as I am.
"We have had some late nights this past week," Rochelle replies. My mom eyes me when she says it, and Rochelle sees it. "Oh, no, no. Not like that."
She laughs nervously. "My neighbors, Sigourney and Walken, come over a lot. They really like Frederick and have been staying to spend time with him, but it gets later each night. Leaving me exhausted in the morning. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I adore those kids."
"Did you know them before you moved in?"
"No, they lived there with their mom and stepdad before I moved there." I can tell by Rochelle's change of tone that talking about Caroline and Terrance upsets her. At least they haven't fought in the past two weeks. Fingers crossed.
"Frederick tells us they're good kids." I wish she would stop. Rochelle is going to think I have a big mouth.
"They're wonderful and absolutely adorable. She’s nine, and he’s eleven. I had never seen such beautiful hazel eyes before I met the two of them. Sigourney has been teaching Frederick how to crotchet, and Walken is just a ball of energy. I enjoy spending time with them." I feel my face turn red.
"My nephew, crocheting?" Theron chuckles.
"Do you take them to Central Park?"
I know what she's doing. I can tell she's trying to comment on the neighborhood because, to her and Theron, it's a 'horrible' area. They're just not used to anything other than luxury. Someone who argues about owning a castle could never understand the life of a person who has always had everything working against her.
"We usually stay in and watch movies, play, do crafts. Stuff like that. Although a few weeks ago, Frederick and I took them back to school shopping. That was a blast, but that is about it as far as leaving the complex! Their stepdad isn't the greatest, and I don't want to ruffle feathers."
I can see Rochelle is upset. I put my hand on hers. "I don't have a great track record with stepdads." She laughs nervously.
"Maybe so. But look how things are turning around." I tell her. "You got most of your stuff back. Everything is safely locked away in storage, your grandfather's piano is in one piece, and it's only a matter of time before you never have to deal with Steve again."
"The dolls aren’t."
My mom's face turns sympathetic, and I can tell it's real. "What dolls?" she asks Rochelle, but I answer.
"We were able to get a lot of Rochelle's things back, but some irreplaceable things were ruined. We think Steve did it on purpose."
Rochelle takes a deep breath. "Let's not talk about him." A light film of tears springs to her eyes. "I don't want to spoil the mood."
"Okay." I squeeze her hand. "Let's change the subject!" I say a little too brightly.
"You guys do that, and I will catch up. I have to run to the lady's room." Rochelle stands and nervously pulls at her clothing.
"It's the third door on the right," I offer, a little afraid that this evening is officially now coming apart at the seams. It started so promisingly, but have they scared her off fifteen minutes in?