Chapter 5 5

Vivica

"Don't tell me you're crying again. Jesus fuck, woman".

Hurriedly, I pulled my hand to swipe across my face, trying my hardest to make a silent sniffle, something that he wouldn't be able to hear although his voice sounded as if he was only a few feet away from me. I relaxed my face, not wanting to frown in front of him again and have him make fun of me for my emotions.

"No" I lied, swiftly turning my body to the right to look at him. From head to toe he was dressed in all black, his dress shirt neat and ironed, his dress pants the same, his shirt tucked into his belt. He had the ends of his sleeves rolled up his arms. "I just- there was something in my eye. I think it was dust" I lie again, forcing a smile onto my face.

He swallowed, his large Adam's apple moving from its original spot and then back up again. His eyes lowered down to my lips probably noticing the small tremble in them. When he looked back into my eyes, I could see the spiralling. He was angry like always. I had always annoyed him, even with just my existence

"We had a cleaner here today, I'm sure there's no dust. Is it him again? Are you crying over that guy? You're pathetic, Cele. Get your shit together. The relationship is over, who cares" he grouches.

My eyes roam his face as the stinging sensation of tears begins to feel the urge to expose themselves. At least I don't have on any mascara today, I thought. It would certainly be bad this time around. I sighed, collecting my breath and wanting to pull myself together before opening my mouth. It worked but only to an extent. "I wasn't crying you asshole" My voice breaks and sends shards of tears down my face

I quickly pulled my hand up to wipe them away, turning around and looking at the bowl of salad I was preparing before I was rudely interrupted. I was not sobbing this time so there is no need for him to come and ridicule me and my feelings.

"You weren't crying? Then who am I looking at because I have twenty/ twenty vision and I think I'm looking at a woman that goes by the name Vivica Abano standing here and crying over someone she broke up with. Why do you even think of him?" He asks, his tone harsh.

I shake my head, bowing my head to look away from him but making an effort. "I didn't deserve that".

He stays quiet for a moment before placing his hand onto the counter. The jingle of his keys colliding with the countertop can be heard as he's holding the ring around his middle finger.

"No one deserves to be broken up with that way but it's life, you have to move on. If you keep sobbing you won't realize the greatness that others see in you. You're so focused on him that you see nothing else. Get out of your own way" he tells me.

I stare at the tomatoes that I chopped up. They need to be put into the salad and tossed around so I can join my family at the dinner table, which is where he should have been. I'm not sure why he's come out here, or why every time I've been in distress for the past day he's come to my rescue. I don't need him. I don't want him to comfort me, especially if it'll just be him mocking my every emotion.

"Look, I'll finish that. Go clean yourself up" he moves towards me but I pull the large salad bowl away, countering his words.

I shake my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat. "No, I'll finish this. All I have to do is add the tomatoes. If you want to be a big help you could grab the champagne from the small cellar. I've already sat down glasses" I sit the bowl back against the counter and take the cutting board.

Without a word, he backs away and goes to the opposite side of the kitchen where I can no longer see him. Within seconds, the salad is done and I've cleaned up my tears. I walk onto the back porch with a smile and sit the salad down at the middle of the table.

My father smiles. "Thank you so much, honey. This is definitely something you've gotten from your mother " he says. It's rare that he doesn't compliment my great cutting skills.

I smile back. "Thank you. I'm starving, can we eat now?" I ask, taking a seat on the brown wooden chair and bringing myself closer to the table.

"I can second that. I haven't had anything great to eat since breakfast" Oliva says, reaching his hand to take his first eating utensil.

I take my fork and dig in as well, enjoying eating around others because I'll actually fill my stomach rather than putting off food because of my emotions. My father takes his first bite of food before reaching over to take the champagne. He pops it open, letting the delicious smoke flood the air beside it.

"So how was your time with Dacre?" My father asks, holding the bottle near me. I take my glass by the stem and hold it closer to him.

He begins to pour the pretty, crisp liquid inside. "It was great. He's been a great help with my ribbon line. He took a few pictures of me to put on my website when the waterproof line drops soon" I smile, thinking of the boy with sandy brown hair. "He apologizes for not being able to make dinner, he had to spend a bit of time with his mother" I say.

My father hums. "He is a good man. I've always liked your relationship with him, never felt any negative things about him" my father said.

"It's rare to find men like that during these days," Oliva says.

I agree. "Yes. He's so sweet-".

"Did you ever go down to that auto shop?" The brooding man interrupts me, making me throw a scowling look over at him.

He doesn't make eye contact with me to see my reaction, he only looks at my father. My father smiles, nodding a bit. "Yes, I got a few heavy-duty things to help me back home but I'm sure I'll need your help". I squint my eyes, bringing my champagne glass to my lips for a small sip.

The interrupting man's words pace through my mind, bouncing off the edges and repeating the same cycle. My breathing grows close to erratic as I can sense his urge to be rude, like always. I'm not sure what compelled him his entire life, but he's always been a rude person. He makes fun of my crying, calls me pathetic, and now he's interrupting me at the dinner table.

Luckily, Oliva takes my mind off of his ill-mannered son. He squints his eyes at my father's words as he reaches for the bottle of champagne. "How come you didn't ask me for help? I would be happy to" he says.

"I can take all the help given. I'd ask Vivica if she knew how to" my father says, glancing at me for a quick moment before stuffing his mouth with food.

I give him a small smile as I sit my champagne down. I place my fork into my food and take a bite. "I'm happy to help as long you do my makeup every day for a month" I give a fake bargain, knowing that my father would probably rather sleep on a busy set of train tracks.

He shook his head sheepishly. "I'd rather cross traffic with a blindfold on, baby girl. You'd be a mess, definitely a sore sight" he chuckles lightly

The rude man awakens from his slumber of quiet words.

"Definitely," he says

My father eyes him for a moment, his eyes squinting before he looks away. Oliva does the same before ignoring his son.

"Must be exciting to finally graduate. I remember when he-" he gestures towards his son "graduated. It was truly one of the happiest days of my life" he says, his cheeks heating with pure redness. I smiled a bit

"Glad he graduated so he'd finally leave you alone. I get it" I joke.

"I haven't asked Oliva for anything in twelve years, darling," he tells me.

He confuses me. "Aren't you twenty-seven?" I ask and he nods. There's no way he stopped asking his father for things when he was only fifteen. At fifteen I needed my parents for everything.

"Some grow up faster than others. Not everyone is daddy's princess" he says. I roll my eyes. Does he have a daddy kink? Nice to know.

Oliva raises his eyebrows. "Gift time?" He asks, wanting to lessen the tension.

Without even waiting for a response, he and my father both stand to leave the back porch, disappearing through the back doors. I look over at him, he's eating his food as if he isn't being the biggest imbecile on Earth

"Daddy's princess?" I ask. He lifts his eyes from his plate of food and nods

"Are you not?" He asks me. "You're only twenty-two".

As if age plays a huge factor.

I scoff. "Just yesterday I was 'twenty-something' Now all of a sudden you know my exact age. Wonder where you got that information from".

He raises his right eyebrow. "I've known you your entire life. Of course I know your age, which is highly too old to be crying about puppy love".

I roll my eyes. "Bringing this up again?".

"As if I didn't see you sobbing last night and this evening. It seems as if you're the one bringing it up" he says with a firm tone.

I ignore him, watching as my father and Oliva come out of the large doors. My father is holding a tiny box whereas Oliva is holding a bigger one, but much thinner.

They take their seats and my father smiles. "It isn't anything big, but it's something I think you'd like very much" he gives it to me and I take it, opening it to see a small necklace.

I smile, looking up at him. "This is so pretty. I'll wear it every day" I admit, pulling it from the box. I turn and my father adjusts it around my neck for me.

Oliva sighs as he hands the gift over to his son. "I thought you might like this," he says. His crude son takes the gift and rips the brown paper away.

My eyes widen as he tosses it back to his father, scooting his chair out and leaving the dinner table. I knew he was rude but this is beyond anything I thought about him. To dismiss a gift that way is utterly disrespectful.

My eyes follow him until he disappears inside the house, sliding the door closed behind himself. Sadness finds its way through my veins as I look at his father.

Why is he so angry about a gift?