He always avoided my precious face.
No one else acknowledges that I’ve arrived, the mood in the room somber and tense, and the conversation resumes once Martin takes a seat. When I was younger I didn't understand that my father's business was not legitimate, no child ever thinks their father is really a monster, but now I can listen to them talk about taking care of the rival drug lords without flinching at the body count.
I move around the room silently, unaffected, handing out drinks to those who will take them. No one will meet my eye.
“All that matters here is that Signor Mecedo is happy with the offer." My father says, waving away the teacup and gesturing at the bottle of whiskey my mother has left out.
When none of the men take the hot drinks I offer, I move over to the cabinet that my mother keeps all of her good glassware in, what little of it has survived the constant moving, and start handing out glasses of wine and spirits instead.
Martin nods approvingly at me as I hand him a glass and I hope this act of obedient daughter is enough to stop him from helping my father punish me later.
"And you don't think it is too high a price to pay? This is your legacy we are talking of here." He says as I move away, and his words slowly filter into my head. Legacy? My father has nothing, his addiction has bled our family dry.
My father huffs under his breath and downs the whiskey in his glass in a single mouthful. "Girls are not legacies. If I had a son, that would be my legacy. This is an exchange of property.”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in. And then I realize, the price my father has paid is me.
Betrayal is a cruel first love.
I thought I had known true love but the butterflies in my stomach and the lust in my veins was nothing but an infatuation, a veiled deceit, a lie.
I had decided to wait until my father’s friends had left the cottage before confronting him but before I had the chance, my long-time, very secret, boyfriend had arrived and asked to escort me to the airport… a nine hour drive through the countryside of France. For a fleeting second I thought he was whisking me away, saving me from this transaction.
I was wrong.
I look over at the man who has broken every part of my trust as though my eyes could flay him alive; Louis Caron. He is the son of one of my father’s associates, a refined gentleman and everything I have ever wanted in a man. He looks perfect in his suit, even with the grimace stretched over his face.
I could slap it off, just smack him until all of the rage is slated but I don’t think it will ever burn out.
“Odette, do not look at me like that. I have already told you there is nothing I can do to stop this and the tears in your eyes are killing me.” He mutters, and looks out the window at the passing colors of Paris. I hate the big city. I only ever come here in passing and it’s as though the freedom and bustle of life is just too out of reach for me. I refuse to look out at the city. I refuse to be mocked by it all.
“If you were a real man you would find a way.” I reply with a sniff, refusing to cry the angry tears because I feel so helpless.
Not one person had tried to stand up for me. Not my drunk of a mother, not the men and women I had thought of as aunts and uncles, not even my boyfriend. No one. And while there may not be a gun pressed against my temple right now I know there is still one aimed at my head somewhere. I know Louis would shoot me if my father asked him to, he’s made that very clear to me.
I fix my eyes on him and wish there was some way for my gaze to hurt him. I am so furious at this gutless man that if I had a gun, I think I’d shoot him and feel nothing but a bone-deep satisfaction.
Yesterday I was so content sketching children playing in the ocean and now I’m plotting futile attempts at murder.
“I must do as your father says. He has promised you to another man, my hands are tied. I spoke to him and he assured me that you will be taken care of. A girl like you should not be hidden away in little backwards towns. You should be draped in jewels and on the arm of a rich man. I wish very much that man could be me, but it is not.”
He says this as though it is nothing but an arranged marriage, as if money has not exchanged hands over me. I flick my wrist at him dismissively, a way I know sets him off in a rage but I’d rather he hit me than sit through this without fighting back. “I don’t think you wish that at all. I think you got what you wanted out of me and now you’re glad to see me go. Pathetic.”
He shrugs at me, completely unrepentant, and it only makes my anger burn brighter. Fear of what is happening hasn’t set in yet, the anger still thrumming through my blood and I snap, “Maybe I should tell my father, hm? Maybe I should tell him you deflowered his precious daughter and the marriage he’s arranged for me is built on a lie? I assume I went for a higher price for my supposed untouched status?”
Louis’s head snaps back around and his eyes are like saucers. “Odette, you cannot tell them! You would get us both killed if you do. Your father is not a good man, he won’t think twice before killing you.”
I snort at him, completely unlike the refined lady I’m supposed to be, the one my father insists on me being without ever training me to be. Maybe that’s why the fear hasn’t set in yet. Maybe I’m so used to my father’s ridiculous expectations that this is just the next avenue for his crazy to rear its head.
I do know that there is no point in fighting them all now. As a child, I would often come home from school to find him washing blood from his hands. Good men do not often find themselves covered in blood. I have more chances of reaching my new husband and hoping he is a better man than my despicable father.
The car slows and Louis turns in his seat to speak to the driver. I finally take notice of where we are once again and sigh. The airport. Another hellish flight. My father had said the deal was with a Señor. Was I heading to a Spanish speaking country? My English is barely passable but my Spanish is non-existent.
If my new husband doesn’t speak at least a little French I am going to have a hell of a time.
“How am I supposed to talk to this man? Or am I just supposed to spread my legs and open my womb to him without a word spoken between us?” I mumble, not really expecting Louis to answer but he heaves a sigh at me.
“He is a very rich man, Odette. If you give him a male heir he might just leave you alone. You would be able to travel the world and do whatever you like without worrying about the trivial things in life. It's not a life you could have if you stayed here and you would finally be free of your father. Think of this as a new start.”
A dry laugh bursts out of me. I long to worry about the trivial things in life. I want to get a job and pay my own bills and have a real family. He’s speaking to me again as if I am a pretty bird stuck in a cage to be admired and played with but never respected.
His eyes finally look back at me and I see the lustful longing there. Ah. Of course. He’s not at all remorseful about letting me go, except for the beauty of my face and the pleasures of my body. It is disgusting and I strongly consider spitting in his face.
Before I make my decision the door on my side opens and I look up to see my father standing with his hand extended to help me out. How he got here before us is a mystery until I spot the private jet. Of course, he stuck me in the car for hours and hours to wear me down while he’s been drinking and relaxing with his friends.