Heather

Summer of 1889

"Mommy how long?"

"Yes Mommy how long?"

Two voices, both child-like but one from a real child and another from one pretending to be chime from the back seat as I transit from the busy lanes of New Shire city to the suburbs. The roads aren't winding down like they do in the Willow, but the Brownstone houses, closely packed with towering Maple trees have their serenity, which is difficult to beat. I have wanted to move to this side of the town for a while now. Our loft has a more modern feel, it's a product of savvy next-gen architects. It's tasteful, but a bachelor pad. This place, brownstones with ivy on the wall, and a cosy backyard, spacious for a ten-person gathering but crowded for fifteen, is my sweet spot.

"10 minutes guys, be patient."

"How are we supposed to do that when we are going to meet Brian's new friend for the first time!"

I smile at their excitement. They both start talking in hushed and rushed voices. I tune out of their chat for a minute to focus on the road ahead. The weight of the decision dad took on my behalf, still stinging like a betrayal. I have tried hard to not think of it as a betrayal and keep an open mind. It hasn't worked quite well. His action feels immensely patriarchal. Another choice ripped away from me because a man knew better. I know my father and know that his intention wasn't to dictate me, or tell me how to do my own work. But fuck! It feels like it.

I can't help but compare it to what mum might have done in the same position. That brings equal amount of relief and frustration. If she had a potential investor in sight, She wouldn't have come right to me. She would have found a cunning way to send them my way. Before that, she would have mentioned them passingly, their name, contribution and all great qualities sprinkled in conversation over weeks. So that when I finally meet them I am already convinced that working with such a person is the right choice. My mother's way is akin to a long courtship, with chemistry slowly simmering, every move well thought with gestures to woo you. Dad goes way more blunt.

Even though mum has a romanticized way of influencing decisions, she does manipulate a person to act a certain way, dad imposes it. And both are good qualities in the right context. They don't have malice in their heart, only good faith. Yet I can't bear the idea of a person taking away my right to refusal.

My train of thought which was going full speed was forced to stop at a random station as our destination arrived. I pulled at the curb of a beautiful cream walled house with blue ivy and flowering creepers on both sides of the door.

Lan got down and went to the side to free Brian from the clutches of the car seat. They were running up the stairs whilst I managed to get out a gift basket of goodies mum had baked along with a Red Wine bottle which cost me quiet some money. I don't spend money on alcohol usually. Never had much interest in fine wines or hard tequila. I go for cheap beer when I want to let loose once in a while. And if I have a very specific mood, it always scotch for me. I don't mess with my scotch, only the best, can't care less for wine though.

Chiara Giovanni is a gorgeous woman and a kind soul and her son is like her. Leo and Brian were fast-friends, The first day the met each other, Bee couldn't stop talking about his new friend who can speak Italian like him and has the same curly brown hair and hazel eyes. He was amazed and talked about Leo every minute he could get.

"Leo is my brother mommy! We have same hair and eyes! And we love soccer and he loves penne more than spaghetti just like me." After weeks of hearing about Leo, I finally met the little fella and his mother one day when I had gone to pick Brian from school. The boys were joined at hips and did have a resemblance. Chiara told me how her son would not stop talking about Brian in front of their whole family that he found his own brother because mommy won't give him one.