Five minutes after we’ve been served our orders, and we were still sat in silence. Miss Francine has been completely ignoring her coffee, looking outside the window, face half-covered by her hand, looking for words she wasn’t finding.
My sister had already finished her cup of coffee and me and Violet were still waiting for our hot chocolates to cool down enough for us to drink them. Violet looked frightful, glaring at Miss Francine as if she were a threat. For all she knew, she likely was, being a friend of my Mother. It was clear as day what she was thinking this all could be: my Mum put Miss Francine up to this, trying to convince her daughters that she had changed just so she could get close to us again for whatever nefarious intentions she might have. Frankly, that couldn’t be a possibility, even if it did cross my mind for a second. It simply wasn’t my Mum’s modus operandi. She did look for ways to exploit people, get a food in the door, make them dance to her tune, but this? This required her to put herself in a position of vulnerability, one of a woman wrought with regret and who changed her ways where before, she saw everything she did as perfect and righteous. She was a woman of ego however, and her ego would never allow for that.
“You’d think that being a mental health professional would make you better at this,” Miss Francine mumbled, having finally found a voice. “But I’m just as clueless as anyone else when it’s something involving me. First of all, I want to tell you that what I’m about to say is not to excuse anything your Mum did to you, nor is it me trying to invalidate your experience with her.”
“Spare us the therapy talk,” my sister said, raising a hand. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I have a dinner with my boss, so we don’t have all that much time.”
“Right, I understand. Thank you for still allowing me to speak my part. Well then, Sophie, let me start by introducing myself. I’m Francine Sterling, and I was close to your Mother a lifetime ago, when we were still in our first year of high school.”
“You said that before,” my sister nodded. “You and her were friends.”
“We… yeah,” Miss Francine said, casting her eyes down. In my mind, some things started to click, and I just had to ask.
“Were you two… dating?”
Everyone looked at me, stunned that I even asked.
I added context to my theory, the biggest source of my suspicion being what my Mum said about me and Violet when we had a confrontation during one of Mrs Fletcher’s party: that what me and Violet have is just a phase, and that everyone goes through one. That, allied with how Miss Francine just acted after saying that they were close instead of saying they were friends made me think that they were more than just friends back then.
“You’re quite sharp,” Miss Francine chuckled, going back to looking down. “You should consider working in my field or become a police investigator as alternatives to a PE teacher. You’re just partially correct, however. Me and your Mum never really got to that point. We did kiss once, though…”
“…What happened?”
Miss Francine took a deep breath and continued, never for once raising her eyes.
“Her Dad walked in on us… and started beating her right in front of my eyes. I did try to stop him, but he pushed me and I hit my head on the wall… and I ran… I ran when he told me that if I ever got close to Elly ever again, that would just be the beginning.”
Pure silence fell on our table. We had known that our Mum’s Dad was a cruel, violent man, but going as far as issuing what could be perceived as a threat towards his only daughter was something we never heard before.
“If only I had been like Violet… maybe she’d have turned out like you, Abby,” she continued, now in tears. “Words can’t begin to describe how happy and envious I am of you two. Instead, I simply shut down, stopped going to school, and my parents eventually moved away for my sake.”
That story answered a lot of things and covered many blanks about my Mum, but there was still a lot left up in the air.
“How did you two end up reconnecting then?” I asked.
“You won’t believe it even if I tell you,” she choked.
She still told us anyway.
A couple of months before I started going to therapy, she was living her life in a different city. Every day of her life she had thought of my Mum at least once. Then, completely out of the blue, she received an e-mail addressed specifically for her. It was informing her that a new clinic had opened in her hometown—ours—that’d gladly allow her to work from home, and that it was the perfect opportunity to come make amends and start anew. She wrote a message back but never got an answer aside from the mail service saying that there’s no e-mail with the particular address of that sender. She even contacted the clinic, but no one had sent her an e-mail. They did offer her a job, which she obviously accepted, and moved back, into the apartment where me and her had our consultations. Then, I appeared at her doorstep, an almost carbon copy of how my Mum looked all those years ago and made her confront the results of her cowardice. Once I had gotten good enough that she suggested I could stop coming, she thought that had been what the e-mail had meant, but again, out of the blue, someone made contact with her. This time, it was a phone call. The person didn’t introduce herself, but it was a woman, an old one Miss Francine suspects, that simply told her that her work had just began, and that “if you’d like to meet and know why she was brought to this town, then go to the bar named ‘The Bard’s Cave’ between seven and nine pm”. And of course, instead of an old lady, whom she found there, already half-drunk was none other than my Mum.
After hearing all this, Violet and I shared a slow look, both of us thinking the same: Mrs Fletcher.
That woman… just what exactly is she, and what is her end game?
Of course, it could all just be a high-tale but after having seen how Mrs Fletcher seems to know way, way more than she lets out, and those visitations Violet’s Mum did during my nightmares so that me and her daughter could have some rest… Sorry for doubting that nothing supernatural wasn’t going on here.
Next, I looked at my sister. I had a feeling that Mrs Fletcher had also popped up in her mind. She was the one of us who had the most amount of time with her, so she certainly had seen plenty of times Mrs Fletcher seemingly knowing more than she should and with zero ways to justify her knowledge.
“Ok, let’s suppose that we even begin to believe in what you said so far,” my sister said, leaning forward. “Why do you say she has changed, and why should we believe in that?”
“Oh, there are many things! Like just now… I had just come from her place when we crossed paths. She told me that she decided to sell part of her company, hire someone to manage it, and that she’d like to go on a holiday with me and have me further help her with her issues.”
Yeah, no. That was too unbelievable to be true, which, ironically enough, made it believable. Mum giving away part of the company, relegating most of the control she has over it to someone else, and opening up to someone else and having them help her see her flaws so she can become a better person?
“Selling part of the company!? To whom?” my sister asked.
“Erm… I didn’t ask, nor did she tell me, but I overheard her calling the person she was talking on the phone ‘Mrs Bleacher’ or something like that before hanging up and telling me that she just closed the deal of selling part of the company to that person.”
“…Fletcher?” my sister asked, her voice coming in half a tone. “Was it Mrs Fletcher?”
“Yes! I think that was it!”
That woman again… really, what was her plan? First, she owns part of my Dad’s company, now, she also owns part of my Mum’s? This was all too strange to be just coincidences or purely business-motivated. Kinda scary, actually. Was this meeting also part of the plan?
Never once have I thought Mrs Fletcher had malicious intentions, and I still didn’t, but still, kinda scary.
“She has also given her workers raises depending on how long they’ve been working under her, she has been a lot more open about what weights her mind and what annoys her, called me a couple of times just to know how I’m doing after I complained feeling under the weather, she even has cracked a joke or two,” Miss Francine gushed, showing a lot of pride and affection before reeling it in and showing a more touched expression. “And I think most important of all, Elly has expressed curiosity about how you two have been doing.”
“Will you tell her about this meeting?”
“I… I don’t know…”
“…If you do… tell her that I’m doing great, both personally and in school and that I’m happily married now to Violet.”
“Why!?” Violet asked, squeezing my hand a bit too hard.
“Babe, your grip,” I calmly told her, wiggling my hand in her hold, Violet immediately apologising and easing her hold. “Look, if she is indeed trying to change, then her knowing that I’m doing well won’t cause any harm, I don’t think. If, however, this is all just a trick, this will be a nice middle finger, won’t it?”
My over-protective wife still didn’t like it at all and huffed as she looked away from me. She was just being a huge grump, filled with spite towards my Mum and of worry about me, so I let her be for the time being. Once she calms down and starts getting clingy over the fact that she’s thinking that she is currently acting cold towards me and coming across as her being mad with me, we can better talk about it and work something out. Right now though, I had to finish this conversation.
Or so I wanted, but sis was the one putting an end to it, saying that she needed to get going and for me and Violet to finish our drinks.
I had been sipping my milk chocolate one, but Violet left her semi-forgotten, so she had to almost use a spoon due to how thick her dark hot chocolate had gotten.
Miss Francine left ahead, saying she was paying for everything as a thanks for us having allowed her to talk, adding that it felt good being the one being heard for once.
We had gained a deeper understanding of my Mum, and at least I in particular was feeling even more pity about her than ever before. I was also feeling an even deeper appreciation over my wife, as I was left wondering if I’d have turned like Mum in the future were it not for Violet having been so stubborn, loyal and/or desperate to keep her friend.
Arriving home, we were greeted by both our Dads, Stan’s presence and well-dressed presentation being a bit of a surprise. He was wearing dark blue neat jeans, a pale blue dress shirt with the top two buttons left undone under a nicely form-fitting navy-blue waist coat and a brown belt matching his brown Chelsea boots.
“Did you girls stop by somewhere?”
“Yeah, we came across Abby’s ex-therapist,” my sister told him, giving him a look that she likely hoped had been more discreet. Suffice to say, my sister approved Stan’s look quite a lot, something he also noticed and appreciated, judging by the way he puffed up his posture a bit. “We ended up having a… a very interesting talk at a café.”
Violet on the other hand walked past them to go into our bedroom, likely not wanting to hear all of it again and needing an alone-time to cool off. I stayed behind to tell my Dad and Papa Stan what we had just learnt. They were just as surprised as we had been and just as suspicious as Violet. Papa Stan said he’d check with people he knows that still work for Mum. As for the Fletcher matter… they were at a loss about what to do.
“This is going to make today’s dinner with her awkward,” Stan said as he scratched behind his head.
“Wait, you’re having dinner with Mrs Fletcher too?” my sister asked, her face flushing a bit.
“Yeah. Why do you think I dressed up like this?”
My sister looked him up and down again, this time being fully blatant about it, before looking herself up and down. She had a full-on business get-up: a blazer over a dress shirt, dress pants, and black high-heels matching the belt, the pants and the jacket. She looked great in it, but it was clear that she found it lacking for some reason when comparing it to how Stan was dressed.
“I’m going to go change,” she said, storming off. “Give me just a minute.”
“Half-an-hour, got it.”
“Just a minute, you dork!” she huffed as her face grew a bit red again, coming back to slap his arm. “I’m not doing my make-up too!”
Well, look at them, flirting in the open and in front of Dad.
“That’s actually one thing I never had to complain about their Mother,” my Dad commented as he smiled while Stan acted like the slap he had received was more serious than it actually had been. “She was always quite snappy about getting ready to go out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for future reference,” Stan chuckled as he looked at me. “Anyway, aren’t you going to check on Violet? She looked… upset.”
“Just being a protective dragon over her precious treasure,” I told him, tapping the opposite arm he got slapped by sis. “But yeah, I should. Before that, are you having dinner with them, Dad?”
“Nope,” Dad told me. “I have to go have dinner with someone else, so it will be just you and Violet tonight.”
How lovely, me and Violet having the place all to ourselves for about two or three hours. A rare treat that could have happened at a better time, but I’m sure we’d make it work.
What I found when opening the door was Violet lying on her stomach in bed, screaming into the pillow and kicking the air and bed, accidentally flipping the skirt in her mini tantrum, which was funny and extra embarrassing today because we had made our exchange at school during lunch.
I asked if I should leave her be for a bit longer. She didn’t react much at first, but after a moment of stillness, she shook her head, so I approached her, fixing her skirt before sitting by her side, telling her that anyone opening the door could have seen the duckies.
She mumbled an apology into the pillow, which I found very cute.
“So?” I asked, giving her rear soft little taps. “What’s on your mind?”
She shifted, sitting on the bed with her knees up and hugging the pillow with her face half-hidden by it.
“I’m so sorry Abby,” she began. “I acted in such an ugly way, didn’t I? I even hurt your hand.”
There it was, what I knew would happen.
With a bit of effort, I parted her legs and got myself into that gap, moving mine around her waist and setting my hands on her shoulders, Violet avoiding eye-contact.
“You didn’t hurt my hand, babe. And like I told your Dad, you’re just being a protective dragon over her precious treasure, right?”
“Still… I should have kept my cool… I feel like I made it all about myself… I still do…”
“Aww, my poor wifey,” I cooed, scooting closer, my elbows now resting on her shoulders. “I know for a fact you didn’t. You perceived a threat, and you wanted to keep me safe, and since I had you with me, I was ok, so there was no need for you to be solely focused on me, ok?”
She now looked at me, still having her face half-hidden by the pillow, causing her glasses to fog up a bit.
“Were you really ok?” she asked. “Are you ok?”
I removed the pillow out of the way, Violet offering zero resistance, and closed the final gap between our bodies, hugging her with my arms and legs. I told her that it had been a shock to hear all of that about my Mum and further emphasised that, despite that, I had been ok, and was currently ok, because I had this girl always by my side who’d face hell itself if it meant that I’d be safe.
Violet returned the hug in the same way I was hugging her as she mumbled that she didn’t want me to get hurt.
“Still… why even engage with her?”
“Because she’s still my Mum, Violet,” I told her. “I want nothing to do with her, but at the same time, I don’t really want her to be suffering if she is indeed trying to be better.”
“I know you pity her, but… Do you think that’s really possible?”
“Dunno, but… if it is, it’d mean that the person I knew as ‘Mum’ died and there’s someone new out there with her exact same appearance... if that makes sense.”
“…You really are a better person than I’ll ever be.”
“Pfft, hehe! Or maybe I’m just being naïve and need my more cynical wifey to keep me grounded?”
“You’re saying that you’re ok with me acting the way I did?”
“Babe, that’s what I’ve been telling you all this time,” I told her, moving my head so we were locking eyes. “Part of the reason why we work so well together is because we complement each other, right? You think you were behaving poorly, but you actually kept yourself in check and let me deal with the situation despite simply wanting nothing else other than to get me home and tell Francine to leave me out of it.”
“…It really annoys me sometimes how easily you can see right through me and say all the right words, you know?” she mumbled, her frown turning into an embarrassed pout.
I laughed and began peppering her pretty face with smooches, only stopping once someone knocked. It was my sister who had come to check on us and ask for our opinion on the outfit she had picked. She didn’t even blink an eye seeing how Violet and I were sat and hugging, having grown immune to our weird normal. She kept the blazer and shoes but switched the shirt and pants for a white dress with a black sash over her waist, and her hair was tied into a ponytail with the scrunchie she had gotten from Claire, leaving some fringes framing her face.
We gave her our approval, and she leaned over, patting our heads and kissing our foreheads before softly telling us to behave. Violet was making a funny face, embarrassed that she got a kiss from my sister, but also seemingly having enjoyed it.
There were plenty jokes I could do about how Violet reacted to getting pet and smooched by my sister once she left and closed the door, but I instead complained that we were married and practically eighteen, but sis still treated us as little kids sometimes. Violet, now feeling a bit better, joked that I kinda still look like one. With that, I just had to tease her about one little detail about her, Violet blushing immediately.
“A-Abby! Stop counting my hairs!”
“Hehe! Never!”
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