Geneva sat in the study room late at night unable to sleep. She both missed and worried about Gabriella to no end no matter the distraction.
With the old classic of Henry IV Part 1 & Part 2, second edition that she had been able to get her hands on. From her father's grand book collection as well as Henry V. The latter book she opted for the simpler version by penguin classics.
She decided to course through her sleepless night reading the classic her father had tasked her to read during the day while they had had their discussion about Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor. In hopes that she'd find any form of a lull for her active mind.
Not interrupted and at a pace within her own company, she read part 1 to the end. King Henry was displeased with his son prince Hal's idleness to later feel the opposite when Hal saved him. The book concluded with King Henry sending his sons to the far reaches of his Kingdom to deal with the remaining powerful forces in Britain against his reign.
Eager to find out the outcome of the second battle the king was yet to win or lose, Geneva proceeded to the second part with interest.
Which entailed King Henry IV becoming increasingly unwell. Prince John his other son fought the rebels. Their father died and Prince Hal formally crowned King Henry V after the rebels were defeated and executed. Hal publicly rejected Falstaff who had been one of his father figures and friend, Falstaff had done more than speak ill of Hal alongside causing trouble. The book ended with Hal laying down plans to invade France.
And the last book of Henry V entailed Hal's growth of character throughout all three of the books and his miraculous win of the French war and end bargain of a uniting marriage.
And only then, when her mind hadn't been conjuring up unwanted scenarios regarding the thousand and one reasons why Gabriella hadn't yet texted her back had she been able to find bits of sleep.
Unaware of the hours that had passed, Geneva woke up with a startle. Disoriented, she lazily blinked feeling tired and exhausted.
" Mon petit Chou," John, her father placed his cup of nearly finished hot tea on the coffee table and sat across from her.
" papa."
Geneva sat up straight, placing her feet down on the carpet.
" what are you doing down here? It's late is it not?" Geneva pointed out. The face of the study clock read fifteen minutes to five am.
" I work you know." He teased with a smile and Geneva smiled back bashful for a second.
" Henry V" John proceeded to point out. The book lay open on her lap and Geneva picked it up with a close.
" I finished reading his books, papa. All three entailed Prince Hal's life ." She let him know pleased with herself she was, keeping the true reason for lack of sleep hushed.
John nodded his head with a smile.
" what do you think about Sir John Falstaff" he picked up from where they had left off earlier when they had discussed him.
Reading his character in all three books, Henry IV part 1, part 2 and Henry V, Geneva's say on John Falstaff did not drastically change to a negative one, though it did change from the teeny one she had had of him from William Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor.
It bemused her when the thought crossed her mind entailing that women might have been the problem. Even to this day and age, it would have made sense to say so. Then again, no one presented themselves boldly as happily willing contestants to be lied to with a windmill of emotional lies.
Sir John was far from perfect in her eyes now. And to her, had wronged Hal the fifth a good degree. Nonetheless, he wasn't an all-around negative. To some level, she still held compassion for the character.
And as for Prince Hal, she admired his great sense of determination, courage, and responsibility. All his three father figures mentioned in the book played a role in his life and helped mold his decisions all around to and after he became king.
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown."
Her father pointed out after listening to his daughter's detailed engaging commentary. He had expected no less. And had been equally proud when he'd quoted a few quotes from each book that she'd read and she had an inkling of what it might have meant in context.
"In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility." Begun John
"But when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger, stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood," added Geneva reading from the book directly. She'd happened to mark the page.
" disguise fair nature with hard favored rage." Finished John.
"Papa," Geneva gazed ahead to the wall by the corner of the wall. Suddenly emotional " when required, one must always fight till the end ." She let her eyes drop and meet her father's for confirmation "it's how it always must be yes?"
" you're not a quitter. You have never been ." John pointed out with an air of pride in his voice and his smile.
To which Geneva playfully narrowed her eyes. "I almost gave up on ballet ." She reminded.
John gazed in understanding. And Geneva cleared her throat sitting up straighter on the couch.
Her father had a way of getting in her head effortlessly. If he wanted to, he could persuade her into telling him what was truly bothering her if he didn't already know that she was having trouble falling asleep.
" no man's an island." He held her sight of focus " we're all interlinked and need each other." He then smiled lovingly " I need you."
" ah, papa." Geneva rolled her eyes at how cheesy he was getting with a laugh. Unfolding her crossed arms.
"I need your mother too, uncle Thierry, his sons, Valentin-"
Geneva laughed at his antic " okay papa. I get it ."
He smiled.
" it's okay to fall and get back up with or without help." John stood up from his seat, stalked toward his daughter, and offered her his hand . " but when the time comes and fighting back is called for, don't hesitate."
Geneva placed her hand in his warm one and stood up with his help. She organized the books back into their shelves and carried her father's cup of finished tea and its saucer with her on their way out.
Placing the items into the sink, Geneva was companied by her father up the staircase to their designated resting chambers.
Geneva yawned absently. Looking ahead taking one step at a time, her father observing her. She exhaled same time her shoulders dropped. Her energy was low maybe from tiredness or something else bothering her that she couldn't tell him just yet.
John didn't want to push her into telling him what was bothering her. He'd do anything for his only child if need be.
She'd been through a lot before she made it to the age that she was.
And still, she'd remained his beautiful, kind, tender heated daughter amidst all she'd gone through. Even though it wouldn't have been held against her if she turned out differently after what happened to her with her best friend.
To date, none had discovered the truth about the events that had occurred that day.
The only reason his daughter wasn't aware was because of memory loss concerning the self-distracting events that took place in her life before that accident.
Gabriella wasn't aware because she had been the victim in all of it. And her abductors had made sure to keep her drugged up every day that had passed from the day they'd taken her that her mind had ever been out of it for most of it to have formed a coherent enough memory.
However, all involved in getting her back knew she'd still have faint memories of what had happened to her in the holding cells and had agreed with her brother Dante, as her family representative to push for therapy with a specialist they had informed of the made-up coverup situation.
It had one of the best outcomes for both her and his daughter. Both friends had gotten closer. Blindly Inseparable.
The diluted version of the story that they had given about Gabriella was that she had been abducted for ransom instead of his daughter Geneva mistaking the both of them to be the other.
His daughter, she'd been in the hospital after experiencing an accident while looking for Gabriella. And that's why she had ended up in the hospital with no memory recollection of that fateful day and the overcast ones that had followed.
It hadn't been the first option to come to mind. The truth was something he had wanted to always be able to practice with the raising of his daughter. Something his father had failed in.
Her mind however had rejected the notion of recalling the strenuous days she'd endured. Her doctor had advised them not to make her recall any of it until she was ready to for it would worsen her memory condition.
Just like the first time, they had innocently tried.
Marcelo in her room being the first she had seen in a still disoriented state had been the first proof of her dissociative amnesia.
And as time progressed, it had been revealed to be selective.
~*
Morning arrived. Dawn, they called it.
Geneva who had woken up a couple of hours back, lay on her back gazing at the ceiling whose painted color became clearer as the moon gave way to daylight.
The birds this side of Marcelo's estate weren't as chirpy but the beautiful sound of a few birds singing their cheerful morning tune had graced her somber mood with a cherry light of a kind.
It was morning. And her mother would be leaving for her father's by noon. It was agreed upon on both ends. Marcelo's and hers.
But she didn't want her mother to leave her here all alone and by herself. She'd have loved to go with her if it were possible. To go back home to her family. A family that loved and treated her with nothing but true love and care for the child they had birthed.
Geneva wanted an out of the part in the play she was now playing. The scene soon to be revealed entailed her and Marcelo alone with no interruption from her end but an open field and juggle of action and character playing his way.
And she hated it.
A foul taste was left in her mind. And the feeling fueled her inner self to fight against his hold on her. She was going to fight for her freedom and bless him with the gift of losing.
The cost was a heavy one. But the chains of the dark slumber that she had been in when she'd believed her mother had departed from this world, because of her as the sole reason still held her captive.
She was chained up to the floor of that dark abyss day in and day out. And the only reason she could breathe properly and well was because she could see her mother who was very much alive in the real world.
But she knew, that for as long as she breathed, her family and the people around her all lined up and stood a chance at getting shot because of her.
Their lives depended on her choices.
Marcelo wanted her under his thumb and control. Maybe if he hadn't shot at her mother, it would have been different. But everything in that sentence was a lie.
Geneva knew that she craved her freedom and right to choose more than anything. Though it paged the question, was taking her family's life giving them the right to choose?
Playing God wasn't her forte, but she was well aware that her parents were destined to go to a better place. She could just end it herself and let them live out their lives together and happily.
It would be sad, though Geneva gave it deep thought. Her mother hadn't hit menopause yet but it didn't take a genius to figure out that there was a deeper reason why she was an only child. A blessing she was really as it would appear. And a girl at that.
Who would carry her father's legacy if she offed herself? Who was supposed to carry on his line if not her? What were the odds it wouldn't turn out to be a Sarah and Hagar story judging by the guilt her mother might decide to bare as some silent responsibility that would outstandingly lay claim.
She knew her mother was more than capable for she loved her father dearly so. Would IVF even be successful regarding her age all factors held constant.
She'd want for them to start over with another offspring of their own without her but she knew that not only was it a selfish thought but a very emotionally tagging one.
Geneva shut her eyes trying to block out the frustration that gripped her mind.
She needed to reach a conclusion fast. And Marcelo's words that ever bounced in her head reminding her that she would fuck with her family fueled her darker option to leave the world with both her parents.
She didn't know him well enough to bet that nothing would happen to them if she left them behind. What kind of consequence would take place as his form of retaliation?
Nothing probably.
Because in perfect retro aspect according to her, he would very much carry on with his life. What they had going on wasn't some sort of Romeo and Juliet storyline.
And because of that, offing herself as final retribution to both her loved ones and self-made sense. There was the matter of cutting her life sort. Something she had no genuine intention of doing since birth no matter how challenging life had been in certain aspects.
Geneva didn't want to truly die, but she was the reason others were doing so and the guilt stood before her like a judge. The guilt was an ever-present Boulder that she carried at the back of her mind every time she was reminded about death.
Happiness was something that was not as near as it used to be before.
To live out her life. Get married, give birth to as many children, give them grandchildren, and make both her parents and herself proud by becoming and doing something great, pursuing ballet and a diverse career. Living a positive impact. Self-discovery, falling in love over and over again, seeing the beauty in life like she always did.
All of that, Geneva held the tears at bay as she struggled to even out her breathing so her mother wouldn't hear.
She wanted to be happy. Who didn't want to be happy whole and free?
She thought about submitting over to Marcelo but how could she? Not only had she been one for her freedom from the very go he had abducted and killed Samuel but now he had shot her mother. And she'd nearly died.
For that, she'd rather eat dust than submit to him.
Who shot at the mother of their woman's interest? Did it make any form of sense whatsoever? It made none!
Geneva glared at the ceiling with a tight and scratchy throat. Holding in her angry tears whilst she fought to swallow the egg roll-sized lamp in her throat.
She was going to fight Marcelo to her very last breath. Because he didn't own her. And he never would.
See him on his knees before her, she'd make sure.
~*
Geneva and her mother gazed into each other's eyes. The emotion that swirled about in each one's own prominent and understandable.
It didn't feel right.
Geneva felt torn apart more with each second that passed. A tick closer to her mother's departure.
She regretted throwing those hurtful words at her when she'd blamed her for what was happening. And she'd taken them back the very morning after her mother had finished showering and had begun to prepare herself.
Catherine had let her daughter know that it was okay and was not holding it against her. She knew that she shared honest blame for her daughter's words. She had been the one to both confront and provoke Marcelo years back concerning her daughter, Geneva.
And she didn't have to investigate why he had shot her. He had brought up the words dead or alive for the matter in the past. And he'd wished her nothing but the best.
He saw her as an obstacle and the only reason he'd let her live was because of her relationship with John. Her husband.
Marcelo wanted her precious daughter, Geneva.
She should have known it was him the very first day Geneva had come back home. She'd mentioned Mexico and far be it from her mind the thought that the man she had been running away from was Marcelo Rodriguez.
John and she hadn't listed him amongst those capable of trying something with their daughter. Amongst all the tracing they had done to find out who had been responsible for their daughter's dismay, the fact that her passport hadn't been stamped into Mexico when cross-checking the system of visitors to the country should have been the very first sign.
They had entrusted Dante to watch over their daughter and that had been the only reason she hadn't called Geneva consistently and had given her desired space.
Dante on the other hand had lied to them all the way to the end when Geneva made it back home and she'd called him out on it. His story hadn't lined up with her daughter's that very day.
He'd claimed to have been aware of her whereabouts immediately after she was in Mexico and had assured her that no harm had come her way.
Besides the barely apparent little limp here and there on Geneva, her daughter had kept to herself and hadn't mentioned anything else to contradict Dante or her best friend.
She was supposed to have met Gabriella the very day she'd been taken from them under their very own nose.
Dante being under Marcelo wasn't news, but how close they were was what had come as a blind spot. That's how Marcelo had come to meet Geneva again.
It had been inevitable yes, but after all these years that had passed, one would think that he had found himself someone else closer to his age and more acclimatized to his kind of world. Not her sweetheart Geneva.
" Geneva ." She cupped her daughter's cheek lovingly. Fighting the urge to break down right there and then because of her failure in front of her . " you promised to come right after me."
She watched her daughter put on a brave smile in assurance for her mother. Her daughter had grown up in her own way with all that had happened. She now understood. And she was shouldering more than she was letting on.
When Geneva had left her in the room alone after letting her know that her presence was making it difficult for her, she understood that it was laying heavy on her that Marcelo was in the same vicinity.
He'd visually threatened to end her mother's life right before her eyes. She'd seen the blood and nothing else could have been louder than that as a threat to have her done and away with if Geneva misbehaved by running away again.
John was a major beacon of hope for their daughter and Marcelo was concerned.
Marcelo's battle of possession to have their daughter had begun way back. And just like a game of chess, Catherine was uncertain just how tight the board was. How close to checkmate they were.
The game of chase had begun and she felt like a blind player. She was about to be returned to her husband, John's piece.
And yet she couldn't lightly trace her hand across the board on Marcelo's side of the board to know what piece was placed where least she get burned or done away with uselessly.
" I promise to see it through with all that I've got," Catherine promised.
"Oh, mom." Geneva laughed brokenly, fighting to keep her tears at bay as her throat painfully constricted. " I might not be the strongest person, but I promise you, quitting isn't my favorite trait either."
Geneva leaned in and embraced her mother in a tight savoring hug. Inhaling her rosy scent one last time.
" I plan on keeping my promise maman," she tightened her hug feeling her mother's arms around her . " you only need to be with papa."
Sending her mother off had been yet another one of the hardest things to do as she gazed forward still outside Marcelo's mansion.
" Her body will reach your father no doubt." Begun Marcelo and Geneva felt something snap from within.
Furry like no other, distaste and disdain took their fill like a tank filled to its capacity only held in by its boundaries.
And her thoughts violently coursed through from within her mind to a boiling point.
_ _ _
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The next update will be this coming week in March.
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