Page 24 of Forbidden Fruit
“Alright,picculinu. When your sister wakes up from her nap, we can go to the beach. But we’re not swimming, the water is too cold.”
“Yeah!” He runs and jumps into my arms and I catch him, wincing as my back pulls in the process, reminding me that, at thirty-seven, I’m getting too old to lift my son comfortably and he’s growing very fast.
Soon, he’ll be a grown man and leave the house I built for him, for them, leaving me alone to wallow in my misery. At least with them around, I have a reason to force myself to live.
It’s past four in the afternoon when Livia wakes up from her nap and when I pull the car onto the driveway, everyone safely strapped in, familiar long legs in tiny jean shorts and a hat the size of the moon greet us on the gravelled entrance.
“Vivi,” Livia exclaims from her cosy at the back of my car.
“Where?” Anton immediately asks, perking up to look in both directions and shouting her name when he sees her, as if she’d hear through the closed windows of the car.
“Sit back down,picculinu. Vanessa isn’t working today, remember? It’s Saturday,” I tell them.
“She has a hat. She’s going to the beach,” he replies in the way children say the truth as it is, without truly knowing.
Of course, she’d go to the beach dressed in the tiniest shorts possible, looking like a model out of a magazine.
“You don’t know. Maybe she’s just going to do groceries.”
“With the big hat?” He quirks a brow, and the movement reminds me of myself and my fists clench around the steering wheel.
Before I can stop him, Anton lowers the window and calls for Vanessa.
“Hi, Vivi!”
Her smile is so bright as she turns to answer that she could light up the entire planet if the sun wasn’t trying to take her place as the star of the show. She waves to Anton and then to Livia. I almost hope she’ll direct her attention at me so I can finally bask in her warmth too, but I’m not so lucky.
She has no reason to smile at me. I’ve been callous and dismissive, distant and withdrawn. And I told her not to mix with us outside of work.
Our gaze collides, and she straightens, her smile dropping. She swallows like she’s suddenly parched.
“We’re going to the beach. Are you also going to the beach?” Anton’s enthusiasm breaks the tension, and she turns her attention back to him.
“I am,picculinu.”
“Beach,” Livia shouts, trying to be part of the conversation as well. The sound stays stuck in between her lips and I almost smile. She’s so tiny in her maxi car seat, yet she wants to be where the grown ups are, always curious. I wonder if she’s looking for her mother’s attention and suddenly sadness replaces the joy, the heaviness that always accompanies me back on my shoulders like it never left. At least I didn’t get used to joy.
“We can take you,” Anton offers and I frown. Vanessa’s mouth pulls down, hesitation written across her face as she worries her bottom lip. The hazel of her eyes shines with flecks of gold in the bright light of spring, and it’s hard to look away. I don’t.
“I’ll take the bus,anghuli, but I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”
“Babbu,” Anton whines. “Vivi shouldn’t have to take the bus. You have the seat next to you that’s free. Can she come with us?Please.” He almost cries on the “please” and I have to admire his manipulation skills. Not a single tear escapes his eyes and when I look at him in the rearview mirror, I see the lift of his lips for what this is. A tantrum. The one thing I’m trying to avoidbut can’t seem to escape ever since Vanessa moved in with us. I mean, next to us.
“Get in, Miss Winfrey,” I sigh, giving in.
She looks stunned but obeys with a curt nod, gaze drawn down. It shouldn’t please me, yet an unexpected sort of purr spreads inside my chest. I dismiss it and drive in silence, the chatter of my children occupying the space between us.
When we reach the beach, most families are leaving and we easily find a place under the shades of the wild maritime pine trees. I’m not a fan of people, so this is my favourite time to bring the kids here. I set down the kids’ toys, the foldable chair I brought and the bag full of snacks, dry clothes and towels.
Vanessa moves to walk away, but Anton takes her hand, followed by Livia. I trail after them and step in front of them, stopping their trail.
“Where are you going?” I ask Anton.
“Babbu.” Theutrails in a half wail and I brace for another tantrum. “I want to build a castle with Vanessa.”
“Vanessa is not playing with you today.” My voice is cold and infallible, and I hate it. But if I don’t put boundaries into place now, they’ll get attached to her. They’ll give her their little hearts and she’ll crush them when she inevitably leaves.
She’s already trying to find a new place to live. A new job isn’t that much of a stretch.