The waiter finally puts the starter in front of me, and my mouth waters at the smell of the grilled shrimp. I can’t resist and check Petra’s face discreetly as I indulge myself in the shrimp salad. Looking up, I laugh under my breath at her frustrated face. No, this is not a vegetarian dish, my dear. And thank God it isn’t. If there is meat or fish on the menu, I’ll eat it with pleasure and delight. I can’t wait to see her angry face as I do so.
“Is everything alright?” my dad asks her, since she hasn’t stopped glaring at me since I began popping the tasty shrimp into my mouth.
A malicious smile settles on my lips as I say, “Petra is vegetarian, and to her, I’m committing a crime for eating shrimp in front of her.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Dad is clearly troubled by this, and instead of laughing, he takes it seriously and starts apologizing. “I will ask the chef to prepare something else.”
“Dad, I’m fine,” I interpose, barely believing he would go and ask the kitchen to bring me vegetarian food because my fiancée hates seeing me eating seafood in front of her. She has to get over it. “The food is great. Let the chef prepare what he wants.”
Petra doesn’t say a word, yet she frowns at me like she could throw bullets from her eyes. It’s supposed to look terrifying, but I find it cute and funny.
“Alright, then,” he mumbles, before looking back at her. “I apologize, Petra, tomorrow everyone will eat vegetarian.”
I skip a breath and press my lips tight to contain the urge to say something. Unbelievable… We can’t even eat what we want in this house? Why is he trying so much to please her?
Petra gives him a charming grin in return. I guess my dad would say or do anything to see that smile. Jeez, he barely knows her and is already treating her better than he treats me.
“You don’t mind eating vegetarian tomorrow, right?” he asks me, as if he truly cared about my opinion.
Her blue eyes align on me again, and she waits patiently for my answer. There are two options here: either giving them a piece of my mind about the subject, or scoring points with my fiancée. Well, call me a coward or wise, but I look at my dad and say, “Totally fine by me.”
I turn on the lights as I enter into the billiard room, and a bright smile settles on my lips as I recall all of the memories created here. I take in my surroundings, the smell of wooden furniture and old malt hitting my nose. Dad, Amanda, Mona and I used to spend a great amount of time here playing pool. In the whole island of Bermuda, this is definitely the place I have missed the most. As I come to think of it, no wonder Dad and Mona thought Amanda and I would last. We used to come here after dinner and spend the evening playing pool until we’d end up fucking on the table until dawn.
I notice the balls are already all placed in the triangular rack and positioned at the lower end of the table. I remove the rack, then take a cue and chalk the tip. With the cue in my hand, I get in position and angle myself to strike on the white ball. Before I can do so though, I feel my dad’s presence in the room, and my intuition confirms it as I hear him saying, “I see the habit of coming here after dinner never died…”
He then closes the door behind him, and I’m glad he does so, because then I ask, “Why didn’t Mona come to have dinner with us?” My eyes remain focused on the white ball as I point the tip of my cue on it. “Doesn’t she like seeing you indulging yourself with pizza while making another woman laugh?” And I strike the ball, which rolls across the table until hitting the ones in the middle, breaking the rack.
“What on earth are you talking about?” I turn and notice Dad doesn’t have a cue in his hands yet. So I go and get one for him, putting some chalk on the tip. “Oh, wait, you are jealous because your fiancée spent a good time with me and ignored you the whole dinner?” He chuckles inwardly, and I hate the sound of it. “Maybe if you stopped keeping things from her—”
“What happened twenty years ago belongs to the past,” I say, cutting him off. As silence settles in, I hand him the cue so that he can make his shot.
“And yet, it’s being used in the present to jeopardize your relationship with her,” he points out. “Why don’t you just tell her the truth once and for all?”
“Ryan advised me not to,” I explain briefly, analyzing the balls spread on the table to see which one I can pot first.
“Petra is not like your mother, she would understand…”
I go around the pool table, a bit impatient for him to make his shot. “I’ve come to the conclusion that telling her is a liability,” I reply. And since Dad doesn’t seem to care about the game, I position myself to make another strike, like I’m playing solo. I bend just enough, angle the stick and hit the ball, which strikes the number five and rolls all the way until it falls into a pocket. “Just like it was a liability for Roy to tell you and Tess.”
“Yet, I kept my mouth shut and have always helped you both,” he hisses back.
“Everyone has secrets of their own,” I tell him as I pace around the table. “Even Petra kept one from me until she couldn’t.” I take a stance, point the tip on the cue ball, and strike once more. “If she truly loves me, she will trust me on this and move on,” I add, my eyes on the ball number one, which stops inches from the pocket on the right corner.
Dad takes a few steps, and as he stands not too far from the cue ball, he takes a stance and finally takes his first shot. “I think you are making a big mistake, son.” The ball hits the number 10, which he pots instantly.
“Just because I want to keep her out of this?” I ask, looking at him. Suddenly, a realization washes over me. “Oh, I see. So she spoke to you about it?”
“I spoke to her. The poor girl spent the whole day alone, ruminating on what you have done and why you aren’t trusting her.” Oh, that would explain why Dad is on her side now.
“I’ll have a word with her later on,” I brush it off, trying to bring an end to the conversation.
But Dad doesn’t seem convinced, and he just exhales loudly in return before walking in my direction. Once he stands beside me, I notice how his expression is more serious and grave than usual. “Look, one day or another, Tess will press charges against you. And Roy won’t hesitate on throwing you under the bus to save himself. Have you thought about it?”
“He’s already doing it,” I tell him, breaking eye contact for a moment as I try to steady my emotions and give nothing away. Yet, I can’t help but say, “And his betrayal fucking hurts.”
As we look each other in the eye, there’s something that switches in him. “And you are afraid Petra will do the same one day or another?”
The question feels like a reality check, and while I’d love to tell him no, he knows it’d be bullshit. “Yeah…” I take a deep breath, pausing for moment. “I’ve made a lot of compromises for her. But telling her what happened twenty years ago is not one I’m ready for.”
Dad breaks eye contact and mumbles, “As you wish.” His attention then goes back to the pool table, and he goes around it before positioning himself. “Regarding Roy, if you need to use anything against him, I've got a file about him in my office.” As he strikes the ball, my jaw drops slightly, and I remain looking at him, totally astounded at his revelation.