Elliot wasn't the best dad in the world, and he didn't try to be. During his lifetime, my mother forced him to fulfill his role as a father. I don't know if he was good or if my mind forced me to believe he was, because it's more comforting that way. The fact is that it all ended with his death.
I know Elliot suffered a lot and couldn't give much for me at that time. But then Margot came along and she helped him grieve in a way that I had never done. I think we got used to the distance. He stopped being a father and I accepted him, because it was too late for us to change. However, that never meant that I stopped loving her and wishing her well. I want him to take care of his health.
- Good.
"I think we're done here," says Bruce. My dad greets like a puppy, like he's not just the most important person in the world. In fact, that's how most people behave around Bruce, as if they were much smaller than him.
"I'll walk you to the door," Elliot whispers.
Bruce stares at me again and I understand his gaze. He has my secret. He turns and walks towards the door, with Elliot right on his heels. I turn to the front and busy myself eating the scrambled eggs, which are now cold. My legs wobble under the table, so I can't go to the kitchen to get boiled eggs. That's what he does to me, he takes me out of my comfort zone.
- If you must know... - Starts Margot - This man is our salvation, so maybe it's time to treat him as such.
- And what should I do? Kiss her feet? - I raise an eyebrow.
- Angelique - Margot gets up, puts her hands on the table and leans forward - It's easy to be a bitch in daddy's house, with all these people ready to obey. But, very soon, the real world will be knocking at your door. I hope you are ready.
I think about answering, but the words get stuck in my throat. I swallow hard, because I know she didn't lie. But hearing some kind of sermon from Margot is always like swallowing a stone.
- Margot - I also get up putting the linen napkin on the table - No matter how bad the world is, I will never flatter someone to make my life easier. I am not you.
She clenches her jaw, probably so as not to call me by all possible names. We never got along, but we avoid those kinds of conflicts because we know Elliot won't choose sides, so we're wasting time.
- I'm going to get ready for mass - I said, already walking towards the stairs.
If I'm your girl, say my name man, let me know I'm in control
We've both grown so how we feel we can show
**
The lawn surrounding the church is wet from yesterday's rain, which makes it even more beautiful. The walls of the temple are white, but the supporting pillars are golden.
I slowly enter the sacred temple, almost as if I don't want to be here. I know it's supposed to be God's house, but knowing everyone who frequents this environment, including the priest, I don't feel like I'm in a holy environment. So much pride and lies behind these bricks disgust me.
It is a large and lavish temple, made just for the elite. It is a place where people with little money would not feel well. Even the blessed chalices are pure gold. The good part is that I can truly meet God no matter how corrupt others are.
But at this point, I too am corrupt. Just remembering this man's eyes on me, fixed on my coordinates as if he had an obligation not to forget, warms me.
Yes, I must confess, this time for real.
The church is practically empty, so I sit down on the last pews. Father Bee is kneeling before the altar, saying a prayer aloud. There is a set of ladies in the front rows who are always present. It seems that they are doing nothing but following in the footsteps of the priest.
Some very young women are in the last benches. They are newlyweds, teenage neighbors and new mothers. A set that I have never seen at another mass and, believe me, I attend many masses. I'm almost like one of those ladies who always follow the priest.
I remove the rosary from inside my robe and hold it in my clenched fist as I listen to the priest's prayer. I close my eyes and follow the sweet words, forcing myself to believe that they're all sincere, and that the priest at our church has never taken a bribe. God knows how much I love being here and how much I hate not feeling this place is sacred.
My thoughts are interrupted when someone sits down next to me. Frankly, with so many empty pews in the church, it's outrageous that anyone chose that seat. Either way, I focus on God and the prayer I say.
However, with my eyes closed, my other senses are heightened. I smell a smell that shouldn't be familiar, but it is. Her perfume. It smells of cleaning and expensive, but subtle perfume. He's not the type that catches the eye from afar, but he's unmistakable up close.
I know Bruce is on my side. I smelled her perfume this morning. And a suspicious part of me knows he's there for me, to play with my head a little more. That's what he does with the people around him: trap and play.
Anyway, I have to pray for my family, because after all, I don't have much else but them. That's my level of decadence: having Elliot and Margot Donneli as the only people in the world.
Dear God, I can pray more and even start singing with church leather. I can donate my entire allowance to the shelter in need. I can walk away from Skyla and never accept her invitations again. I can be better.