Ch. 31 The Woman At The Door
It's warm. So warm.
I snuggle closer to the source and the source gathers me closer.
Gathers. Me.
I blink my eyes open. My face is pressed against Marcus's chest, his arms around me. Two cushions are stuck between us, pressing between our abdomen and feet. The throw is tangled around Marcus, like at some point, I had my leg around him.
Mortification burns through me.
I start to pull away, but he mumbles, "Don't go," and tightens his hold.
Oh. Dear. Lord.
A few minutes later, his grip loosens and I carefully extricate myself. I move back to my side and go back to sleep, a smile still playing on my lips.
—-------------------
"Would you like anything else?" I point to the various bits of breakfast on her plate.
She shakes her head.
I sigh and start cleaning up. The smell of burnt eggs lingers everywhere.
I tried cooking at home and like always—it was a disaster.
I told her we could order something in, but she insisted.
The door bell rings.
I'm surprised. It's 7:30 am.
Ella said she'd drop by around 9.
Plate still in hand, I go to get the door. I pull it open, only to be greeted by a pair of electric blue eyes, same as mine.
The plate slips from my hand and crashes onto the floor.
No. No. NO.
—-------------------
Marcus stumbles back, the plate crashing to the floor.
An older woman barges in.
"So this is where you live." Her voice is soft, but her eyes—they tell a different story.
"You've done well for yourself. I have to say, I thought it would be more difficult—getting to you. The security here is pretty lax."
She looks around the house like she owns it, touching the furniture, running her hands along it as if to appraise its quality.
"What are you doing here?" Marcus's voice is low, and dead. "How did you even find me?"
Her clothes look worn, and the lines around her eyes are deep. She looks at him and smiles.
"Didn't you always want to be a part of my family?"
She pulls out a letter—I can clearly make out his handwriting. "Sorry, I found it a little late. I'm here to welcome you home."
Marcus laughs. "I wrote that when I was fifteen. You're over a decade too late. And you aren't family. Dad is. So why don't you just get to the point quickly?"
Oh yeah—his dad. Where is he? Is he still in Radcliffe?
I remember the shrine Marcus's father built—for her. It's really difficult to reconcile this caricature with the woman who was so deeply loved.
"You want me to get to the point? Your brother Seth—he needs money. His business isn't doing well."
Marcus stares at her incredulously. "And you somehow figured, that the son you abandoned to start a new family is the one who should shoulder your debts? You must be kidding me."
Marcus scoffs and rolls his eyes—but I can see his pain in the set of his shoulders.
Who does this woman think she is—barging into Marcus's home, and demanding money like he owes her?
"Honey, it's your father's fault. He was a complete loser. You think love is enough to fill bellies? It isn't. You have to constantly do better—be better. He was happy being mediocre, remaining stuck in that backwater. Said all he needed was you and I.
"Well I needed more! And I wasn't going to carry his dead weight into my new life."
Marcus looks like he's been struck. "And what about me?"
"It was a mercy to you and your dad. Your dad couldn't have survived without you, and where I was going, I couldn't take you with me. But I'm here now."
Marcus turns ashen. I want to intervene—tell his mother to get lost—but I hold my silence. It's not my place.
"Surely Seth's father has enough money to bail him out." Marcus's jaw is clenched so tight, I can see the veins popping on his neck.
His mother's lips twist in an ugly grimace. "His father left me for a young blonde."
Marcus snorts. "Well, well. I would say it serves you right, but I don't think it's enough punishment."
She steps closer to Marcus.
"Seth needs money—$100,000. I have to help my child."
Her voice turns cold. "You have so much. Surely you can spare some for your mother and brother? Just quickly write a check and I'll be out of your hair."
I stare in horrified silence at the cruelty of this woman.
"You need to leave." Marcus's voice is cold.
His mother continues on. "I knew you wouldn't agree easily. You always only listened to your father.
"I went to him first, but the petty man wouldn't let me in. Finally, Mrs. Green—I can't believe she still lives there—such a waste of space, told me your dad wasn't there. Where is he, by the way?
"She finally told me where you lived—after I threatened to wreck her precious front yard."
I didn't think it was possible for someone to be this cruel to their progeny. Marcus looks grey, his eyes cold as ice.
"You went to dad? And you didn't even try to find out where he might be?"
"That man was never going anywhere."
She suddenly turns to me. "Who is this woman? Wife? Girlfriend? A hook-up?"
I stare at her in disbelief. Is she delusional?
She steps closer to me. "Yes, she's not pretty enough to be the first two. Why don't you pay her so she can leave us be?"
Suddenly, Marcus starts laughing. He's laughing, but his eyes burn with a fury that could scorch the earth.
He moves to step between us, his words pure ice.
"If you so much as blink in her direction, I'll forget we share blood. If you know what's good for you—leave. Leave now, or I will throw you out. And don't ever darken my doorstep again."
—--------------------
I rush to place myself before Celeste as that woman steps closer to her.
"Alexa, call security. And tell them to come prepared."
"Okay Marcus. Building Security has been informed. Do you want me to call 911?"
"Should I?" I stare at my mother defiantly.
Her mouth twists in an ugly grimace.
"This isn't over yet." She storms out, leaving the door open behind her.
Two security personnel come running to the door.
"Make sure that woman cannot enter this apartment complex. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir."
I dismiss them. They look at the shattered plate by the entrance, take in the atmosphere and exit quietly.
Celeste is sitting on a chair again. She looks pale.
I kneel next to her.
"I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Completely fine. Are you okay?"
Best not to get into it.
"You need to rest—you're looking a bit peaky. Come on."
I help her to the bed and gently lift her onto the mattress. I want so badly to just hold onto her.
I can't step away from her just yet.
I fluff her pillow and tuck her into the blanket.
All that while, her eyes follow me silently.
Her hair is all over the place. I smooth it out and tuck it behind her ear.
"Rest for a bit. I'll go clean up. Holler if you need anything."
She nods slightly. I'm just turning away when she grabs my hand.
"Marcus?" It's her tone, pained and worried.
I sit next to her and take her hand in mine.
She bites her lip. "Where's your dad?"
—--------------------
I watch silently as Marcus switches to auto-pilot. He tucks me in, gently brushing my hair from my face before turning around.
His eyes are so tortured.
I can't stop thinking about everything that just happened.
I know he was embarrassed that he burnt our breakfast—but I only care that he tried.
He's the first person to actually cook for me since mom died.
My mind drifts to his mother—who clearly abandoned him—and is now demanding he pay for her other son.
The son she actually cares about.
How devastated he must feel. And what about his father?
Intuition opens a pit in my stomach. I can't help myself. I grab his hand and call him.
He takes my hand in his and squeezes it. I have to ask him.
"Where's your dad?"
He looks away and swallows. "He's in Radcliffe. Just a different address."
"Where, Marcus?"
He finally meets my eyes, and the pain in them stops my breath.
No.
Just NO.
"He rests in the cemetery now."
His voice is a void. No tone. No inflection. But I know what the void hides—grief. Grief and guilt he hasn't processed yet.
"I'm so sorry." My voice is a whisper as my eyes sting with tears.
"It's alright. Thank you. I'll go clean up now."
He pulls his hand out of my grasp and stalks out.
I can hear him moving around the kitchen, banging pots and pans as he goes.
A part of me wants to go out and comfort him. But the rest of me... the rest of me wonders—with what right?
I have no claim to him.
The tension from the morning, the fatigue of my injuries, and the pain in my body that keeps humming incessantly in the background finally take their toll—
My eyes close without permission and I reluctantly allow sleep to take over.
—--------------------
I'm awoken by the doorbell ringing. I lie in bed, a little disoriented, until the events of the morning catch up with me.
Ella steps into the room with a small carrybag.
"Hey." Her voice is soft, like she's afraid to disturb me. "So I got you your things. I'm so sorry I couldn't get them last night. Marcus told me you were napping. Did I wake you?"
I shake my head. "I was due to get up anyway." I glance at the clock.
I was out for just twenty minutes. Huh. And Marcus came to check on me during that time.
She glances outwards, towards where Marcus is now scrubbing the dishes.
"Is everything okay? Did you guys fight? I was expecting y'all to be all lovey-dovey..."
Her voice trails off, a frown forming.
"Is he bullying you? 'Cause if he is—"
"It's nothing like that at all." I cut her off before she can even finish that thought. He's been anything but...
"He must not have slept well last night—taking care of me and all."
"I see." Ella looks unconvinced, but drops it. I'm grateful.
Then she turns a 100W grin my way and asks, "So how was it?"
I blush a deep red, and it seems to tell her everything.
"Ooohhhhhh!"
Before she starts rolling down that tangent, I ask her my burning question.
"What happened to Marcus's dad?"
Her smile slips and eyes turn sad, and she looks out of the room, towards Marcus.
My heart stutters, like something ominous is coming. Ella's expression fills me with a fear that her next words confirm.
"Didn't you know? He's no longer with us—passed away nearly three years back."
She pulls a chair close to me. "Liver cirrhosis. Marcus tried so hard to get him to come to the city... but he refused to leave Radcliffe. Marcus shuttled back and forth for months. But he's not spoken about it to any of us—at all. He was back to work the very next day.
"Keith tried to get him to take some days off but he threatened to quit. He clearly needed to keep busy.
"We've tried asking him about it—but he just shuts down.
"What brought this on?"
I shake my head. "I've met him before... In high school... I was just wondering, is all."
Ella nods disbelievingly but changes the topic. We chat about random things for half an hour and then she gets up to leave.
"Duty calls. Sometimes I wonder why I let Keith and everybody else talk me into taking on JB Tech. Take care, Celeste."
She leans in to kiss my cheek before placing my go bag on the end table and waving goodbye.
The events of this morning swirl in my head. For the first time, I'm beginning to wonder about all the things Marcus was hiding behind his smiles in high school...
What else did I miss?