Chapter 3 : I Wish I Could Help

Cal’s POV

I parked on third street to avoid the paparazzi. The public didn’t know about the divorce between her and my father yet, and I didn’t want to risk it.

I walked two blocks down until I reached Cornwall Village, the complex my mother’s condo was in. I hid the bouquet of yellow roses I bought behind my back while I waited for her to come to the door. When she opened it, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Caledon!” my mother exclaimed, wrapping both arms around my neck. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

“I thought we could have lunch,” I said, presenting the bouquet to her.

My mother touched a hand to her chest like the roses were just the boost she needed today. She pressed the bouquet to her nose and breathed in.

“These are just perfect,” she noted with a smile, waving for me to come inside.

I stepped in and closed the door behind me. I looked around at her tiny condo. I tried my best not to let on that I was disappointed, but it was eating me up inside to know that she was living this way. Meanwhile, my father lived in luxury in the richest neighborhood in Virginia. It was disgusting.

“Can I get you something to drink?” my mother asked, flitting into her tiny kitchen. “I’ve got iced tea.”

“Sure,” I answered, making myself comfortable at the round kitchen table just off to the side.

I waited while she gathered a few items from her refrigerator. A few minutes later, she was dancing out of the kitchen with a pitcher and two glasses in hand, all smiles. I knew she was just happy to see me.

“So,” she began, setting all the items down on the table. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s nice,” I lied. “A little small, but it’s nice.”

“I know it’s not much,” she answered while filling the two glasses. “But it’s mine. I bought it in cash with the money I received after the divorce.”

“How many bedrooms is it?” I asked, allowing myself to look around.

“Just two,” my mother answered, taking a sip of her iced tea. “I don’t need much. It’s just me, afterall.”

I nodded, returning my attention to the glass that sat in front of me. I realized at that moment that we were drinking out of two different cups. My mother lived for the small things; when it came to decor, it was all in the details. She would never have served a meal in anything that wasn’t a set. The sight set my anger ablaze.

“Mom, are you happy with this arrangement?” I asked, with as much self control as possible.

“What do you mean?” she asked. I knew she was playing the fool because she didn’t want me to worry.

“All of this,” I noted, looking around at her tiny apartment. “Is this really all you want from the divorce?”

She sighed. “Cal. Your father doesn’t owe me anything. I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself.”

“Mom, this is ridiculous!” I bursted, unable to control myself any longer. “How are you paying for this? Dad is the Vice President of the United States. I think he can do better than a rundown condo for his ex-wife, the woman who literally worked tirelessly, without complaint, on his campaign.”

“It’s not that simple.” She shook her head. “I was his wife. I committed to doing those things.”

“Well, what about now?” I asked. “It just doesn’t matter anymore? You cut ties and just pretend it never happened?”

My mother shrugged. She had nothing left to say and I could see I was backing her into a corner. Her smile disappeared as sadness settled on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” I offered. “I know it’s not your fault.”

My mother nodded, grateful for my apology. I tried to remind myself that she was doing her very best with the cards she was dealt. Still, I wished I could do more. Unfortunately, when it came to money, I was under my father’s thumb. He owned me. Every dollar I spent, he knew about, and giving my mother anything was strictly off limits. I hated him for that.

“Let’s just enjoy our visit together,” my mother finally said.

I nodded in agreement. We finished our tea before heading out for lunch. She told me she was craving filet mignon so I took her to La Belle Viande, a high end steak restaurant, on the other side of town.

I held her chair out and waited to sit until she was comfortable. She winked at me as a thank you and I knew she was proud of the man I had become. I took my seat across from her just as a waiter approached. We ordered a bottle of white wine for the table and the waiter told us he’d be right back with our drink order.

“So, how are you doing with everything?” my mother asked, once the waiter disappeared.

“As well as I can be,” I admitted, shaking my head in disbelief. “I know dad’s a hard ass, but this is a new level of insane.”

My mother went to say something and then bit her tongue. She sat back in her chair just as the waiter approached with our white wine. He set two wine glasses before us and filled them each halfway before placing the bottle in the center of the table.

“I know that look,” I said to her as the waiter walked away. “What are you thinking?”

My mother shook her head, reaching for her glass. “Nothing.”

“Mom,” I replied, flattening my tone. “I want to know your opinion. What do you think?”

“It’s just that I’ve never really seen you happy before,” she admitted after taking a quick sip of wine. “I know it’s not ideal… but a part of me thinks you should keep an open mind about it.”

That was not what I wanted to hear. I didn’t quite know what I wanted to hear, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m happy now,” I sighed, reaching for my glass. “I don’t need a fake marriage to fulfill me.”

“All I’m saying is what if you end up liking each other?” she pressed with a side smile. “Stranger things have happened.”

I shook my head as I pondered over her words. How was a publicity stunt going to make me happy?

“What makes you think I’m not happy now?” I asked, observing her expression.

“Cal, I’m your mother,” she answered with a laugh. “It’s my job to sniff these things out. Can you honestly tell me that you’re happy? When’s the last time you dated, or even went on vacation for that matter?”

“I went to Barcelona last fall,” I argued. “I was there for three months.”

“That was for your father’s overseas outreach program,” my mother noted. “That doesn’t count. Come on, son, I’m being serious. When’s the last time you did something for you?”

I couldn’t answer her. The truth was I had no idea. I wanted to believe I was happy but I wasn’t even sure what that looked like. I was far from lonely. I’d seen my fair share of trouble with the tabloids catching me in some raunchy club or out on the town with my boys. But my mother was right. None of that stuff was what made me happy.

“How can I be happy when I’m stuck under dad’s control all the time?” I asked with defeat. “I go where he wants, I do what he tells me. I don’t have free will.”

“I know,” my mother said, reaching across the table for my hand. “That’s why I think this arranged marriage could be a blessing in disguise. You’d be independent—a married man, who answers to no one but his wife.”

I considered the perks of being detached from my dad. A part of me didn’t believe it could be true. If I knew my dad, he always had a hidden agenda.

“I did a little research on her,” my mother smiled, reaching into her purse and pulling out her phone. “She’s an Aries.”

I rolled my eyes and chuckled to myself. My mother had been into astrology for as long as I could remember. I never believed in any of that stuff, but she was confident that knowing a person’s sign was the best way to understand them.

“What does that mean?” I asked, with genuine curiosity.

“It means she’s perfect for you!” my mother squealed with excitement. “Look at this—she loves animals, just like you, and her main passion is working with the homeless.”

I didn’t want to say it, but as my mother turned her phone to me, I had to admit, I was impressed.

My mother handed me her phone so I could scroll through pictures of Eleanor while she excused herself to the ladies room. I took the phone from her and sifted through pictures of the mysterious woman. I was mindlessly looking through pictures when one particular image caught my attention.

There wasn’t much to the photo at all. Someone had seemingly caught a candid moment of Eleanor holding a small African child. She was smiling at something. Something beyond the camera. The picture was almost identical to an image my father took years ago during a trip to Paraguay. He held a young boy in his arms and gave a smile to someone in the distance.

The resemblance to my father’s picture was uncanny. It made my spine quiver and I was suddenly sick to my stomach. My father was a manipulator and the best liar I knew. He knew exactly how to feign a genuine smile with the best of them. Eleanor’s smile was almost identical to his. Who was to say this woman was any different than my father?

I suddenly didn’t want to meet her. I didn’t want to go through with any of it. If I knew my father, he had already figured out a way to keep tabs on me with this new arrangement.

My mother returned to the table a few minutes later and we finally ordered. I returned her phone to her and we moved on to talking about other things. I asked her if she was managing okay with her bills and she waved my concerns away.

“It’s a slow start with the interior design business,” she huffed. “But everyone starts from the bottom. I’ll get there.”

“I thought you were getting alimony checks?” I asked, digging my knife into a medium rare steak.

She rolled her eyes. “I was. But we agreed that I’d only receive them for eighteen months. I’ve got three months left before I’m completely on my own.”

I shook my head as a new dislike for my father added itself to the pile. He could be so cruel sometimes.

“Do you need money?” I asked, even though we both knew the answer to that.

“Cal, I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s against the agreement your father and I settled upon.”

“I know.” I nodded. “I just wish I could help.”

“I know, son.” She smiled with kind eyes. “I know.”

We spent the rest of our visit eating and catching up. My mother showed me some of her recent designs and I have to say, I was impressed. She really did have an eye for this. I'd known it my whole life, and I also knew this was always her dream. But like me, she was stuck in a life of service to her husband.

And as I kissed her cheek and left her apartment later on, I realized that maybe the divorce was better for her than I first realized. Once it was public, she'd be free, and that's all I could ever ask for.