CHAPTER 10
Gabrielle
“So Padma should be here any minute now,” Tyson says, sitting directly across from me at the dining room table.
I don’t bother looking up at him, but the pheromones floating across the table, which I attribute to testosterone, Zest body wash, and some luxurious cologne, blend deliciously with the aroma of bacon, ham and pancake syrup.
Beatrice had cooked another mouth-watering breakfast, with waffles this time.
Tyson was just finishing up his last waffle, then he wiped his mouth and asked, “Are you okay?”
I nod, my head still down. I was worried about telling Padma all the things her son had done to me. If Dilvan ever found out, I’m certain he’d find me and strangle me to death, especially if Padma cut him out of the family inheritance.
“Gabrielle?”
“Yes.”
“Can you look at me? Please?”
I look up at him, maintaining eye contact this time. The feeling of sitting at this table is overwhelming. That’s just something Dilvan didn’t tolerate, something I’ve become accustomed to.
“There you are,” he says, flashing a heart-stopping smile.
I see cheerfulness in his eyes that makes me crack a half smile even though I don’t really want to.
“When Padma leaves, we’re going to pack your stuff and head out.”
I nod again.
“How’d you sleep last night?”
“Good. I slept better than I have in a long time.”
“Hmm…so, why aren’t you eating?”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“You don’t have to be hungry to eat anything Ms. Beatrice cooks.”
I grin. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“Are you worried about this process?”
“I am,” I say, realizing I don’t know him that well – that he’s here, he said, because Padma sent him to find out about my life with Dilvan. So, just to clarify and to see if he still has the same story as yesterday, I ask, “Why did Padma send you here again?”
“I told you–she wanted me to make sure you were okay.”
“And why would she think I wasn’t okay?”
Tyson frowns briefly and asks, “You do realize we’ve already had this conversation, don’t you?”
“Have we?”
“Yes. I told you–Padma saw some bruises on your neck, and everyone knows how cruel Dilvan can be.”
“Yeah, everyone but me, apparently. And if Padma knew that’s how he was, why would she marry me off to a man like that?”
He shrugs. “Maybe she thought he’d change.”
“Do you think he’s capable of changing?”
“No, I do not. Why do you think his brothers never come around? Have they been over since you’ve been living here?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
I shake my head, completely baffled. I jumped at this opportunity for the money, yes, but had my father known about Dilvan, I would’ve still been living at home, happily poor with my dignity intact.
There’s no way he would’ve allowed this.
Why would Padma allow it? Did she really think Dilvan would change because he was married?
I ask, “Okay, so in the grand scheme of things, you are Padma’s clean-up guy?”
Tyson laughs. “You’re making me sound like a mobster.”
I grin a little.
“Nah, I’m not Padma’s clean-up guy,” he says, then laughs again.
“So, what do you do for her?”
“A little work here and there,” he said, sounding like he was intentionally withholding information.
“And she sent you here to look after me?”
“She sent me here to find out what’s been going on, and to determine if Dilvan had been treating you okay. But you haven’t been particularly forthcoming with me so she’s coming to find out for herself this morning. I understand you two are pretty close.”
“Yes. I love Padma like a mother.”
Which is why I don’t understand how she could attach me to her evil son…
“Then make sure you pour your heart out to her like one.”
“But—”
“Well, hello, my daughter,” Padma says, stepping into the dining room, interrupting my conversation with Tyson.
“Hi,” I say, then get up from the table to greet her with a hug.
Tyson stands. “I’m going to give you ladies some privacy. Holla if you need me.”
“Will do, Tyson,” Padma says as she gets comfortable at the table.
He disappears somewhere in the living room and now, it’s just Padma and I, sitting at the table. She removes a scarf from her head and places it neatly on the backrest of her chair. Then she takes a plate, grabs a few food items and asks, “How have you been, daughter?”
“Um...” Before I can lie and say I’m okay, she blurts out, “Tyson told me what happened last night, and now I want to hear it from you. Gabrielle, what has been going on in this house?”
“Padma, I don’t want to get Dilvan in any sort of trouble.”
Translation: I don’t want Dilvan to kill me.
“Forget about Dilvan, Gabrielle!” she snaps, her home country accent dominating her vernacular. “I promised your father that I would take care of you, and I’ve been so busy with the charities, I feel that I have failed in that regard. Now, I want to know what’s going on.”
I inhale a deep breath – so deep that my stomach nearly touches my back.
The moment feels like a pivotal shift in my life.
It’s something I must do no matter how afraid or embarrassed I am.
So, after another quick breath, I look at Padma and say, “Last night, Dilvan assaulted me. I blacked out. When I woke up, blood was beneath me on the floor, and that’s when Tyson came in and found me.
He took me to the hospital where I found out I had another miscarriage. ”
Padma gasps. “Another? Meaning you’ve had one before?”
I nod, pinch the tears from my eyes, and say, “Yes.”
Padma’s lips trembled. She pushed her breakfast plate away and stood up, pacing back and forth by the dining room table, her hands balled into fists. She stops abruptly, looks at me, and asks, “What else has he done to you?”
“Padma, I don’t want to go into detail–”
“I want to know everything.”
I push the stream of tears away from my face and say, “We don’t share bedrooms, which is fine by me because the thought of sleeping next to him sickens me.
He said I wasn’t good enough for his bedroom, so I’ve been sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms since I’ve been here.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, he comes to my room to–you know—have relations with me which, I don’t know why because he says I’m ugly.
Says no one would want me, and the only reason I was married was because you put us together.
He said I was poor and didn’t deserve a man like him.
He calls me names, makes me sit on the floor to eat.
One time, he came home mad, and of course he took it out on me.
He made me eat dinner in the rain. He said if I didn’t finish it, I couldn’t come back into the house.
So, I sat out there and cried, eating soggy bread, chicken, and beans. ”
I wipe my face again and say, “He yells at me constantly and makes me call him my lord. When you come over for breakfast, he kicks me underneath the table if he thinks I said, or am about to say, something out of line that may give you a clue on how he’s been treating me.”
I take a moment to catch my breath and dry more tears, then I say, “I’m so sorry this happened.
I tried, Padma–I really tried so hard to love him, but he made it impossible.
I know I’m not deserving of him, and that he could be with someone better than me, but I tried to make the marriage work. He just—”
“No!” Padma interrupts. “You’re the one who deserves better.”
She sits next to me again, holds my hands, and says, “I’m so sorry, Gabrielle.
I knew he was crass, but I didn’t think it was this bad.
I thought marriage would change him. This is my fault for trying to fix my flawed, narcissistic son.
He’s so wrapped up in this materialistic culture and lifestyle that he neglects the people who love him.
But I can assure you–he will never hurt you again. ”
She dabs her eyes, collects herself, and says, “Tyson is going to show you where you’ll be staying. I’ll take care of Dilvan.”
“Okay.”