Chapter 19 – Camille
It was a tense and uncomfortable dinner that night. Mystique ended up ordering pizza because “It’s fast, cheap, and convenient! We’ll have more time to talk!” but Erich confirmed she wasn’t one of the greatest cooks he’d ever encountered.
I could barely take more than a few bites.
My head was pounding, causing every heartbeat to turn my vision into a rave.
There was every possibility I had a concussion from the accident…
or my read on Mystique was wrong, and she took matters into her own hands to eliminate me from the dinner table with her witch’s brew.
I wasn’t sure how dinner and catching up was supposed to be relaxing as a bystander in the throes of psychological warfare.
I had already taken enough shots; I was not prepared to take another bullet for Erich and had decided responding to Olivia’s attitude was something he would need to do on his own.
“So, Camille,” Mystique started. The kitchen was more cramped than downstairs.
The room was a perfect square, with two walls of countertops hugging the off-white floral wallpaper that was starting to peel from the ceiling.
There were worn wood cabinets above the countertops, as well as a permanently stained stove, a dripping sink to fuel my agonizing discomfort, and a fridge.
We were seated around a small, circular kitchen table in one corner of the kitchen.
As I tried to stop myself from drowning in the tension, the walls and shelves felt like they were about to fall on top of me with how close everything was. “Where are you from?”
Erich had been resting his cheek in his hand, arm propped on the table. Olivia was unusually chipper and bubbly compared to a few moments earlier. Because the table was so small, Erich sat between Olivia and me, with Mystique between Olivia and me.
“Mississippi,” I answered. Mystique was only trying to be friendly. She didn’t know anything about my time there, so I quickly brushed aside my willingness to forget. She already knew I had issues, and she made that clear when we met.
There was shuffling under the table, and Erich’s hand dropped from his face in response. His side-eye at Olivia was piercing as he crossed his arms on the table.
Olivia’s grin spread from ear to ear in response, her white teeth sparkling in the corner of my migraine-induced, off-kilter vision.
Mystique’s smile was soft and friendly as she focused on me.
She was blind to the movement under the table and the weaponized glares between her two adult children.
“How wonderful. I grew up in Louisiana,” she explained.
“The streets of New Orleans, matter of fact. Came here young to work and share my abilities with the city and haven’t left since. ”
I gave her a small smile—the one I’d perfected for those types of occasions—as I attempted to take another minuscule bite of my slice of pizza.
Erich and Olivia were already on their third.
I didn’t know how they could eat so much and so fast while also communicating through dirty looks and slipped middle fingers.
Olivia hid her mouth behind her hand, and a small giggle escaped through her slender, manicured fingers.
Erich stood up quickly, pushing the faded wooden chair back with enough force to send it into the wall that was painfully close to our cramped meeting area. He left the kitchen, and seconds later, the door to the bathroom shut forcefully behind him.
“Is everything alright?” Mystique asked, her attention moving to her other side where Olivia sat with her right leg over her left.
“Never better.” Olivia’s lively grin glowed. She lifted the slice of pizza to her mouth and took another bite, her eyes meeting mine. She winked, and I resisted the urge to follow him into the bathroom to vomit out of sheer stress. What was she capable of? Would I not wake up in the morning?
Erich returned from the bathroom and flipped the chair back from the wall to the table, moving it closer to my side and further from Olivia.
Olivia’s lips turned into a dissatisfied frown as she quietly scooted her chair closer to Erich in response.
My field of vision was still pounding with each heartbeat as I saw her left hand move up his jeans, to the zipper on his pants, fingering the small metal pull and scratching the closed track…
Mystique was speaking, but her words went through me.
I was laser-focused on Erich and Olivia.
Everything was moving like we were on a ship in rough seas, and if it were my job to break up whatever was happening between the two, I didn’t know how I could possibly handle that responsibility.
The lack of response to move Olivia’s hand away was agonizing torture, and despite the stiffness of his feet planted on the floor, I began to wonder how much of this was unwanted.
It was possible he had given up letting her get under his skin altogether.
He either knew how to play the game to get her to quit, or he wanted it and wasn’t going to stop her.
I tried to focus on Mystique instead, my eyes drifting past the moving room to the woman on my right.
I wanted to scream and throw the table across the house.
Either as a means to run away or to voice frustration and disgust, I wasn’t yet sure.
“Olivia and Erich will have to show you around the city tomorrow. There’s so much to see!
” Mystique went on. Her empty paper plate sat on the table in front of her as she continued being a welcoming host with her conversation.
Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm as we heard the commotion of the city that never slept outside the open windows and in the streets.
“You two better bring her to that ice cream shop on the corner you used to go to all the time. I remember you’d both sweep the floor downstairs to get an allowance to go… ”
Olivia’s smile grew, her eyes flashing icy cold in contrast. “Of course, I’d love to show her!” She turned her focus on me, her eyes piercing into my soul as she leaned forward. “Erich and I shared so much ice cream there.”
Erich shuffled in his seat, avoiding my questioning glance between him and Olivia.
The discomfort in the emphasis was apparent in the vacant way his eyes appeared gunmetal gray under the kitchen light, staring through the cabinets and walls a few feet away.
I mentally buckled in for whatever gross game was being played out in front of me.
I pulled myself closer to the table so I wouldn’t see Olivia feeling him up under the table anymore.
Was I supposed to feel bad for him, being subject to whatever innuendo was implied there?
Mystique’s hooded eyes reminded me of a sleepy cat as her gentle lips turned into a motherly smile. “You guys were so cute back then, sharing everything. I wish I had taken more pictures…”
Olivia’s smile grew, and with it, the burning in my head intensified.
“So cute. We definitely shared a lot.” Why did she keep looking at me with these comments?
“Erich always stole the cherry… from my sundae.” The emphasis on the word “cherry” caused my stomach to tighten, and I took a deep breath and held it in so I wouldn’t have to excuse myself from the table and inadvertently cause Mystique to worry something was wrong.
“What do you think, Erich? Ice cream, cherries, bananas… ice cream sundaes were always so wonderful.”
Erich took a deep breath to compose himself. If I handed him my fork, he might try to slit his throat to be free. There was more shuffling under the table and a nearly inaudible “zip” sound. He stood up, holding his plate and reaching for mine.
“Are you finished?” He could’ve been addressing myself or Olivia at that point.
I nodded, my attention following him as he took the paper plates to the trash can. Olivia again took her chance to glance at me, but I only caught it from the far-right field of my vision.
Mystique took Erich’s leave as her cue to clean up as well, shutting the pizza box and getting up to store it in the fridge.
Before I could be left alone with Olivia, Erich was back.
He didn’t sit back down. He stood against the wall in silence, his sharply clenched jaw visible under the dying kitchen light as Mystique shut the fridge and returned to the table.
“Well, it’s a little late, and I’m sure the three of you would like to talk.
” Mystique offered a gentle smile before setting a soft hand on my shoulder, steadying my vertigo enough to ground me in reality.
“I have a job tonight, so I won’t be home until late, if not the morning.
You guys help yourselves to whatever is in the fridge. ”
With how small the apartment was, she made it through the arched doorway of the kitchen to the hallway in two wide steps. Mystique grabbed her jacket—a maroon felt with fake fur on the hood—from the hooks by the door and slipped it on.
“Play nice, you three.” She waved and stepped out the door, shutting it behind her. The creak of the staircase sounded throughout the apartment before the second door opened and closed, and we were alone.
“Well, don’t we have a fun crowd? Just me, Polly Pocket, and a man who found Jesus.” Olivia flashed another sarcastic smirk, her eyes shining with mischief.
Before she could offer a solution on what to do next, Erich interrupted her.
“I’m going to sleep.”
Olivia scowled. “Sleep? Didn’t you just get here a few hours ago? We have a lot to talk about. It’s been a while since you stopped by.”
Erich scowled at her. His narrowed, stormy eyes caused me to involuntarily gulp. “You think I want to talk after you grabbed my dick under the table?”
I was confronted again with my feeling of uselessness. I had no part in that conversation, and I shouldn’t have been hearing it. Did Erich regret coming back yet? Should I have demanded we keep driving instead of letting him call the shots this morning?