It takes less than five minutes to realize that even though Eli towers over her by a good seven inches, mom is a force to be reckoned with and all too willing to take him down an inch or seven.
It would be in your best interest not to cross her - ever.
Unfortunately for Eli, he never got this particular memo - and is paying for it dearly with a designer purse slammed against his forehead with lethal force while she curses him out in the most furious Polish you've ever heard of in your life.
Ow.
You've never heard him swear to profusely - you've never heard him speak Polish either. You've also never seem him cower, nor have you seen him being beaten into a pulp.
Eli's the one usually given the beatings. The hard punch he gave to Gabriel at the train station comes to mind.
Now, you can see where he gets it from.
"Have I taught you nothing?" she cries angrily. The flurry of blows to the head never ceases. "You've lived in this loft for how long and you've done nothing with? And even worse, you brought a respectable girl into this veritable slum? I raised you better than this!"
"It's not a slum! It's just unfur-OW!!" You wince as Eli takes a haymaker to the face, crashing onto the floor with a sickening thud. "Fuck!"
"Don't you talk back to me, boy! I'm your mother and you will take this beating like a man!" The blows keep on coming. "You better be glad that this is the only thing I'm doing to you. You don't call me! You never return my calls! You let me worry about you all the time, you selfish brat! You better be thankful that I'm not trying to kill you!"
"You could have fooled me-GOD DAMN IT!"
With an angry cry, Eli's mother gives him one last knock to head, effectively silencing him. Her breathing is shallow, and moisture has collected along her brow. She smoothes a few errant red hairs into place, and smoothes out her expensive-looking black pantsuit. Her eyes never leave Eli, who remains motionless on the ground, obviously in a not of pain. Her expression in nothing short of fierce.
"Eliasz Szymańska, I am your mother, and I demand that get that through your thick skull. I don't ask very much of you, and I'm certainly not a helicopter parent. I've allowed you to live your life your own way for many years now, even though I can't understand some of the choices you've made. But I've put up with it anyway because I love you. But I am sick of you taking me for granted! If I am going to continue to help you, you need to start calling me or texting me or something! Otherwise, I'll just come back and beat the hell out of you some more."
"Oh, well isn't that fucking lovely?" Eli spits out. "I rescue her from getting her ass kicked just so I could get my ass kicked. Fuckin ahh."
"And watch your mouth! You're not a sailor, so don't swear like one! Or do I need to wash out your mouth with soap?"
Eli mutters a few unfamiliar words - presumably Polish words that translated would make your eyes bulge out. All the while, you stand there watching for a few feet away. This is very awkward - very awkward, like a daytime talk show come to life before your eyes. The subject matter is trashy, lewd, and downright messed up, yet you can't take your eyes off of it. Secretly, you are amused by how his mother handles him, and you're pretty sure that no one else has to power to set him straight like this.
Still, you remind yourself to never anger her, and you set yourself to defense mode just in case.
Eli's mother finally takes notice of your presence - and the biggest, brightest grin spreads across her smooth but mature face. Tension twists a pretzel within your stomach before it finally gives way to the pressure. Even as you give her the biggest smile you can muster (which is more of a grimace than a smile), you can't help but feel like you should flee, even though Eli has forbid you to more than once.
Now, you know how a pack of rats feel.
"My, Eliasz definitely downplayed your beauty," she says in breathless awe. "You are much prettier than I imagined. And you definitely don't look like a streetwalker."
"Uh...thanks?" you respond hesitantly, and you wonder if that was an actual compliment or a back-handed barb.
"It was a compiment, I assure you," she continues on, taking your hands in her warm ones. You find some comfort in the feel of her soft yet worn hands. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Marija Seamons - Eliasz's mother. And you must be the girl he is clearly smitten with."
"Mom!" You've never seen Eli's eyes as wide as they are now.
"Oh, don't be like that. Moms know these things. You can't fooling anybody. Besides, look at her! She's a real fox!" You can't help but blush and giggle at beging called a "fox". You're beginning to warm to her as she cups your face in her hands. Her smile is a brilliant and as vivid as as her coppery red hair. "Such a sweet face - you wouldn't hurt fly, would you? That ex of your should be so lucky that I haven't cornered him in a dark alleyway, my dear!"
"Yeah, you should be hitting him with your purse, not me!" Eli bellows. "Just what the fuck do you have in that thing? A sledgehammer?"
"I'll tell you what's in my purse when you tell me what's under your hat." Eli stumbles back in embarrassment, pull down his hat even further on his head. His mother gives you a knowing wink. More of your tension melts away. Yeah, she's definitely got Eli under her thumb. "But enough of this playful banter. Shall we go and make you beautiful, dear?"
You're so engrossed in their mother-son dynamic that you almost do not hear her speaking to you, and then you forgot that you do indeed have a voice. "Ah, um, yeah, sure! I guess."
"Now, remember to stay with her at all times, old lady!" Eli barks forcefully. "That prick is still out there, so I don't want him anywhere near her."
Mrs. Seamons waves him off. "Eli, I've got this. I understand that she is your precious cargo, so there is no need to worry, all right? Besides, you don't have to tell me how tense things like this are, but have you already forgotten?"
"No..." His voice trails, and you watch as his body recoils at her question. You wonder was that's all about, as the sight tugs at your heart. "I haven't."
"Good. Then you know I won't let anything happen to her. After all, I owe you that much."
Mother and son exchange silent, pensive looks. There is something going on between then that you don't understand, and you don't feel compared to ask about it for now. Even if your mind were kind enough to clear itself up at this moment, you sense that it would afford you no answers.
Mrs. Seamons tugs at your bar, pulling you to the door. "Come on, let's get going. We've got an appointment at eleven, and I don't want to get caught up in traffic. You never know with this city."
"Appointment?" you begin, confused. "We have an appointment?"
"But of course." A wide smile spreads across her face. "We're going to one of the most exclusive luxury shops in all of Chicago. Of course you're going to need an appointment."
Appointment? Exclusive luxury shop? What? You look over at Eli, dressed in his usual thug outfit - the same outfit you've seen him wear for several years now. Most assuredly not an outfit you'd find in "Brooks Brothers" or even "Diesel" for that matter.
And then you look over to his mother, impeccably dressed in obviously designer clothes and carrying and even more obvious designer bag.
And as you look out into nowhere in particular, you ask yourself - Am I missing something here?
------
Apparently, you were missing quite a bit.
Eli may wear the same thug outfit all day every day, but it has nothing to do with his financial situation.
That boy is wealthy! Or rather, his family is.
Well, that was unexpected.
The day as moved from late morning to early evening time. The day, once bright with the warm yellow sun, is show orange, red, and violet, preparing for the coming of the moon. You're exhausted, slouching in your car seat, flickering in and out of consciousness. Your body feels heavy and tired, and an dull pain radiates in the arch of your foot. Eli's mother is an voracious shopper - and she put you through the ringer today. You assumed that you would go to this so-called luxury shop, buy a few pieces of clothing, and that would be the end of it.
Oh, how wrong you were!
First, Mrs. Seamons ushered you to her car parked right outside the building - a sleek Black BMW 5 Hybrid that's so luxurious that you can't even dream about driving that kind of car because it's so exclusive. You allowed your fingers to brush against the door and the hood, just to make sure that you weren't imagining things, and that this was really happening, that you were really sliding into the cream leather seats that felt like clouds against your back.
"It was a birthday present from my husband," she explained as you both left Eli's apartment. "I was okay with my old red Tercel, but he insisted - and I couldn't say 'no'."
You wouldn't say 'no' either. You would probably say 'yes' before you had the chance to say 'no'.
The first inkling you had that would be a shopping excursion like no other was the group of well-dressed shop girls who greeted you in unison with big smiles and bright eyes when the two of your walked through the door. You further realized that this was someplace special when you were asked if you wanted tea, fancy coffee, or even champagne.
You tried to decline, but eventually went with the tea, after much prodding. Mrs. Seamon's went for the champagne. Somehow, that didn't surprise you.
You didn't have a chance to enjoy one sip chamomile before the shop girls whisked you away into one of the "dressing rooms" - a enclosed but spacious loft space resplendant with comfy chairs and well-lit mirrors that was more like a bachelor studio than a dressing room. The girls then surrounded, poked, and prodded you as they dressed you in various frocks that you could never afford on your own, even if you had the best job you could ever hope to land.
You nearly fainted when you eyes caught site of the "$300" price tag that the pair of blue dark-wash demin skinny jeans that made you feel like a supermodel. That's rent money right there!
But Mrs. Seamon's didn't seem to care. Anything that made you look gorgeous, she wanted to buy it for you. Money was no object. This display of gratitude made you feel uncomfortable. You barely knew this woman, and yet she had no trouble buying this mess of clothes that totalled into the thousands. The uneasiness gnaws at your stomach, afflicts you with a nausea that nearly sends you to the toilet bowl.
"You don't have to do all of this for me," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed and ashamed of yourself.
"Don't be daft, my dear!" she assured you, smiling brilliantly. "I am happy to do this for you! Anyone Eli loves, I love, too. And besides, if you're going to start a new life, you're going to need new clothes as well."
"But - "
"No 'buts'." She placed a slender finger on your lips. "I am happy to do this. So please, accept my generosity."
You do just that, albeit begrudgingly. You...you don't have good track record with mothers. You suspected during Eli's beatdown at the hands of his mother earlier, but it really hits you now. Gabriel's mother never liked you. When she didn't accuse you of trying to poison his mind against her, she was telling you what a worthless wretch you were, and now she'd never accept you. Even if she didn't live with you, she made it a point to insinuate herself in every aspect of your relationship and never made any apologies for it.
She'd never do this for you.
And then there's your mother.
Your throat tightens just thinking about it. You shake your head - no. You don't want to think about it. You're not going there.
It's too painful.
In any case, you've never been with a mother you actually liked, or one that ever liked you. You can't help but be suspicious of her. Never mind that all of these new outfits made you feel prettier than you have in a long, long while. And never mind that Mrs. Seamons was completely focused on you the entire time, fussing and fawning all over you the way you secretly wished your mother would all these years.
No. You won't go there. You won't.
In the end, she bought a ridicious amount of clothes for you - enough for the start of two lives for four different people. The shop girls fold your purchases and place them in glossy shop bags, all the while chattering about how good you will look in your new clothes and you how fun it was to dress you up like a doll. One swipe of the credit card, and the two of you were on your way to lunch at the Drake Hotel - quite possibly the fanciest hotel you've ever been to.
Oh, and then there was the shoe shopping and the make-up counters...but your mind is too tired to think about that. All you want to do now is go home and rest. Today has been quite a day.
Who knew that new clothes could fill you with hopefulness?
------
Eli's eyes pop out at the sight of your shopping haul. He looks at his mother, gobsmacked.
"Damn, Mom! I thought I told you to buy a few things for her, not the whole fucking store!"
She waves him off. "This isn't a sleepover, Eli. She's staring a new life! This was absolutely necessary, and it all looks so good on her. I bet you can't wait to see it. If you ask her nicely, maybe she'll give you a private fashion show."
He stumbles backward, and you swear you can see a blush spreading across his cheeks. You heart jumps at her insinuation. "I-It's not even like that!"
"Of course, it's not." You get the idea that she doesn't believe that for a second. "In any case, I hope you have enough closet space and hangers for her. Then again, we didn't insist on you having this loft just for your to have dinky little closets."
"Relax, mom, I can handle it from here. I'll do what I have to do for her, you know that."
"I know. That's the only reason I forgive you for being a stranger to me." Her face hardens, and her tone is serious. "But from here on out, you will call me regularly during the week, and you will also visit me on Sundays for dinner - starting this Sunday. You understand?"
"Aw, Mom, you know I have stuff I gotta do!" he fires back.
He flinches when she shakes her purse at him. "Do I need to use more convincing methods to get my point across?" He shakes his head. You are amused, but you try not to smile. "Good. Then I expect you and you lady friend here at my house for dinner on Sunday. We'll be expecting you by five-thirty, and for goodness sake, come in your car this time! You aren't going to eat and run this time like you did, long-long ago, and I certainly won't let you use the CTA as an excuse!"
You watch as Eli grits his teeth in depleasure as he cornered. "Yes, Mom."
"Dobry chłopak," Mrs. Seamons replies, pleased with herself. You have no idea what that means in English, but you know that it makes Eli submit even more. Then, she turns to you, and you feel your heart give out on you. "I had a lovely time today, my dear. I hope I get to see you again soon. You can call me any time. I'll be happy to help you."
You've never luck with mothers, but you feel lucky with her, despite yourself. "I will. Thank you."
"You're very welcome." She eyes Eli, then looks back at you. "Keep him in line while I'm gone, okay?"
You nod, even though you know you could do no such thing. "I will."
With one last nod, she leaves the apartment and sets off for home. You turn back to Eli, who looks relieved.
"I thought she'd never leave!" he says loudly. "Now you see why I don't contact her. She can be a real bully to me!"
"Yeah." A playful smirk spreads across your face. "I find it very entertaining."
Eli's look of horror makes you burst out laughing. Your first real happy laugh in what seems like an eternity.
------
Author's Note: This was so hard to write. I had to put in a lot of details because the scenes involved three characters rather than two. Luckily, I get to back to two characters next chapter. I feel like this is my weekest chapter. I'm so glad to be done with this. Now, I can get back to Eli and the MC from this point on...back to basics, yeah.
Oh, and a few definitions.
CTA - Chicago Transit Authority - the big wig behind the L-Trains and Buses in Chicago.
Dobry chłopak - The translation I got online (so it could be wrong). It's Polish for "Good Boy".
Thanks so much for reading! Next update will hopefully be Friday night or Saturday afternoon!